The chef du protocol who led Cordu’s entourage raised a hand, and the huge double doors were flung open. Though they were two spear-lengths wide from lintel to lintel, it was still barely enough room for the huge Nobish beasts of burden, who were led in by a couple of ostlers. A dozen Vol Grun guards sprang to help untie the enormous parcels strapped to their backs. These were a pair of twelve-foot padded sofas that resembled giant cockroaches that had been upholstered in green and gold brocade, with piping around every fat, overstuffed cushion and a wealth of tassels at each end. They were arranged to flank a triangular end table possessed of a stunning orange-varnished finish, and overlooked by a skinny brass standard lamp with a marabou-fringed shade in brilliant pink. Tananda had spotted this furniture arrangement as they had passed a flea market on the way out of Vol Grun’s capital city. The owner, who had inherited it from his rich aunt, had been on his way to deposit it in the dump. They were so ugly that the moths wouldn’t touch them. She had bargained with him, and for less than a gold piece, the duke’s party found itself in possession of an experiment in extreme distaste. Cordu’s men placed the four pieces facing the throne, about five yards away, and lit the lamp.
“I thought you would be pleased,” Cordu said, flinging himself full length upon the left-hand sofa. “I knew that my moving in here would probably strain the facilities, so I brought my own seats. Like them?”
The Tue-Khana looked as though she might faint, but the Tue-Khan smiled weakly.
“They . . . will take a little getting used to.”
Clearly he was not yet outraged enough to take action. Chumley signaled to Krans to start the next onslaught.
The grinning Imp made a beeline for the king’s personal wine rack, under the guard of a butler and sommelier. The two Nobs tried in vain to protect it from him, but he levitated them out of his way.
“Hey, Cordu!” he shouted, holding up a bottle. “Chateau Punding ’04. What do you think of this swill?”
“Only the ’03 was any good,” Cordu replied. “Pour it out!”
“Right-o!” The Imp sent the bottle sailing into the air. The cork seemed to pop, and a cascade of purple liquid glugged down onto the priceless hand-knotted carpet. The two servants ran to intercept it and stop the flow. Krans made the bottle dance around the room just out of their reach. When the last dregs had poured out, he let it drop and chose another.
“How about this one?”
Cordu waved a dismissive hand.
“Vinegar! Get rid of it!”
“His Excellency’s favorite!” the butler cried, racing to stop him. Krans lofted up out of his reach. The butler jumped for him, his belly jiggling.
“Aha!” Krans cried, drawing a ceramic jug to him with a wisp of magik. “Finiffian brandy!”
“I’ll take some of that,” Cordu said. Krans threw him a priceless balloon glass. Cordu caught it just before it hit the ground. The sommelier fainted dead away.
Birkley the Centaur, a good-looking male with a long blond mane and beard, galloped around the room, picking up women and heaving them onto his back.
“May I have this one, Cordu?” he asked. “Or perhaps this one?”
“Take them all!” the heir called back. The ladies screamed and beat at him, but he grabbed their wrists, laughing.
Instead of ordering them rescued, the Tue-Khan stood gawking. Chumley thought he ought to cause a little more havoc. He started toward the wall full of tapestries, roaring.
“I do not like your color scheme!” he bellowed. He yanked the colorful hangings down. They fell on his head. He tore his way out through a seam, and lurched out of them, toward a wall full of gleaming glass vases and sculptures. The Tue-Khana followed him, pleading.
“Not my granny’s crystal, please!”
At the last moment, Chumley veered off, and headed toward a suit of armor on a stand. He kicked and tore at it until the pieces were scattered all over the costly rug.
“Not fit me!” he shouted. “Discriminatory against Trolls!”
“What is all this?”
Chumley tossed aside the helmet at the sound of the outraged voice. At last, Renimbi had appeared.
Premier Number One Daughter stood in the archway, a look of absolute horror on her face. Horror changed to fury as she scanned the room and spotted Cordu on the ugly couch, drinking. Larica stood by him, head proudly erect, with an expression on her face that boded ill for her husband once the two of them would be alone.
