The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre

by T C Southwell

  "I'm not any man."

  "I do not understand your reluctance."

  Sabre leant on the battlements and studied the soldiers. "That's my business."

  "Is this a political marriage on your part? Tassin's feelings are beyond doubt, and it did appear to me as if you returned them."

  "What possible reason could there be for a political marriage between us?"

  "Well, you are a powerful sorcerer whom Tassin needs to aid her return to her throne, and probably to keep it."

  Sabre nodded. "An interesting deduction, except for the fact that Tassin lost her throne because she went in search of me."

  "True. Then I am at a loss."

  Sabre straightened and turned to him. "How about you do your thing and I'll do mine?"

  "Do you not want to make Tassin happy?"

  "Butt out, Your Majesty."

  Sabre walked off, and Sharmian gazed after him, confused and disappointed. Dena had asked him to persuade Tassin and Sabre to share their wedding day, and he hated to disappoint her. Over the last three weeks he had come to know her well, and his affection had grown in leaps and bounds. Now he could hardly bear to be parted from her, and they spent long hours talking and laughing together. He left the battlements and went to tell her of Sabre's refusal.

  ****

  Dena's marriage to Sharmian took place three days later. The high priest conducted it in the tiny chapel in the castle, and only a few close friends attended. Dena wore a white satin gown whose skirt comprised pointed lace panels that swirled when she moved. White rosebuds adorned her hair, matched her bouquet and complemented the pearl necklace Sharmian gave her on the day. The Mandorian King looked dashing in an elegant outfit of royal blue with gold embroidery, his modest crown encrusted with diamonds.

  Dena insisted that Sabre give her away, and Sharmian's tailors made the cyber a black velvet suit picked out with silver designs, worn over a white shirt. Tassin also received a gift from Sharmian in the form of a dark blue silk gown ornamented with panels of cyan satin, its bodice trimmed with tiny pearls. Even Tarl was given a quality dark green suit. Dena chose Tassin as her maid of honour, and Sharmian's cousin on his mother's side was best man.

  After the ceremony, the crowd gravitated to the orchard, where a merry feast awaited it. Sharmian had hired jugglers, acrobats and musicians and built a wooden platform for them, which would be used for dancing later. While the guests dined on roast sucking pig and duck accompanied by platters of spiced vegetables, jugs of gravy and flasks of wine, three jugglers took to the stage first. Sabre watched them each juggle four balls with a smile. He knew Tassin would scoff at them, and she promptly did, nudging him.

  "How many balls could you juggle?"

  He shrugged, carving a slice from the roast pig on the platter in front of him. "I don't know; I've never tried."

  "Would you like to see?"

  "I think they're doing fine."

  "I'd like to see."

  He smiled. "I'm not the entertainment."

  "But you could probably do twice as many."

  "Maybe."

  "Don't be coy, Sabre."

  "I'm not being coy, I'm eating."

  "When you've finished then."

  He sighed and loaded his fork. "I'm much more interested in enjoying the food."

  "I want you to try. Will you do it for me?"

  Tarl, who sat on the other side of the Queen leant closer. "The only limit to how many balls Sabre could juggle is -"

  "How many I'm going to ram up your arse if you don't shut up," Sabre remarked.

  Tassin turned to the ex-cyber technician. "Is what?"

  "How high he can toss them, and the wind factor," Tarl finished, shooting Sabre a triumphant grin.

  Sabre frowned at her. "Don't encourage him."

  "I wanted to know."

  "Great, now that you do, I don't need to join the entertainment."

  "But I want to see you do it."

  "There are times when I want to see Tarl's head stuffed down a lavatory, but we can't always have what we want, can we?"

  Tassin giggled. "That's not the same. They're just balls."

  "And Tarl's just a moron, so what?"

  "Tarl's not a moron, he's your friend. Don't be so nasty."

  "The day I'm nasty is the day I do stuff him down a toilet."

  She tilted her head, and the sunshine caught her eyes, making them glow deep indigo. "Please?"

  He speared some vegetables. "No."

  "Come on, Sabre, I want everyone to admire your skills. I'm proud of you."

