Rogue Queen

by L. Sprague De Camp

  “What’s in this book?”

  “No scientific information, but it will tell you what we mean by the ‘romance’ and the ‘sentiment.’”

  “What is it called?”

  “A Girl of the Limberlost, by an American writer named Porter. It was first published hundreds of years ago, but for some reason was reprinted recently, and I happened to come upon a used copy in a bookstall in Genève. As it is the most sentimental story I have ever read, I think you will find it interesting.”

  Later in the day Rhodh returned, took one look, and cried: “What in the name of Eunmar have you been doing to your faces?”

  When Vardh stammered an explanation, Rhodh said: “That is enough! Wash off that filth! I see you cannot be trusted anywhere near these men, who will corrupt you with their degenerate customs. We leave for Elham at once.”

  “What!” cried Iroedh. “But we haven’t finished with the men—or they with us—”

  “We have indeed finished with them. I interviewed them again this morning and found them absolutely adamant against helping us.”

  “But they wish to learn about our world—”

  “For what purpose? So they can conquer it more easily? You always were a credulous fool, Iroedh. In any case, they can learn from some other Community; we are all needed back home to help in the war with Tvaarm. Strike the camp and pack your gear right away.”

  Iroedh got to work folding the stove and hitching up the uegs. In less than an hour they were lined up.

  “Ready?” barked Rhodh.

  She cracked her whip and they got into motion, the uegs pulling on the shafts with their big knobby hands. As they reached the main road through the valley of Gliid, Iroedh turned right toward the Paris instead of left toward Thidhem.

  “Ho there!” shouted Rhodh. “You have mistaken your turn, Iroedh!”

  Iroedh called back: “No, I’m going to speak to one of the men. Go on; I shall catch up.”

  “Come back here!” screamed Rhodh. “You shall do no such thing!”

  Iroedh, as if she had not heard, kept right on.

  A quarter-hour later she caught up with the tail of the procession, happy in the knowledge that the Terran book lay snug at the bottom of her chariot chest along with O’Mara’s machete. Rhodh, leading the column, kept her helmeted head rigidly to the front, as if she were unaware of Iroedh’s presence.

  When they came to a wide stretch Vardh reined back alongside Iroedh and told her softly: “You know, Iroedh darling, I don’t think she’s leaving because of the attitude of the men at all. We might have accomplished much in a few more days.”

  “What, then?”

  “She’s made a fool of herself by antagonizing them, so she cannot bear the scene of her mistakes. And she can’t let you represent us any more because if you succeeded you’d get the credit.”

  Iroedh said: “I was always taught to put the good of the Community before my own glory. Rhodh used to be as pleasant as any other worker before she became consumed with ambition.”

  “Isn’t it true? They say she plans to run for foreign officer at the next election. Why don’t you run against her? We’d all vote for you.”

  “By Gwyyr, such a thought never occurred to me! You want these bustling characters, interested in every petty detail, on the Council, not an impractical antiquarian dreamer like me.”

  The five members of the mission to Gliid drove back to Elham in an all-day rain. Iroedh, when her ueg had been turned back to the Community stables, went to her quarters. In the recreation room of her section she found some of her friends and asked them if Tvaarm had begun its expected invasion yet.

  “Not yet,” said Tydh, resting after a night of guard duty. “But it’s been just as exciting as if they had.”

  “How so?”

  “Haven’t you heard of the disappearance of the condemned drones? But of course, you’ve been out of touch with Elham. During the night a great black flying thing came down upon the queen’s dome, tore open the bars of their cell, snatched them out, and flew away with them. The guard on dome duty told how she attacked the monster with her spear, but it knocked her halfway down the stair with a flick of its legs.”

  Iroedh noticed that the guard’s account made no mention of a human adversary. No doubt the poor guard had not cared to confess her flight.

  “And the funniest thing was,” continued Tydh, “that the cloak of an Avtin was found on the dome alongside the walkway. The guards who rushed up the dome just as the monster flew away all swear they weren’t wearing any, and the drones had no clothing in their cell. It’s a great mystery.”

  Iroedh’s hearts pounded. Tydh went on:

  “It’s just like the old legends in which gods like Tiwinos and Dhiis came down to Niond to right wrongs and fertilize mortals. In fact, some of the workers are talking of reviving the ancient religion.”

  “That sounds like fun. What does the Council say?”

  “Oh, they tell us not to be silly. And another thing: The Council has set the Royal Duel for five days from today!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m offering three to one on Estir, if you care to lay a bet. Eiudh is trying to wangle a mission to Ledhwid so she can ask the Oracle to predict the outcome and clean the rest of us out, while Gruvadh is going through all the prophetic quatrains to find one that fits the case, and Ythidh spends all her liberty upon the domes watching the flight of flying things for omens.”

  “How does Intar take it?”

  “The queen is furious. She says it’s a conspiracy to get rid of her, and that if her fertility is down it’s only because of the poor quality of the drones the Council has furnished her.”