She turned to her father. “What is he doing here?”
“Moving in, it would seem,” the Tue-Khan said.
“And you let him!”
“I don’t seem to have had a choice, my dear. He . . . he brought all of his friends. And some furniture.”
“It’s horrible,” Renimbi said. “Like something from a fun fair. And look what else he is doing! They’re tearing up the entire room!”
“High spirits, child. Be a good hostess. We are going to be kin from now on.”
“No, we’re not,” Renimbi said. “I told you I didn’t want to marry him. I won’t. You can’t make me!
The Tue-Khan actually dropped his gaze and shuffled his toe on the marble floor. “I’m afraid that you already have, child.”
“What?”
The Tue-Khan produced a paper from the inside of his over-robe. “The clauses written in here . . . the lawyers, you know . . . insisted I include a consideration to make the contract valid . . . and I have always wanted to see the two of you together. I was sure you’d be happy, my dear.”
“You tied me to him? And you didn’t tell me?”
At last the Tue-Khan was beginning to look more angry than doubtful. “I didn’t know he had become such a . . . lout!”
“Tear up the contract!” Renimbi demanded.
The Tue-Khan hastily stuck the parchment roll back into his robe. “Child, my dream has always been to unite our lands. It is already accomplished. We are now one great country. Surely you can put up with one another, say on state occasions, and perhaps to give us a grandchild or two? For your dear old father?” He held out his hands to her.
“No! Never!”
“What a great idea, Rennie!” Cordu called from his reclining position. “We can give him grandchildren. We can start today.” He patted the couch. “This is comfy.”
Renimbi’s cheeks turned ochre with fury, but she didn’t move. Chumley walked over and tucked her under his arm. She beat and kicked at him as he carried her to Cordu’s couch. The prince edged out of reach when Chumley plopped her down. She didn’t notice. She sprang up and raced back to the steps of the throne.
“You tied me to him! Now I am stuck with your choice! I hate you! I hate him!”
“My darling, I have only the best intentions for you in my heart!” The Tue-Khan said. Cordu finished his brandy and tossed the priceless glass over his shoulder.
CRASH!
It burst into shards on the floor. The Tue-Khan winced.
“Rennie, I’m glad you showed up,” Cordu said. He stood up, swaying. Chumley admired his acting technique. Cordu wasn’t drunk at all. Most of the priceless brandy had been poured down between the cushions. He hoped Cordu could get through his entire speech without fumbling. This was the one he had been the most nervous about on the trip there. “I thought your father had a great idea. I mean, how else could I conquer a whole country with the stroke of a pen? From childhood, we’ve been good friends. I want . . . hic! . . . I want you to meet Larica. She’s my wife, too. You’re gonna be good friends. She said she’s got some great ideas about how the two of you are going to get along. She wants to change your wardrobe, and teach you needlework. My personal chamber back home needs a whole new tapestry, and you haven’t been doing anything useful over the last few years, so this will be a nice change for you.”
“Urrrrrgggh!” Renimbi shrieked, wringing her hands in anger. “I wish you were dead!”
“Bingo, what?” Chumley said to himself. “Couldn’t have scripted it better mys
elf.”
“Rennie!” Cordu said reproachfully. “How could you say such a thing? I’m sho—”
THUNK!
His words were cut off suddenly, because a crossbow bolt buried itself in the center of his chest.
“Gack!” Cordu exclaimed. He clutched the feathered end of the arrow. Larica let out a terrified cry. Cordu staggered to the left. He goggled at the Tue-Khan, whose expression of horror matched his own. He grasped at the air with his free hand then staggered back to the right. He held up a hand as though he was about to make a statement, but his knees collapsed under him. As the assembly in the throne room watched in horror, Cordu toppled over. His eyes sagged closed. Renimbi ran to kneel beside him. She took his wrist, feeling for a pulse.
“Cordy? Cordy? Speak to me!”
“One side. I examine,” Chumley said, kneeling beside the prone Cordu. Both women clutched each other. The Troll shook his head with magnificent gravity.
“Dead.”
