Huh? That doesn’t make sense! They won’t hire a supporter of the king? But Westerin is a crown city! There can’t be that many foes of King Amber here!
Lydia didn’t seem to be bothered by the weird logic, or lack of logic. “I know how it is,” she purred. “Can’t trust anybody, can you? Here, pal, have some more Mereot.”
“Don’ min’ if I do.” D’Riksin chittered an Arachnia giggle. “Show ‘em. Show ‘em all. Know something they don’t know, any of them, none of the fine humans.”
“Sure you do.”
The Arachnia straightened slightly. “1 do\” it insisted. “Know all about the girl.”
Kevin tensed. “What girl?”
“Hee hee! The girl! The one who was swiped, ‘course, the daughter of that fool of a count.”
“Charina!”
D’Riksin tried to shrug, hampered by the lack of true shoulders. “Eck, whatever. Know who took her?” It paused, staring at them with the idiot slyness of the truly drunk. “It was Princess Carlotta, that’s who!”
“That’s impossible!” Kevin snapped. “Carlotta’s been dead for over thirty years.’’
“No, no, no, no! That’s what she wants everyone ta think! Dead, dead, dead ... whee! Sorceresses don’t die, not so easy, not she!” D’Riksin took another long swig of Mereot, then leaned forward as much as stiff chitin would allow, whispering confidentially, “It was rebels took the girl, rebels led by Princess Carlotta.”
“But why?
The Arachnia chittered to itself, then tried to pour itself another drink. Nothing happened. It upended the bottle, looking blearily inside. “Empty,” it said sadly. “No more Mereot for poor D’Rikish—D’Rishkin DTfffaw.”
But Lydia had already ordered a new bottle. “Here, pal. Drink up. Tell us why Princess Carlotta stole the girl.”
D’Riksin chittered and drank, “Wheeee!” it laughed. “She wants to use the girl against King Amber!”
“That’s ridiculous!” Kevin said. “Charina may be Count Volmar’s niece, but she’s not all that important.”
The Arachnia blinked and leaned forward again, studying the bardling closely. Kevin stared back, trying not to flinch at this close-up view of the being’s compound eyes. “You’re the one was copyin’ the manshu —manshi—the book.”
“How would you know—Ow!”
Lydia had kicked him under the table. She glared at the bardling, warning him to keep quiet. D’Riksin continued, heedless, “Wanna know a secret? Bet you don’ know the stuff you were copyin’ had a spell hid in it” The being nodded, pleased with itself. “Yup, did!”
It fell silent, staring moodily into its flagon. Lydia asked, very gently, “What kind of a spell, pal?”
chidden spell!”
“Well, yes,” she said with more patience than Kevin would ever have believed, “we gathered that. What fund of a hidden spell?”
“Don’ think I should tell ya.”
“Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re making this all up.” Lydia folded her arms in pretend indignation. “A fine thing when you can’t even trust a drinking buddy to tell the truth.”
“I am. tellin’ the truth,” D’Riksin whined. “Not sure, y’unnerstand. But rumor is, it’s a spell to keep Princess Carlotta from changin’ shape—’Cause if she did, if the spell works, she’d be stuck in her true self forever ‘n’ ever.”
“Her—.. true self,” Kevin said warily.
“Sure! Din’cha know? She’s not human, not altogether. Naw, she’s more fairy ‘n’ anythin’ else. And she’d be stuck as a fairy!” The Arachnia chittered in laughter. “No way a fairy can sit the throne. Not legal! Gotta be a human.”
“You sure about that spell?” Lydia asked.
“Eck, who knows? Thing’s never been tried, never been tested. Might work. Might blow up in the user’s face!”
The Arachnia swayed in its seat. “I was there,” it said confidentially. “I was in the guard, you know, guard of Count Volmar’s daddy. Yup, his daddy, that’s who it was, Count Dalant-1 saw the elves give the book to him, to ole Count Dalant. Told him to keep it safe. Guess they figured if Princess Carlotta went lookin’ for the thing, she’d think the elves had it”
“But why leave it with the count’s father?” Kevin asked.
D’Riksin started to pour itself another flagon full, then stopped, blinking thoughtfully. “I ‘member they said something ‘bout it bein’ too dangerous to leave with anyone who could act’ly use the thing. Yeah. Just in case Princess Carlotta did think to look there. Yeah, s’right. It’s keyed so only two folks can see it. One of ‘em a Bard. Ardan, Aydan, somethin’ like that”
The bardling tensed, heart racing—”Aidan?”
“Yeah! That’s it! It’ll only appear to him, or to his suchsec—shuchessor—successor!” the Arachnia finished triumphantly. “Wheeeee!” it added in glee, and fell flat across the table.
“So much for that,” Lydia muttered. She glanced up. “Uh, Kevin, I think we’d better get out of here.”
“Yes, but—”
“Now, Kevin.”
Startled at the urgency in her voice, the bardling looked up. “Oh.”
Six ugly ... things were peering through the gloomy tavern, looking for something.
Things, Kevin decided, was definitely the word. None of the six was truly human, or a member of any other recognizable race, except for their leader, who was the most depraved-looking elf the bardling could ever have imagined. Pasty-skinned and gaunt, the man’s fair White Elf hair hung lankly to his shoulders. and his green White Elf eyes were flat and cold and empty. Kevin wondered what depravities could have so corrupted a creature of Light, and shuddered.
“Guess not everyone liked the idea of D’Riksin talking to us,” Lydia murmured.
“You don’t know they’re looking for us,” Kevin whispered back.
Just then, the empty-eyed elf pointed their way and yelled something at the others. All six started stalking forward, radiating menace, sending customers scrambling out of their way.
“Hell I don’t,” Lydia said drily.
“All right,” Lydia said under her breath. “I’ve been in tighter fixes than this. Gotten out of them, too. Follow my lead. Kevin. Ready? Here we go!”
She stood up, grabbed a customer at random, and flattened him with one mighty punch. The man staggered back into another table, which collapsed, spilling their drinks all over the men who’d been sitting there.
“Hey, watch it, you stupid frticft!”
“Frticft, is it?” growled an ogre at the next table—”I’m anfrticll, you idiot humans!”
He dove into the humans, swinging wildly, sending men and chairs flying. For one shocked moment, Kevin froze. Then he realized exactly what Lydia was doing and grabbed another man, about to imitate her.
No, no, I nearly wrecked my hand the last time I tried to punch someone! Can’t risk that again!
What to do? The bardling snatched up a half-empty flagon instead, and whapped the man soundly over the head. Mereot splashed all over a heavy-set, scaly whatever-it-was at the next table. The creature sprang up with a furious hiss, only to collide with one of the men from the first table, who was blindly throwing punches right and left. The creature flattened him, and went looking for other prey. Those customers who hadn’t already taken cover found themselves caught in the middle of an ever-growing melee—and joined in with savage glee. The empty-eyed elf and his men swore helplessly as the brawl engulfed them in a whirlwind of fists and bottles.