Queen of Stars (Starfolk #2)

by Duncan, Dave

  “I can’t see any whales,” Ukdah said.

  “I ’spect they’re merfolk I saw,” Izar muttered, his mind racing over what he had just learned. He felt somewhat uneasy thinking about Rigel bouncing Mom around at nights, but she had been happier since they came to Segin. But Rigel…Rigel, Izar decided, had been happier at times, but moodier at others, up and down. Like sitting staring at the sea! Halflings were weird.

  Chapter 18

  A few days later, while Izar was still in bed but enjoying a ’vigorating wrestle with Slinky, the pet squid the merkids had given him, in walked Tyl the Horribly Hairy.

  “Hail, most noble Izar, lord of the heavens.”

  Izar just grunted, his face being much occupied by tentacles.

  “I’m supposed to take you to court to watch Halfling Avior being granted status. I thought we might go early and pick up some toasted goat eyes in the bazaar for breakfast?”

  He was joking about the goat eyes, but there were lots of toothsome treats in the bazaar.

  “Where’s Rigel?” It was still early; Izar had a very good idea where Rigel might be.

  “He’s coming.”

  Exactly. “Well, I’m sort of tied up right now, Tyl, but if you’ll help get this mollusk off of me…”

  Breakfast sitting on the harbor wall was great. The court, when they got there, was deserted.

  Izar shouted, “Come on, Fatty! Race you to the end and back.” He tore off.

  Predictably Tyl, who had eaten half a roast ibis, made a very disrespectful retort and stayed where he was. So Izar abandoned his run and trotted across to one of the great statues and pretended to read the inscription on its plinth. This little strategy paid off very well when Thabit arrived with Avior. The three of them said a lot of things they would never, never, never have said had they known that Izar was listening. It was all he could do not to stare along the court at them with his mouth open. Wow! They not only did those awful things, they talked about them afterward. Just wait till Dschubba hears about this!

  Rigel and Mom appeared with a starborn recorder in tow, but Izar didn’t bother returning to the group. He’d watched status ceremonies before, and there was nothing special about this one except that Mom was the sponsor. Besides, the loyalty oath was basically meaningless—it didn’t stop you changing your mind later. He listened to it all, anyway. The recorder departed, and Izar wandered along to another statue.

  “Now,” Mom said, “let’s hear this mysterious plan you have in mind.”

  “I’d like to show Avior around Kraz first,” Rigel said. “That’s the place we picked out for your studio,” he told the halfling.

  Mom laughed oddly. “Are you implying that you don’t trust me?”

  “Of course I do. I trust you implicitly. But what you don’t know, you can deny on the Star. That’s the Vildiar technique, and we know it works. If what I’m going to ask her to do isn’t possible, I’ll tell you about it later. If it is, you’ll find out soon enough. All right?”

  “Of course,” Mom said. “Carry on, er, halfling. What about the terror?”

  “Tyl’s going to take him fishing this morning,” Rigel said. “At least that was the plan. To what do you attribute his sudden interest in epigraphy?”

  “Guess!” Mom said. “Some of those old stories are very racy. I remember sniggering over them when I was about his age.”

  Oh? Izar took a harder look at what he was studying, but it was all about someone building a library. Then Rigel called him, so he went running like a good little imp should. Just this once, to show that he could.

  “You’re going fishing,” Rigel said.

  “I want to come with you.”

  Rigel smiled and shrugged. “Very well. Halfling,” he told Tyl, “you have the rest of the day off.”

  Later, Izar realized that he should have foreseen trouble in that suspiciously easy victory.

  Kraz was just a portal step away. Though it was part of the royal domain, Izar hadn’t seen it before. It was a normal sort of private home: a group of stone cottages with thatched roofs set beside a promising-looking swimming hole with a small waterfall, and the usual trees, animal paddocks, and flowering shrubs. There was no view and the surrounding forest didn’t look very real, but the unicorns in the yard were real enough. So were the two overmuscled, mother-naked, hairy mudlings who were grooming them. They gaped in dismay when they caught sight of the visitors and rushed off to find proper coverings.

