Queen of Stars (Starfolk #2)

by Duncan, Dave

  “Put those blades away!” Vildiar shouted. “I’ll deal with him. Dismiss your sword, Izar.”

  Botein and Tegmine continued to scream in their death throes.

  “Killer!” Izar howled, mad with bloodlust now. “Murderer!” He charged at his father and drove his sword into…into nothing. It had gone. His bare fist struck muscular flesh.

  Vildiar caught his wrist and held him. “You can’t kill a starborn, son. If you killed me, you’d die of the guilt curse. Saiph is a defensive amulet, the very best there is, and it won’t let you commit suicide. Now, will you behave yourself and do as you’re told?” He let go.

  “No!” Izar took aim at Almaak, whom he especially disliked. “Saiph!” The King of Swords returned, and immediately vanished as Vildiar grabbed its bearer again, this time swinging him up over his shoulder. Izar bellowed in fury and pounded on his father’s back with both fists, but he was helpless in the giant’s grip.

  “I don’t think Hadar and Tegmine are going to make it,” Vildiar said. “Frankly, they don’t deserve to, after that display of idiocy. Almaak, remove their amulets to make sure. Put Botein down too. She’s useless now. Take their bodies to the compost pit. Leave that trash where it is—” He pointed at Rigel’s corpse, which was still hanging on the wall. “And return to the current training center.”

  Vildiar walked away with Izar still over his shoulder and other chastened offspring trailed after him. He pushed aside the shield on the back of the throne and stooped low to go through the portal.

  They emerged into sunlight and a pleasant, sea-scented breeze. Vildiar set Izar down on soft sand, close to where the breakers died away into hissing ripples. Then he put fists on hips and stared down at him from all his terrifying height.

  “You promised me you would do as I said from now on.”

  “And you’d promised not to let them torture Rigel—and you…you had them kill him!” Izar fought back tears. Life without Rigel would be…was going to be…unthinkable!

  “That stopped the torture. Is Hadar’s name on your bracelet now?”

  Izar looked, turning it. “Yes! And Tegmine.” Well, that was good!

  His father chuckled—a hollow, bassoon sort of noise. “I am both furious and amused that you grabbed that amulet. On one hand, you’re going to be hard to control now. On the other, I’m proud of you for outwitting all those halfling clods, Izar, my son.”

  “I don’ wanna be your son!”

  “Well you are, no matter how much we both dislike the fact. If I appoint, say, Phact, as your governess, what will you do?”

  “Kill her!”

  “Scheat?”

  “Kill him!”

  “A true chip off the block, you are. I never tolerated discipline either. I shall have to appoint starborn babysitters. You can’t kill them. Look around.”

  Izar did, and saw surf in the distance, friendly ripples close in, a silver beach and palm trees tossed by trade winds. Landward were flowering shrubs and the freestanding stone arch of the portal. There was no sign that anyone else existed in the world. Bright-colored parrots or toucans were flying above them. His view was blurred by tears as he thought about how much Rigel would have loved this place.

  “My personal swimming hole,” V said. “But I have also found it useful as a prison a few times. The portal works only for me. There is fresh water and the berries and fruits are all edible.”

  Izar did not comment.

  “Again I congratulate you on the way you captured Saiph, Son. Nobody else remembered that the amulet would fall off his wrist when he died, and you outwitted Hadar brilliantly. The man had outlived his usefulness. Most of them have, now, but I shall keep a few around. Even kings need assassins once in a while. Meanwhile, I need time to think what to do with you, now that you have become dangerous to non-starborn.”

  Rigel was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

  “It may take a day or so to arrange the handover of power,” Vildiar continued. “You will be quite safe here.”

  By the third morning, Izar was wondering if he would go mad. He talked to the trees and the gulls, the turtles and fish. He ate until he was nauseated and then ate more, because there was nothing to do, no one to just be with.

  The air boat that came floating in that morning was diamond shaped, with a seat at each corner, all facing inward. The driver sat at the rear; his seat was slightly higher than the others, although it didn’t need to be in this case, because the current occupant could easily look over anyone’s head. The two passengers at the sides were Sadalbari and Scheat. The boat settled down onto the sand, gently and quite steadily, being flat bottomed.

