“Sounds good to me,” Nunzio sez. “Let’s get going.”
If, perhaps, our attitude toward dyin’, not to mention the possibility of maybe whackin’ each other, sounds a little callous, I would suggest youse consider anew what it is Nunzio and me do for a livin’. We is bodyguards . . . which means that along with our jobs, we accept the possibility that at some point one or both of us might have to die so that the person what we are protectin’ does not. I repeat, it is part of the job . . . and we’d be pretty dumb bunnies if that part of the job description came as a surprise to us after all this time.
As to the possibility of one of us havin’ to whack the other . . . well, I don’t relish the thought of droppin’ Nunzio any more than I like the idea of him droppin’ me. Still, once one has accepted the above referenced possibility of dyin’ on the job to protect the Boss’s body or reputation, then it requires little additional justification to accept that dead is dead and afterwards it doesn’t really matter exactly who it was what did the number on youse. If anythin’, if Nunzio did me or vice versa, then at least we would be assured of it bein’ a neat, professional job with a minimum of fuss and bother.
Anyhow, it is just after dawn as we sneak out of the villa, openin’ the door an inch at a time in case it squeaks, then easin’ onto the patio as soon as it’s open far enough for us to slip through. At this point seein’ as how it seems we have effected our exit without arousin’ the others on the team, I pause to give Nunzio a wink and a thumbs up sign.
“Morning, boys!” comes a familiar voice from the far side of the patio. “Care for a bit of breakfast?”
Big Julie is sprawled on a recliner, soakin’ up the morning sun as he picks at the food laid out on the table next to him.
“Shhh! Could you keep it down?” Nunzio hisses, puttin’ a finger to his lips as he hurries over to our host.
“What for?” Big Julie sez, still speakin’ in that loud, projectin’ voice of his.
“Well . . . ummm ...” I sez, shootin’ a glance at Nunzio who just shrugs. “To tell you the truth, Big Julie, we are takin’ it on ourselves to bring yesterday’s argument to a close by goin’ after the queen before there is any further discussion. This effort will, of course, go to waste if the others hear you and emerge before we have made our departure.”
“Oh . . . it’s too late to worry about that,” he sez, casual-like.
“Excuse me?”
“They’ve already gone . . . one at a time, of course.”
“They did? When?”
“Well, let’s see ... Tananda was the first . , . she left last night . . . then Chumley took off when he woke up and realized she was gone. Massha . . . well, she lit out about an hour ago when she found out the others had gone . . . you know, that woman moves pretty fast considering the weight she’s carrying.”
“So they’re all ahead of us,” Nunzio sez, disgusted-like. “And here we thought we were being clever getting an early start.”
“Well, there is one detail I notice your teammates neglected to mention yesterday,” Big Julie sez. “You see, today is the day the queen holds her public court and hears cases and complaints from anybody . . . first come first served. That makes it perfect for the kind of questionable deed you were discussing . . . but the lines form early, both for those seeking an audience and those who simply want to be in the audience.”
“Oh that’s just swell!” I sez. “Tell me, Big Julie, if you don’t mind my askin’, why didn’t you try to stop them?”
“Me?” he blinks, innocent-like. “I had my say yesterday . . . and as I recall was unanimously told to butt out. That makes it none of my business . . . though I’ll admit I’d be no more eager to try stopping any of the others than I’d be to try to stop you two. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess I see your point,” Nunzio sez quick-like, lookin’ grimmer than I’ve seen him in a long time. “Well, come on, Guido! We’ve gotta hurry if we’re gonna be in this game at all!”
Just as Big Julie predicted, the palace throne room was packed to the walls with even more folks waiting outside to get in if anyone left early. As I have mentioned before, however, Nunzio and me is of sufficient size that most folks give ground when we crowd them, so we are able to eventually elbow our way in to where we can at least see.
The crowd what has shown up just to watch is linin’ the walls about twenty deep or jammed into the balconies, leavin’ the center of the room open for those havin’ business with the queen. Seein’ as how that pack is standin’ in a line which stretches back out the door, we have little choice but to join the audience . . . which hides our presence to a certain extent, but greatly reduces our chances of a quick withdrawal after we finishes workin’.
