Myth-Told Tales

by Robert Asprin

  Such as the one giving discretion to the operator on whether to execute.

  Vol Grun had been at peace a long while. Tananda made a quick survey of the grounds immediately adjacent to the castle to make sure that the one sentry at the gate was the only guard on duty—except for signs of a commando hiding in the bushes somewhere inside the circle of the moat. It was no problem for her to avoid both of them. She didn’t even have to use a lick of magik.

  Instead, she used that to help her hang on to the steep stone wall as she climbed it. If she remembered correctly, Cordu’s personal suite was in the center of the northeastern tower. If she had guessed wrong, she could disguise herself as a chambermaid.

  The heavy blocks of stone afforded her many easy handholds. Tananda swung herself up onto the head of a gargoyle.

  “Sorry,” she said, as she realized she had been hanging from its tongue.

  “No problem,” the stone creature said. “Nice day, ain’t it?”

  “A little cool for spring,” Tananda said, and struck an appealing pose. “You wouldn’t mind not telling anyone you saw me, would you?”

  “No problem,” the gargoyle repeated, cracking a granite grin. “No one ever asks me anything anyway.”

  She patted him on his crested head before making a leap to the next step, the roof of a buttressed turret. Just two jumps away was a window frame, with the glass window just a hair ajar. Once she reached that, she could climb inside and find a good hiding place to observe her subject.

  A careful stretch, and Tananda clung to the underside of the window frame. She levered herself up to peer inside. She saw a flight of the spiral staircase, but no living beings. She listened intently. The castle was bespelled against intruders, but since the window was slightly open, she could work a filament of magikal force through to lift the latch.

  It swung open silently. Tananda was grateful to the cleaners who had oiled the hinges. And dusted, she observed, grasping hold of the upper window frame to swing herself in. It was clean as a whistle.

  She nearly let one out in surprise.

  A vast, hairy hand clamped upon her wrist and dragged her inside.

  Tananda broke free with a dirty twist she had learned from a street-fighting master, and used a tickle of magik to land safely on the stairs. By the time her feet touched down, she had daggers in both hands, but the bulky defender was on guard, too. He let out a growl.

  She feinted at the figure with one knife then started to lunge to the left.

  Her opponent countered both her moves. He leaped back to avoid the knife, then closing with her inside the arc of her second dagger. Tananda retreated and riposted. He countered. Her right-hand dagger went flying. She and the defender ended up tangled in one another’s arms, grappling for the remaining knife. The big, hairy hand felt its way down her arm to her back and up to her face. It stopped, as if in surprise.

  “Little Sister!” a big, hearty voice boomed.

  “Big Brother!” Tananda cried, recognizing both the voice and the scent of the fur.

  The siblings stopped wrestling. Tananda squeezed her Troll brother until the air was knocked out of him then looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  Chumley patted his chest, trying to get his breath back.

  “I presume, my dear sister, that I am engaged in a counterpoint to what you intend to do here. Or do I fail to recognize the knot in the scarf around your neck?”

  Tananda sighed and sat down on the step. “No, you’re right. I’ve been hired to assassinate your friend.”

  His big furry brow lowered. The usually even-tempered Troll looked angry.

  “Why? Why take the contract? Cordu is an old friend of mine, if not of yours.”

  She noticed a torch on the wall and lit it with a lick of magik force.

  “Read the contract before you get upset, Brother,” Tananda said, handing it over.

  The brow lifted at clause three. “And she signed it?”

  “She didn’t even read it through. But it’ll hold up before the Guildmaster, and that’s all I care about. Mums would get so upset if the Guild punishers came looking for me. She might get blood on that new Djinni carpet she just had put in.”

  Chumley shivered. Their mother was a force to be reckoned with.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Well,” Tananda said. “I would say at this point, what are we going to do? He’s your friend.”

  “Come and talk with him, Little Sister,” Chumley said, wrapping her in a fond fraternal arm. “I think you will find what he has to say most interesting.”

