Barrington Bayley - Star Winds

The monarch stepped to the ground, looking all around him with melancholy gray eyes. Matello fell to his knees, and put his lips to the back of a limply proffered hand.

“What is your will, my liege-lord?” he asked solicitously as he rose. “Rest, or refreshment?”

“I require neither for the present, Sir Goth,” the king said, his tone business-like. “I must talk with you—in private.”

Lutheron the Third was tall and thin, barely older than Matello but seeming much older, his austere face lined and grayish. His visit to Castarpos had come as a sudden surprise to Matello, who had received less than one day’s notice of it, and he was nervous as to what its object could be, especially as he had been instructed to arrange no pomp and to make no public announcement of the king’s presence. He had, however, moved the Bucentaur into orbit so as to make way for the royal barge.

Leaving his majordomo to attend to the rest of the party, he conducted his monarch to his private office and sent for the best of his wines. Dismissing the manservant who arrived with it, he decanted it with his own hand and filled the king a goblet. Lutheron merely sipped the ancient vintage, and waved the standing Matello to be seated.

“Is this an inspection tour, liege-lord?” Matello enquired.

“I am afraid it is somewhat more than that,” King Lutheron said, smiling sadly. “The Kerek threat is developing more swiftly than ever anticipated, making it imperative for me to muster my forces. I have lately received intelligence that a major invasion is imminent.”

Matello suddenly became as stiff as wood and he clenched his hands. “By the gods, I’ve heard nothing of this! Where could the Kerek have built up their forces?”

“In the shoals and reefs bordering your end of the realm, where they have managed to amass unobserved, it seems, by using asteroids for natural cover.”

“Agh!—I should have guessed it!” muttered Matello after a pause, remembering the attack upon the Bucentaur . “That’s too close to home for comfort.”

“It is indeed, and it is essential that a fleet is raised immediately to meet the attack, or to strike first if that is possible. What can you supply by way of men and ships?”

Matello paused, then answered crisply. “I have five thousand men-at-arms. But I haven’t the ships to carry them all at once. Besides the Bucentaur , my personal ship, I have three battle-galleons, third class, and assorted smaller craft which will need to be carried by mother ship. I can manage most of those, I think.”

The king twisted a jeweled ring on his finger. “We will take everything,” he announced. “Get your men on board somehow. Any you can’t take can come aboard my own barge—later we’ll attend to their redistribution.”

“These measures will strip my domain of all troops, liege-lord,” Matello pointed out doubtfully. “I don’t like to leave my people without protection.”

“It is from the Kerek that they need protecting most,” the king answered with a sigh. “If we do not beat back the impending wave, then Maralia will be lost, just as other realms have been lost.”

Matello brooded.

“Luckily we do not stand alone,” the king went on. “The king of Wenchlas is sending help, as are the republics of Capalm and Venichea.”

“Wenchlas?” spluttered Matello. “Our sworn enemy, liege-lord!”

King Lutheron’s smile was weary. “At the present juncture of events we are natural allies. King Causus knows that if we fall, Wenchlas will be next. Indeed, were we able to rally all the human nations in a common defense, perhaps the Kerek could be contained. So far, this has proved beyond any man’s diplomacy. Now: how long before you will be ready to move?”

“To recall my troops from the Marsh worlds will take six days at least.”

“Hmm. Too long. We will leave the day after tomorrow. Your Marsh Worlds forces can make their way later.”

The main business dealt with, the king relaxed and took a deep draught of the baron’s excellent wine. “It is a great trial to me that I am able to count on so little from the dukedom of Koss,” he remarked. “You were the only man to presume to assume responsibility there, I recall. I see that you are not installed in the Aegis, however.”

“I have a plan at work,” Matello rumbled. “But I am still waiting for it to come to fruition.”

“Indeed?” The king leaned forward. “What is this plan?”

Matello hesitated, not liking to disclose his scheme. “I have succeeded in getting a man inside the Aegis,” he said.

“And you are hoping he will open it up for you?”

“Yes, liege-lord.”

“Not a perfect plan of operations,” the king commented after a moment’s thought. “Though getting a man inside at all is an achievement of sorts, I suppose.”

“The young man I am using is resourceful. I believe he will find a way eventually.”

“And how long has he been in there now?”

“Several months,” Matello admitted.

The king laughed, to Matello’s discomfiture. “Evidently, then, your plot has come unstuck. Either your conspirator has been discovered or he prefers the Duke of Koss’s service to yours. Tell me: is it true that you have the builder of the Aegis as your guest?”

“It is, liege-lord. You know the story of how he was cheated by the old duke, I suppose?”

“Yes. Quite an amusing tale. I would like to meet this beast.”

“Certainly, liege-lord. We will go to him directly.”

The king nodded, drained his goblet, and stood up. Matello rose after him, and guided him through the castle’s passages to the underground hall where Flammarion rested. “The creature’s life here is rather a dull one,” he said as they walked. “Most of his time he spends in a tank which keeps him fairly comfortable. It must be a peculiar world he comes from… I give him the freedom of the castle, too, and he sometimes roams around it. No amount of tedium or discomfort seems to bother him, I might say. He’ll wait it out for centuries to get what he regards as his due.”

“A most persistent creditor.”

“It’s the nature of his race.”

They entered the underground hall, where Matello ushered his royal guest toward the open iron tank at the far end. “Flammarion!” he called out. “Present yourself to our great king, Lutheron the Third, monarch of all Maralia!”

After a moment or two a shape rose up from the tank, showering fine yellow powder in all directions. The king watched while the alien flowed over the side of the trough and came closer, its flat cape-like body warping over the floor in waving motions. Finally it halted, raised its front end and managed a grotesque bow.

“Your Majesty.”

The king turned to Matello. “What an odd odor he has.”

“That’s mainly from the powder… It’s made up to his own recipe.”

Matello fetched a chair for the king. Lutheron sank into it, spreading his light cloak. He gazed at Flammarion with interest.

“Does that tail of yours have a sting?”

Flammarion flexed the pointed tail a little. “No, Your Majesty, it is vestigial, though the primitive forebear of my species did have a sting.”

“Strange how a life form seems to lose its natural weapons when it acquires a thinking brain. Well, so it was you who built the Duke of Koss his Aegis, eh?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And I understand you did it alone?”

“That is so.”

“It seems a mighty labor for one small individual. How did you manage it, without a work force?”

“I have my methods, Your Majesty. These, of course, are my secrets. I employ one method to create adamant. I use another method to shape it as it forms. For this I use a device which I first build with my own tentacles, and it is this device which makes possible the erection of so large a structure.”