“There’s Massha,” I sez, though it’s kinda needless, as she is standin’ in the line waitin’ to go before the queen and is very noticeable in that company. “Can you see the others?”
Nunzio just shakes his head and keeps scannin’ the audience on our right, so I start doin’ the same for the crowd on the left.
Of course, I realize it is unlikely I will be able to spot Tananda, since with that disguise mirror of hers she can look like anyone she wants. I suspect though, knowin’ her to be more than a little vain, that even disguised she will be both female and attractive.
Chumley, however, is another matter entirely. All I gotta do is look for a good sized figure in an outfit that hides its face, and . . .
Nunzio gives me a quick elbow in the ribs to get my attention, then jerks his head up toward the ceilin’. It takes me a minute to figure out what he’s tryin’ to point out to me, but then somethin’ moves in the shadows of the rafters and I see her. It’s Tananda, and she’s flat on one of the heavy timbers easin’ her way closer to the throne. At first, I’m afraid she’ll fall, but then I realize that she’s . . .
“Quit looking at her.” Nunzio hisses in my ear. “Do you want the guards to spot her?”
I realize I have been starin’ up at her like some kind of a tourist, and that if I keep doin’ it, other people . . . like the guards . . . are gonna start wondering what I’m lookin’ at and start checkin’ the rafters themselves.
“So what do we do now?” I whispers back, tearin’ my eyes away from Tananda’s progress.
“We move,” Nunzio sez, “. . . And fast, if we’re gonna score before she makes her try. With this crowd, though . . . tell you what. You try easin’ up on the left there and I’ll go up this side.”
“Got it!” I sez, and put a gentle elbow into the kidney of the guy ahead of me, thereby openin’ up a route to the other side of the throne room.
Sayin’ we’ll get close to the throne, however, proves to be considerably easier than actually gettin’ there. At first I am worried about movin’ too fast and catchin’ the guards’ eyes as someone tryin’ too hard to get close to where the queen will be. After a few minutes of fightin’ with the crowd, though, I am more concerned with bein’ able to move at all. It seems like the closer to the front of the room I gets, the more determined the people are to not give up their place.
By the time I am halfway to the throne, I am startin’ to get desperate over how long it’s takin’ and look around to see where Nunzio is. As it turns out, he is havin’ even more trouble than me, havin’ progressed a mere six steps before gettin’ boxed in behind a gaggle of old biddies. They are not about to give ground for anyone, and it appears that short of punchin’ his way through them, he isn’t gonna make it to the front at all.
Of course, this leaves it to me to beat the others to the queen . . . which suits me just fine. Redoublin’ my efforts, I sneak a peek upward to check Tananda’s progress, only to find I can no longer see her at all.
Just then, someone lets loose with a blast of brass horns . . . and the queen appears.
For a moment, I am too stunned to keep pushin’ forward ... in fact, I lose a couple steps.
You see, I met Queen Hemlock back at the same time I met the Boss, and more
recently had a chance to refresh my memory while gazin’ at a propaganda leaflet. While she is not what you would call a knockout, neither is she exactly plain. The woman easin’ herself onto the throne, however, looks so much different than those images that if they hadn’t hollered out her name as she walked in, I probably wouldn’t have recognized her. Of course, even just passin’ her on the street, the crown would have been a pretty strong clue.
She looks like she hasn’t been sleepin’ very well, as there are big dark circles under her eyes, and it looks like she’s been off her feed . . . well, more so than normal as she’s always been a bit on the scrawny side. Then the first guy in line starts yammerin’ about how he thinks his business is payin’ too much taxes, and for a minute I think she’s gonna burst into tears.
It occurs to me that however successful her expansion may look from the outside, it doesn’t look like it’s makin’ Queen Hemlock any too happy. Just then I spot Chumley ... or at least a big figure in a hooded cloak . . . edgin’ along the wall behind the guards not ten feet from where the queen is sittin’, and know I have run out of time. Slidin’ one of the throwin’ knives down my sleeve, I start eyeballin’ the distance between me and Hemlock. It’s gonna be one heck of a throw, but it won’t get any easier by my starin’ at it, so I step back for balance and . . .
