Beasts of Antares [Dray Prescot #23]

by Alan Burt Akers

  “Koter Ian Vandrop, majister! Known to myself as Ian the Onker, for not having returned to Vondium sooner."

  This could be flannel, of course. But he looked likely. More than likely. He was hyr-paktun, experienced, with his tally of kills.

  I quizzed him on his service and learned he had served all over Paz, our grouping of continents and islands on this side of Kregen. He would find employment with me.

  “But not as a mercenary. You are a Vallian."

  “I almost forgot that, majister. But my father—"

  “Vandrop?” There was the Bower of the Scented Lotus, a middling establishment at a crossroads of Southern Vondium, a fine place to take the Baths of the Nine. It had been smashed to smithereens in the Time of the Troubles. And Koter Vandrop had worn a goat-beard just like this strapping hyr-paktun.

  “If I mentioned the names of Urban the Gloves and Travok Ott, Fat Ortyg—and the Bower of the Scented Lotus? Your father wore a goats-beard tuft as you do?"

  He shook his head. “My father was clean-shaven, except when he awoke in the morning, a red-faced, serious, swearing man."

  I was about to brush this misplaced episode from the past aside when the hyr-paktun Ian Vandrop went on.

  “My grandfather, may Opaz light his days, had a beard like mine, so I am told, and he patronized the Scented Lotus."

  Well, time flies, time flies. Grandfather...

  “For the kindness shown by your grandfather, koter, I shall appoint you to the Emperor's Yellow Jackets, if you so desire. An ob-Hikdar to start with. You'll be a Jiktar in no time. There are recruits to train up—” I stopped as he looked puzzled.

  “I thank you, majister, it is munificent. But—grandfather never said he met the Emperor of Vallia!"

  “He is well, I trust?"

  “He is with Opaz, majister, and well, I sincerely believe."

  “He will be. He was a kind man. Opaz will have him in his keeping."

  I mention this incident because it closed a past chapter—well, half-closed it. There were many men willing to serve. Vallia's prodigal sons were returning home. The word that Vallia no longer employed mercenaries had spread. Also, word that the Vallian army gained repute also spread. The lads who had gone overseas to seek their fortunes, adventures and gold, now flocked back to Vallia to stem the invasions of her foes.

  Everyone was needed. Ian Vandrop was worth a regiment, because he would train and command a regiment in the bloody battles to come.

  What I had visualized when those happy maniacs of mine returned to Vondium with Drak transpired. Oh, yes...

  Talk about a riot. Carouse, bender, splurge, debauch—the uproar went on for a sennight, at least. Mind you, during the day I worked, as usual, and they went on parade, staying upright by the simple force of will. Their names you know—many of them. There were new faces in the ranks. The two corps, the Sword Watch and the Yellow Jackets, were not just pretty, dressed-up guardsmen or tough fighting men, they were very much cadres for teaching warrior skills and for infusing the spirit of the emperor's jurukkers into the whole army.

  But that worthy objective must be seen in its true perspective, for the Vallian Army now possessed its own traditions and spirit. Created from nothing, building on courage and devotion, growing from guerrilla bands, the army flowered as experience matured it. Certainly the job would have been immeasurably harder had we not been able to call on the services and advice and training skills of my Freedom Fighters of Valka. And returning mercenaries, scarred with seasons of campaigning, added to our cadres. But the job would have been done. The Vallian Freedom Army was of Vallia. That was the lesson and the victory.

  The daylight never lasted long enough; the lights of Kregen's moons shone upon our labors. And through it all, I began to see the approach of the day when I could leave for Hyrklana. Deb-Lu-Quienyin returned to Vondium with Drak and was long closeted with Khe-Hi-Bjanching. When they saw me they looked much more relaxed than I would have expected.

  “We are now convinced that the interference of Phu-Si-Yantong—for it was he—had no connection with the elopement of the Lady Fransha and Ortyg Voinderam."

  I stared. “Then, why did he exert all that force?"

  They both started to speak, halted, and I said, “Deb-Lu?"

