Rebel of Antares [Dray Prescot #24]

by Alan Burt Akers

  “What, notor, did you do?” I spoke normally.

  “Why, stuffed her with guards, hidden. I had an idea something would happen. Look—there they come atumbling down!"

  I turned away, feeling sick. Those bodies falling to earth were Vallians—people who had thought to take away a precious airboat from hated Hamal. Now they were flung callously to the ground. The ship began to descend. I hoped, I prayed, that there had been few Vallians aboard. And, a treacherous and demeaning thought, I hoped Valona had not been among them.

  Then Prince Tyfar once again proved himself. He looked somber. “It was a foolhardy attempt. A handful of people however brave and cunning, how could they hope to succeed? But I own I am sorry they died. They were a very gallant company."

  Jaezila turned away.

  Stealing airboats from Hyrklana had become a much more difficult and dangerous pastime than ever it had been, as I had discovered. Now, when—not if, when—I took a flier I would, besides paying the owner for her, concoct a plan that with much forethought and cunning could not fail. Whoever had made this doomed attempt had failed not from want of courage but from lack of planning. My Vallians! Reckless, gallant, and yet shrewd and practical men and women, accustomed to the ways of trade and commerce, they still had not fully realized that when you fight yourself for your country instead of hiring mercenaries, there are many painful and difficult lessons to be learned.

  The men of the Hamalian Air Service boarded the ship; the guards positioned by Kov Naghan na Hanak marched out. You couldn't really fault him in that, although a few quiet words in his ear explaining the situation more fully might have helped in skyjacking his newly built flier. That could be a part of this wonderful plan it was necessary to concoct. And, too, the guards of all the voller yards of Huringa would redouble their vigilance now.

  The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch and the ship, flying her new colors, flew off to join the Hamalian Air Service. No doubt she would soon be in action casting down sundry nasties on Hamal's foes—on our allies! I swallowed. The day was coming. It had to be coming. The dignitaries accompanying Prince Tyfar had by now grown more accustomed to his ways, and so were no longer surprised that he withdrew from them, that he put up at The Silver Fluttrell instead of the embassy. We rode back in a silence that lacked some of the old companionableness, and this, without doubt, was caused by the tragic incident we had just witnessed. Tyfar took no real pleasure from dead men, whether or not they were Vallian or any other of his supposed enemies.

  The moment we reached the tavern Jaezila excused herself and retired to her room. Tyfar glanced at the wall clepsydra.

  “I have just a bur and a half to snatch a meal. Then I must see Orlan Mahmud. He understood that we could not impose on his hospitality for too long. He has a magnificent palace; but we find this tavern comfortable."

  “As the queen's chief minister he must keep up appearances."

  “You should meet him, Jak. You would like him."

  I nodded. This Orlan Mahmud nal Yrmcelt was hardly likely to recognize me. He had seen me seasons ago for a brief space when the Star Lords had sent me to Hyrklana. I had held up a massive slate slab so that the conspirators against the queen, of whom Orlan had been one, could escape. My scarlet breechclout had dropped around my ankles, and I'd been taken up in nets and sent to the Arena. I did not think Orlan would recognize me. Even if he did, he would not want to acknowledge an escapade of his youth before he'd succeeded his father Ord as the queen's Chief Pallan.

  A stir at the door of our room heralded the appearance of the landlord and a messenger from Vad Noran. The meeting had been unexpectedly brought forward. We were asked to go up to Noran's villa right away. Tyfar made a face.

  “I must see Orlan Mahmud. You go on, Jak, and I will join you as soon as I am able. Jaezila must rest."

  “Very well. I just hope it is good news."

  “Things are moving, Jak. Things are going to go our way!"

  “I'm sure you're right."