. . . And all hell breaks loose at the back of the room!
At first I think the guards have jumped Nunzio, but when I look his way he is standin’ clear of the action, lookin’ right back at me and pointin’ desperately out the door, mouthin’ somethin’ I can’t make out over the hubbub. I crane my neck tryin’ to figure out what he’s pointin’ at, but all I can see is the crowd outside the throne room is partin’ . , . makin’ way for something or somebody.
There’s a ripple of noise spreadin’ forward from the back of the crowd, buildin’ in volume as more and more voices join in. Abandonin’ my efforts to see what’s goin’ on, I bend an ear to try to sort out what it is they’re sayin’.
“... magician ...”
“He’s back!”
“HE’S COMING!”
“. . . COURT MAGICIAN!!!”
“LOOK!! THERE HE IS!! IT’S ...”
“THE GREAT SKEEVEH!”
. . . And it was!!
Just as I make out the words, the crowd at the back of the throne room parts, and the Boss comes walkin’ in ... and Aahz is with him!! They seem to be arguin’, of course, and are totally ignorin’ the crowd around them which first surges back, then presses forward like a wall.
I am out of the audience before I am aware that I have trampled several of Possiltum’s citizens in my haste, and pass Massha who is always a little slow off the line because of her size. I see Nunzio comin’ through the crowd, knockin’ people down like duckpins, and am vaguely aware that I am doin’ the same . . . but I don’t care. I am just happy to see the Boss here and in one piece.
“SKEEVE!”
I hear someone shout in a voice that sorta sounds like the queen’s, but by now I am six steps out and closin’ fast.
Now, I have never been fond of the Mob tradition of men huggin’ each other, but this time I figure to make an exception.
“BOSS!!” I hollers, and throws my arms wide and . . .
. . . And the room spins . . . then everythin’ goes black!
Chapter Twenty
“I want a rematch!”
M. Tyson
“GUIDO! HEY! COME on! Wake up!”
I can hear Nunzio’s voice, but decide to keep my eyes closed a little while longer. Havin’ had numerous similar experiences in the past, I have no difficulty figurin’ out what has happened . . . which is to say I have been knocked cold. The difficult part is recallin’ the circumstantials which led to this condition, a task which is not made any simpler by the fact that my brain is still a little scrambled from the experience . . . which is why I have chosen to pretend I am still out to lunch whilst I composes myself.
We were in the throne room . . . then the Boss walked in with Aahz ... I started over to greet him . . . Nunzio was comin’ over to do the same thing . . . then . . .
I get a fix on Nunzio’s location from his voice, then open my eyes and sit up quick-like, grabbin’ him by the throat as I do so.
“Did you just sucker punch me, cousin?” I sez, curious-like.
The world starts to spin again a little, makin’ me reconsider the wisdom of havin’ tried to move so fast so soon after regainin’ consciousness, but I blink a couple times to clear my vision and it settles down. I also notice that Nunzio is turnin’ a little purple, so I loose my grip on his throat so’s he can answer me.
“It . . . wasn’t me!” he squeaks.
Seein’ as how Nunzio is usually very proud of his work . . . particularly on those occasions when he has just worked on me ... I figure he is tellin’ the truth and open my grip the rest of the way.
“Well if you didn’t do it,” I frowns, still blinkin’ a little, “then who ...”
“Meet Pookie,” he sez, pointin’ over my shoulder with his left thumb, as his right hand is busy rubbin’ his throat. “She’s the Boss’s new bodyguard.”
“New bodyguard?” I sez, takin’ a look behind me and . . .
The world stops ... as does my heart and lungs.
Now, when I say this chick is stunnin’, it has nothin’ to do with the fact that she just knocked me cold. She has the smooth, strong lines of a panther . . . except for a few pleasant roundin’s one does not normally find on a cat of any size. She also has green scales and yellow eyes which are regardin’ me levelly.