  “We are aware of Yantong's insane desire to rule all of Paz, rule it physically, that is. Mad, mad. He has to try to break down the occult shield we have erected. The concepts are difficult for one who is not a sorcerer—"

  “One who,” put in Bjanching, “is not a Wizard of Loh."

  “True. We are engaged in a battle on the ethereal planes, to put it crudely, and this attack was a reconnaissance in force."

  “And there is no news of Fransha and Ortyg?"

  “A Wizard of Loh needs knowledge of those he seeks in lupu—personal acquaintance, some artifact, a portion of themselves, the proverbial lock of hair, for instance—"

  “But you discovered the whereabouts of my friends—"

  “Yes, yes, majister. But they were sent to their destinations by sorcerous power.” Here both Wizards of Loh looked uncomfortable. Well, I knew that the Savanti nal Aphrasöe scared the hell out of any sorcerer. “I could follow that. We thought Yantong had had a hand in this elopement and that we could follow his trail. But he did not."

  “So Voinderam and Fransha are gone—and no one knows where?"

  They nodded.

  I said, “I shall reinforce Kov Turko's army. We'll have to hit Layco Jhansi so hard we start him running clear across Vennar and rush him up and into Racterland. And Kov Seg will attack from the east. It'll be a fine old argy-bargy while it's going on. But I'll be back from Hyrklana by then."

  The sheer size of Vallia and our limited transport would give me ample time down south in Hyrklana to get our friends out and see about vollers before we hit Jhansi and the Racters.

  It was at this time that the question of Barty Vessler's will came before the courts.

  He had left everything to Dayra.

  He had been the last of his line, the Strom of Calimbrev, and, as far as the courts could see, any other heirs there might have been were all dead. I sent three men to the island of Calimbrev to hold the place in trust for Dayra. Also, I arranged with Tom Tomor in Valka to send a few regiments as security. I sent Pallan Nogan Westmin, a loyal member of the Presidio. Although folk do not change much over their better than two hundred or so years of life on Kregen, there is an odd strain, probably non-hereditary, affecting hair. Some people, men and women both, go gray and then white. It has nothing to do with senility. Pallan Westmin had shining silvery hair. It is not particularly common.

  I sent an imperial Justicar, Nazab Vantile, an energetic man bucking for a bigger province in the imperial service.

  I sent Chuktar Logu Le-Ka, who as a Pachak had given nikobi, the Pachak code of loyalty. He was now a Vallian citizen, with an estate and a fair income, and as a commander in the army would take control of the forces in Calimbrev.

  All this I did for my daughter Dayra, yes, to keep her inheritance intact from those who might seek to snatch it away from her. But I truly think I did it as much—even more—out of remembrance of Barty Vessler. He had wanted this. I would do my utmost to make sure his wishes were carried out.

  There is a theory or philosophy—to dignify the notion—sincerely believed in by those who hold to it that all problems will solve themselves. They can point to planning and interference by government or whomever and call attention to the resultant shambles. They appear to have a strong case. Laissez-faire, as a system, has been discredited but the tightly planned economies that have attempted to replace that way of going on have fared no better. Dictatorship, where one person wields the chop, or democracy, where everyone gets to shoot his own arrow, as they say on Kregen, is not to everyone's taste. That old devil power rears his ugly and fascinating head.

  A whole lot of folk just want to carry on drinking and singing and laughing and having a damn good time, and get paid fair
ly for what they work at, and leave the headaches of sorting it all out to somebody else.

  Another slew want to get in the driving seat and crack the whip.

  I suppose, as was forcibly pointed out to me by the good folk of Vallia—and before them of Valka and Djanduin—you have to have some Joe Muggins to blow the whistle.

  If that was what I was, a work-burdened, worried, run-ragged referee, then that was what I was.

  Oh, they called me an emperor and I had a lot of land and chests of gold and jewels and a few palaces—many of them burned down—and that collection of objects is no recompense. I did have good friends and blade comrades. And—there was Delia.

  So the full circle was completed. I was the emperor and I was stuck with it, at least until Drak took over. I told him, this tall, serious, intense son of mine, “Drak, my lad, I'm off to Hyrklana to fetch our friends—Naghan the Gnat, and Tilly and Oby—and you'll run Vallia while I'm gone."

