The Nonborn King (27 page)

"This just can't be the River Laar," Tony said. "It's supposed to flow through thick jungle for a couple of hundred kilometers, until it reaches the Tainted Swamp."

"Something moving on the left bank," Dougal noted.

"Bloody hell!" Tony was looking through his monocular. "Mounted-men! Or, no, by Christ, some kind of exotics! Steer right, Dougie. Quick, man, before they spot us!"

The riders, numbering a dozen or so, were at some distance out in the midsl of a blooming steppe, apparently intent on coming upwind of a large herd of grazing hipparions.

The right shore of the river was heavily forested. The raft drew in behind sheltering willows and its occupants scrambled onto the bank- Tony used the monocular again and spat an obscenity. "That's torn it. One of the hunting party has veered off toward the river. He must have seen us."

"What is it, Tanu or spook?"

Tony was puzzled. "Unless it's wearing an illusory body ..."

"Give us a squint," Dougal ordered, taking the little telescope. He gave a low whistle. "Son of a bitch. I'm afraid it really is Howlers this time, not just regular Firvutag masquerading."

The rider on the opposite bank seemed to be staring right at them through the screen of branches.

"Do Howlers have farsight like regular Little People?" Tony asked.

"Betcher sweet ass," the knight replied. "He knows we're here, all right. Still, the river's pretty deep at this point for a chaliko to swim." The exotic observer finally turned his mount and trotted slowly back to his fellows. Tony gave a gusty sigh of relief.

"By the Mane of Asian," Dougal swore, "that was close."

Tony was near panic. "We've gone wrong. I knew it- We came down the wrong river, and God knows which. Some tributary of the Nonol, maybe." His eyes darted from side to side. "We'll have to go back upstream. Hike- It'll be hell beating through the jungle unless we find a trail, "

Dougal was looking through the spyglass again. "Something to tfie north. On that plateau beyond the river-bend." He started. "A fair citadel, methinks! But not Cair Paravel." His voice fell

to an awed whisper. "El Dorado!"

"Oh, for God's sake," exclaimed Tony. "Give me the friggerty glass." As he swept the skyline, he felt his heart sink- It was some kind of an exotic city, all right. But which one? It was on the wrong side of the river for Burask, and it didn't look ruined. But there weren't any other Tanu settlements this far north. "Whatever it is, it's bound to be bad news for us.

We're hitting the trail."

They packed up the supplies and began to hack their way through the riverine thicket toward higher ground. After about fifteen minutes of sweaty work, they came upon a game track roughly paralleling the water.

"Keep your eyes open for animals," Tony warned. They set off south at a brisk pace. Dougal bearing his unsheathed sword and Tony carrying his machete. The sun climbed. The bugs came out. Leeches dropped from the broadleaved undergrowth and fastened to Tony's flesh. (He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, worst luck. He envied Dougal the chainmail.) They paused by a creek for lunch, and when they got up to retrieve their packs, they found some species of small viper had taken refuge under them. It struck at Tony, narrowly missing his arm. Dougal smote it in two with his sword.

About midaftemoon. when Tony estimated they might have covered eight or nine kloms. their little track abruptly widened to a veritable Jungle boulevard. Smack in the middle of it was a pile of turds the size of footballs.

The two men came to an abrupt standstill. A light breeze blew from behind them. There was a hint of thunder in the air and the ground beneath their feet almost seemed to vibrate.

Tony looked up, shading his eyes. "Can't see any clouds. On the other hand, "

"Look ahead," said Dougal, very softly.

It was, amazingly, almost invisible against the harsh pattern of lights and shadows, standing completely motionless a short distance up the trail. They saw a stupendous triangular head with widespread ears like tattered fans, poised nearly five meters above the ground. The trunk was curled up, the distended nostrils scenting them. From the chin grew two downcurving tusks sleeved in skin for half their two-meter length. The beast was long-legged, dun-colored, with an air of affronted majesty. It might have weighed twelve tons.

The deinotherium hoe-tusker studied the pair of humans, classified them as trespassing vermin, blared out a challenge like the trump of doom, and charged.

Tony catapulted off the trail to the left and Dougal went right. Since Tony was screaming, the elephant followed him, Spindly trees splintered and snapped. The hoe-tusker wagged its great head and the ivory hooks uprooted larger trunks, which the beast tossed aside with its curling proboscis. Tony Jinked and slithered, still yelling at the top of his lungs, while the beast crashed after him Kike some ambulatory mountain, trumpeting in rage.

