The Last Protector (2 page)

Jape glanced at himself, as if noticing his outfit of tan pants, gray shirt and short gray cape for the first time. Then he shrugged a bland shrug and took a sip from his longneck lager. “I like looking dull,” he said cheerfully. “Almost nobody notices me."

Scrornuck pointed to several uniformed men moving toward their table. “Almost doesn't count."

"Crap.” Nalia clenched her fists. “By Spafu's wing, they're not going to haul me off to jail without a fight."

Scrornuck took an unhurried swallow. “Seems like a lot of them for a bar fight. Who did we beat up, anyway?"

"His name is Leondo,” Nalia said with a sigh. “Says he's a high-ranking Mayoral Guard."

"Big shot cop? So that's why everybody sat on their thumbs."

"They don't want to spend the night in jail. His pals are off-duty Guards, and they're not happy about getting beat up.” She gulped her beer, trying to get it finished before the trouble resumed. “You should have stayed out of this."

Scrornuck slid his chair back. “We should have kicked their asses harder. They need a lesson."

Jape placed a hand on Scrornuck's shoulder. “Patience, Mister Saughblade.” He turned to Nalia. “What did you do to deserve his attention?"

She shrugged. “He made a pass at me last night. Probably mistook me for one of the hookers that hang around here. I threw him out and told him not to come back.” She took another big gulp, leaving her glass about a third full. “The jerk just had to come back, didn't he?” She polished off her beer in two big swallows. “Two weeks I've had this job, just got to know who the big tippers are, and now...” She set her glass down. “Crap. Son-of-a-bitch throws a knife, could have hurt somebody, and I'm the one who'll be going to jail."

Rather casually, Jape got to his feet. “I, for one, don't feel like spending the night behind bars. I believe it's time we made an exit."

Nalia shot a wicked glare at the approaching Guards as she stood. Scrornuck's hand moved toward the sheath hanging from his belt, but Jape's soft voice restrained him. “I think a non-violent approach is in order.” He took a small disc from a pocket of his nondescript gray cape and pitched it toward the Guards. Midway through its flight the disc burst, throwing silver coins in all directions. Now, a shower of silver coins is not an everyday occurrence in a place that offers to stuff your belly for a copper, and in seconds the Guards found themselves in the middle of a small mob as people scrambled for the money. Even Nalia took a step toward the coins until Scrornuck gently but firmly pointed her in the other direction.

The three reached the back of the barroom. There was no door. “I think we're in trouble,” Nalia said.

Jape was unconcerned. “I told you we'd have to make an exit. Mister Saughblade, if you please..."

"My pleasure.” Scrornuck pulled his sword, or more precisely, a two-handed grip attached to a few inches of gray iron, from the sheath on his belt. He squeezed it just so, savoring the warmth and slight vibration that came through the red leather. A four-foot blade appeared from nowhere, its center clear as glass and its serrated edges shimmering a pale gold. He shifted his fingers ever so slightly, and the sword's edges blurred as if in motion. Taking a deep breath, he planted his feet and touched the blade to the wall. In a shower of sparks, he made three thin, straight cuts through the wood and masonry. He put the weapon away and gave the wall a hard shove with his foot, opening a neat, rectangular exit. “Shall we?” he said, gallantly taking Nalia's hand.

They trotted for several minutes through the dark, crowded streets, until they were sure they'd lost the Guards, and then settled in at another bar.

"Nothing like a brisk jog to work up a thirst,” Jape said, lifting his longneck.

"A brisk jog and a little home improvement,” Scrornuck said, slouching in his chair and taking a long drink from his pint. “The place needed a back door."

"I'm sure they'll thank you for it someday."

"Hope so. Maybe they'll thank you for that big tip, too."

"Perhaps.” Jape turned to Nalia. “Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm wondering why your friend's wearing a dress."

"It's called a kilt,” Scrornuck said firmly.

"It's named after what Mister Saughblade did to the last man who called it a dress,” Jape added, drumming a little rim-shot on the table.

"That's not true,” Scrornuck protested. “I don't think I even broke his jaw."

Nalia inspected Scrornuck as if trying to decide whether to believe Jape's remark. “Uh-huh,” she said at last. “Kilt, dress, whatever. Why?"

