"Wait a minute," said an argumentative voice from the audience. It belonged to a dour-looking dwarf in the back. "What about the reading of the minutes?"
"Oh, bother," said the Grand Boar. "I'll entertain a motion to dispense with the reading of the minutes."
"So moved," said a bored-looking woman in black leather garb, wearing an eyepatch.
"Second," said several voices. "Is there any dissent?"
The dwarf said, "Yes!" in a firm voice.
The Grand Boar sighed. "All right, all right," he said. "All in favor, say aye."
There were scattered ayes.
"What are we voting on?" asked a puzzled voice.
Testily, the Grand Boar said, "All right, we'll do that again. All in favor of dispensing with the reading of the minutes, say aye."
There was a chorus of firm ayes. "All opposed?"
The dwarf was the only one who said "Nay." "That's that, then," said the Grand Boar. "Jasper?"
The green glow moved from the couch to the front of the stage. "Wait a minute," said the dwarf.
"Yes, Brother Horst?" said the Grand Boar irritably. "Whatever the Fullbright has to say is new business." "So?"
"Old business comes first," said the dwarf in a satisfied tone. There were groans from the audience.
"Really, Horst," said the Grand Boar. "Things would go so much faster if—"
The dwarf shook his head determinedly. "Rules is rules," he said. "Bloody hell," the Grand Boar muttered under his breath.
"Knew we should have blackballed the blighter," said a voice in the audience.
"Move to dispense with the old business and move straight to the new business!" said the woman in black.
"Second!" "Right!" said the Grand Boar. "All in favor?" Lots of ayes.
"Opposed." "Nay," said the dwarf. Everyone glared at him.
"Finished, are we?" demanded the Grand Boar. The dwarf folded his arms and jutted his beard.
"Well, then. Jasper, if you please—"
"You're supposed to open the floor," said the dwarf. "Someone sit on him, please," said the Grand Boar.
There was a scuffle at the back of the room. The dwarf shouted something incomprehensible as several members sat on him.
"Sure you don't want to be Grand Boar?" Manfred whispered to Wentworth. "I'd resign in an instant."
"Not a chance," Wentworth whispered back.
"Thank you, Brother Manfred," Jasper said loudly. The Grand Boar seated himself. "As you may have heard," said the point of green light, "the Sceptre of Stantius, a relic of the long-lost human empire kept in the safekeeping of the Lord Mayor of Hamsterburg, is reported to be glowing."
"Aye," said a white-beard from the rear of the room. "And legend has it that this foretells the accession of a new true king of the human realms." There was a skeptical buzz.
"Be that as it may," said Jasper. "This morning, I was visited by two adventurers, one Timaeus d'Asperge, a fire mage, and his associate, Sidney Stollitt. Neither is a member of our society.
"They reported to me that they had acquired a life-size statue of a human male, cast in solid athenor."
My words and Good lords rose from the assemblage.
"They did not tell me, but through my magical powers I divined, that the statue depicts Stantius the Third, the last human king, the last to hold the Sceptre of Empire, now known as the Sceptre of Stantius. They also reported that the statue emanates strong magical power, the source and purpose of which they do not know . . ."
There was a stir from the couch.
"Yes, Brother Wentworth?" said Jasper. That worthy rose and came to the lectern.
"There may be a connection," he said. "This morning, I did a magical scan of the city, a simple alchemical process I use to calibrate my equipment. I noted a strong source of magical energy that I had never previously detected. Extraordinarily strong, Brother Jasper; only the magical protections about the grand duke's castle register more strongly at the present time."
"Hmm." "I traced the emanations to a flat in the Five Corners parish-an unlikely area to find such powerful magic, you'll agree." There were murmurs of assent; Five Corners might not be the worst slum in Urf Durfal, but it was not far from it. "The inhabitants of the flat, a human male and a dwarf, refused to permit me entry or to provide any explanation. Their landlady told me that their names were Garni ben Grimi and Nick Pratchitt."
"Yes?" "Further inquiries revealed that Pratchitt is a partner in Stollitt and Pratchitt, a firm that does guard work, assembles expeditions into the caverns, and, per rumor, dabbles in theft and the sale of smuggled goods."