  Rigel ignored the cottages and led Avior and Izar straight to a slightly larger building set apart from the others on a knoll. “Whichever long-ago starborn imagined this place was probably a mage or an artist, because this looks to me like a perfect studio—roomy, bright, and very secure.”

  “Who else lives here?” Avior asked as they climbed the path.

  “No one. Just you and whatever servants or friends you want. Those two mudlings we just saw are called Nusakan—they’re a special gladiator line, bred for fighting. They’re illegal, but they didn’t ask to be born, so it’s not their fault. No Nusakan will ever harm a starborn or a halfling, but they fight one another when ordered to do so. Humanoid pit bulls. Like all mudlings, they’re very eager to please.”

  Avior said, “I see,” in an odd tone, and nothing more. Izar wondered if she was thinking what he was thinking about what Rigel might be thinking.

  The studio building was just a big shed to Izar, a barn, although it smelled of dust rather than unicorn poop. Avior enthused politely. So now Rigel was probably going to explain the secret plan, and Izar would have to figure out how to listen if he was sent outside and they stayed inside. The pink amulet didn’t work through walls.

  But Rigel led the way out again, bringing Avior to a bench under the eaves.

  “Think I’ll go down and ’spect the unicorns,” Izar told him.

  “Good idea. Oh, by the way, little buddy.” Rigel sat down and leaned back against the wall with his long legs stretched out as if he were completely relaxed, but his all-white eyes held a gleaming brightness that Izar knew and had learned to distrust.

  “Yes, halfling?”

  “I could have sworn that you had thirteen ear studs. Now I see fourteen.”

  Izar realized that his ears had folded back defensively. He forced them to spread out as usual. “Dschubba gave me this blue one.”

  “Oh? And what does it do?”

  “It doesn’t seem to do anything, but it’s supposed to help me with my magic lessons.”

  The halfling nodded. “You’re required to ask your mother about anything to do with magic, aren’t you? Never mind now. Go see the unicorns.”

  Whew! Narrow escape—Izar ran off down the slope. The mudlings had returned, now completely swathed in leather work garments and hats. He ignored them and leaned on the fence to gawk at the unicorns like an innocent imp.

  And listen.

  “What was all that about?” Avior asked.

  “I can’t take my eyes off that little devil for a moment. But let’s talk about his father.”

  “My father too.”

  “Right. How do you feel about that?”

  “I thought he looked like a reptile, and what Tyl and Thabit have told me about the Family makes him sound like one.”

  “Either I will kill him or he will kill me, eventually.”

  “I’ll help you. You want me to swear to it on the Star?”

  “I might,” Rigel said quietly. “Later. The problem is how. As I told you, he’s both Naos and a mage of the highest rank. Grenades and machine guns aren’t available in the Starlands, and nothing magical will work against him, not even Saiph.”

  “No? But I thought—”

  “Saiph’s a defensive amulet, although when I was about to be attacked by Halfling Tarf and some other members of the Family, Saiph attacked them first. Frankly, I’m not sure there is any way of killing Vildiar. If there is, it will certainly require taking him by surprise. The first step must be to distract that halfling gang of his,
and you can help me there, with a bit of luck.”

  “I don’t see how, but keep talking.”

  “I have an idea, but the first thing we’ll need to do is get rid of Hadar, who’s his adjutant and the brains of the assassins. Without Hadar, he’ll be crippled. And what Hadar wants more than anything is this.”

  Just in time, Izar stopped himself from turning around to look, but Rigel obviously meant Saiph.

  “A bracelet?” Avior said with a laugh.

  “Yes. He can’t get it off my wrist without killing me first. When I saw your work, and how realistically you could model dead bodies, I wondered if you could make a dead Rigel good enough to fool people.”

  “Easy, if you get me the materials. You’d have to model in the nude.”

  “No. You’ve seen as much of me as Hadar has. Make up the details.”

  Izar thought that was pretty funny but managed not to laugh.

  Avior did laugh. “No, that wouldn’t do. You can’t do this with magic?”