“Dead?” Renimbi said.
Tananda descended magnificently from the ceiling, foot in a loop of rope. The crossbow was slung at her back.
“As ordered, Duchess,” she said. “I think I’ve earned my fee.”
“But I didn’t really want him dead,” Renimbi wailed. “He’s my best friend.”
“Did you want him as a husband?” Tananda asked, surprised. “He has been acting like such a jerk.”
Renimbi wrung her hands.
“I know, but that’s just the way he is . . . I mean, was. Oh, how could I have been so stupid?”
The Tue-Khan came down from his throne and stood over the body of his momentary son-in-law. Shaking his head, he took the document out of the pocket in his robe. Sorrowfully, he tore it into strips and let the pieces fall down onto the body.
“This agreement becomes null and void on the death of one of the couple,” he said. “I should never have let my ambition get in the way of my good sense. I am so very sorry, daughter. Your oldest friend, dead, and all because of me.” He turned and pointed a finger at Tananda. “Seize her!”
“You really can’t arrest me,” Tananda said, as burly Nobs crowded in on her from all sides. “My contract was properly registered with the Assassins’ Guild.”
One of them fastened manacles around her wrists, and bent to loop lengths of chain around her ankles. She winked outrageously at him.
“You know, I don’t usually go in for this kind of thing, but I’ll try anything once.”
The Nob turned away, nervously. Chumley almost laughed out loud.
“You are very bold for a wench who is about to suffer torture and death,” the Tue-Khan rumbled. “You . . . you Trollop!”
“Why, you noticed!” Tananda said, flirting her eyelashes at him. Chumley surreptitously yanked the arrow out of Cordu’s chest.
“You will die most painfully!” the Tue-Khan roared.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Tananda said. Her wrist chains jangled as she raised a hand to pat a yawn. “It’s not on my schedule, you know.”
Renimbi and Larica hung on each others’ shoulders, weeping. The Tue-Khan and Tue-Khana came to wrap their arms sympathetically around them.
“Oh, this is all my fault!” Renimbi said. “He was my best friend. I didn’t really want him to have him killed. I just didn’t see any other way out of my father’s contract.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Cordu asked.
Renimbi spun, gasping.
“Cordy!”
“Rennie!”
“Cordy!”
“Larrie!”
The three of them enjoyed a group hug, then Renimibi’s parents made it five.
“But you were dead!” Renimbi exclaimed.
“Not really,” Tananda said. “The arrow’s just a party gag I picked up in Deva. The person you plunge it into falls into a magical coma until you pull it out again. It doesn’t even leave a mark.” She pulled one from the quiver at her belt and stabbed it into the arm of the guard beside her. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed on the floor. “See?”
“So your behavior was all an act?” the Tue-Khan said. His face darkened.
“Of course, sire,” Chumley said. “They could not be free of your machinations unless you destroyed the compact. You wouldn’t do that unless Cordu was dead, or was so reprehensible in nature that you would not countenance him as a son-in-law any longer. We decided to make doubly certain.”
“I didn’t know he was such a good actor,” Renimbi said, giving him a pinch on the cheek.
“He was a star,” Tananda said, with a grin, “and you were his cross lover. It all played out just as we hoped. I knew you didn’t really want him to die, but you were a classic mismatch.”
“Cordu is alive, so the contract is in force again!” the Tue-Khan said. He reached to gather up the torn pieces of parchment.
Tananda pointed a finger.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
The fragment in the Tue-Khan’s fingers blazed up.
“OW!” He dropped it. The ashes fluttered away. “I’ll have it rewritten,” he howled.
“Don’t bother,” Cordu said. “I wouldn’t sign it again. Rennie and I will be good joint rulers, with our respective spouses by our sides. I hope she finds someone who loves her as much as Larica loves me, to put up with my hijinks.” He hugged both of the young women, and they kept their arms around him. “Who knows, perhaps our offspring will like one another enough to marry. It’s been over three centuries. Why hurry?”