  Vildiar regarded Izar disapprovingly.

  “I should have thought to bring you a clean wrap. I am on my way to Canopus, where I will receive your mother’s abdication and the Light of Naos.”

  “And then what?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What happens to her. And me?” Hadar was gone but the Family still existed. Was he to be turned into a killing monster for his father? He bore the King of Swords; he was unbeatable.

  Vildiar stared back at him under his heavy brows. “That will depend on your behavior.” He bent and picked up a glittering chain. “Will you give me your solemn word that you will do exactly as I say and will not invoke Saiph without my express order?”

  “Or?” Izar asked grumpily.

  “Or I’ll put this collar on you and lead you around like a dog. It has certain occult powers that can be unpleasant at your end of it. I remind you that your amulet will not hurt me, and I am quite capable of breaking your arm if you annoy me.”

  Izar wondered if Saiph would allow that. It might let his other arm be broken. Besides, he had no choice. He would really go crazy if he stayed here alone for much longer. “I promise,” he muttered.

  “Louder. And politely.”

  “I promise to behave, Father.”

  “And obey!”

  “And obey.”

  “Then get in.”

  Izar scrambled in and took his seat at the front. The two halflings scowled at him. They were frightened of him, but that was very small comfort.

  Chapter 2

  The boat came in over the palace from the east and landed in a small courtyard Izar had never seen before. Long rows of empty green and silver Naos thrones stood there, scores of them mourning a glory that Naos Vildiar had destroyed. They varied in shape and probably in age, too, and only one of them was ever needed now. It would be another twenty years before Izar was officially a prince and entitled to use one, and probably centuries before as many as a dozen of them were needed again. Even that assumption depended on whether his father would let possible rivals survive.

  He couldn’t help wondering again if both he and Mom would be sent off to the Dark Cells. They couldn’t send the Saiph bearer to the Dark Cells without spilling a lot of blood, but when had blood bothered Naos Vildiar?

  Two sphinxes and three halfling servants waited to attend the arriving prince, but Vildiar hardly glanced at them. He took his seat on the first throne in line and beckoned Izar to stand on the foot ledge. The throne rose gently and headed for the exit, just like an air car.

  Izar could fly an air car now, somewhat erratically, but when would he ever be allowed to if he was a prisoner in the Unukalhai School for Monsters?

  The Great Court was far from crowded. Izar had never seen a smaller attendance—perhaps not many people had been summoned, or perhaps not many approved of what was going to happen. What he had not expected was the bier standing in the center, and a snarl from his father suggested that he was surprised, too. The throne suddenly surged forward, so that Izar had to grab at the side to recover his balance. He continued to hang on as it sped the rest of the way to the eight-level dais, faster than he had ever seen a Naos enter the court.

  For a moment he thought Vildiar was going to land dead center, right in front of the main throne, but at the last minute he banked and finally set it down with
a jolt in just about the right place, one step down and on the right. Then he leapt to his feet and took two long strides toward the royal throne. His normally pale face was flushed with anger.

  Commander Zozma came bounding out and blocked his path.

  Confrontation.

  “Her Majesty is still queen, Your Highness.” Zozma had the sort of voice that rattled dishes on shelves.

  “And you are still head of the Palace Guard,” Vildiar retorted. He spoke quietly, but everyone in the court could hear him. “This, too, will pass.” He spun around and stalked back to his proper place.

  Zozma ascended the stairs to assume his position beside the royal throne. Sphinx Kalb appeared on the other side, and Chancellor Aspidiske followed her in and went to stand on the left, two steps down. He bowed to Vildiar. Then he bowed again, meaning he was also bowing to Izar. The crowd noticed and murmured approval.

  Vildiar showed his teeth and said nothing.

  Trumpets blared and Mom walked out with Elgomaisa at her side—hadn’t she seen through that murdering traitor yet? Vildiar should have risen and bowed, but he didn’t. The moment she sat down, though, he sprang to his feet and pointed a long arm at the distant bier.