  “I could, but it wouldn’t fool Vildiar, or even his thugs, if they’re wearing the right amulets. I have a ring, this one, that squeezes my finger if I point at anything that isn’t what it seems. Of course your creations won’t pass close inspection either, but they’re incredibly realistic and most people only see what they expect to see. What materials would you need?”

  “I don’t suppose you can do plastics here, but plaster is about the right specific gravity, depending on how much sand I add…We’ll have to suppose rigor mortis, of course. Paper and paste for papier-mâché. Wax and colorings. Wire, bones, or wood for stiffening. Hair.”

  “As long as there’s nothing industrial in the list, everything should be available here. How long will it take you?”

  “A month or so once you’ve collected the stuff for me. A barrel or two of hard wax—you’re not exactly a miniature subject, you know! And how do you plan to die?”

  “That’s going to be a problem. It won’t be very convincing if you fake a cut throat and they try poison. Hadar favors archery so that he can stay out of range of my sword, and we saved a couple of the arrows he used against me in his last-but-one attempt, so plant a few arrows in ‘my’ chest and hope for the best. I haven’t worked out all the details yet. But why don’t you take a look around Kraz here and think over what you’ll need. I’ll send an aide who can furnish the place with everything you want, from paintbrushes to sofas. I’ll have her here in an hour or so. She’ll show you how to go by portal to the markets. You can charge everything to the royal account, just on your own say-so, because nobody lies or steals here.”

  “And what are you going to do with your doppelganger?”

  That was very much what Izar wanted to hear. Whatever Rigel was planning sounded dangerous, and Mom didn’t know about it. Izar might have to warn her, even though that would mean giving up his eavesdropping amulet.

  Rigel said, “Doppelgangers walk. What I need is a dead ringer.”

  “All right, smarty. What are you going to do with your dead ringer?”

  “I’m going to pick a fight with a couple of the Family. Two would be best, but I can handle three as long as one of them isn’t Hadar—he has an amulet called Sulaphat that’s almost as deadly as Saiph. I’ll kill them both. I won’t feel guilty about that, because every single one of them is a killer.

  “Then I’ll leave one body and remove the other. The fake Rigel corpse won’t be wearing Saiph, of course. When the Family finds the evidence, they’ll assume that the missing brother has stolen Saiph and scarpered. While they’re running in circles trying to find him, I hope they’ll lower their guard enough to let me get at Vildiar.”

  Izar didn’t think much of that plan.

  Neither did Avior. “That’s the weakest, stupidest idea I ever heard!”

  “Improbability is one of its strengths,” Rigel said. “It’ll need a lot of luck, of course, but they may fetch Vildiar to see the evidence. They may take it to show him, although I realize that your creation will feel less like a corpse than it looks. Either way, there will be a brief interval when the Family is distracted and isn’t expecting me and Saiph to turn up. Think of it this way: What am I risking? A lot of work by you, of course, but I can set up the trap so that I won’t be in much danger. Who knows, I might even catch Hadar himself, and without him Vildiar will be greatly weakened. Starling, come here. You want to go down and inspect the living quarters, Avior?”

  Izar had turned and taken about three steps before he realized how he had been tricked. Simon says, you idiot! He was so mad that he stalked past Avior on the path without even looking at her and came to a halt in front of Rigel, glowering.

  Rigel held out a hand. At least he wasn’t smirking.

  “What?”

  “The pink one, I think.”

  Grumpily, Izar removed the stud and dropped it onto Rigel’s palm.

  “It eavesdrops?”

  Izar nodded.

  “From Dschubba?”

  Nod.

  “That day you ran away? What did you give him in exchange?”

  “Ride on a hippogriff.”

  That rattled him. “What? Stars above, Izar, if you’d run into a male one, it would have bitten your head off!”

  “It…we, I mean, didn’t.”

  Rigel sighed. “I got suspicious in court this morning. The magical acoustics weren’t turned on, but I was pretty sure you were eavesdropping on us. Your mother trusts me with your life, Izar.”

  “So?” It was humiliating for a starborn to be outsmarted by a mere tweenling who was barely older than he was, just more grown-up.