  “I was a fool,” Cordu said, pacing up and back in his own bedchamber. This room, Tananda noted with an eye toward interior decorating, was much more a male’s idea of a cozy hideaway. The heads of animals stared glassily at her. Three very large, red-scaled hunting beasts lay asleep in front of a crackling fire. A suit of armor stood beside the doorway, holding a tray containing a square, cut-crystal whiskey decanter and a clutch of glasses. Cordu, rather a good-looking male of the Nobish type, poured out beverages for each of them. He held up his own glass in salute. Tananda surreptitiously used a thread of magik to test her own whiskey for poison. Chumley noticed her movement.

  “Tsk tsk,” he said.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m on duty.”

  “I understand,” Cordu sighed. “I am glad that you are willing to talk to me. Rennie won’t.”

  Chumley poured himself another glass of whiskey. “Casting my mind backward, Cordu, I seem to recall that you and Renimbi cared for one another.”

  “We do—I mean, did. We have been best friends all our lives. That is why I thought she would understand—the mistake I made. I had no idea that she would go so far in her displeasure as to hire an assassin. Truthfully, it’s not entirely my fault. Her father and I . . . well, it is all a misunderstanding. I know he has always wanted to join our two realms. Perhaps you know that they were one country, three hundred years ago.”

  Tananda and Chumley shook their heads.

  “My studies of your history are more of the first and last,” Chumley said. “The ancient origins of your people, and most recent, social studies, if you like. So many dimensions, so little time.”

  Cordu found a map in the bookshelf that sat underneath the arched window and unrolled it to show them.

  “The arrangement makes sense, for our mutual prosperity and defense. This part of the continent is one big river valley, best defended at its mountain passes on the circumference. My father and I had discussed it with our ministers and found it to be workable, so I went to the Tue-Khan with a diplomatic proposal. We would write a treaty that left our realms each under separate thrones, but as one with an open border to allow easy movement. I stressed that our peoples were of one blood, as close as kin could be. He got the idea into his head that I must marry Renimbi to seal the arrangement. And, well, there was a lot to drink. And, well . . . I didn’t really read the document that he shoved underneath my nose early the next morning.”

  “Why would the Tue-Khan even do such a thing?” Tananda asked.

  “It’s his dream. He had told us ever since we were children that he hoped we would marry. My father, too, wished that Renimbi and I would marry. He found every opportunity to throw us together, even leaving us alone in romantic settings.” Cordu’s cheeks deepened in color to bronze. “For our parents’ sake we tried. But we never really hit it off as lovers, and our relationship has only gotten worse over the last few years. It was with genuine regret that we decided it could never be. My father came to terms with our incompatibility. That is when I married Larica. Rennie and I agreed we would stay best friends. I still love her dearly, but not romantically.”

  “But after the, er, meeting with her father, you did press your suit to Renimbi?”

  “Well, yes, I did. What with the document and all, I believed I had no choice. Larica is not happy about it, but she understands the customs of our culture. At first I thought that it could w
ork.”

  “But Renimbi soon disabused you of that notion,” Chumley said.

  Cordu looked sheepish.

  “Well, yes. She sent back all of my presents in pieces, except the horse. My page told me that she threatened him with a sword, too.”

  “Sounds serious,” Tananda said, grinning.

  “But the upshot is that her father and I signed a compact. I am as good as married to Renimbi already. We don’t even need the priests to solemnize the union. That is why she wants me dead. She has more or less become my second wife.”

  Tananda shook her head. “Worse than I thought. Renimbi doesn’t know it’s already happened. She thinks she can forestall it by having you killed.”

  He sighed. “I was a fool.”

  “You certainly were. But why can’t you simply have the document vacated? Doesn’t the Tue-Khan want his daughter to be happy?”

  “I am afraid he has gotten what he always wanted, and he has convinced himself that we will eventually settle down and go along with it,” Cordu said sadly. “I have tried to ask him to void the marriage contract, but he won’t. As long as it exists, Rennie and I are husband and wife. Hence,” he said, sighing, “your arrival.”