  “What is the meaning of this obscenity?”

  Chancellor Aspidiske frowned at this breach of protocol. “The marshal of Canopus is entitled to a state funeral by tradition and an act of King—”

  “Not for filthy halfling trash! State funerals are only for starborn.”

  Izar edged away. Normally his father remained ice-cold, always. He had never seen him rage like this, and he wondered what was provoking him so on his day of triumph. He had raped and plotted and murdered for two hundred years to win the throne and now it was to be his at last. Why so angry? Why wasn’t he gloating?

  Mom shrugged. The Light of Naos burned coldly blue-indigo on her neck and shoulders. “You seem to be under a misapprehension, Prince. Chancellor, summon the royal archivist.”

  Vildiar muttered something under his breath, so softly that not even the magical acoustics picked it up. Nasty Elegy was looking cross, so he obviously didn’t know what was coming. Did Vildiar? Had he seen some possibility he had previously overlooked? Was it possible that a court officer, such as the marshal of Canopus, was legally a starborn, no matter what his breeding? Would the guilt curse apply in such a case? Izar recalled his legal lectures and magic classes and decided that race and rank didn’t work together that way. But certainly something odd was going on, something that worried Vildiar and puzzled Elegy.

  A tiny green shoot of hope sprouted in Izar’s winter of dismay.

  Aspidiske had hardly uttered Wasat’s name before the ancient halfling came hobbling out from the side, wearing his collar of office of amber and onyx. He bowed to the throne and took his place on the Star of Truth, having trouble with stiff joints as he knelt. But he was smiling, so he knew exactly what was in the wind.

  And the chancellor obviously knew what to ask him. “State your name and—”

  “Stop wasting time!” Vildiar roared. “We all know him. What is he supposed to say?”

  “Go ahead, Archivist,” the chancellor said. “Tell us.”

  “Oh.” The old man hesitated, having been expecting a prompt. “Well, when the late Queen Electra last appeared here, in court, before her people…she announced that Halfling Rigel, he who was later appointed marshal of Canopus, was actually her son.”

  “We all know that, too!” Vildiar said. This time he spoke more quietly, but his voice was hoarse with rage. “If that made the mongrel a starborn, then all halflings are starborn. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Wasat turned to face him. “Oh no, Your Highness. I am a halfling, my mother having been human and my father a starborn, although I do not know his name. The law clearly says that any child of such a union is a halfling, or tweenling, as the two terms are inter—”

  “Just get on with it!”

  “Yes, Your Highness. Her Majesty, the late queen, also gave Halfling Rigel a document at that time, which he brought straight to me for safekeeping. In fact he didn’t even open it, because he already knew the name of his father.” He produced a slim roll bound with a purple ribbon. “I testify that this is that self-same document, which has been kept secure in the royal archives ever since that day. With the permission of the court I will now read this affidavit, which I testify bears the late queen’s private seal and her signature, both known to me.”

  He began to untie the ribbon. Vildiar went back to roaring.

  “Stop wasting my time! Just tell us the name of the bastard’s father, as if it matters a small splat of bird shit, so we can get on with the real business. We came here for an enthronement, not a half-breed’s send-off.”

  Wasat seemed hurt and rather at a loss. He looked to Mom for guidance and she smiled and nodded. Izar had no idea what was coming, but he suspected that Vildiar now did and didn’t like it, so it must be good news.

  “Very well.” Wasat turned to face him again. “The document named me. I am Marshal Rigel’s father.”

  The audience gasped in unison, then growled in protest.

  But Wasat was still kneeling on the Star and not screaming in agony.

  “That is impossible!”

  “Not quite, Your Highness. There have been other cases, although they are very rare. They seem to be rarer than they were in the distant past, too. But I was Queen Electra’s secret lover for over a century. And twenty or so years ago, she stood right where I’m kneeling now, on the Star of Truth, and swore to me that there had been no others in that time and the child she carried was mine.”

  Vildiar leaned back in his throne and his bluster had all gone. For the first time in Izar’s memory, he seemed uncertain.

  “So he was a freak. He was still a halfling, wasn’t he?”