"The selfsame Stollitt who visited me this morn?" "I do believe so."
"Then the powerful object you detected may also be this statue." "It would seem so."
"If the object is as powerful as you indicate— "It must be of world-shaking import."
There was silence in the room.
"I venture to suggest," said Jasper, "that there is some connection between the appearance of this statue and the reports from Hamsterburg. Precisely what this connection may be, and what this may mean for the free peoples of the globe, I cannot say. I believe it important that we obtain this statue for further study."
The cyclops spoke from the couch in a deep, grating voice. "Ish is at war with Easterlings," he said. "Is connection? Do trolls move to prevent human king?"
There was silence as the Boars considered this.
"What do you ask of us?" the Grand Boar said to Jasper.
"I have opened negotiations with d'Asperge and Stollitt toward the purchase of the statue," said the green light. "They're well aware of the mere monetary value of that much athenor. . . . I may need to call upon the Sodality's financial resources to close the deal."
"Would you care to phrase that as a motion?" said the Grand Boar. "Er . . . I'm not up on the niceties of the rules of order," Jasper said sheepishly.
A man clad in forest green spoke: "I move that Brother Jasper de Mobray, a Fullbright of our assemblage, be permitted access to all the treasure and wealth of the Urf Durfal chapter of this order for the purpose of purchasing the athenor statue of Stantius the Third, subject to an accounting of all expenditures." There were several seconds.
"Any opposed?" said the Grand Boar.
There were sounds of struggle from the back of the room. Horst the dwarf rose to his feet and managed to shout, "Nay," before several others dragged him back down.
"Carried by acclamation," said the Grand Boar. "Also," said Morglop.
"What's that?" asked Jasper.
"This statue, it must not go to ones who would misuse it. We must protect it."
"Good idea," said Jasper. "Will you take on that task?"
"If you wish," said the cyclops, resting one hand on the hilt of his broadsword.
"I'll go too," said Wentworth.
"Good fella," said the cyclops and slapped Wentworth, not the beefiest of men, on the back. The impact propelled him off the stage and into the first row.
"Many sorrows," said the cyclops, peering over the edge of the stage.
V
Timaeus and Sidney stood in the shattered doorway. "Boy," said Sidney, "Nick is messy, but this is ridiculous."
"Dwarf is gone," said Kraki, rising, his sword in his hands.
"Beg pardon?" said Timaeus. He and Sidney came into the room and looked at the chunks of plaster and smashed furniture with bemusement. Father Thwaite stood up a little unsteadily. "The place was like this when we got here," he said. "Kraki believes that someone came, searched for the statue, failed to find it, and snatched Garni as a sort of consolation prize."
"The statue's still here?" said Timaeus.
"Yah," said Kraki, stamping on the floorboard. "Is here."
"This is most upsetting," said Timaeus. "Sidney, perhaps we ought to sell the statue before—"
Timaeus broke off. There were footsteps and giggles from down the corridor. "Hold that thought, doll," said Nick Pratchitt's voice, "just let me ge
t my keys. . . ."
Nick stood in the doorway, the servant girl from the inn under one arm, keys in the other hand. Openmouthed, he surveyed the wreckage. "Holy maloney," he said.
"Good morning, Mr. Pratchitt," said Sidney icily. "Perhaps you would introduce us to your companion."
"Ohmigawrsh," said the wench, looking at the rubble.
Nick cleared his throat. "I—ah, hadn't expected you all back so soon," he said.
"Clearly," said Timaeus, enjoying himself. "Garni's gone, you know." "Huh?" said Nick.
"Bad guys snatch," said Kraki. "But statue still here."
"Nickie?" said the wench. "Are we stayin' here? Cause I gotta be back at the inn by—"
" `Nickie'?" said Sidney in a dangerous tone, advancing toward Nick Pratchitt.
At that instant, the window shattered with a shocking clash. A multilimbed, ochre body tumbled into the room. It righted itself on batlike wings and thrust a sword toward Kraki, the closest figure in the room.
The barbarian ducked, raised his own sword, and faced off against the demon.
There was a clap of thunder, the noise of a teleporting body displacing the air. In the center of the room, another demon floated, this one a sharktoothed furry little creature. It darted toward Sidney, snarling.