  Tananda looked at Chumley. “How did you get involved?”

  “Oh, Cordu sent a message out to all of his old mates from school. What? We used to be on the skeet-shooting club together. Birkley, from Cent, is up on the roof. He’s got a spear he uses as a focus for his wizardry.”

  Tananda fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ve always had a thing for Centaurs,” she purred. “Especially ones with magikal spears. Anyone else?”

  “Krans, from Imper, is hanging around outside, watching for intruders. He’s deadly with a crossbow. I don’t think any of us anticipated the method of your arrival, except for Chumley, who insisted on being in my chamber with me. And he was right to do so. If it had not been you, a friend, I might be dead already had Chumley not been here.”

  “Do you think that she will send another deadly envoy?” Chumley asked.

  “No, and no other Guild assassin would take the contract as long as I am in the picture,” Tananda said. “That’s not to say she won’t send an amateur.”

  “No, she won’t do that,” Cordu said. “Rennie always goes for the best. She thinks it’s only her due, as a daughter of the Tue-Khan of Eyarll.”

  “Good,” Tananda said. “That gives us a chance to brainstorm. If I’m the only femme fatale you’re waiting for, then why don’t we get your friends in? I always think better in the presence of a lot of good-looking men.” She flirted her eyelashes at Cordu.

  “Spare me, my lady,” he said, laughing. “I’m already in trouble with two women. I don’t need a third.”

  The Centaur and the Imp had plenty of suggestions.

  “Flood her with other suitors,” Birkley said. “She’ll forget about you.”

  “One thing you have to know about Rennie,” Cordu said, “she is always faithful to promises. The other thing you must know is that she never forgets a grudge. No.”

  “Bribe her father,” the Imp said. “You’ve got a lot of money.”

  “Money can’t buy him off,” Cordu said. “Nothing will buy him from this notion.”

  Chumley looked thoughtful. “What if your lady wife made an appeal to him? She wasn’t planning to be supplanted.”

  “She is not supplanted. No matter what the rank of each successive spouse we might take, the first gains precedence. My mother had two husbands. The second one was a prince of Jongling, but my father was a butcher from Karpuling. Rennie loses rank. I know that will make her angrier when she knows.”

  The men turned to Tananda.

  She shook her head. “Sorry, Cordu,” she said. “I’ve thought it over, and you’re going to have to die.”

  The Nob rose to his feet in alarm.

  “What? Call for my guards! Call for my wizard!”

  “Forget them,” Tananda said, toying with her whiskey glass. “If I meant it, you’d be dead already. Big Brother knows that.”

  Chumley gawked. “Little Sister!”

  She smiled at him. “I mean it, Big Brother. Let’s get going. I can explain it all on the way.”

  “Way?” Cordu echoed. “Where are we going?”

  “Eyarll. We’ve got a marriage to annul.”

  The heralds honked out a note on their yard-long trumpets.

  “Lord Cordu, heir of Vol Gr—!”

  Before they could finish announcing the new arrivals to the assembly in the throne room, Chumley stepped forward and shoved them aside.

  “Sorry,” he called as they went flying. He cocked his head to Cordu, who stepped into the room and stood framed in the doorway with his hands on his hips. After a deliberate three-count, he strode in. His entourage, led by Chumley, crowded in after him.

  Behind them came the small figure of Larica, draped in sea-blue silk with a wreath around her head, and her ladies-in-waiting. The expression on her little round face clearly said that she did not like what was going on.

  The Tue-Khan, a bulky Nob with a large nose, stood up from his damask-cushioned throne. Cordu swaggered up to him.

  “Where’s my bride?” Cordu demanded.

  The Tue-Khan looked taken aback.

  “She’s not present at the moment, er, son,” he said. “We weren’t expecting you yet!”

  “Well, why not?” Cordu bellowed, his voice making the amethyst chandeliers ring among the ceiling rafters. “Shouldn’t take you that long to get her ready. You’re her father—command her!”

  The Tue-Khan assumed an indulgent smile.

  “Come now, son, you’ve known her all her life. She’s not that easy to command.”