Tony stumbled back onto the wide trail and ran flat-out, saving his breath. The hoe-tusker burst from the trees and came rumbling after him. The earth shook. Tony's legs pumped faster, but the elephant was gaining on him, never ceasing its hellish noisemaking.

A spasm stabbed Tony's side. His vision reddened and his heart seemed about to burst- He tripped over a pile of dried droppings and went down, resigned to being trampled to death.

From somewhere ahead of him there came a sizzling snapTony both heard and felt a thunderous impact, and then dust fountained up, completely enveloping him. The voice of the deinotherium was stilled and the shocked jungle seemed to be holding its breath all around. "Don't you love it?" caroled a blithe, squeaky voice. "Isn't it absolutely dumfounding?"

The dust wafted away. Tony raised his eyes. Standing over him was a richly caparisoned chaliko. On its back perched a little old human with the look of a puckish marmoset. He wore the classic riding habit of the English gentleman hunter, remarkable only in that the taitcoat was turquoise instead of pink. Under one arm he cradled a heavy-duty twenty-second-century stun-gun.

Tony stared. There were other chalikos and well-dressed riders, apparently of Firvulag stock. A handsome man and woman with the look ofTanu haute noblesse also held futuristic weapons.

The marmoset hopped down, chucked Tony under the chin, and said, "Easy does it, laddie. You'll be all right now."

Faithful Dougal emerged from the jungle, sword still in hand. Tony staggered to his feet. The elephant hunter had strolled over to his prostrate quarry and placed one foot on the trunk.

"Ready with the camera, Katy dear? Cheeeese!"

The Tanu lady smiled and waved.

Crazy Greggy shouldered his weapon and marched back. "And now we'd better be getting along. We'll take you lads home with us to Nionel. It wouldn't do at ail", and the little man winked, "for you to be here when your animal friend wakes up."

AlKEN'S CAVALCADE RETURNED TO GORIAH ON THE TWENTYfirst of April, quietly, at night, on the ground, for the participants in the were already converging on Armorica and the Firvuiag royal party was expected momentarily. As Aiken had ordered. Mercy was there waiting for himin the forecourt of the Castle of Glass, with only the necessary minimum of gray-torc hostlers standing by to lead away the drooping chaiikos of the Exalted Personages.

The Shining One was in eclipse. The visor of his gold-lustre helmet was closed and its canary-diamond ornamentation and black plumes were dulled by dust. He bade no vocal or mental farewell to his noble traveling companions, who went separately to their apartments, Aiken dismounted by means of the block, nodded to Mercy, and cupped one of her draped elbows in his gauntleted palm.

"My Lord?" she queried anxiously. They entered the foyer of their own wing of the castle. "Shall I help you to unhelm?"

The corridor was lit with sconces burning olive oil in amber cups. A draft from the open casement windows set the flames flickering. The walls were alive with furtive shadows. After loosing the straps, Mercy lifted the heavy casque from Aiken's bowed head.

He was gaunt and hollow-eyed and his springy red hair had gone lank. He said, "Thanks. I'll carry it." They walked toward the stairwell.

"But... the progress was a success!" she said, dismayed His laugh was dry and humorless. "Oh, yes. Celadeyr seemed to cave in, the wily old bastard. But I had to kill the hothead protege of his who'd taken over Geroniah- And there was a terrible row at Var-Mesk with a coercive redactor named Miakonn, one ofDionket's sons. A one-eighty switch on his peaceloving old man. And he was supposed to be one of my allies'"

"What happened?"

"The damn sod threw a banquet for us, and when we were all thoroughly sloshed he tried to brain-bum me. Would've done it, too, if Cull hadn't been on the ball. Fortunately, the Interrogator never gets drunk. He zapped Miakonn to a drooling idiol. But it was a squeaker. When we sorted things out, we found that most of the Var-Mesk nobility were loyal, so we Just installed a new city-lord. An old PK-creator who was in charge of the glass works."

They came to the spiral staircase leading to their suites. But Aiken shook his head and went to an unobtrusive bronze door tucked away in a comer. He used his PK to slide it openBehind it was a flight of steep stone steps that went down into blackness.

"I want to take care of a little matter, lovie- You can come with me, or wait."