She drew her own blade and backed toward the door.
The wench screamed and scrabbled back down the hall, tripping over debris. Yet a third demon, yellow eyes glaring from within a cloud of dark smoke, appeared, right behind Nick.
"Watch out, Nick," yelled Timaeus. Nick spun and backed into the room drawing his own blade, a simple dagger.
Father Thwaite searched desperately through the rubble. He needed brandy . . . brandy . . . He knew Nick had some, and it must be somewhere in all this stuff.
Caught between two demons, Nick and Sidney fought back-to-back. The toothy creature darted for Sidney's leg, but she struck it a glancing blow, and it backed off, bleeding a yellow fluid. The smoky demon gave a disconcerting, hollow laugh, and spat a line of flame toward Nick. He dodged. "I told you to go back to the apartment!" screamed Sidney. "To protect Garni and the statue . . . And look what you—"
Nick spat at his opponent, hoping that the demon's use of flame meant it was fire-aligned and that water would harm it.
His spittle did no apparent damage. "I sent Kraki and Father Thwaite," he said defensively. "Anyway, I—"
Timaeus released his spell. A dart of flame shot across the room and through the body of the smoky demon. The dart passed through the smoke, leaving a hole-but smoke expanded to fill the hole again. Flames shot through the doorway to start a fire in the stairwell. The demon repeated its strange, bass laugh.
"You jerk!" yelled Sidney, dodging her demon again. It bit her in the shoulder. She stabbed at it gingerly with her sword, trying not to injure herself. "The point is, what the hell were you doing?"
Father Thwaite was chanting now, shouting some prayer across the room.
Nick's demon was closing, moving slowly across the space between them; Nick swiped at it with his dagger, but the weapon had no effect on the discorporate creature. "What's it to you?" shouted Nick angrily. "You've made it clear that—"
"We're sitting on trouble," said Sidney, "and you're crawling into some tart's skirts. OW!"
Father Thwaite sprinkled brandy over the toothy demon, brandy that glowed with blue light. The demon screamed and dissolved into nothingness. Some of the brandy entered Sidney's wound, stinging terribly.
Thwaite flung the rest of the brandy toward the smoky demon. It disappeared with a snap.
The last of the demons climbed out the window into daylight, Kraki thrusting after it with his sword, a long, ragged tear in its wing.
For a moment, there was peace in the room.
"I'm tired of your constant carping," shouted Nick, turning to face Sidney,'his dagger in his hand. "All I get from you is—"
"Carping! Is that what you—" Sidney yelled.
"Someone had better do something about that fire," said Timaeus. The stairwell was still burning. Sidney and Nick continued to yell at each other.
"Hokay," said Kraki, walked into the hall, unbuttoned his fly, and urinated onto the flames.
"Yes!" shouted Nick. "Carping! `I don't like this, I don't like that.' I remember when you used to think that we—"
"Ahem," said Timaeus.
"You're the one that screwed it up, Nicholas Pratchitt!" yelled Sidney. "I was quite content to be your partner and not your—"
"Good day, goodwife," said Timaeus loudly.
Nick looked at the wizard. Timaeus pointed toward the doorway.
A plump, middle-aged woman stood there. "Mrs. Coopersmith," Nick groaned. It was his landlady.
She entered the room and looked around. She grew grim. "I knew I should never have rented to a dwarf and a single man," she said. "More of your wild parties, I suppose."
"What? Mrs. Coopersmith! This isn't our fault. We—"
She turned to him and shook her finger. "I don't care whether it's your fault or not, young man! I want you out! Now!" she shrieked.
"But Mrs. Coopersmith, the lease says—"
"The lease doesn't say anything about smashing the walls! And fires in the hall! And huge men urinating in the stairwell!"
Kraki came into the room and gave her a sheepish grin.
"Disgusting is what it is," she said. "There's an outhouse out back, you know."
"We're paid up through the end of the month," Nick said defensively. It was true. He and Garni had paid her from their share of the treasure.
"I want you out!"
Nick sighed heavily. "We can't," he said. "Not now." "Out!" she yelled.
"Mrs. Coopersmith," said Sidney, "Nick has a legal lease. You want him out, you've got to buy him out."
