know what happened, and she’ll shake the Starlands from one end to the other to find out where we are. There were only two starborn in Fornacis this afternoon—Fomalhaut, who’s the queen’s court mage, and Mizar, his apprentice. One of them must have perverted my staff, so she’ll frog-march both of them to the Star of Truth ASAP.
“They know that,” he went on, “so they’ll probably come and rescue us themselves and pretend it was all a mistake.”
Izar had moved farther away to inspect a termite hill, so she could speak her mind.
“You’re covering up. If the queen’s reaction is so certain to reveal the truth, why would they risk angering her in the first place?”
Rigel sighed. “The plan was never to harm Izar. Nobody knew he was going to be with me. The plan was to kill me. Not because I’m so dangerous or hated myself, although a great many starfolk resent the favor the queen has shown me. The real problem is this Lesath of mine, Saiph. I can’t take it off. It’s the most dangerous weapon in the Starlands, and it will stay on my wrist until I die. The writing on it bears the names of the people and creatures it has killed, scores of them. The Family is terrified of Saiph, and the Family is almost certainly behind this somehow. I expect the plan was, and probably still is, to pit me against a company of archers and fill me full of arrows. Then I die. Hadar—he’s the chief goon—gets the bracelet, Izar either goes safely home or is held for ransom, with the throne itself as the asking price. What happens to you, I don’t know. Aren’t you sorry you asked?”
“No!” she said.
He smiled so disbelievingly that she was tempted to start describing some of her suicide attempts, but Izar veered close again and they talked of safer things.
Shortly after that, the faint game trail they were following led them into the thick and brambly undergrowth of a stand of aspen. Rigel went in front, using Saiph as a machete to clear the worst of the tangles. Suddenly Izar, bringing up the rear, bumped into Avior, who had bumped into Rigel, who had stopped in his tracks, his sword still in hand. The other two peered around him to see what the holdup was.
The game path was blocked by a naked man holding a spear and shield. His skin was a burnt-umber shade wherever it was not daubed with red, green, and white war paint, and his hair hung in long braids, decorated with fetishes of cloth, bones, ivory, fruit, and bright ribbons. He was young, powerfully built, and human. At least a score of warriors just like him were rising out of the undergrowth.
“You stop!” he said. “You not to go this way any more. The starling will come with us and you halflings must go back.”
Rigel dismissed his sword and put his hands on his hips. “Or what?”
“Or we are to kill you!”
Rigel laughed. He peered around. “Izar? Come here.” He put the boy in front of him and regarded the warrior over the imp’s head. “Izar Starling, did you hear what this mudling just told me?”
“Yes I did, Halfling Rigel,” Izar said with rare courtesy.
“And what do you have to say to that?”
Izar, it turned out, had plenty to say to that. “You know who I am, mudling? I am starborn! I am the son of Queen Talitha and Prince Vildiar! Look at my hair! Look at my eyes! I am Naos! Do you dare to give me orders and threaten my halflings, you crawling, mud-eating worm? I will burn you to ashes. I will eat your children. I will have my Lesath tear you to pieces. Drop your weapons! All of you! Throw them down now!”
Spears and shields dropped.
“Now grovel!” Izar yelled, growing louder but shriller. “Grovel with your faces in the dirt. Eat grass! Go on, eat it like the animals you are!”
At that point Rigel clasped his shoulders. “I think you have made your point. Well done.” He stepped forward to the spokesman, who was indeed biting the vegetation. “Up on your knees, you.”
The man rose nervously, weeds
“They know that,” he went on, “so they’ll probably come and rescue us themselves and pretend it was all a mistake.”
Izar had moved farther away to inspect a termite hill, so she could speak her mind.
“You’re covering up. If the queen’s reaction is so certain to reveal the truth, why would they risk angering her in the first place?”
Rigel sighed. “The plan was never to harm Izar. Nobody knew he was going to be with me. The plan was to kill me. Not because I’m so dangerous or hated myself, although a great many starfolk resent the favor the queen has shown me. The real problem is this Lesath of mine, Saiph. I can’t take it off. It’s the most dangerous weapon in the Starlands, and it will stay on my wrist until I die. The writing on it bears the names of the people and creatures it has killed, scores of them. The Family is terrified of Saiph, and the Family is almost certainly behind this somehow. I expect the plan was, and probably still is, to pit me against a company of archers and fill me full of arrows. Then I die. Hadar—he’s the chief goon—gets the bracelet, Izar either goes safely home or is held for ransom, with the throne itself as the asking price. What happens to you, I don’t know. Aren’t you sorry you asked?”
“No!” she said.
He smiled so disbelievingly that she was tempted to start describing some of her suicide attempts, but Izar veered close again and they talked of safer things.
Shortly after that, the faint game trail they were following led them into the thick and brambly undergrowth of a stand of aspen. Rigel went in front, using Saiph as a machete to clear the worst of the tangles. Suddenly Izar, bringing up the rear, bumped into Avior, who had bumped into Rigel, who had stopped in his tracks, his sword still in hand. The other two peered around him to see what the holdup was.
The game path was blocked by a naked man holding a spear and shield. His skin was a burnt-umber shade wherever it was not daubed with red, green, and white war paint, and his hair hung in long braids, decorated with fetishes of cloth, bones, ivory, fruit, and bright ribbons. He was young, powerfully built, and human. At least a score of warriors just like him were rising out of the undergrowth.
“You stop!” he said. “You not to go this way any more. The starling will come with us and you halflings must go back.”
Rigel dismissed his sword and put his hands on his hips. “Or what?”
“Or we are to kill you!”
Rigel laughed. He peered around. “Izar? Come here.” He put the boy in front of him and regarded the warrior over the imp’s head. “Izar Starling, did you hear what this mudling just told me?”
“Yes I did, Halfling Rigel,” Izar said with rare courtesy.
“And what do you have to say to that?”
Izar, it turned out, had plenty to say to that. “You know who I am, mudling? I am starborn! I am the son of Queen Talitha and Prince Vildiar! Look at my hair! Look at my eyes! I am Naos! Do you dare to give me orders and threaten my halflings, you crawling, mud-eating worm? I will burn you to ashes. I will eat your children. I will have my Lesath tear you to pieces. Drop your weapons! All of you! Throw them down now!”
Spears and shields dropped.
“Now grovel!” Izar yelled, growing louder but shriller. “Grovel with your faces in the dirt. Eat grass! Go on, eat it like the animals you are!”
At that point Rigel clasped his shoulders. “I think you have made your point. Well done.” He stepped forward to the spokesman, who was indeed biting the vegetation. “Up on your knees, you.”
The man rose nervously, weeds
Similar Books
Taken by Unicorns
Leandra J. Piper
Promise Me Tomorrow
Candace Camp
City of Fae
Pippa DaCosta
Mark Schweizer - Liturgical 12 - The Cantor Wore Crinolines
Mark Schweizer
Out of the Dust
Karen Hesse
Just Desserts
Tricia Quinnies
The Native Star
M K Hobson
Stereotype
Claire Hennessy
Racing the Devil
Jaden Terrell
Secrets of My Hollywood Life #4: Paparazzi Princess
Jen Calonita