  On the way up to Noran's villa I passed a gawping mob at a street corner. Riding Snowdrop gave me, even with an urvivel's lack of height compared to a zorca's, a vantage point. The crowd surrounded a sorcerer. He was going through his repertoire of tricks and surprises. He was a sorcerer and not a magician, as a single glance confirmed. His gown was liberally splattered with mystic symbols, and what he was doing was beyond mere magic tricks. I rode on. I had no idea of the man's discipline or what society of the many societies of sorcerers there are on Kregen he belonged to. Although it may sound unlikely to say a sorcerer was down on his luck, occasionally they, like any mortal, go through bad patches. Deb-Lu-Quienyin had been very down when we'd gone adventuring together. As a Wizard of Loh, among the most respected of all Kregan thaumaturges, he had bounced back and was now resident in Vallia. But the item that caused me most concern in this trifling encounter with a sorcerer on a street corner was its reminder that Queen Fahia now openly trafficked with wizards of all kinds. When we went up against her, we must be wary of occult powers arrayed against us.

  In Noran's courtyard, the duty slaves closing the gates after me under the intolerant scrutiny of the gatekeepers, I walked across to the fountain. The Och crone gave me a cup of water and my ob vanished in its usual miraculous fashion. Noran had hired himself a new cadade to replace the old chief of his guards, but the new man, a Chulik, was not to be seen. I left Snowdrop in the charge of hostlers and went through with an underchamberlain to escort me. Cool shadows dropped down from the columns and arches. The streaming light of the suns lay across the stone flags. I followed the underchamberlain across one anteroom and we passed through double folding doors into a reception room.

  The men, gathered into a group talking easily among themselves, swung around as I entered. I was aware of much finery, much gold and silver lace, a multitude of feathers, glittering jewelry.

  A voice lifted, a strong lion-voice.

  “Jak the Sturr! A spy! This man is a spy! Seize him!"

  The group of men obeyed instantly. As one they unsheathed their swords and rushed upon me. There was no time to think, no time to cry out that I was not a spy, for they would not have believed me. There was time only to rip out my thraxter and parry the first fierce blows.

  The fashion in which the order had been obeyed made me realize that these men were disciplined, and now they tried to seize me as ordered and not kill me. So I did not make any attempt to slay them but beat away their weapons and sought a means of escape. The swords rang. The lion-man stepped to one side, reaching for a polearm leaning against the wall. I recognized the halberd as I recognized the lion-man, for this numim was Naghan the Doorn, whom I had last seen deep underground when we struggled through that subterranean vault of horror called the Moder. I shouted.

  “Naghan the Doorn! I am no spy! I am here by invitation of Vad Noran. Call your men off before blood is spilled."

  The swords flickered and flashed before my eyes. I leaped and swatted the blades away and circled back toward the door.

  Footsteps sounded at my back.

  There was no need to think. Instantly I leaped to the side and whirled, blade up. Two or three of the fine fancy young men rushed after me, and I was forced to thump a couple with the hilt. As they collapsed I saw that Vad Noran had entered the room, and with him, Ariane nal Amklana. I found no surprise she should be here, for the numim with the halberd, Naghan the Doorn, was her chief retainer. Ariane had not, when all was said and done, come out too well from the adventure down the Moder. Her yellow hair, secured by a jeweled band, fell to her shoulders, and her high-colored face turned toward me. She moved with all the old imperiousness. Her white gown did not fall sheer to her ankles but was cinctured by a broad golden belt. From the belt swung a thraxter in a jeweled scabbard. Even as I ducked a wild blow and so thunked the last one of that three and spun about to face any fresh attack, I reflected that the lady Ariane felt that to bear her part as a conspirator she must wear a sword. That was l
ike her. Her gray-green eyes stared into mine for a heartbeat as I leaped away from the expected attack.

  “My lady!” I shouted, in almost a yodel. “Call off your hound dogs before they are hurt."

  Noran was fussing and throwing up his hands and exclaiming.

  “Stop, stop!” he shouted. “What is all this trouble in my house?"

  “Ask Naghan and his lady, notor,” I yelled, skipping away and flailing a convoy of swords from my shins. Now that it was going to be all right, I could allow the stupid feelings of the ludicrousness of the situation full flower.

  “Jak the Sturr!"

  “Aye, my lady—Lahal. Now call your men off or I will strive in real earnest."

  She had seen something of our fighting down in the Moder where we sought treasures and magics among monsters. She gave the order in her high hectoring tones, and the men fell back. I shook my arms and thrust the thraxter back into the scabbard.