Mrs. Coopersmith wiped her hands on her apron and scowled. "We'll see about that," she said with determination and flounced away. Thwaite bound up Sidney's wound. "Where did those things come from?" Timaeus wondered, fumbling through his pouch for some pipeweed.
Nick frowned. "First someone snatches Garni, then demons show up," he said. "I get the feeling that too many people know about this statue. Maybe we should move it. . . ."
"Where?" said Sidney. "How are we going to get it out of the neighborhood without attracting attention?"
"Don't worry," said Kraki. "I am here. I protect statue."
"Of course, of course, thank you, Kraki," said Timaeus, packing his pipe. "Perhaps we should simply accept de Mobray's offer. It does seem as if the statue is becoming too hot a potato for us to handle, and . . . Hello? Can we help you?"
Someone stood in the doorway. He (she? it?) wore a brown monk's robe that fell to the floor. The robe's cowl was deep, so deep no hint of a face could be seen. The cowl turned, scanning the room. Silently, the figure held out an envelope.
"What do you want?" said Sidney.
The figure wafted the envelope back and forth. "Say something," Sidney said.
Thee was a faint, dry whisper, like a distant wind. "Something," it sighed.
"Everyone's a comedian," Sidney snarled and grabbed the note. She sniffed. The envelope was perfumed and tied with a ribbon. It was addressed to Magister Timaeus d'Asperge, No. 12, Cobblers Lane, Apt. 1.
"For you," she said, handing the letter to Timaeus. The wizard raised an eyebrow and opened it.
It was written in a delicate hand on expensive rag paper. The ink was the color of dried blood. Timaeus scanned a few lines, then read the whole letter aloud:
To Magister Timaeus d'Asperge:
My dear boy! I cannot tell you how thrilled I was to hear of your daring escapade in the Caverns of Cytorax. When first we met, I thought you rather unprepossessing, I am ashamed to admit. I should have known that there was more to you than met the eye. After all, a scion of the House d'Asperge must of necessity be destined for greatness! Athelstan needs more young men of your fortitude and enterprise.
Timaeus preened. Sidney snorted.
Per report, you acquired a certain remarkable piece of statuary in the course of your expedition. An individual whom I have the honor of representing is interested in acquiring this item. In fact, he was quite forceful in expressing his eagerness to me. He has authorized me to make an offer of £20,000 argentum for its delivery.
Timaeus stuttered over "twenty th-thousand."
The offer strikes me as more than generous, and I trust that it will meet with your approval. In the spirit of friendship, however, let me say that my principal is not a gentleman who brooks refusal. When frustrated, he has a tendency to become quite petulant. To speak of such things is painful, yet I believe it is my duty to say that, should this offer be refused, we may be compelled to take more forceful steps toward the object's acquisition.
Under the circumstances, I believe it best to preserve a certain air of mystery. Hence, I will say only that
I remain, your faithful and loving friend,
. . . And there it broke off. There was no signature, only a drop of dried blood at bottom right.
"Twenty thousand pounds is a lot of money," said Nick.
"I don't like the tone," said Thwaite. "And I don't like that." He pointed to the robed apparition. The cowl turned to face the priest, but the figure had no other reaction.
"The note is obviously not from Garni's kidnappers," said Sidney. "Or they'd mention him."
"Yah," said Kraki. "If ve sell statue, kidnappers be upset."
"I would dearly like to be rid of the damned thing," said Timaeus. "I say we accept."
Thwaite moved faster than Sidney would have believed possible for a middle-aged wino with a hangover. He darted to the doorway and threw back the creature's cowl.
Where the figure's head should have been, a bleached skull grinned. It turned atop a bony spine and studied each of the room's occupants in turn. Skeletal fingers reached up and flipped the cowl back in place.
"Do you want to deal with that?" Thwaite hissed. There was silence for a moment.
"I'll deal with anyone whose silver clinks," said Nick.
Timaeus eyed Nick skeptically. "Under the circumstances," Timaeus said, addressing the cowled figure, "I believe we must refuse the offer." The cowl faced him and nodded once. The figure glided away.
Another Day, Another Dungeon Page 12