  Tarl eyed the cyber’s plate. "You know, you should eat more meat and potatoes and less vegetables, you need the protein and carbohydrates -"

  "Tarl." Sabre glared at him. "When I want your opinion on my eating habits, I'll ask for it."

  "Yeah, but -"

  "Shut it."

  Tarl muttered, "I'm just trying to help."

  Tassin poured Sabre a glass of wine. "If you're shy, this will help."

  Tarl shook his head, clearly horrified. "That's a bad idea."

  "That just makes me sleep," Sabre said.

  "Just a few sips. We have to toast the bride and groom, anyway."

  Sabre concentrated on eating while the jugglers finished their act amid enthusiastic applause, and the acrobats took to the stage. The guests gasped in awe when the three men performed simple backflips and somersaults, cartwheels and handstands. Tassin nudged Sabre, who was slicing more meat from the roast.

  "You must show them how much better you are at that."

  "No."

  Tarl snorted. "He could make them look like rank amateurs."

  Sabre shot him a glare. "I could make you look like a man with a fork up his arse, too. Doesn't mean I'll do it, though."

  "Oh, please," Tassin said.

  "I'm the giver-away-of-the-bride, not the entertainment, okay?"

  "For me?" She batted her eyelashes at him, slipping her arm through his.

  "No."

  "You said you'd do anything for me, and I'm not asking for much."

  "I was talking about life threatening situations, not showing off for a bunch of primping nobles."

  "I'll give you a kiss," she said.

  "That's not... I don't..." He frowned, trapped.

  Tassin looked hurt. "You don't want a kiss?"

  "No. I mean yes, of course I do, just... ah, shit." Sabre pushed his plate away and leant back.

  "Fine, I won't kiss you again."

  Tarl shook his head. "Now you've gone and dug yourself a big hole, bud."

  "You stay out of it," Sabre said. "Tassin, you know what I meant, so don't pretend you don't."

  "No, I don't." She folded her arms and turned her head away.

  "Of course you do, I meant..." Sabre glanced around at their neighbours, some of whom were listening unashamedly.

  Tarl leant closer to Tassin. "He meant he's not exactly keen on them, but he wouldn't say no, so as not to hurt your feelings."

  She nodded. "That's what I thought."

  "That's not it." Sabre glared at Tarl. "Stop interfering."

  "Hey, I'm just trying to help. See, you've upset her now."

  Sabre said, "I didn't mean it to sound like it did."

  She sighed, looking mournful. "You said no, and I think you meant it."

  "Many a slip happens between brain and tongue," Tarl quipped, "especially when they're not too well connected."

  Sabre reached past Tassin and gripped Tarl's collar, dragging him closer. "One more word out of you, and I swear, I'll -"

  "Hey!" Tassin elbowed him. "You're squashing me."

  Sabre released Tarl, glaring at him, and sat back. "Sorry."

  "I think you'll have to make up for it now," Tarl said, picking up his glass of wine.

  "What did I just say?" Sabre enquired.

  Tassin turned to him, her expression woeful. "Perhaps I could forgive you if you'd just show us some tricks."

  Sabre eyed her, unsure now, and spott
ed Tarl leaning over to whisper to Dena, whose eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Tassin laid a hand on Sabre's arm, drawing his attention back to her. "I do so want to see you do those wonderful acrobatics again. It would make me happy."

  "I'm not dressed for it." Sabre muttered, glaring at Tarl, who was poker-faced.

  "You could change. It would only take a minute. I promise not to kiss you for a whole week."

  "I didn't mean -"

  "You said you wanted her to stop,” Tarl pointed out. “What else could you have meant?"

  Sabre picked up an apple and bounced it off ex-cyber tech’s forehead, making him jump, and Dena giggled. Undeterred, Tarl rose to his feet and announced, "By special request of Queen Tassin and Queen Dena, Sir Sabre has agreed to give a demonstration of his acrobatic skills."

  "No I didn't," Sabre retorted as the guests applauded.

  "Come on, Sabre," Dena cried, clapping. "I want to see it too!"

  Tassin rose and tried to drag him out of his chair. "You can't say no to Dena, it's her wedding day."