  “Lahal, Jak the Sturr. And you are one of us now?"

  “Aye, my lady. As Vad Noran is my witness."

  “It is true, my lady,” babbled Noran. A single glance told me his sorry story and the state he was in. He was besotted with the lady Ariane, who as a kovneva, so I had been told, outranked him. If he could marry her and lay his hands on the estates and the money, he might aspire to rise a step and become a kov himself. “Jak is a valued associate of the prince."

  “I never thought to see you alive again. You or the prince.” She wrinkled up her pretty nose. “You must tell me how you escaped. We had a most dreadful time."

  I forbore to mention the manner of her leaving us. I said, “The prince has been unavoidably detained. He will be here as soon as he possibly can."

  At this Ariane pouted. It was clear she detested having her wishes flouted in the slightest particular.

  Avec Parlin had been right. There was a powerful noble in the shadows masterminding the conspiracy and using Vad Noran, but it was not a man, it was a woman.

  Much of the mystery surrounding this Ariane nal Amklana had been cleared up by this meeting. She had ventured down into the terrors of the Moder in order to secure some thaumaturgical advantage, and it was easy to guess why. If she was determined to overthrow Queen Fahia and take her place, she would need occult assistance to combat the queen's new sorcerers. And Noran would be her willing tool. As the men I had knocked down stood up, shaking their heads and looking miserable, Noran and Ariane moved on, just like a regal couple at a levee. Their words to each other confirmed my diagnosis of the situation. Ariane had Noran firmly wrapped around her little finger, wrapped and knotted tight.

  Naghan the Doorn, stroking his whiskers, came over. The numim looked me up and down.

  “You were nearly—” he began.

  I said, “You are zealous for the welfare of your mistress. Just remember, I'm on your side."

  Then he said something that, although it should not have surprised me, did so.

  “When we left you and those others, down there in that underground hellhole, I was not—was not pleased. I am glad to see you escaped.” He fidgeted with the halberd. “And the others? How did they fare? Did you all escape?"

  “Yes, thank Huvon the Lightning. But it was a bonny time."

  “I can imagine."

  We talked for a space, and the men from Amklana went back to talking among themselves, and presently Prince Tyfar was announced. I wondered if all this open naming of names was the right way for conspirators to carry on. Certainly, other folk I'd tangled with had used cover names, and carried on deception as a mere simple precaution for survival. The answer—and at the same time as I delighted in it I felt the chill—must be that Ariane was supremely confident that whatever spell it was she had obtained would smooth her path over all difficulties.

  During that meeting we began to flesh out the plans. We began to put forces in order, and decide where the bribery should be used or where the knife in the night was the answer. Men would march from Amklana and other of the provinces of Hyrklana inimical to the queen. Tyfar would assign his Hamalese soldiers. Soon specific functions were being allocated. It began to look as though these people not only meant business, but knew how to run it.

  I caught the task of guard to the principals. That, on the face of it, seemed appropriate. Everyone assumed I would sell my life to protect Ariane and Noran, and joy in the doing of it to the greater glory of Hyrklana and the soon-to-be Queen Ariane. I did not disabuse them of that idea. If there was to be any laying down of lives on that account, it would be theirs and not mine. If Tyfar or Jaezila ran into trouble, that was entirely different.

  The meetings continued on an irregular basis for the next few sennights, and I did not attend all of them. On the occasions I did attend I was aware of the forward movement of events. It seemed a sound idea to keep myself under cover as much as possible, and I did not venture too much abroad from The Silver Fluttrell and Noran's villa, and when I did I kept a sharp lookout on the backtrail. I was not followed, was not being spied on. I trusted this happy state applied to all the conspirators.

  Ariane's men were close to the city; much gold had been spent. Noran, although a vad and not the highest of the nobility, a kov, was one of the richest men in Huringa. This, presumably, was the prime reason Ariane had selected him to be her dupe. She oohed and aahed well enough when they were together, but it did not take a sharp eye to see the true situation. He dreamed of becoming the King of Hyrklana. Fat chance!