  Iroedh grew cold inside. She was sure she could somehow combine her possession of the machete with the impending accession of Estir to her own advantage, but could not think how. She would have to act quickly, because when Rhodh learned about the mysterious abandoned cloak she would probably remember the flight of the helicopter on the night the drones disappeared, and draw the natural inference.

  Tydh said: “How about a game of uintakh?”

  “No, thank you. The Terrans lent me a book which I’m mad with curiosity about.”

  Iroedh excused herself and went to her private cell for the book. As she did not have to report for work until the following morning she settled herself comfortably in the recreation room for a good long read, evading the pleas of her friends to join them in practicing the figures of round dances to be danced at the forthcoming Queens’ Conference.

  She found the book hard going, for despite the exceptional linguistic talent for which she was known in the Community her knowledge of English was not so good as she had thought. While some unfamiliar words she could guess from context or infer from the primer Bloch had given her, others, like “daffy” or “calico,” left her baffled. Still, the general story line of A Girl of the Limberlost was reasonably clear, making allowance for the strangeness of Terran culture and customs.

  She was deeply immersed in the adventures of Elnora Comstock when a voice said: “Oh, Iroedh dear!”

  Iroedh looked up to see the agricultural officer standing over her.

  “I have bad news for you,” continued the councilman.

  Iroedh’s hearts skipped a beat. Had they discovered her guilt in the matter of the disappearing drones already? She sat as if paralyzed.

  The agricultural officer said: “Rhodh presented her report to us as soon as she got in. Well, you know Rhodh. She made much of the difficulties she worked under, and of the coldly unfriendly attitude of the men, and of the incompetence and insubordination of her juniors—especially one Iroedh. In fact, she demanded that your efficiency rating be reduced.

  “Of course we know Rhodh is simply eaten with ambition to be the next foreign officer, and is trying to cover up her failure to get help from the men. At least I know it, though I couldn’t make the rest of the Council see it. She has friends in high places, it seems, and one must admit she
works herself to a frazzle for the good of the Community. Anyway, they commended her and docked your rating by five points. I’m so sorry, my dear!”

  Iroedh let out her breath. So that was all! Ordinarily she would have been furious at such unjust treatment, but now the agricultural officer’s words came as a relief.

  “I’ve survived worse things,” she said. “But thank you for what you tried to do.”

  Tired of reading, she went back to her cell to plan her next move. She wanted to see Antis and show him the machete, now hidden under her pallet. She had brought it into her cell wrapped in her net. She could of course wrap it in her net again, but if anyone saw her going out with a net under her arm they might well wonder why she was going to spend the night outside the Community. What she most urgently needed was a new cloak.

  She filled out a requisition for a new cloak from stores, all but the signature, and took the bark sheet and the Terran make-up kit Barbe Dulac had given her to the queen’s apartments. As it was not yet laying time she had no difficulty getting in. She presented the compact to the queen and explained its use.

  “For me?” said Intar. “Thank you, my good Iroedh. Do you know, you’re the only member of that group that went to Gliid who remembered to bring me a present?”

  “It’s nothing, Queen. However, there is one small matter. I traded my cloak for that kit, and should like you to initial this requisition for a new one.”

  “Certainly.” Queen Intar scrawled her initials on the bottom of the sheet and handed it back. “Of course I’m not supposed to have opinions about such matters, my dear, but I think it was a shame that the Council commended Rhodh and disciplined you.”

  Iroedh took the requisition to stores and drew a new cloak. Toward sunset she got a take-out meal from the section mess and set out afoot for Khinam, the machete wrapped in the cloak and the cloak under her arm.

  She settled herself in the section of the ruins where she and Antis had so often picnicked. While she was setting out her supper she whistled the Song of Geyliad.

  “Here we are, beautiful!” cried a voice, and Antis dropped laughing from the top of the ruined wall.

  Iroedh jumped up with a little shriek of startlement. They threw their arms around each other and squeezed, then held each other at arms’ length. Iroedh noted that Antis had lost weight and had acquired a hollow-eyed look; also that he was wearing an Avtiny worker’s cloak and boots.

  “Where did you get those?” she asked.

  “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. You didn’t by chance bring any meat, did you?”

  “No. I thought of it, but if I went to the royal mess and asked for it they’d wonder what I wanted it for.”

  “I suppose so,” he said in a less enthusiastic tone. “What couldn’t I do to a nice juicy leipag steak!”

  “Haven’t you eaten since the rescue?”

  “Practically nothing. You forgot you dropped us in that field as naked as the day we were hatched, without even boots. My feet are somewhat hardened from coming out with you, but Dyos and Kutanas have had a rough time.”

  “Couldn’t you make yourself a bow and arrows to hunt your meat with?”

  “What with? You need a tool of some sort. I left Kutanas back in the woods trying to scrape a sapling into a spear with a sharp stone, but at the present rate we shall all be dead before he finishes it. We tried to get into the leipag enclosure to steal one, but no luck; it was too well guarded. Yesterday I caught a hudig with my bare hands, but that gave us only one good bite apiece.”

  “You poor fellows! Take this, then,” she said, handing over her knife. “You can at least carve bows and spears with it.”