  "Oh, for..." Sabre stood up when Tarl joined the struggle, and the ex-technician pushed him towards the stage, where the acrobats had formed a wobbly pyramid. They retreated, shooting Sabre scornful looks. Tarl stopped beside the stage and picked up the jugglers' balls.

  "I'll throw you stuff, you juggle it."

  "No tables or chairs."

  "Now there's an idea!"

  "I mean it. Don't think I won't clobber you if you do."

  "Fine. No tables or chairs."

  Tarl threw him the balls in quick succession, and Sabre juggled them with ease. The nobles applauded, and Dena giggled with delight. Tarl snorted and went over to the table to collect more ammunition, adding three apples, two empty wine bottles and three glasses to the mix. Sabre increased the height of the circle to accommodate the new items without any problem.

  Tarl returned to the table and collected an empty ale jug, two plates and a serving bowl, adding them to the ring of flying objects above Sabre.

  "This may even get interesting," he muttered, glancing around.

  Making his way over to the jugglers' bag of tricks, he found ten torches, two of which the jugglers had used earlier. Lighting them one by one, he tossed them to Sabre, who glared at him.

  "That's enough."

  "Oh come on, we're only getting started."

  Tarl looked at the guests, who were spellbound by the number and variety of objects now flying over Sabre with perfect precision, his hands moving in a blur at the base of the circle. The jugglers gaped, and then one handed more stuff to Tarl. Gasps came from the audience when eight rings, four skittles and seven more balls were added effortlessly to the circle. Tarl collared a gawping servant and ordered a dozen raw eggs, and the boy ran off. A gust of wind forced Sabre to side-step and correct the circle, which widened a little. Tarl added the eggs to the mix, and more gasps came from the guests.

  "That's enough, Tarl," Sabre said.

  "Just a few more."

  Tarl looked around and spotted an unopened keg of ale at the end of the table. He brought it to the edge of the stage.

  Sabre eyed him. "Don't be bloody ridiculous."

  "You can do it, here, catch." He lobbed the keg to Sabre, who caught it and sent it flying into the air.

  Tarl nodded. "See?"

  "No more."

  Tarl chuckled and picked up a haunch of meat, tossing it to Sabre. The cyber added it to the circle, glaring at Tarl, then threw one of the balls at him, making him jump aside to avoid it. The rest of the balls followed it in quick succession, all of them with deadly accuracy, and Tarl hopped and yelped as they bounced off him. The rings and skittles followed, the latter making him grunt as they thudded into his chest, his evasive antics useless.

  The guests laughed while he leapt about, especially when the haunch of meat hit him in the midriff. Having rid himself of all the unbreakable objects, Sabre sank to one knee and put down the rest as they fell into his hands. The eggs he put in the serving platter, the plates he stacked and the glasses he placed in a row. Finally he was left with the ten torches, which he tossed to the gawping jugglers. It took all three of them to field the burning brands and put them out.

  Empty-handed at last, Sabre stood up as the guests clapped and cheered, rising to their feet to show their appreciation. The cyber looked away in embarrassment, then glared at Tarl and strode towards him. Tarl retreated to Tassin's side, and she stepped into Sabre's path.

  "That was wonderful."

  "He's going to get his arse kicked this time, for sure."

  "Not now. Go and change."

  "What? No, that's enough."

  Tassin took his hand and dragged him towards the castle. "I'll come with you."

  "Tassin, please."

  "You put the jugglers to shame, but the acrobats still look scornful."

  "I don't care."

  She stopped and turned to him, out of sight of the guests. "I'll give you a kiss."

  "You're not really angry, then?"

  She cupped his cheek, smiling. "We were teasing you, you great lummox."

  "Teasing."

  "Yes." She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck. "I could never be angry with you."

  "That's not fair."

  "You want me to be angry with you?"

  "No, I meant..."

  She giggled. "I know."

  Sabre growled and swept her up, tossing her over his shoulder. She shrieked as he loped into the castle, pounded on his back and laughed. In his room, Sabre tossed her on the bed and straddled her, pinning her wrists.

