Роберт Асприн - Forever After

“Udan Kann!” Stiller swore, his complexion immediately blossoming with pale blotches.

“You know me, ill-favored one,” Udan Kann hissed. “No matter, this knowledge will only hasten your demise.”

Stiller unsheathed his sword and dove at the hingu master. Udan Kann twisted his torso with the suppleness of a high-priced prostitute and avoided the blow. Then he tapped Stiller lightly on the arm and sent the warrior reeling.

Jord was about to charge into the fray when the grating voice of Calla Mallanik sounded in his ears.

“Move, poet,” the elf said. “Domino would never forgive us if we got you slaughtered.”

The elf raised his silver-strung bow and let fly with the arrows of fiery elf-wrought gold that never failed to find the life of evildoers at whom they were shot. Two arrows raced toward their target — overkill by a hundred percent — yet Udan Kann plucked both arrows from the air.

He tossed them like darts back at the astonished elf. One sliced the silver bowstring into glittering twine, the second pinned the elf’s floppy-toed boot to the floor.

“I will tend to you in a moment.” He laughed.

“Not if I have my say!” Stiller Gulick cried, charging back, his sword angled to give the assassin a new spinal column.

Udan Kann didn’t even turn as he twisted to poke Spotty in the eyes.

“Snake eyes!” He giggled. “Or don’t you play dice?”

“That piece of jewelry you’re wearing,” Jord Inder said, “it’s Anachron, the amulet that Gar Quithnick was supposed to return to Gelfait!”

Udan Kann lurched as if struck, then he grasped the amulet in one hand, sparing the other to pluck a flight of arrows from Calla’s newly strung bow from before his breast.

“Yes, it is Anachron. The Pariah has failed you as he failed me. In both cases, his obsession with the perfection of his art made him less than the demands of his task!”

“Damn Gar Quithnickl” Spotty Gulick cursed, struggling to his feet.

“I never trusted Gar Quithnick,” Calla agreed, reaching for another arrow.

Udan Kann lurched twice more, his supple hands pawing at his chest. His humorless eyes bulged from his head. Falling to his knees, he moaned.

“Gar, my son, I did you ill to call you Pariah,” he gasped, his voice coming thinner. “What a beautiful use of the delayed death touch! Truly, I should have named you hingu-Grashanshao !”

With a final moan of chest-crushing pain, Udan Kann crumpled to the ground, embracing at last the death that had been his best student’s final exam.

“Well, I guess Gar did come through for us after all,” Stiller Gulick said, looking at the dead assassin with respect, the blotches on his countenance fading slightly. “Is the priest still alive?”

Jord checked the body, “Yes, thank the Gods of Light. I guess that Udan Kann planned to play with him first.”

“I wonder why Gar let him get away with the amulet?” Calla mused as he wiped the blood from the priest’s face and began to administer first aid. “Clearly, he could have slain him.”

Jord knelt by Udan Kann and began to remove the ceremonial robes. “I think that he had grown suspicious and let Udan Kann return as a warning to us.”

“He could have come himself,” Stiller commented. “It would have been a hell of a lot safer.”

“True,” Jord agreed, “but I don’t think he knew that Kalaran had possessed Prince Rango, only that the Fallen Sunbird was somehow still active. Gar did not dare risk that Udan Kann’s failure to return would warn his master.”

“I guess it makes sense — for a hingu master,” Stiller said. “I hope that Gar’s alive, wherever he is.”

“I wonder,” Jord replied. “Legend says that Anachron will return to its previous bearer when the first is slain. It rests yet upon Udan Kann’s chest.”

“I guess that means Gar is dead, then, though I would have given odds on him,” Stiller said sadly. ”He was a creep, but he was our creep.“

Calla Mallanik cleared some litter from a bench and lifted Lemml up, then he started back in surprise.

“Spring’s bouncing balls!” he exclaimed, “I’ve found the Chief Priest and he’s breathing!”

“I guess that Kalaran didn’t want any more problems with the religious establishment than he could help,” Stiller said. “Now let me tend him. I’ve a dangerous job for you.”

“Do you want me to climb into the eaves and serve as a sniper?” the elf asked.

“No.”

“Go and see if any other hingu assassins are lurking in the bushes?”

“No.”

“Carry a secret message to the Princess?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I want you to put on Gar’s outfit and get ready to take his place in the wedding party.”

“How is that dangerous?”

“Have you thought about how Gar would feel if he hurried back here all the way from Gelfait and finds that you’ve taken his place?”

“Oh.” Somberly Calla began to put on the groomsman’s uniform. “Wait, I thought you said he was dead, so why are you worried?”

“I also said that I’d give odds on him,” Stiller said. “Hurry, they’re starting to play the music.”

Trumpets blared the opening of the triumphal march of the Royal House of Regaudia as Princess Rissa’s carriage drew up in front of the Cathedral of Dym. Daisy, elegantly garbed and inordinately proud in her new role as Dame of Protocol, ordered the footmen to open the carriage doors.

“I’ve been going into battle since I was a child,” Domino mused, “and I never was afraid. Why am I scared now?”

“Maybe because you don’t have a horse between your legs.” Jancy chuckled, then she softened. “Sif, I went into my first battle before I was born — my mother was a warrior woman like me — and I’m nervous, too. How are you doing, Rissa?”

The Princess looked up from the enormous bouquet of white roses, baby’s breath, apple blossoms, and tulips in her lap.

“I’m nervous. Who wouldn’t be, knowing what we know, suspecting what we suspect? I only wish we didn’t have to do this so publicly.”

“You know why we must,” Domino reminded her. “Kalaran would not sit through the exorcism. Our only hope is that he will fail to notice that Jord is reading not the wedding text but the exorcism from the scroll of Gwykander. Jord has been memorizing as much as he can, so that he will not need to make obvious what he is doing, but…”

‘There are lots of buts,“ Jancy interrupted. ”We can do no more planning. Now is the time for battle and praying for the blessings of both your Gods of light and those of my battle-loving Northern Gods.“

“Amen,” Rissa breathed. “Amen.”

They processed into the Cathedral of Dym amid a cheering throng of the citizenry who pressed against the uniformed guards to bombard the bride and her attendants with flowers, birdseed, sugared almonds, small coins, and light wheaten cakes.

“Fertility charms,” Jancy explained to the puzzled Princess.

“Damn,” Domino swore.

When they entered the Cathedral, Prince Rango, Stiller Gulick, and Calla Mallanik strode from the sacristy. Stiller bore a broad tray with the newly minted crowns of the Faltane. Calla bore a slightly smaller tray holding four beautiful daggers. The Chief Priest followed them more slowly, bearing in his arms the heavy, leatherbound Book of the Service.

“Is that Jord?” Jancy whispered.

“I don’t know,” Domino answered.

“Hush,” Princess Rissa said.

The first one to process down the aisle was Seth. The little girl was crowned with a diadem of pink rosebuds and bore a basket with dried rose petals that she scattered along the aisle.