  The old man paused and chose his words carefully, as everyone did when located where he was. “As I said, Your Highness, although I am no lawyer, I have been told that the law is explicit in defining a halfling as the child of a starborn and a human, whether mudling or—”

  “Wait!” Mom rose from the throne and walked down the seven long steps to the Star. Wasat hurriedly scrambled away on hands and knees to let her take his place, not taking the time he would need to rise.

  “I am Talitha, Queen of the Starlands, and I testify that I have had my advisors search the laws high and low. Nowhere can they find any definition of a halfling other than the one Archivist Wasat just gave us. That definition does not fit Rigel. He could be a three-quarterling, but there is no such term under the law. The child of a starborn and a halfling can neither be a mudling nor a halfling, and must therefore be a starborn. A starborn with some mudling blood in him, perhaps, but still a starborn.

  “Furthermore, Vildiar Naos, the earthlings classify a species as a group that can produce fertile crossbreeds. I testify to this court that I carry Starborn Rigel’s child, a daughter, whose name appears to be either Altair or Altais, it being too early in my pregnancy for me to be completely certain either way. Starborn Rigel impregnated me a great deal faster than you did, monster. And he did so by being a wonderful lover, not a serial rapist.”

  The court was cheering as she walked back up to the throne. The crowd was thicker than it had been. Izar wondered if any of his friends were out there: Dschubba or Uk or Salm. Uk’s parents brought him to court whenever one was held.

  Vildiar was cowering back in his throne, his ugly face twisted in horror.

  “Tell me again about the guilt curse, Father,” Izar said, knowing that everyone would hear him. He jumped away and ran down to the Star. Both Vildiar and Mom shouted at him to stop, the first time he had ever heard them agree on anything. He ignored them both.

  “I am Izar Starborn, and I testify that, when Rigel came to rescue me after I had been kidnapped, I saw him standing directly behind Naos Vildiar with his ancestral amulet Saiph on his wrist. So he could have killed him, and when I asked him later why he did
n’t, he said that he wasn’t sure. Now I wear Saiph, and it won’t let me kill a starborn either, because I tried to kill Vildiar with it, and that proves that Rigel was a starborn!”

  The audience seemed to draw in one huge, communal breath and then roared in unison.

  The queen said, “That must be right. Starborn Rigel didn’t know why he hadn’t killed Prince Vildiar that day. He came up with several theories, but I believe that Izar Starborn has found the real answer at last.”

  Izar Starborn! That sounded good. Izar Starborn swung around to point at his father on the green throne. “I saw you order Rigel’s death. ‘Kill him!’ you said, very clearly.”

  He turned and walked up to the royal throne. Mom was still standing, waiting for him, so she could hug him. He hugged her back. She kissed him, which was all right under the circumstances and at least everyone would see that he was almost as tall as she was now.

  Starborn Elgomaisa’s face was as white as his hair was black.

  “You, too,” Izar said, more shrilly than he intended. “You used the same exact words. ‘Kill him!’ you said, meaning Rigel Starborn.”

  Elegy sobbed, “No!”

  “Yes, you did! I was there; I heard you.”

  The nasty creature screamed, turned around as if to leave by the door behind the slab, and suddenly crumpled. He twitched and writhed on the floor.

  Mom sat down. Izar stood alongside her and together they watched with interest as the guilt curse did its work. Izar had seen Queen Electra just fade away, but Elgomaisa was suffering more. He wept and retched and thrashed. Vildiar tried to raise his throne but it moved only a foot or so before crashing down again. He, too, slithered to the ground and began to wail in agony and terror.

  Everyone could hear them and watch them die.

  “Halfling!” Vildiar gasped, and the magic carried his voice to the farthest corners of the court. “He was halfling trash!” He seemed to be trying to crawl toward the Star of Truth, as if he could change an unpalatable fact by asserting its falsity there. He made it down one step before his strength failed him. He crumpled and just lay there wailing. The spectators had crowded forward to jeer and cheer his death throes. Gradually his noises became screams, too. Were Vildiar and Elgomaisa less brave than the old lady had been? Or was it because they were younger?