"I'll come."

He conjured a ball of illuminating psychoenergy. It floated overhead, lighting their descent. The door clanged shut behind them and locked.

"You've darkened," she observed. "Not even the Flood so lowered your vitality."

His voice was sepulchral in the stone shaft. "Part of the problem is, I'm tired to death- Levitating all those people takes it out of a man. Naturally, we didn't fly everywhere we went. But I always lifted the knights and their mounts to make an impressive entrance into the cities, while the elite human brigade stuck to terra finna. Hoisting four hundred people and chalikos isn't something f can keep up for more than a half hour, though. And I'm drained for the next day or so after putting on one of my better performances; so three weeks of a progress, not to mention the Geroniah dustup and a small bagarre we had with a Firvulag raiding party around Bardelask, well, I've had it. As you can see."

"Poor Shining One."

He gave her a wry glance over his shoulder. "You're looking fit. How's ... how's it getting along?"

ft indeed! His jealousy was stronger, if anything. "Agraynel's thriving. Her body and mind are perfect. She's adjusted well to the torc."

Aiken grunted "Lady Morna-Ia says she'll grow up to be beautiful and fortunate." And that's all you shall know'

"You're back to normal after the pregnancy?"

"I am Lady Creator." she replied. And my creativity is lifeenhancing, whereas yours-..

"Does the best it can. Under the circumstances." He flashed the mocking smile. "I'll have recovered myself by the time the festivities begin. None of our distinguished guests will ever suspect how much this progress wrung out of me. Not even my own people knew, except for Cull. And he helped me put a good face on matters,"

"The Interrogator is a master of redaction. Among other things." She paused and her aspect was unmistakably accusatory- "Your friend Raimo Hakkinen has nearly recovered from Culluket's deep-reaming. But you may find the poor man bitter."

"I couldn't help it," Aiken snapped. "We had to know about Felice and Celo. We needed a word-by-word replay with full nuance analysis of everything buried in his subconscious."

"But he is your friend. You might have dealt with him more gently and stilt gathered your intelligence data."

"I needed it fast." He stopped on the stairs and spun around. The lines of strain around his mouth were ugly. "Felice does have the Spear. After the Grand Loving, I'm going to have to figure out what to do about her. Christ, Mercy! D'you think I liked handing poor Ray over to Cull? But it had to be doneKings have to do a lot of things that, that, "

"They're ashamed of?"

"I'm not ashamed'. I'll make it up to Ray. II was thanks to him that we knew all about Celo's strengths and vulnerabilities. From the SOS Celo shot to the Crartsmaster. Ray was one of Aluteyn's closest human cronies until the old poop decided Chopper was getting too big for his britches."

"And if Raimo presumes on his friendship with youT'

"He won't, dammit." Aiken resumed his tramp down the stairs. Mercy had to hurry to keep up with him.

"Well, I daresay you're right. Your Raimo wears the gold, after all, and once you saved his life. But there are other humans here in Goriah who bear you a grudge. And their numbers have grown since you went away."

"What are you talking about, woman?" His weariness made even irritability an effort.

"You promised that any human who rallied to your banner would receive a golden lore- That hasn't happened."

"Of course not. We'd run out of torcs! It's only the fighters and the folks in strategic occupations who get gold. And even then, not until Cull and his boys certify their loyalty. That's what I meant to do from the beginning."

"Most of the human recruits had it otherwise." "Tough shit for them," Aiken said brutally. "I plan to do the best I can for everybody, but there are limits."

"Ah, of course. The royal benevolence always has limits." They reached the foot of the stairs and stood before another door. It was even more ponderous than the last, fastened with a battery ofTanu coded-PK locks. There was also a goosefleshraising force-field that Mercy knew could not be a product of exotic technology.

"I never intended the Many-Colored Land to be some kind of half-ass democracy," Aiken muttered. He manipulated the locks mentally to the tune of clickings and buzzings. Behind the door, bars were sliding back and latches lifting. The forcefield cut off.

"I didn't suppose you had," she retorted. "But you should know that certain numbers of the newcomers who were torced with silver or gray, rather than free gold, are resentful. In spite of the pleasure circuitry! And the incompatibles, those unable to tolerate the torc amplification at all, feel betrayed- There's one group that Congreve had to discipline severely when they attempted to run away from their work detail down at the Grove of May."