Alan Akers - Savage Scorpio

“I do not believe — how could I? I was cared for, nursed, no one — Ashti would not have allowed it

— you lie!”

“I do not lie. I pass over your intemperate words. I tell you the truth.”

For a moment he stood there, tall and bluff and robust, filling his crimson gown with the golden cords. His face showed a sudden crafty intelligence. “I know of solkien concentrate. Once it gets a hold on the system its evil results cannot be averted. I was ill, very ill. Ashti told me. If you speak sooth then I could not have been cured.”

“Not by normal men. I agree.”

He looked bewildered. “But-”

I bore down on him. “You called out in your delirium. You asked your daughter, you begged Delia to take you to those who could cure you, as they had cured her.”

His eyes widened.

“Yes — yes — I do not remember — but I would — I did! The Todalpheme of Hamal.”

“Your daughter Delia took you there. You were cured. If you do not remember, then that is probably better. Now you are back in your palace, fit and well. Delia did that.”

“Solkien concentrate.” He wet his lips and took up the golden vessel, poured wine. He did not pour for me. I let him drink. Then I said: “Suppose that wine is poisoned, also?”

He choked and spat and the purple wine sprayed all over the white linen of the bed. He swung to face me. He was trembling. “If I believed you, your story, if I did — you have not told me who did this thing.”

“Ah,” I said. I used the old formula out of spite, watching him squirm. “I wondered when you’d come to that.”

“Tell me! I can find out if you speak truth. I can seek and find the answers to my questions-”

“Oh, aye. You can have folk tortured to your heart’s content.”

“Tell me, you insolent cramph!”

“I wonder, sometimes,” I told him, “why I suffer myself to bother with you. Only for Delia’s sake. Otherwise, I really think I would let you go your own way to damnation.”

His face shook with his rage, cunning and powerful, used to absolute obedience. “Tell me!”

“Ashti Melekhi.”

He gaped at me.

Then he laughed and sneered, all in one, and sank back in the ornate brocaded chair at the bedside. The golden tassels shook with his sarcastic mirth. He brayed at me.

“You onker! Your sorry story is a pack of lies. The woman cut you down to size and you resent that. Ashti — why, Ashti nursed me devotedly. She found Doctor Charboi. Your story of solkien concentrate must be untrue, this leem’s nest of a story about going for the miracle cure — lies, all lies. I shall call the guard instantly-”

“There is no need for that. I have warned you. The woman is deadly. She will try again. What I would like to know is whom she is working for.”

“She works for me. She is devoted.”

“And Queen Lush?”

He glared, choking with rage, trying to rise from the chair and being held down by my hand. “She is Queen Lushfymi and she has nothing to do with this. Ashti knows she can never become empress. That is not to be thought of.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that, either. But it would give you a reason to understand. Myself, I believe there are other stronger forces at work here to destroy not only you but the whole of our family.”

“Our family?”

“I know how you regard me, a wild clansman; but your grandchildren are Delia’s children. You must believe me.”

“I cannot. I must think on what you have said and think best how to deal with you.”

You see? You see how the powerful of the land think?

I said to him, speaking pretty savagely: “Very well, emperor. You think on. I have warned you and I shall try to protect you. If I leave now I expect no trouble from your Opaz-forsaken Chulik guards. Or you’ll have a slew of death bonuses to pay out.”

He panted, heaving up as I stepped back into the shadows of the bed. “Sometimes, Dray Prescot, sometimes I think I would gladly pay all my treasury in death bonuses if one of them was yours.”

“Oh, aye. You’re not the only one.”

The door creaked on its oiled hinges and fresh light spurted through the opening gap. No one had knocked. The emperor stood up from the chair, half turned away from where I stood shrouded in the bed hangings. He looked relieved and glad.

“Here is Ashti now. Now we will test the lies you spew!”

So that explained the second cup. The purple wine would be safe, then. I licked my lips, thirstily. Ashti Melekhi entered the emperor’s bed chamber, walking like a neemu, all feline undulation and grace. Her thin mannish figure was clad in the green hunting leathers. At this the emperor’s face fell. He took a half-step forward.

“Ashti? You are welcome, welcome — but why this costume?”

She flashed that brilliant scything white smile at him.

“Because there is hunting to do tonight, majister.”

“Hunting?” The buffoon was bemused.

Following Melekhi the hulking form of Nath the Iarvin shouldered through the door. With him came six Chuliks. They were officers, Hikdars and Jiktars, and at their head strode the Chulik Chuktar of the guard. Their weapons glittered naked in their fists.

The emperor fell back.

“Ashti!” he screeched.

“Yes, emperor. We cannot wait. Your interfering son-in-law has returned, and he knows the truth. So you must die tonight, now!”

“Slay him, you fools, and have done!”

Ashti Melekhi pointed scornfully at the emperor, who fell back over his chair, twisting, knocking the golden cups of wine to the priceless carpets.

I stepped out into the light. The long dark cloak covered my face in shadow.

“Whoever he is, slay him also!” cried Melekhi.

The Chuliks advanced with grim purpose.

“You see, emperor,” I said. “There’s no telling an old onker the truth even if it’s staring him in the face.”

The emperor choked. He tried to struggle up. “Guards!” he got out in a strangled voice. “Guards! To me! To me!”

“What!” said I. “D’you want more of ’em to do your business for you? This bitch has bought them all.”

Ashti Melekhi drew in a sharp breath. Her face glowed with pleasure, her grey-green eyes bright, her pursed red mouth moist.

“The Prince Majister! Two with but a single cast! Now the gods smile on me.”

“It depends on which gods,” I said as I threw off the swathing cloak. “Some of that fraternity are not too reliable.”

“Slay them both,” screeched Melekhi. She held her hands pressed to her thin breast. She craned to watch.

The rapier came out smoothly enough, and the left-hand dagger. These Chuliks were past masters at their art, trained from birth. I was in for a strenuous few murs — or however long the fight lasted. The problem would be to keep the emperor from being killed.

I never forgot he was an emperor. Now he struggled up and the look on his face would have quelled an ordinary rabble. He grabbed for the bedhead table. He kept a sword ready to hand there as do all sensible folk on Kregen.

“I am the emperor!” he shouted. “Foresworn traitoress!”

“Now, emperor,” I said. “Remember. Remember the fight with the third party outside your very own palace grounds?” As I said this I crossed swords with the first of the Chuliks, who came on with great panache. I twinkled his blade about; but he knew that one, and I had a quick little spot of nimble parry and duck with his left hand companion before the rapier went into his guts and I could withdraw, skip aside and so kick another Chulik betwixt wind and water. He staggered; but I gave him no time to fall, by reason of the dagger that skewered into his eye. Bits of fluid gristle and blood spurted.