  “You recall, Father, what I told you in the flier over Ba-Domek on the way to Aphrasöe, before you disappeared as you so frequently do? I said I would not be emperor while you or mother lived—"

  I was brisk. I thought I knew this strapping son of mine and I didn't wish to make an issue of this now and harden attitudes.

  “If your mother and I want to go off for a holiday, and I place the empire in your hands, will you refuse?"

  “We-ell—no. But—"

  “I was born a plain and ordinary fellow. I've been a sailor, a soldier and here and there an airman and a flutsman. I've done a heap of things. I've been slave. But you—you are born of a line of emperors, the son of an empress, and you are clearly not an ordinary sort of fellow at all. Your destiny is to be an emperor. I do not think that mine is."

  “Father!"

  “Your brother Zeg is now King of Zandikar. Well and good. He is a splendid man, a Krozair of Zy, like you and me. He will not challenge you for Vallia—will he?"

  “I do not think so. But—"

  “And your brother Jaidur. He is a tearaway, reckless and feckless. He hates my guts—"

  “No!"

  “And he has other fish to fry. I don't think he would seek to dislodge you from Vallia—would he?"

  “No. But—"

  “So that leaves you."

  Drak's nostrils pinched in. He is sometimes an old sobersides, but he can be just as wild and barbaric as anyone whose name is Prescot.

  “If you will let me get any words in at all,” he said. “I will say that I will go to Hyrklana. I went to Faol and fetched back Melow and Kardo, and—"

  I was very nasty to him. I screwed up my eyes and I said, “And Queen Lush?"

  He did not flush. He stared at me. “Queen Lushfymi—"

  “Oho! So it's Lushfymi, is it? Have you spoken to your mother?” I was well aware of the treacherous ground I trod. Delia and I wanted Drak to marry Seg's daughter Silda, for we had seen how Silda had behaved, and I had seen how Silda would have given her life, willingly, to save Drak.

  But at the slightest hint of parental maneuvering, Drak would act—well, he'd be just as stubborn and pig-headed as I am, Zair forgive us both.

  He said, very quietly, “I have the greatest respect for Queen Lushfymi."

  “Good.” I wasn't fool enough to ask, “And is that all?"

  We were interrupted then by Delia coming into my study. She saw Drak's face, and my ugly old beakhead, and she sighed, and—how it was done remains a marvel and a mystery—we were all talking about the fancy dress ball that night and planning costumes. I ask you. Costumes for a fancy dress ball! And we'd been discussing the dynasty of an empire!

  There is no need to go into a description of the ball. It was sumptuous, superb and splendid. Everyone seemed to be there. The thing of note, the event that rocked me back on my heels, took place as I was taking my leave with Delia radiant on my arm. I looked at the crowd, and every face was smiling and glowing, and every face belonged to a friend.

  Ah! There is the wealth that no empire can give!

  “I'm off to Hyrklana day after tomorrow,” I said. “So I shall take the remberees of you now. Everything is arranged."

  They let Korero be their spokesman. He stepped forward.

  'That is good news, majister! A little adventuring will not come amiss. We are all ready—"

  “What?” I said. An awful suspicion dizzied me.

  “Oh, yes, majister. We're all coming. Why, you don't think we'd let our emperor go flying off into danger all on his own, do you?"

  * * *

  Chapter nine

  "You'll be just that, Dray Prescot! Arena fodder!"

  The argument went on all next day.

  “But,” I said, “I'm the emperor. You're supposed to do what I say."

  That was a laugh, of course, in a matter of this seriousness.

  “You just cannot fly off to Hyrklana all on your own!"

  That claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in a cage of invisible iron bars engulfed me. Hitherto when I'd been flung about Kregen by the Star Lords I had hungered to return home. Now that I had a serious task to perform, rescuing our friends, I was being mewed up and allowed out only with a great gaggle of nursemaids to hold my hand and wipe my nose. Talk about a cage!

  They all wanted to come. 1 and 2 ESW. 1 and 2 EYJ. Nath Karidge insisted on bringing EDLG. Most of the slate of Vallian nobility were lining up. Applications poured in from all the regiments.