  "That was wicked of you, picking on a defenceless cyber like that. You had me going there for a while."

  "I know." She grinned. "That's why it so much fun."

  "Evil woman."

  "Are you going to punish me?" Her eyes widened.

  Sabre studied her. "You're teasing again, right?"

  "That depends."

  "On what?"

  "On the punishment."

  He cocked his head. "What did you have in mind?"

  "I don't know, you're in charge. There's not much I can do about it."

  He glanced at her wrists. "True. But you don't seem to be struggling very much."

  "Not in the least. I have you exactly where I want you."

  "Really." Sabre considered. "I thought I was in charge?"

  "Men always think they are, but it's seldom the case."

  "And how many men have you had in this position?"

  "Only one."

  Sabre released her and sat back. Tassin sat up and began to unbutton his tunic.

  "What are you doing?" he enquired.

  "Helping you undress, of course."

  "Why?"

  "So you can change."

  "I can manage it."

  "But I want to help."

  In a few moments, she pulled his tunic off and tossed it aside, and his shirt followed the tunic even faster. Sabre sat on the bed to pull off his boots before she could start on his trousers. Tassin brought his cyber clothes, and he eyed her.

  "You're going to watch?"

  "No, I'm going to help."

  He shook his head. "I don't think so."

  "Why not? It's not as if you'll be naked, and even if you were, we're going to be husband and wife one day."

  "But we're not yet."

  She shrugged. "It's not as if I haven't seen you in your underwear before."

  "How would you like it if I watched you undress?"

  "I wouldn't mind in the least."

  Sabre sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, stay if you want."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tassin watched him strip down to his shorts and don his cyber issue clothes, her overtly admiring gaze making him a little uncomfortable and embarrassed. When she walked back to the feast with him, an air of expectation had fallen over the guests. Tarl had enlisted the aid of several servants to rig a wooden bar some four metres above the ground, supported
by rickety scaffolding and ropes attached to pegs.

  Sabre eyed it, then Tarl. "You're kidding, right?"

  "No. Acrobatics on the ground is too easy for you. This will be a little bit of a challenge."

  "That's not going to be strong enough."

  "It's pretty sturdy, and these fine lads are going to brace it as well." Tarl indicated the servants.

  "You're going to pay for this."

  "It'll be worth it. I've always wanted to see a cyber show off."

  "Didn't you see enough of them being put through their paces on Myon Two?" Sabre asked.

  "That was different."

  "How?"

  Tarl shrugged. "It was a set exercise, and they didn’t enjoy it."

  “Who says I’m going to enjoy this?”

  “Oh, I think you will, even if just a little, and you should.”

  Sabre glanced around at the guests, who appeared spellbound. Tassin looked a bit doubtful, but took her seat beside Dena. Tarl stepped back and gestured to the bar, and the servants braced themselves. Sabre sighed and looked up at it, gauging its width, which was no more than six centimetres. He leapt up and grabbed it, swung himself atop it and stood up. A soft 'ooh' came from the audience. Sabre walked to the end of the bar, his arms at his sides, then flung himself into a series of backflips, his hands and feet finding the bar with unerring accuracy.

  Reaching the end, he repeated the manoeuvre in forward somersaults, the bar bouncing under his weight. A louder 'aaah' of amazement came from the guests, but he was just warming up. Back flipping to the middle, he did a handstand, then swung himself around the bar three times, performing a handstand at the top of each swing for several seconds. Tiring of that, he stood up again and leap into a triple twisting backflip, wobbling just a little when he landed as the bar creaked and bent under his weight. The guests gasped.

  Sabre did a forward triple twisting somersault, then jumped off the bar, caught it and swung around it. Releasing it at the top of the swing, he did a quadruple twist and grabbed the bar as he fell. Swinging around it again, he released it at the top and did two back spins before catching it once more. Letting it go as he swung upwards, he landed on his feet and stood up, then ran to the end and jumped off, performed four somersaults and landed easily. The guests sat in stunned silence for several seconds, then burst into enthusiastic applause, shouting their accolades. Sabre returned to his seat, frowning at Tarl when he grinned.