  “Thanks. This isn’t really good hunting territory, because the workers of Elham and Thidhem have killed off or driven away most of the game so that rogues like us shall have no source of food save dhwygs and other creeping things.” He looked hungrily at Iroedh as she ate her biscuits and vegetables. “I’d even eat that mess of yours if I didn’t mind dying in convulsions.”

  “Would you like to get back into the Community?”

  “If it could be done without our being speared at the next Cleanup, yes. I’m afraid we’re failures as rogues. This wild life doesn’t suit us: I miss my food, I miss you, and I miss my proper task.”

  Iroedh wrinkled her nose to indicate lack of sympathy with his desires. She said:

  “I have something here to show you, and a plan that may get you back on your own terms.”

  She unwrapped the machete and drew it from its scabbard. Antis stared wonderingly, took the implement, and, with a slowly dawning light of understanding in his eyes, hefted and swished it.

  “Now this is something!” he cried. “Did you get this from the men?”

  “Yes. They call it something like matselh.” She told him the history of O’Mara and his machete. “But you may not have that!” she said.

  “Why not? There’s an old rogue in the Lhanwaed Hills who has learned smithery and who could duplicate this thing—”

  “I have a better use for it. Did you know the Royal Duel takes place in five days?”

  “No, I didn’t. What about it?”

  “If I offered this to Estir as a sure method of winning, don’t you think she might agree to issue a pardon on her accession, and to use her influence with the Council to exempt you three permanently from the Cleanups?”

  “Hmm—maybe. It’s a tempting idea. But how well do you know Estir?”

  “Not at all well; I’ve merely met her a few times at social functions. They say she has a violent temper.”

  “Why would you trust her?”

  “A princess wouldn’t lie!”

  “Let’s hope. I still wish I could have this thing; it makes one feel a lot less vulnerable to the whims of fortune.”

  “You wouldn’t find it very useful for hunting. What you need are some stout bows and spears. I’ll watch for a Chance to steal you some.”

  VI. The Royal Duel

  The dome of Princess Estir of Elham was heavily guarded, lest the queen, wandering in that way, make a sudden attempt at assassination. With a pass from the agricultural officer, however, Iroedh soon got her audience.

  “Many eggs, Princess,” she said. “Candidly, what do you think of your chances?”

  Estir balanced on the balls of her feet as if sighting for a spear thrust. She was as slim and active as a worker, though her breasts were fully developed.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a lazy voice that reminded Iroedh of the drawl of the Arsuuni. “Better than even, I should think. Of course there’s always a factor of luck, but I’m in good form and my omens have been favorable.”

  “Maybe I could guarantee you your victory.”

  Estir looked sharply at Iroedh, her slit pupils widening. “You could?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You mean you’d want something in return, eh?”

  “Right,” said Iroedh.

  “Say on.”

  “You know the three drones who disappeared?”

  “Who doesn’t? What about them?”

  “They’d like to return to the Community.”

  “So? If they don’t mind the little detail of being speared to death we should be glad to have them.”

  “But, Princess, that’s just it. They want pardons and permanent exemption from the Cleanups.”

  “How do you know? Have you been fraternizing with them? That’s a serious offense, you know.”

  Iroedh smiled. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. That’s what they want.”

  “Well?”

  “If you’ll see they get what they ask, I will see that you win your duel.”

  Estir looked puzzled. “You might almost as well ask for the Treasure of Inimdhad! That would bend our system pretty far. When you consider how many drone babies we kill to keep the population in balance, they should thank Gwyyr they’ve been allowed to live this long.”

  “It’s no doubt wron
g of them to wish to prolong their lives, but such is the case.”

  “Why should you be acting for them? A loyal worker should try to see that they’re hunted down and killed.”

  “Princess, I won’t argue the rights and wrongs of the question. If you wish to win your fight, promise the other matter. Otherwise I’ll go to the queen.”

  Estir thought a bit. “Very well then. Show me your trick, or special prayer to Gwyyr, or whatever it is, and if I win my duel with it I promise to get your drones pardoned and exempted from future Cleanups. Do you really mean you want them allowed to live even after they’re too old to perform their function?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. This may set a troublesome precedent, but I haven’t much choice.”

  Iroedh unwrapped the machete and explained its use.

  Estir’s yellow eyes glowed. “This will do it! A dagger in the right hand for parrying spear thrusts, then get in close and slash—”

  “It can also be used for thrusting,” said Iroedh, though it’s a little heavy at the point for that purpose.”

  “It’s too bad I haven’t a longer time to practice, but poor old Intar will never have seen such a thing! I’ll write out the pardons and postdate them to take effect the minute Intar dies. I’ll also get in touch with the Council. Tell your drones to come to the duel; they shan’t be molested.”

  “Thank you, Princess.” Iroedh headed back to her cell and A Girl of the Limberlost.

  On the day of the duel Iroedh helped all morning to carry seats out to the exercise ground. Other workers cleared away the parallel bars and other gymnastic equipment with zest, for a Royal Duel was one of their few holidays.

  A guard said: “Iroedh!”

  “Yes?”

  “Two of the escaped drones are out at the main gate. They say they’ve been promised immunity, and want a document to show before they will come in.”