  “Think of fat Queen Fahia!” I said. “She'll think we're invading her island!"

  With a judicious air, Lord Farris said, “I can spare you enough fliers to take a thousand men. They'll have to draw lots to see who goes."

  “Well, I'm going,” said Korero, “and I'll fight anyone who tries to steal my place."

  “And me!"

  “And me!"

  “By Vox!” I said. “This isn't like the old days."

  “No,” said Delia. And she smiled, the cruel and heartless woman. “No, Dray Prescot. You are the emperor now."

  I groaned. Were the brave old days gone when I'd wrap the old scarlet breechclout about myself and take up my weapons and board a voller, richly stacked with wicker hampers provided by Delia's loving forethought, and fly off to find adventure, hurtling across the face of Kregen under the Suns of Scorpio?

  “By the disgusting diseased liver and lights of Makki Grodno! I'm not having this! If I am the damned Emperor of Vallia then what I say goes! How can I work my way into the Jikhorkdun in Huringa and rescue our friends if there's an enormous lollygagging army of ruffians hanging around my neck?"

  “Oh,” they said, “you'll think of a way."

  Sink me!

  Turko, who hadn't left yet, talked darkly of sending north for Seg and Inch to come down and knock some sense into my obstinate vosk skull of a head.

  “And then,” I snarled, “I suppose they'll want to come, too."

  “Probably,” said Turko, and he flexed his muscles.

  Despite all the lightheartedness of this there was a darker side. Oh, it wasn't anything to do with questioning the authority vested in me as emperor. If folk didn't want me to try to be an emperor, I'd quit, instanter, and they knew that. I'd told them enough.

  But just suppose—just suppose the Star Lords took it into their superhuman heads to whisk me up out of Vondium and hurl me down into some other part of Kregen, all naked and unarmed, to sort out a problem for them? The Everoinye had been silent of late. I'd not even seen their spy and messenger, the Gdoinye, flying high and looking down mockingly on my doings. If that happened now, what would be the reaction of the people of Vondium, of Vallia?

  This time, my disappearance would be viewed in an entirely different light. In, I could see, an unfavorable light.

  I said to Delia when we were alone, “Look, I can't manage the Jikhorkdun with that crowd along! Surely they can see that?"

  “I am not sure you should risk the arena at all."

  “But—we want Tilly and Oby and Naghan back, don't w
e?"

  “Of course! But, dear heart, there has to be another way. An embassy to Queen Fahia—"

  “She'd laugh at them. She thinks she is the leem's claws. Hamal won't bother her now because Hamal is so tied up with Thyllis's mad schemes of conquest. Hyrklana must be doing very well, very well indeed. And their agents will be scouring the world for human fodder for the arena."

  “And you'll be just that, Dray Prescot! Arena fodder!"

  “Better me on my own than a great gang of—"

  “No!” Delia put a hand to her heart.

  After that, for a space, we were occupied. But, all the same, nothing was solved regarding my expedition.

  The same difficulties that stopped Hamal from invading and conquering Hyrklana—as mad Empress Thyllis probably longed to do—prevented us from flying there in sufficient force to do what was necessary. We were overstretched and our resources were committed. Hamal had invaded north and south, although her invasion to the west had withdrawn. We were fighting to regain Vallia. Both empires grappled with problems that overtaxed their strength.

  “All right,” I said, “then I shall not go to Hyrklana."

  I said that. I did not mean it. I had a plan.

  In all this furor the Lady Zenobya continued on in her serene and yet enthusiastic way. She was a many-faceted individual. She clearly expected Vallia to give her assistance to regain her lost lands in Pershaw and kick out the Chobishaws. The Presidio was in sympathy with her. All the evidence we had, supported by reports from Vanki's spies, indicated that the right of the case lay with the Lady Zenobya. But how, in our impoverished state, were we to help?

  Certainly, our gold would buy mercenaries.

  “Yes, and I thank you,” said the Lady Zenobya. “I shall avail myself of your kindness and use the gold, and you will be repaid, in full and with interest, in specie or in kind, when I am firmly established in Pershaw."

  So that was decided. The Lady Zenobya had very definite views on the type of warrior she required.