  “Well, she’s going to have to learn how to take orders! Things are about to change! Get her down here! I said,” he repeated, thrusting his face into the Tue-Khan’s, who cowered back in his throne, “get her down here NOW!”

  Chumley could have applauded. Cordu always had been the pride of the Footlight Society at university. Such a mild personality as his had to be disguised in an aggressive role. It was an absolute inspiration on Little Sister’s part to come up with this scenario. It seemed to be working very well. He tipped a wink in the direction of the rafters, hoping she could see him from her vantage point.

  “You’ve changed so much, Cordu,” the Tue-Khana, Renimbi’s mother said, shaking her head. “I don’t like it. You must not be too rough on Rennie. She’s entitled to the courtesies as a duchess and daughter of the Tue-Khan.”

  “Yes, courtesies,” Cordu said. He whispered desperately over his shoulder to Krans. “Line!”

  “I want her to meet . . .” the Imp prompted.

  “Ah, yes,” Cordu said, recovering his aplomb. “I want her to meet my other wife, Larica. She’s going to be Rennie’s superior from now on. I’d like to see Rennie curtsy to her.”

  The Eyarllian courtiers gasped in unison.

  The Tue-Khan clicked his tongue. “Son, dynastic marriages take time to arrange. We have to send for a priest, and call for guests, arrange gifts, draw up paperwork . . .”

  “The document I signed is as good as a marriage, isn’t it?” Cordu asked.

  “Er, yes . . .”

  Cordu spread out his hands.

  “Then she is already my bride. I expect you to present her to me so we can get on with the honeymoon!”

  The Tue-Khana looked horrified. “Decent people don’t speak of such things in public, Cordu!”

  “Who said I was a decent person? After that, I intend to make some changes around here.”

  “What changes, my son?” the Tue-Khan asked, frowning. “I am sure Renimbi will enjoy discussing them with you, for the day when you and she rule over our joined lands.”

  “In Vol Grun, the man becomes head of the household,” Cordu said. “She will obey my will. But why wait? We signed a contract to join our lands. That means that what is yours is mine. So, I am moving in here, giving myself a little pie
d-à-terre that I can drop in on when I feel like it.”

  “Er . . . that wasn’t exactly what I intended in the wording of our agreement, son.”

  Cordu looked shocked. “It wasn’t? I thought you wanted one land, under one rule.”

  “In a way, over time . . .”

  “Why wait?” Cordu rubbed his hands together and looked around. “For a start, I think this place is too full of decorator trash. I think we’ll start to get rid of some of it right now.”

  He signed to the others. Chumley studied the room to see what could be removed or brought down without causing permanent damage. A hundred gilt-edged chairs stood arrayed on each side of the aisle leading to the throne, places for visiting nobles to sit. Only one was occupied. That left ninety-nine to play with.

  “Roarrr!”

  He charged the neat rows. A dozen chairs went flying into the others, knocking them flying. Courtiers raced to get out of the way of furniture. A few cowered behind the Tue-Khan’s throne. Chumley picked out a chair that already showed signs of decrepitude and tore the legs asunder as easily as parting a wishbone.

  CRACK!

  “Cheap!” he declared.

  “No!” the Tue-Khana cried. “Dear, make him stop!”

  “Guards!” the Tue-Khan shouted. “Seize him!

  A coterie of armored men lowered their spears and charged at him.

  With one hand Chumley picked up a chair, drew it to his chest. He took three careful steps, and bowled the golden chair across the room. It spun over the floor. The guards windmilled their arms as they tried to get out of the way, but the chair caught four of them right in the knees. They fell, scattering. Two of the guards kept coming.

  “Need spare,” Chumley announced, reaching for another chair. “Seven-ten, not easy!” He rolled the chair at the two guards, but they dove for opposite walls. The chair smashed into the wall. “Darn!

  “Those are for people awaiting audience,” the Tue-Khan said, agog.

  “Oh, you don’t need those,” Cordu said. “I have something better. Bring it in!”