Scrornuck shrugged. “Where I come from, it's what men wear."

"What do your women wear, then?"

"Skirts, of course."

Nalia's eyes skipped back and forth between his knee-length, deeply-pleated, brown-spatters-on-scarlet kilt and her short, tight, lace-trimmed leather skirt. “I don't see any—"

Jape chuckled. “Only they know the difference."

"I guess.” She polished off her bottle of Saturday Night Lightweight Ale. “Well, whatever that thing's called, I was thinking about how your friend here has a pretty nice butt under it."

"Huh?” Scrornuck jerked upright, nearly spitting beer foam in Jape's face.

"It was hard to miss.” She held her empty bottle like a sword grip and stood with her feet almost a yard apart. “I mean, you stood like this, and then you shook it—” She swung her hips back and forth. “What was I supposed to do, close my eyes?"

Scrornuck's face was almost as red as his hair as he struggled to decide whether to take her remark as an insult, a compliment, or a proposition.

After another round and some small talk, Jape handed Nalia a small slip of paper. “We might be able to help you find a job better than waiting on tables and fending off randy guardians of the populace. This is the location of a restaurant. The officer at the city gate said it's rather nice. We have a business proposition we'd like to discuss with you in the morning, say about eight?"

"What kind of business?"

"Nothing illegal, and nothing you'd be ashamed to tell your mother about. I'd say more, but I think we all need some sleep. Will you be there?"

Nalia studied the paper. “Guest Quarter?” Her fingers played with a little bronze medallion hanging from her neck. “Will they let me in?"

Jape handed her two large silver coins. “If there are any problems, give the guard one of these."

"A silver piece as a tip?” she mumbled. “And the other one?"

"An advance. There'll be more if we can work together."

"We'll work together.” She stared greedily at the coins. “Anything I should bring?"

"Comfortable walking shoes, and a change of clothes."

They headed into the street, Nalia turning left and Jape and Scrornuck right. “See you tomorrow,” she said, jingling the silver pieces in her hand.

Jape nodded politely. “See you in the morning."

As they walked away, Scrornuck called over his shoulder, “By the way—I think yours is pretty nice, too!” He heard Nalia's laughter as she turned the corner and disappeared.

After he and Jape had walked a few blocks through the narrow, winding streets, Scrornuck's curiosity got the best of him. “No shit,
Sherlock?"
he asked.

"Hmm?” Jape said.

"I saw you jump when she said that."

"I didn't expect to hear it,” Jape said. “It's a bit out of character for a medieval serving wench, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess."

Jape stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I suspect some early Cast members picked it up from construction workers,” he mused. “Since UniFlag pulled the plug on this project before opening day, they never got around to scrubbing the anachronisms."

"Uh-huh.” Scrornuck didn't fully understand Jape's explanation, but he grasped enough to see that Nalia's comment was no big deal. In fact, he rather liked the phrase. No shit, Sherlock, he thought. That just might be a keeper.

They turned a corner. “So what's with the job offer?"

"Did you notice anything about the way she handled those guys?"

Scrornuck replayed the brawl in his mind. “Yeah—she seemed to know what they were going to do..."

"—before they did it. The instruments say she's got the talent."

"Cool.” They walked a bit further before another question entered Scrornuck's mind. “Think she's got a guy?"

Jape stopped. “Mister Saughblade, do I detect romantic interest?"

"Just curious."

"Well, watch yourself.” Jape resumed his stroll. “I know you—curious becomes concerned, concerned becomes worried, next thing you know you've got a passionate crush going."

Scrornuck shook his head. “She's the kind that breaks hearts, starts fights, gets people knifed..."

"Just your type,” Jape said with a grin. “Remember what I've told you about getting involved with locals. We'll be out of here soon enough."

Scrornuck sighed. “I remember. But still, do you think she's got a guy?"

"We'll find out in the morning—assuming she shows up, of course."

"Yeah. I'm kind of surprised you let her get away."

"Things aren't urgent yet.” Jape held up his left hand. His fingers were encrusted with silver and gold rings, each bearing jewels which seemed to sparkle or glow with their own light. The most prominent ring sported a deep, reassuring green jewel.

