Timothy Zahn - Triplet

Someone in the crowd gasped... but what Maruch's companions lacked in manners one of them, at least, made up in cunning. Even as Ravagin stepped back, coiling the whip again, the man on the left raised his own weapon and shouted, "Sorcerer! Black magic! Help us, citizens, against this Power of Darkness!"

The crowd stirred, clearly unsure of what to do. Ravagin gritted his teeth, his full attention by necessity on the two men cautiously moving in on him. Snapping the whip out again, he held it extended in a stiff z-shape between him and his attackers. One of them slashed at it; he pulled it back slightly and the blow missed. At least they've only got regular swords, he thought, counting one of the few blessings available at the moment. A spark-sword would cut through a scorpion glove whip with ease if it connected; with ordinary swords it would take half a dozen solid blows to do the same.

Which gave him an idea...

Easing the defensive line back toward himself, he took a slow couple of steps to the right. His opponents shifted in response, the sword tips easing closer toward him as the whip withdrew. Almost in position... and as one of them started to lunge, Ravagin braced his feet and snapped the whip out in a converging helix around both swords.

One of the men yelped as the tightening coil slammed the two blades—and their sword hands—

together, but it was already too late for either to fight back. Bracing his palms together, Ravagin yanked hard, and an instant later both swords stood at his feet, securely tangled in four meters of whip, their points grounded against the stones.

For a long minute all three of the disarmed men just stood or crouched there, looking dumbfounded at Ravagin. "Now," Ravagin said softly, "the noblelady and I will be on our way."

"Not quite yet, outlander," an authoritative voice came from the crowd. Ravagin turned to see an old man dressed in purple and gold step forward, the half-scepter of a justice official held before him.

Beside him, a similarly garbed younger man held a sword at the ready position, its vaguely indistinct blade pointed in Ravagin's direction.

A spark-sword.

The Kelaine City way house was one of a couple of dozen that the government of the Twenty Worlds had quietly set up in Triplet, their purpose to provide both travelers' aid and relatively permanent centers for a handful of continuing studies. A large house situated in the northwest part of the city, it had a permanent staff of four and could provide overnight lodging for a party of up to six more. Ravagin hadn't planned to stay that long; but under the circumstances, he'd had little choice in the matter.

"So what did our esteemed justice officials say?" Pornish Essen asked as his two visitors settled into chairs in the way house's spacious conversation area.

Ravagin shrugged, automatically taking an estimate of the way house's director. He'd never met Essen before—way house directors generally served terms of one to two years in a given location, but Ravagin had seldom visited Kelaine City in the past few years. Still, the man seemed at first impression to be competent enough. "Fortunately, one of them had seen a scorpion glove before and could confirm that it wasn't black sorcery," he continued. "There was some question about whether I'd attacked first—the official hadn't gotten there in time for his half-scepter to record how things started—but they apparently knew the three carhrats well enough to believe my story."

"The woman wouldn't testify for you?"

Ravagin glanced over at Danae, noting the lines of barely concealed anger still in evidence on her face. "The woman apparently cut out on her own sometime after Danae and I took the center of attention away from her."

Essen shrugged. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"I'm not, either, but it could have made things damned awkward. But as I said, the city seems to have tangled with those idiots before. Anyway, they dithered around for awhile trying to find her and probably consulting the town's crystal eye for anything other cities or protectorates might have on us.

Finally decided they wouldn't lay any punishment against us if we would agree to leave the city."

"So you came here instead?" Essen's eyebrows went up politely. "Wonderful."

"Relax—I talked them into letting us spend the night since it was getting so late. We're to meet one of the officials at a sky-plane landing area a few streets north of here tomorrow and he'll watch us leave. Until then, we're your guests."

"And honored am I to have you, too," the other replied, the sarcasm of the words blunted by the twinkle in his eye. "This assignment is certainly turning out to be a caseload of thrills—just last week we had a traveler come through with a case of ymaricc fever and had to petition to use the Dreya's Womb."

"I thought Dreya's Wombs were supposed to be accessible to anyone," Danae spoke up from deep in her chair.

"Anyone who's a citizen, yes," Essen told her. "But outlanders don't have any such automatic rights.

Fortunately, Kelaine is fairly relaxed about such things and we basically just had to go through the motions to get permission."

Ravagin nodded. Outside, it was becoming dark enough for the first faint stars to appear; in a few minutes the globe atop the Giantsword to the southeast would begin to glow, supplementing the pale moonlight overhead.

Essen had apparently followed his gaze. "Could I interest either of you in sampling Kelaine's night life?" he asked.

"Not me," Danae said before Ravagin could reply. "I've had my fill of Kelaine for one day, thank you. I'd rather just go to bed early and get started for Karyx as soon as possible in the morning."

"Ah." Essen shrugged. "To each their own, I suppose. Personally, I find Shamsheer a much more fascinating and potentially useful world than Karyx. However... Ravagin, if you'd be interested in accompanying me there'll be others here to look after Ms. Panya."

"Thanks, but I'll pass, too," Ravagin shook his head. Shamsheer's entertainment facilities showed the same sharp contrast as everything else on the world, and while it could be interesting and sometimes even fun, it had a tendency to depress him. "As Ms. Panya said, we want to get an early start tomorrow. I think we'll just get some dinner and settle in."

"Up to you," Essen said, levering himself out of his chair. "If you'll excuse me, then, I need to go get ready for the evening's festivities. I'll leave instructions about dinner, and I'll try to get up in time to see you off in the morning." Nodding at each of them in turn, he strode from the room.

For a moment Ravagin and Danae sat in silence. Out the window, the Giantsword light was beginning to glow; a city's traditional demarcation between the work of day and the relaxation of evening.

"Certainly doesn't seem to be a hardship post, does it?" Danae muttered. "Housesit all day, party all night."

Ravagin shrugged. "He's new here. Give him a few more months and he'll be as frustrated as every other person from the Twenty Worlds that spends much time on Shamsheer."

"Frustrated how? By the laws?"

He shook his head. "By the technology."

"Come again?"

Abruptly, Ravagin stood up and headed for the stairs. "Come on, let's go sit outside on the balcony."

Danae's face was suddenly wary. "Why?"

"Why not? It's a nice night... and besides, it'll give you a good chance to see part of the answer to your question."

She followed silently as he climbed the steps to the second floor and found the doors leading out to the wide balcony facing out onto the street. Essen and his staff clearly spent a good deal of time here themselves: the furniture included both stuffed chairs and meal-size tables, and the guardrail was equipped with a spindly sort of device that Ravagin recognized as a minor bit of magic called a rainstopper. Choosing a chair near the rail, he sat down.