  “So…do you? Do you really trust me, imp? You think I’d come to your rescue no matter what?”

  “Of course! You did, remember, when Hadar had me locked up at Giauzar?”

  Rigel nodded. “And just now I let you overhear my secret plans. So I’m trusting you with my life, Izar.”

  Izar gulped, then said, “I won’t tell anyone, Rigel.”

  “No one at all? Not Dschubba or Salm or Ukdah? Not Tyl or Thabit?”

  “I swear!”

  “Not even your mother?”

  Shocked, Izar shook his head.

  “Unless she asks you, I mean. Then tell her. You should never lie to her, but don’t offer the information otherwise. You know that I never tell you lies, right, Izar?”

  “I know, Rigel.”

  “I got mad at you last week for telling Avior that your mother and I were lovers.”

  “Yes, Rigel. I don’t say that any more.”

  “Just as well, because now it would be true.”

  Izar’s stupid face gave him away by grinning.

  “You knew that too?” Rigel asked.

  Izar nodded. “I’m glad.”

  Rigel’s smile was less convincing. “So are we, but now it’s even more important that you don’t tell anyone. If I get asked now, I can’t deny it on the Star any more.”

  “No.” Izar shivered.

  “So be careful.” Rigel held out the pink stone amulet. “Here.”

  Izar grabbed. “You mean I can wear it?” he asked in disbelief.

  The halfling shrugged. “If you want to. Personally, I think that spying on your friends and family is pretty schmoory behavior. I wouldn’t do that, but it’s up to you.” He rose and strode off down the path.

  Izar clipped the gem on the waistband of his wrap and hurried after.

  “Rigel?”

  “Mm?”

  “I know you don’t lie to me, but did you tell the truth to Halfling Avior?”

  Rigel muttered something toxic under his breath. “I never tell you lies, imp. But sometimes I don’t tell everybody all the truth.”

  Chapter 19

  Can you tell me anything about Vindemiatrix?” Rigel said. “The queen wants to move the court to Vindemiatrix soon, and even Saidak doesn’t know where that is. Not in the royal domain, obviously.”

  One of the great blessings of the Starlands was the absen
ce of committees, but Vildiar’s criminal conspiracy was a completely exceptional circumstance calling for extreme countermeasures, and thus Rigel had invented the Royal Security Committee. So far it had worked better in theory than in practice.

  For one thing, it had to meet outside, because centaurs were never welcome indoors. For another, standard patio seats were shaped like earthly deck chairs, being roughly N-shaped, and the sitter had to lean back with knees raised, an awkward posture for those dressed in meager wraps. Moreover, providing a boardroom table for paws and talons would have been ridiculous. So here he was, on a terrace of the palace in Canopus, trying to do business in the heat of a sleepy afternoon. At least the palm trees drooping motionless overhead were date palms, which provided shade without dropping coconut bombs. The ambience would have been quite soporific without the raucous swarms of gulls, parrots, doves, cuckoos, kookaburras, and harpies.

  Soporific did not mean that there was no tension. Recorder Matar, in the other chair, was making no effort to disguise her disgust at having to consort with a half-breed and a pack of animals. Commander Zozma and Squadron Leader Gianfar, crouching opposite each other with front paws and talons outstretched, were barely managing to cooperate professionally in the queen’s service, for sphinxes and griffins traditionally despised each other as freaks.

  The fifth member of the group was Inspector Bellatrix, a centaur mare—huge and black and Menkent’s mother. She preferred to stand, so she towered over all the others, sometimes clumping a hoof on the marble and frequently swishing her tail, although flies were as rare as committees in the Starlands.

  Matar pouted at Rigel’s question and fumbled with her collection of bracelets. “There are at least fifty starborn by that name.” She would get the answer eventually, for her amulets were the magical equivalent of search engines.

  “I got the impression that it was more a place than a person,” Rigel said.

  “I know of a mountain range called Vindemiatrix,” Gianfar said, in her usual harsh screech. “Very narrow passes. Bad headwinds.”