“I think I will write a drama based upon this for the reunion of our university Footlights Club.” Chumley put a hand to his hairy chest and declaimed. “ ‘Never was there a tale of such a row, than that of Rennie and her mismatched beau.’ ”
“It’ll be a great hit,” Tananda said, hugging her Big Brother’s arm. “I love a tragedy with a happy ending.”
MYTH-TRAINED
By Robert Asprin
I focused on the candle’s flame. Forcing myself to remain relaxed, I reached out and gently wrapped my mind around it.
The flame didn’t flicker. If anything, it seemed to steady and grow. Moving slowly, I extended a finger, pointing casually at the object of my attention. Then, as I released a quick burst of mental energy, I made a small flicking motion with my hand to speed the spell along it’s way. There was a tiny burst of power, and the flame flared and went out. Neat!
I leaned back in my chair and treated myself to a bit of smug self-congratulation.
“Have you got a minute, Skeeve?”
I glanced toward the doorway. It was my curvaceous assistant. At least, the theory was that she was my assistant. Since she tagged along when I retired from M.Y.T.H. Inc., however, she had taken over not only running the household and the business side of things, but also my life in general. Some assistant.
“Bunny!” I said with a smile. “Just the person I wanted to see. Com’on in. There’s something I want to show you.”
With a casual wave of my hand, I relit the candle.
“So?” Bunny said, unimpressed. “I’ve seen you light a candle before. If I remember right, it was one of the first spells you learned.”
“Not that,” I said. “Watch this!”
I wrapped my mind around the flame, pointed my finger, and released the spell again.
The candle exploded, scattering droplets of hot wax across the table and onto the wall behind it.
“I see,” Bunny said, drily. “You’ve learned a new way to make a mess. Some day you’ll learn a spell that helps with cleaning up. Then I’ll be impressed.”
“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” I protested. “I did it perfectly just before you came in.”
“What is it, anyway?” she said.
“Oh, it’s a new spell that was in my latest correspondence lesson for the Magikal Institute of Perv,” I said. “It’s a magikal way to extinguish a flame. It didn’t seem very difficult, so I’ve been puttering around with it as a break when
I’m working on the other lessons.”
“A magikal way to extinguish a flame,” she repeated slowly. “Is it really a vast improvement on simply blowing the candle out?”
“It’s an exercise,” I said, defensively. “Besides, if I get good enough at it . . . I don’t know, maybe I could put out a whole burning building.”
“Hmpf,” she said, and I realized I was losing an argument when we weren’t even arguing.
“Anyway, what was it you wanted?”
It’s an old ploy. When in doubt or in trouble, change the subject. Sometimes it works.
“I just wanted to say that I think you should take a look at Buttercup.”
“Buttercup? What’s he done now?”
Buttercup was a war unicorn I sort of inherited early in my career. While he isn’t as inclined to get into mischief or break things as Gleep, my dragon, that still leaves him a lot of room for minor disasters.
“Nothing I know of,” Bunny said. “He just doesn’t seem as perky as he usually is. I’m wondering if he’s coming down with something.”
“Maybe he’s just getting old.” I realized that I know even less about the longevity of unicorns than I did about their ailments. “I’ll take a look at him.”
We were currently based in what used to be an old inn. Actually, I had a bit of my history tied up in the inn even before my current relocation. When I first teamed with Aahz, this very inn was the headquarters for our adversary of the moment, one Isstvan. After successfully vanquishing him and sending him off to roam the dimensions, Aahz and I used it as our own base until our subsequent move to Possiltum, and eventually to the Bazaar at Deva. It seemed only natural to return to it when I retired and was looking for a quiet place to pursue my studies.
Buttercup shared the stable area of the inn with Gleep, though more often or not they only used it to sleep. The rest of the time they roamed the grounds, playing with each other and getting into the aforementioned mischief. To say the least, this insured that our neighbors and folks from the nearby village gave the place a wide berth as a general rule.
I wasn’t wild about running him down if they were out terrorizing the countryside, as they were both fleeter of foot and in better condition than I was. Fortunately he was in residence when I reached the stables.
Myth-Told Tales Page 22