“Sorry about the mix-up,” she sez, not soundin’ at all sorry, “but you came in so fast that Skeeve didn’t have a chance to tell me you were on our side. Anyway, pleased to meet you ... I guess. Here’s your knife back.”
I look at the throwin’ knife she is holdin’ out and realize it is indeed one of mine. I musta still been holdin’ it in my hand when I went to greet the Boss, which is an embarrassin’ oversight. One of the troubles with havin’ big hands is that sometimes one forgets one is holdin’ things.
“New bodyguard, huh?” I sez, not bein’ able to think of anythin’ wittier to say as I accepts the knife and stashes it.
“We met on Perv,” she sez, a little frosty. “Skeeve needed a bodyguard . . . and it seems he didn’t have one with him.”
Now I am not so far gone that I can’t spot a professional rebuke when I hear one.
“We didn’t like it, either,” I growl, “but the Boss ordered us not to go along with him and asked us to lend a hand here instead.”
Pookie thinks about this for a second, then gives a small nod.
“That explains a few things,” she sez, unthawin’ a little. “Skeeve’s being alone had me wondering about you two, but I guess you really didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
There is no reason why her approval should mean anything to me ... but it does.
“So, you’re from Perv, huh?” I sez, tryin’ to prolong the conversation.
“She’s my cousin,” Aahz sez, and for the first rime I become aware that he is standin’ nearby.
In fact, the whole team is standin’ here, and I ...
“Your cousin!” I sez, the words finally sinkin’ in.
“Don’t worry,” Pookie sez, givin’ me a small smile and a wink. “We aren’t at all alike.”
“Can you guys keep it down?” Tananda hisses at us. “I’m trying to eavesdrop on this!”
Wrenchin’ my attention away from Pookie, I finally start to focus in on what’s goin’ on.
We are still in the throne room, but the crowds are gone. In fact, the whole place . . . floor and balconies . . . are empty of people and guards except for us. Well, us and the Boss, who is sittin’ on the throne steps chattin’ with Queen Hemlock.
“. . . so everything was going pretty well, until Roddie caught some bug or other and died,” she is sayin’. “When I didn’t die, too, I realized those rin
gs you gave us didn’t really link our lives . . . incidentally, I’d get my money back on those if I were you ...”
“You mean the King really did die of natural causes?” I whispers.
“So it seems,” Tananda murmurs back. “Now put a sock in it. I want to hear this.”
“. . . and you know I’ve always wanted to expand our borders just a teensy tiny bit, so I figured, ‘Why not give it a try?’ ...”
“From what I hear,” the Boss interrupts, “the expansion goes way past ‘teensy tiny’ in anyone’s definition.”
“I know,” the queen sighs, deflatin’ a little. “It just seems to have gotten away from me. My advisors • - • you remember Grimble and Badaxe? . . . well, they keep assuring me that everything is fine . . - that as long as I keep lowering the taxes, the people will support me . . . but I keep having this feeling that I’ve lost control of . . .”
“Lowering the taxes while you expand your borders?” the Boss breaks in. “But that can’t be done! A bigger kingdom means more expense, not less! You still have the cost of local government, plus the cost of extra layers of bureaucracy to manage the local bureaucracies.”
It finally dawns on me what has been botherin’ me about this “lower taxes” thing every time I hear about it. I also remember that I had to take Econ. 101 three times.
“I know,” the queen sez. “I’ve been covering the extra cost from my old kingdom’s treasury, but that’s almost gone. Grimble keeps saying that things will level off eventually when the kingdom gets big enough, but ...”
“It’s not going to happen,” the Boss sez, shakin’ his head. “You can’t beat the mathematics of the situation. You’re either going to have to raise the taxes or pull your borders back ... or go bankrupt.”
“Oh Skeeve!” Hemlock sez, givin’ him a quick hug. “I knew you could figure it out. That’s why I sent for you.”
“Sent for me?”
“Of course, silly. The ring. Didn’t you get it?”
M.Y.T.H. Inc in Action Page 17
