Shadewell Shenanigans (11 page)

The silence that followed was abruptly broken by a muffled expletive from the cloth bundle. Gordo reached down, shook off the rags, and sat the head of Loogie Lambontroff on his knee.

“Unprovoked,” it said. “That was completely and utterly unprovoked.”

Gordo boggled at it. “You what? You shot at us, for crying out loud.”

“Yeah, pity I missed. I could’ve been—”

“What the hell are you, anyway?” Gape interrupted. “What kind of creature stays alive when you cut its head off.”

“He’s a twinling.”

“Er, I am,” said the head. “But I’m also a zombeegol.”

“What’s that?”

“Part zombie, part ghoul. It means I can regenerate, given time and the right persuasion. Mind you, this is gonna put me to the test, all right.”

Gordo nodded. “A zombeegol,” he repeated. “It figures, considering your background …”

“Ha! You’re a bloody dwarf—what do you know about my background?”

“I know you’re Count Craven’s nephew!”

“Don’t mention that name in my presence!”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“Did he send you?”

Gordo shook his head. “No, we’re freelance. It just so happens that we’re headed for Rintintetly.”

“You’re not taking me there!”

“Yes we are,” said Gape. “Don’t argue.”

“You better not.”

“We
are
!” snapped Gordo. “Just accept it.”

“I could make life very unpleasant for you.”

“How? What’re you going to do? Spit at us?”

The head was thoughtful for a time. Then it said: “Why are you going there, exactly?”

Gordo and Gape shared a glance, during which Groan almost tipped the boat over by rolling onto his side.

“We’re going to steal something,” the dwarf admitted. “A ring.”

“Does it belong to my uncle?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Good. In that case, I’ll help you … for a price.”

Gape burst into a fit of laughter. “You? Help? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! How, for crying out loud?”

Again, the head became thoughtful.

“I could be your lookout,” it said. “You could hold me over walls, around corners, and I could tell you if there was anything coming. You know, like guards and such. I’m also very intelligent.”

“Ha!” Gordo exclaimed. “You’re nothing but a footpad.”

“I am
now,
but before that I was privately educated. I’ve got a decree in astronomy, a diplodocus in archaeology, and six medals from the Dullitch Society of Treasure Hunters, where, I might add, I was president for a year. Not to mention—”

Gape sniggered, but Gordo silenced him with a well-aimed shin kick.

“You’re on,” said the dwarf. “What’s your price?”

The head grinned. “Well, I suppose it depends …”

“On?”

“Well, er, how much is it worth? You know, the thing you’re planning to steal.”

“It’s not worth a crown,” Gape said, before Gordo could make something up. “At least, not to us. We need it because we—that is, my brother and I—are trying to woo a beautiful princess.”

“And she won’t wed unless we can bring her four legendary great treasures,” Gordo added. “One of which happens to be the ring given to Lady Khan by your uncle.”

“Ha! She was mine before she was his, you know.”

“Lady Khan,” Gordo repeated slowly, “was your, um, partner?”

“You could say that. We were very close.”

“And now she’s your auntie?”

The head screwed up its face. “Only on paper,” it said finally. “Besides, I doubt whether Lady Khan’d
need
a ring.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s a chicken.”

When Duke Modeset’s coach came rattling into Phlegm, King Phew and an assortment of his royal bodyguard were waiting in the keep’s courtyard.

As the assembled company looked on, the horse slowed to a trot and eventually stopped. The coach door swung open, and Susti stepped out into the light, followed by Bronwyn and, presently, Duke Modeset.

As Pegrand urged the horse into a trot and made for the stables, a lone figure slipped from the back of the coach and began to stroll nonchalantly across the courtyard.

King Phew ran up to his daughter and waggled a stubby finger at her. “I warned you not to get involved!” he snapped.

Susti merely folded her arms and scowled at him.

“You should listen to your father,” Modeset advised her. “He’s much older and a good deal wiser than you.”

Susti turned to look at the duke and smiled grimly. “I know,” she said. “He’s also much older and a good deal wiser than
you
.”

“I’m not
that
much older than him,” said King Phew resentfully. “Besides, Lord Modeset speaks for the national community.”

“I’ll just bet he does.”

“And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?” Modeset inquired.