Scrornuck nodded. “Be nice if it stays that way. We could use a little vacation.” As he spoke, his eye was drawn to a flare of yellow light in the sky, and he looked up to see a dragon silhouetted against the crescent moon. It blew another ball of yellow flame, slowly turned to the south and glided into the distance. “Just what we need,” he muttered, instinctively resting a hand on his sword-grip.

"Pretty, aren't they?” With a slight smile, Jape watched the dragon disappear. “UniFlag really did pull out all the stops on this project."

They turned the corner under a sign that read
STAGING STREET: TO TEMPLE SQUARE AND GUEST QUARTER,
strolled a single block down the broad avenue and found themselves in the city center, an open plaza two full blocks on a side. A line of thirty-foot-tall concrete towers, which marched across the Cast Quarter and continued along the road to the west of the city, came to its end at the exact center of the Square. Workers had propped wooden ladders against the last two towers and were busily rigging a banner between them.

"Hey, look at that—the corporate mascot!” Jape pointed to the shops lining the east and west sides of the Square, their windows filled with merchandise bearing the image of Spafu the Friendly Dragon. “Remember the first time I showed you one of his cartoons?"

Scrornuck grinned—at the time, animated cartoons had been a whole new experience. “Yeah, I laughed my ass off. I still do.” He stopped to examine a knife that was prominently displayed in a shop's window. “Woo-hoo, that one's a beauty!” The knife sported a grip of fine black leather and silver, and a highly-polished, ten-inch blade engraved with detailed images of Spafu.

"Looking for a souvenir already?” Jape asked.

Scrornuck nodded. This knife would make a fine addition to his collection of weaponry. “We'll have to come back when the shops are open."

"I suppose you're expecting me to pay for this?"

"You've got the expense account."

Jape sighed and moved on to the next store window, one filled with shirts and hats. “Would you look at that,” he said in a whisper that turned to a half-whistle.

"What?” Scrornuck saw nothing remarkable about the merchandise.

"It's all new!” Jape said. “According to the records, this project was shut down a hundred years ago.” He quickly looked in several more shop windows. “Furniture, shoes, clothing, every bit of it brand new! Where are they getting it?"

"Same place they get the toilet paper, I suppose.” Scrornuck had already discovered that Taupeaquaah was well-stocked with this most consumable of consumer goods.

"Support systems are still operating?” Jape's voice carried a tone of respect bordering on awe. “UniFlag really did build this place to last."

Scrornuck turned to look at the Square's south side, dominated by Taupeaquaah's cartoonishly Gothic City Hall. He stroked his beard as he stared at the building's tall, white spire. Something seemed
wrong
about it.

"Forced perspective,” Jape said, “The upper floors are only a few feet high, so the building looks taller than it really is. Nothing in this place is quite what it seems.” There was a touch of wonder in his voice as he gazed into the clear, star-filled sky. “Still, the weather's nice, food's great, and there's all this room. I could get to like living here."

"Yeah, I could get used to a place like this.” Scrornuck turned slowly to take in the whole of the Square—and stopped abruptly as he faced the north side. “Bloody hell..."

A white marble staircase nearly twenty feet high stretched from one side of the Square to the other, rising on either side of a semicircular porch to form the base of a grand, classical-Greek building. White colonnades thirty feet high made up the walls and front of the structure, and from its gently peaked roof a great stone dragon sprang out over the Square as if frozen in mid-leap. The dragon's outstretched wings sheltered the steps, and its leering head hung some forty feet above the stones of the Square. Thin wisps of smoke drifted from its nostrils.

As Scrornuck and Jape watched, the workers unfurled their banner:

"Would you look at that!” Jape whispered.

Scrornuck stared in disbelief. “Offerings?"

Jape shrugged. “Spafu was UniFlag's mascot. I'd expect the Cast to show some respect for the corporate symbols."

"Respect, nothing! Spafu belongs in a cartoon, not a bloody temple!"

"Keep it down,” Jape said, seeing some heads turning their way. “We don't want to start a holy war."

"Why not?"

"Because we have work to do, Mister Saughblade.” Jape's voice carried a crisp tone of authority.