Роберт Асприн - Forever After

“Can you hold on to it for now?” Rissa asked. “Disposing of that is going to take some thought.”

As the bodies were cleared away, Lemml Touday and Fenelais were roused from their bench in the sacristy. Clad in his second-best robes, the Chief Priest came forth and officiated, Lemml in the place of honor at his side. The Book of the Service was gone, but the memory of the ritual remained and if it was a bit shorter, that was all for the best.

Newly wed, the Prince and Princess knelt before the Chief Priest to be coronated the new King and Queen of the Faltane. Their trusted comrades stood in a half circle behind them, battered and bloodied faces glowing with pride.

Only Ibble stood apart, the cushion with the crowns in his broad dwarvish hands. He studied the crowns as the Chief Priest intoned a prayer requesting that the new rulers be just and wise and brave in the rulership of their kingdom. When the Chief Priest reached for the King’s crown to set it on Rango’s head, the dwarf interrupted.

“Uh, do you really mean what you just said there in that prayer?”

The Chief Priest stared at him in puzzlement, “Of course I do, Ibble. Do you think we want a ruler like Kalaran for the Faltane?”

The dwarf shrugged. “I just wanted to make certain it wasn’t one of those pro forma things. I never know with humans. I remember when Stiller was teaching the dragon poker—”

“Ibble,” Stiller interrupted, “do you have a point?”

“Sure, Stiller,” Ibble said, “I was studying these crowns here and you know that dwarves are great craftsmen, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I’d like a second opinion from Calla, but I’d say that these crowns have been enchanted to make them control devices. No points for guessing who would be doing the controlling.”

“Kalaran!” Prince Rango gasped.

Calla Mallanik rose from his inspection of the crowns and nodded agreement.

“Yes, Your Highness, I would guess that the Fallen Sunbird, being immortal, had designs on your kingdom far exceeding a human life span. Through these crowns he could control the new King, after your death.”

“And the Queen while she was yet alive!” Jancy said in horror. “Sif&rsquoo;s shining hair, that’s ugly!”

A faint cursing could be heard from the sash of her gown where she had stowed the figurine containing the imprisoned demigod.

“If these crowns are cursed,” Prince Rango said, “then let the coronation be continued but let us be coronated without crowns!”

‘That’s fine with me,“ Rissa said, with a faint shudder as she looked at the crown destined for her and contemplated what Kalaran might have intended, ”I’ve never like crowns. They’re terribly uncomfortable.“

The coronation was concluded without further incident. As the congregation rose to cheer their new King and Queen the Cathedral of Dym shook and shimmered. The vision of each person within blurred and when it cleared, they found that they were standing within a rounded building as large as the vanished Cathedral but without a roof so that it was open to the sky.

Across that sky, three green comets looped in increasingly erratic patterns.

“What is this?” King Rango asked.

“An arena of sorts,” Stiller offered, “or a stadium.”

They looked about. The congregation was now seated in the round, those who had been on the ground floor in small, hard seats, those who had been in the balconies on wooden bleachers. The royal wedding party stood on a mound amid a broad, grassy field that had been marked into a diamond with solid lines of white paint. Small shelters stood where the sacristies had been.

“I think I know what has happened,” Jord Inder said. “Kalaran did not lie when he said that the presence of so many magical artifacts could cause a rift between time and space. The strange phenomena faded somewhat after we left on our quests, but Caltus remained fraught with them. Now we have gathered again several magical artifacts of great power in one place.”

‘The scroll!“ Domino said, picking it up from the grass.

“The crowns!” Ibble added, looking down at them.

“The Demon of Darkness,” Jancy said, pulling it from her girdle, “or the Imprisoned Fallen Sunbird, if you’d prefer.”

‘The weakened fabric of reality cannot tolerate their presence,“ Calla Mallanik agreed, ”and I really dread telling you what the solution is.“

“A quest!” groaned Stiller, the blotches rising on his face.

“Three quests,” Calla corrected.

“I guess we could take the scroll back to the Lakes,” Domino said. “For real this time. It shouldn’t be that bad. There aren’t many bandits left.”

“If the crowns are not as powerful as the other artifacts, I could lose them in a game of poker,” Stiller said. “I promised Schmimov I’d come back after the wedding.”

“The Demon of Darkness is a harder call,” Queen Rissa said. “Jancy?”

“I’d love to get rid of the old bastard,” Jancy replied, “and I didn’t much fancy going along on your honeymoon. Calla, are you with me?”

“As long as I don’t have to enlist,” the elf promised. “The kingdom rewards its heroes a lot better than it pays their soldiers.”

“Let me join you,” Ibble said, “I’d feel much safer if we encase that damn thing in some of my magic dwarven rock when we ditch it. A figurine could be tempting, but who’d want a chunk of ugly rock?”

‘Then it is agreed,“ King Rango declaimed, ”but reality will have to bear the strain long enough for you all to attend the wedding reception. Look, the stewards are bringing in the refreshments, even now.“

Dressed in white trousers and shirts, with trays slung suspended from their necks, stewards were moving through the seats and the stands handing paper cups of drink and bags of peanuts and popcorn to the gathered guests.

Daisy led a few stewards over to the royal party.

“The weather’s so lovely that I’ve ordered tables be set for you here on the lawn,” she said. “But I fear I must report that the wine has spoiled — all we have is that sweet, frothy brown drink and plenty of ice.”

The wedding party groaned, but the new King took a tentative sip from his cup.

“Sweet,” he said, “but I rather like it.”

Rissa laughed and held him close. “I guess that Kalaran got that awful habit from you. I should have known!”

Minstrels struck up drums and flutes in light dance tunes and the military band spelled them with merry marches. Occasional rifts of the amplified strings and bass were heard from the unseen world beyond. The new King and Queen held out their hands to their comrades.

“Come,” Queen Rissa said, “join us in a circle dance to celebrate new beginnings.”

As they spun on the flat, grassy lawn, overhead the three comets finished their twisting course and exploded into each other, sprinkling the heavens with a dusting of stars, bright against even the daytime sky. Not even the giant lizard that snapped at the trailing sparks could dim their brilliance.

I’ve been a fan of Roger Zelazny since I read “A Rose for Ecclesiastes” on its original publication in 1963. I went to my first SF convention in 1974 (the worldcon) in part because Roger was Guest of Honor and I wanted to meet him and tell him how good he was.

And finally, just before the early and unexpected end of Roger’s life, I had the pleasure of working with him on this project. Baen Books has asked me to describe how this came about. Roger’s work is his monument; he needs nothing from me. But as it’s traditional for friends and family of the deceased to each toss a pinch of dust on the grave site, you can think of this as my offering.