“She’s young, my friend; she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

King Phew dismissed his royal bodyguard, swung an arm around his daughter’s shoulders, and attempted to steer her away. He failed.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” Susti yelled, ducking under her father’s arm and thrusting an accusing finger at Modeset. “It means that I think you’ve got a personal grudge against Groan Teethgrit that goes all the way back to that business in Dullitch, with the rats.”

Modeset’s expression went cold. “Nonsense.”

“That’s enough, Susti!” warned the king.

“No it isn’t, Father, not nearly enough. He’s used what pitiful influence he has left with the Great Assembly to drag everyone into a war on mercenaries, and you and the other rulers are all so stupid that you’ve fallen for it!”

The color had drained from Modeset’s cheeks; his eyes were bloodshot.

“King Phew,” he said. “Please remove your daughter from my face.”

The king took a step forward and almost walked into the hairy monstrosity that suddenly appeared between his daughter and the duke.

“Evening, all,” said Stump jovially, nodding to the group in general. “Ah, so you’re a princess, are you? Ha! Good thing he didn’t shoot you, then, eh?”

“How did you get here?” Modeset demanded.

“Er, I sneaked onto your coach—nifty ride, that.”

King Phew glared at the duke. “You were going to shoot my daughter?”

“No, no, of course n—”

“He was too! He said you’d never know!”

Modeset suddenly thrust but a fist and struck the wildman, who stumbled backward and fell onto his behind. Stump moaned a little, then rolled over and began to crawl away in the direction of the stables.

“I’m sorry about that, Your Majesty,” he said. “But I can’t stand liars, especially when they
interrupt
.”

King Phew didn’t say anything. He was glaring at the duke with something approaching disgust.

“You threatened my daughter with a
pistol
?” he said.

Modeset sighed. “Well, she would never have climbed into the coach if I’d simply
asked
her to.”

“How DARE you!”

“Now, listen to me—”

“Guards!”

“Wait just a moment.”

“GUARDS!”

Two heavily armored protectors clattered down the keep steps and came to stand on either side of the duke.

Modeset held up his hands for calm. “Think very carefully, I implore you,” he said, as Pegrand came strolling around the corner, stopping dead when he saw the scene unfolding at the keep steps.

“No, Duke Modeset, it is
you
who should have thought carefully before you pointed a pistol at my daughter.”

Susti looked down at her feet, but couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on her lips.

“King Phew,” Modeset snapped. “I might remind you that I am currently Chairman of the Great Assembly.”

“An honorary title,” spat the king, but his voice wavered a little.

Modeset shrugged. “Honorary or not, I currently have at my disposal oaths from the combined armies of Dullitch, Legrash, and Spittle. Do you really want a war, Your Majesty?”

“Dullitch would never throw in with the likes of you; Curfew can’t stand you.”

The duke flashed a demonic grin. “Viscount Curfew is family,” he stated. “Besides, he’s always rather liked Phlegm. It’s such a … wealthy kingdom.”

“And we’ve no real trainin’ to speak of,” said one of the guards suddenly.

Modeset turned to regard the man, and nodded an agreement. “You wouldn’t stand a chance, I’m afraid.”

“Guards,” Phew snapped. The king was now so enraged that his face had flushed a dark red. “Arrest this man.”

There was no movement. Susti looked horrified, the guards bewildered.

Modeset patted both men companionably on the shoulder. “Gentlemen, if you’d be so kind,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The guards took a step forward, each seizing an elbow, and hoisted King Phew into the air.

“Put me down, damn you! What is the meaning of this? I demand to be let down! I am your
king.
”

Susti raised a hand to strike the nearest guard, but Pegrand rushed forward and caught hold of the princess’s arm. Bronwyn made a valiant attempt to rescue her mistress, but Pegrand soon had both girls restrained. Another group of sentries arrived, alerted by the row in the courtyard. For a moment it looked as though they would side with the king, but a quick discussion with their captains dissolved any opposition to the mutiny.

“What should we do with ’em?” said the guard who had first spoken to Modeset.

The duke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Your name?” he inquired.

“Captain Crikey, sir.”

“Well,
General
Crikey, if I were you, I’d confine them both to their respective quarters. The princess may keep her maid. After all, there’s no need to be
difficult
about things, is there?”