  Almost at the end of planning, for Ariane had matured her schemes for a goodly time, we met to discuss what was to be done with some of the important personages of Huringa who had refused to declare for the usurper to the queen. All they had done was to indicate their loyalty to Fahia, for Ariane had not revealed herself. The list was carefully considered. They came to the name of Orlan Mahmud nal Yrmcelt.

  “He must be killed,” said Ariane. She spoke spitefully, her words biting. “He is not devoted to Fahia, I know, but he refuses to aid me. And I have spoken to him. He detests the Hamalese, and would not aid me in my schemes when I am queen."

  Tyfar looked upset. “Is it necessary to kill him? He could be banished—"

  “No! Our alliance must be founded on rock, prince. When I am queen and you carry back word to Thyllis in Ruathytu that I will join with her in the glorious conquests, I do not want men at my back who will not support me, men who will work against me and the greater glory of Hyrklana and Hamal."

  “I see that,” said Tyfar. “But I do not like it. I think—"

  I put a hand to my mouth. This woman Ariane would ally herself with Thyllis! She would place Hyrklana into bondage to Hamal! Yes, Tyfar would seize on this, as a good Hamalese. He was a prince of Hamal and eggs get smashed making omelettes, and no doubt he fancied Hyrklana's willing help would tilt the balance in favor of Hamal and thus end the war swiftly. As well it might. Hyrklana might be smaller than Hamal, but the island realm had been untouched by the war raging on the mainland and up north. The people were tough and hardy, certain with weapons, grown ferocious through the constant raiding by the Shanks, the fish heads, from over the curve of the world. My evil dream of bringing Hyrklana into the War was being realized—realized from the other side!

  When we rose to leave, my thoughts were still in a turmoil. Noran spoke to Ariane, who nodded. She turned with her wide smile to Tyfar, to whom she was now exquisitely polite, seeing she had lost the influence she might once have had over him through her conduct in the Moder.

  “Prince! The time grows nearer. Noran suggests you should live here until we strike. It seems a good plan to me."

  Tyfar nodded agreement, so, perforce, I was to stay, too. Jaezila said she would see about collecting our things from The Silver Fluttrell, and Noran's majordomo saw about allocating quarters to us. The villa was palatial enough to have housed a regiment or two.

  We settled in for the few days remaining. Tyfar was now possessed of an eagerness to strike very becoming in a proud young prince. I racked my br
ains to think of a way to scupper the plot. The obvious way seemed the best. When Fahia's guards burst in on my betrayal, I would see to it that Tyfar and Jaezila were safely away. I attempted to leave the villa, acting naturally, but was stopped. The new cadade, a Chulik, explained.

  “No one leaves now. It is the vad's order. Security."

  To have fought my way out might have served, once. I would only betray me, instead of the plotters. This night saw the last meeting. Kov Naghan na Hanak had at last decided to throw in his lot with the conspirators. We need wait no longer, for he brought a strong acquisition of strength. And I decided that I could probably deal more easily with Queen Ariane than with Queen Fahia. I'd let the plot succeed, and then see about stopping this ominous alliance of Hamal and Hyrklana."

  By this time I knew my way around the less-private parts of Noran's villa. The meeting was to be held in a sumptuous reception room in the heart of the Strigicaw Complex. The room was a mass of crystal. Jaezila had brought all our gear from the tavern, so I could put on a scarlet breechclout, which still made Tyfar frown, and strap up a useful assortment of weaponry. Going down the stone stairs and out under the light of the Maiden with the Many Smiles, fat and pink through scattered clouds, I walked across to the Strigicaw Complex. I did hot feel at all like a conspirator ready to topple a kingdom and install a new queen. Jaezila and Tyfar came toward me as I walked in the light of the moon.

  “Jak!” Jaezila's voice held an edge. “The lady Ariane bids you guard them well tonight. You are to take post at the far end of the colonnade."

  I was surprised.

  “Very well. That is some distance from the meeting place."

  “If we do not hurry, we will be late,” said Tyfar.

  “There is time,” said Jaezila. “I want to show you something you ought to see, a trinket they have here in a glass case. Come on, Ty! You will delight in it, for it is from Balintol, and then we can go into the meeting. Tomorrow—we strike!"