It came to me then in those tumultuous moments that nothing is purely perfect. There were two more faces I would fain have seen in that throng bearing so high and proudly my Delia, my Delia of Delphond. I would dearly have loved to see Nath and Zolta, my two oar-comrades, from far Sanurkazz. But that could not be, and I doubted not but that the Star Lords by their prior designs had thwarted that accomplishment, which would have been very great and wonderful indeed. The dinosaur-bone litter lowered. Then I saw how my Delia was dressed as the great yellow and red flag lofted away. She wore the scarlet breechclout of Strombor. And over her shoulders gleamed those magnificent silky white ling furs I had won for her on the Plains of Segesthes. Lithely, her long lissome legs very wonderful to behold, she stepped down from the litter and ran to me. My Delia, my Delia of Delphond, my Delia of the Blue Mountains! She ran to me and threw herself into my arms and she was laughing, sobbing, and crying my name, over and over.
“Hush, hush, my darling,” I said. “And tell me how you did it.”
It was superbly simple. Her airboat had been driven by that westerly gale and sent wildly toward the east, so that any hopes of her summoning rescue from the Blue Mountains had vanished. So — she had flown on to Strombor! And in their regular visits during the season Hap Loder and my Clansmen of Felschraung and Longuelm had been there, also. They had scoured the whole of Zenicce for airboats, and by gold and thievery — and here Nath the Thief hopped about from leg to leg in his excitement -
they had drummed up the great armada, and had flown here as though all the glaciers of the Ice Floes of Sicce were calving around their necks. They hadn’t bothered overmuch with food or drink, so as to cram every last fighting-man in, and now they were about to raid the rebels’ camp. “And, Dray, my puissant Lord of Strombor, I have been paying regular visits to Zenicce season by season. Great-Aunt Shusha and all the others send you their love.”
“Sink me!” I said, laughing. “I have a managing female to contend with!” And I hugged her close. My men swaggered around us, for they knew the great Jikai they had performed, and as the song whose title I will not tell you says, great was the performance thereof.
Then I stood her off from me and said: “Your father-”
“I will treat him gently, Dray.”
And I had feared and hesitated all this time!
We stood before the Emperor of Vallia in his ragged robes, and at my back bristled the weapons and the colors of my men, victorious in battle. I said softly, “Kiss him, Delia, embrace him.”
She did so. And, watching them, I saw the real affection there. Delia looked back at me from the crook of her father’s arm.
“I heard a name, Strom Drak — Strom of Valka — a name. .” the Emperor said.
“Aye,” I said. “You ordered my head chopped off. Do you think that a great jest now, Majister?”
He licked his lips. I believe that many men there expected me to order his head off, on the instant. That would have been the justice Kregen understands. Crude, violent; something I, not only for my own sins but for the purposes of the Savanti, wished to change.
He walked with his daughter toward me. He slid a great ring from his finger. He held it out. His hand did not tremble.
“By this ring you are now legally and heritably Prince of Vallia, Drak-”
And Delia said with her brilliant laugh: “Call him by his name, Father dear. For this is Pur Dray Prescot, Krozair of Zy, Lord of Strombor, Zorcander of Felschraung and Longuelm, Strom of Valka — and what else besides I shouldn’t wonder. And, my father, know also that he is the man I shall marry, no matter if the whole of Kregen, let alone Vallia, stands in the way!”
She had placed Krozair of Zy in the prime position. I know my Delia understood.
“I am plain Dray Prescot,” I said. I took Delia’s hand. “And this is the woman who is my wife. We belong to each other.”
He braced up. He was, after all, the Emperor.
“Dray Prescot. Dray. You are, as far as I and Vallia are concerned, Prince Majister Dray. And” — he swallowed and his hand closed on the sacred emblem strung on a golden chain about his neck — “and you have my blessing, both of you.”
The hullabaloo racketed skyward, enormous, booming, uproarious. “Hai! Jikai!” The swords flashed skyward, glittering, shining, a forest of flashing blades. “Hai, Dray Prescot, Prince Majister of Vallia!”
Yes, they know how to do things with style in Kregen.
The sacred ring, emblem of the Majister, flashed and scintillated on my finger. I detest rings; this would go with the ring of Valka, safely sealed away to perform its duties on the days set apart. I held my Delia and I could not let her go.
Quietly, I spoke to the Emperor. “The third party has set Vallians against Vallians. But now that you are safe we can set about repairing the damage. I think Kov Furtway and Jenbar, no less than Trylon Larghos and the others, will fly for safety overseas. We can put Vallia back to rights.”
And, I promised myself, with Delia’s help we’d eradicate the obscenity of slavery from the place. That would take time. But we would do it. Had that been the reason for the Star Lords’ manipulations of me?
I looked up, but I could see neither the scarlet and golden raptor of the Star Lords, nor the white dove of the Savanti. They would make further appearances, this I knew, during my life on Kregen. The Savanti might have thrown me out of paradise, and I would now prosecute diligent inquiries to find the scarlet-roped Todalpheme who might show me the way back to Aphrasoe; they had also thrown me upon the mercy of the Star Lords. For how long would I remain a Prince of Vallia at the side of my Princess?
I held her close. The wedding ceremony would be performed very soon. Korf Aighos whispered to me, and I laughed, and said to Delia: “Certain friends of ours discovered a king’s ransom in wedding presents hidden in a gorge in the Blue Mountains. They think it proper they should be given to you, my Princess.”
We felt a stroke of sadness that Vektor, Kov of Aduimbrev, had died of heart failure occasioned through fear as he ran for the palisade of bones; but death is cheap on Kregen, and life is for the living. Those wedding presents were fit for a princess, so a princess should receive them. There was great feasting and great drinking beneath the Suns of Scorpio. Then we all took the airboats and flew for Vondium. I stood very close to Delia. How to believe that, at last, we had won each other?
I was hers as much as she was mine. She looked up into my eyes and searched my ugly old face, and she sighed, and snuggled closer to me.
From the airboat floated the flags of Vallia and Prescot; the yellow saltire on the red ground, and the yellow cross on the red ground, and I saw what must be done with those.
“Are you content, Dray, my darling?”
“With you by my side, how could I not be?”
“With all these old comrades, Hap Loder, Gloag, Prince Varden, with Inch and dear Seg and all the others, I believe you think of your two rascals, Nath and Zolta.”
Delia had never met those two unlikely specimens, but she understood. “Aye,” I said. “And of Zorg, who is dead.”
“Do not speak of death, Dray, not now! Now we have everything to live for! All of Vallia!”
“Yes.” I hugged her and then said, “You did not mention Vomanus.”
“No?” She looked around. “There should be no secrets between us. But this is a high state secret, so mind it! I think you believed Vomanus would marry me, was a rival, as those fool racters thought-”
“Well, woman?”
She chuckled, a silver tinkle of merriment against the swift passage of the flier.
“Vomanus is the son of my mother, before she married my father. He is my half-brother.”
“No wonder,” was all I could say. “He said Kovs were Kovs and Kovs to him!”
She laughed again, and so we stood there, together, with my fighting-men at my back, sailing under the twin yellow and red flags, as we sailed beneath the twin Suns of Scorpio casting down their mingled opaz
radiance, sailing for Vondium and marriage and happiness.
I, Dray Prescot, of Earth, had found my home.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-78c732-d020-4d4d-02af-1f9d-d920-f0cbc4
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 14.11.2012
Created using: calibre 0.9.5, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Alan Burt Akers
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Prince of Scorpio dp-5 Page 21