King Phew, still angrily protesting, was dragged away. Two guards followed with Bronwyn in tow, and as Susti was brought past, Modeset grabbed her roughly by the throat.

“You’re a very spirited young lady,” he said. “But do be careful; I’d hate for something unfortunate to happen to you …”

Susti resisted the urge to spit in the duke’s face, and allowed the guards to lead her away.

“What should I be doing, milord?” Pegrand asked, peering around the courtyard as if he were disappointed that all the drama was over.

“Nothing at all, Pegrand.”

Modeset allowed himself a deep and satisfying smile that was soon wiped off his face when Stump went thundering past on the royal coach, two fingers raised in frank defiance, and whistling a merry tune.

A
PPROXIMATELY HALFWAY ACROSS THE
Washin, a deadly silence had descended upon the little rowboat. Groan was awake, Gape and Gordo were aghast, and all three of them were staring at the head with a certain amount of grim trepidation.

“Go on,” said Gordo wearily.

The head frowned. “Where was I?”

“You were telling us about your uncle’s wife … the chicken.” Gape reminded him. “And also about the hideous army of deadlies he’s got coffined up in his palace gardens.”

“Yeah, right,” the head continued, sniffing a little. “Well, as I was saying, Wemeru’s quite a fortress. It’s hidden just inside the western edge of Rintintetly.”

“I wanna hear more about the chicken,” Groan roared.

The head made a face. “Yes, well, I don’t really want to talk about that,” it snapped. “The memory is still very painful to me.”

“I don’t give a monkey’s nut,” said Groan. “Tell us, or else.”

“No.”

“I could make ya.”

“I could bite your hand off.”

“I could lob you into the lake.”

“Can we stop this nonsense?” Gordo said. “It’s not helping anyone. Personally, I don’t give a damn about some stupid chicken.”

“Seconded,” Gape said, swapping places with Groan, who proceeded to row them the rest of the way. “I just want to grab the ring and get the hell out of there.”

“Right,” Gordo agreed. “So, Loogie, you definitely don’t know anything about this ring?”

The head tried to shake itself. “Not a sausage. Mind you, I
have
been away from Wemeru for a very long time.”

“Well, get ready for a big reunion, numskull.” Gape laughed. “Because you’re on your way back.”

Modeset marched into the throne room of Phlegm Keep, waited for Pegrand and the newly appointed General of the Guard to file in behind him, then slammed the doors loudly.

“Exactly how many troops do we have at our disposal?” he said.

General Crikey did a quick finger count. “Two hundred, sir.”

“Superb! Horses?”

“Ten, sir.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, sir. Ten horses, one broken catapult, and a cart, sir. The king never really invested in burden.”

Modeset swore under his breath.

“Listen,” he said. “I want you to send out a couple of soldiers after my coach.”

“Why’s that, milord?” his manservant asked, not noticing the duke’s pained expression.

“Because it’s
my
coach, Pegrand.”

“It’s a run-down old heap, milord.”

“Yes, but it’s
my
coach.”

“Certainly, sir!” chirped Crikey, snapping off a smart salute. “I shall see to it immediately.”

Modeset nodded. “Good man. And make sure you bring the wildman back to me; preferably breathing, but I’m not fussy.”

“Yes, SIR!”

Pegrand waited until the general had departed, then leaned over toward Modeset and whispered: “Why do we want to capture Stump, milord? Surely we can just let him go …”

The duke shook his head vehemently. “I don’t know how that imbecile got aboard the coach without us noticing, but he just overheard that entire argument. I don’t want word getting out that I’ve taken control of Phlegm. The other rulers … won’t like it.”

“I thought you said they’d be on your side, milord.”

“Ha!” Modeset laughed at the prospect. “Dear, dear Pegrand, the lords of Spittle, Dullitch, and Legrash wouldn’t so much as spit on my rotting carcass if I were engulfed by flame.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, milord. I mean, after all, Viscount Curfew
is
your cousin.”

Modeset thought for a second, then nodded. “Yes, Pegrand, that he is. But, if you remember correctly, I had his mother beheaded.”

The manservant frowned with the effort of recollection. “So you did, milord,” he said eventually. “So you did. Best not to ask him for any favors then, eh?”