" Ahead, ten paces past the junction of the corridors," came Krek' s monotone voice. The spider jerked his head to the left, indicating the direction of the posted guard. Lan took a deep breath, held it for an instant, then exhaled quickly. Tense, but more relaxed than before, he walked into the intersection, performed an admirable left face and marched up to the sentry.
The man was half a head shorter than Lan. This helped him cow the guard with a snapped command from superior height.
" Where is Kyn- alLyk- Surepta? I have an important message."
" Down this corridor and in the commons room with the two wenches. They get all the: what? You' re not a courier. Who are you?"
Lan' s fist punctuated the sentry' s question. As the man doubled over, a sharp knee to the chin put him out. Before he collapsed fully, Lan' s strong hands gripped under the man' s arms and pulled him to a nearby room.
" Krek? Is the room empty?"
The spider' s claws tapped lightly against the door panels.
" Yes, it seems so. No one answers my knock."
Lan sighed at the spider' s tactics but pushed into the deserted room. He dumped his prisoner on the floor and debated slitting the vulnerable throat. The idea didn' t appeal to him. Instead, he bound the man, using strips of material torn from the man' s uniform.
Pinching the unconscious guard' s earlobe until a tiny half- moon of blood appeared forced the man' s senses to return in a rush. The man shook his head, trying to avoid the fingernail gouging into his tender ear.
" St- stop it! Hurts!"
Lan slapped him, the echo of the blow ringing loudly in the empty room. The pain helped to further focus the soldier' s attention. When he saw Krek looming, almost three yards of furry menace, he turned as white as flour.
His words tumbled out, " I: I am a true believer. Why send me to the Lower Places, O Great Minnpolus? I pray every seventy- third day as you decree!"
" Silence," commanded Lan, slapping the sentry again. " You aren' t dead. Not yet. But you will be if you don' t answer my questions. Where is Kyn- alLyk- Surepta?"
" I t- told the truth. In the commons room, not half a hundred paces down the corridor. On the right. A huge door. Red leather with brass studs. A: a hydra knob to open the door. It: O Great One, why me?"
Krek moved closer and towered over the bound man. With a choked, incoherent cry, the man fainted. Krek bounced up and down on his rubbery legs and finally said, " You humans give up your senses so easily. Or did you frighten him too much?"
Lan didn' t bother correcting the spider' s mistaken opinions by telling him that the guard no doubt considered him to be a demon from the lowest levels of Hell. That would only cement the spider' s conviction that humans were frail and silly.
" We' ve got what we need from him. I doubt if he' ll come to soon. And if he does, the fear of eternal damnation will be upon him. But to make sure:" Lan tightly bound the man' s mouth with another strip of cloth from his tunic. " There. Now let' s find Velika."
" Yes, let us do that very thing. Perhaps then you will stop making all those silly noises about her."
The rollicking laughter from inside the commons room told Lan that he was too late. He pushed through the door and peered in at the scene, something out of a demented artist' s mind. Huge flames leaped toward the shadowed ceiling, fed by canisters of bottled gas at each corner of the room. The movements of the men were stroboscopic, jerky, unmistakable.
Velika lay on the central table, her skirts mostly ripped off. From the look on Kyn- alLyk- Surepta' s face and his obvious physical condition, Lan knew he' d arrived too late. The woman struggled weakly to fend off his amorous kisses, but the dishonor had been done.
Again Surepta had shamed Lan Martak.
A noise resembling two cats mating came to Lan' s ears. In the corner of the huge room stood Inyx, a wooden stick in her hand. She swung repeatedly at the general' s head every time he advanced on her. Although her clothing was ripped, Lan didn' t doubt for an instant that her honor remained intact. She jabbed viciously at the soldier' s head, then followed it with a looping kick to his groin. He grunted, taking the brunt of the kick on crossed forearms.
" Damn, but you' re a feisty one," he muttered. " Surepta has already had his pleasure. Why not surrender yourself to me gracefully? You will like it, I promise!"
" The promise of a slime- pig. Kill me or let me go. I accept nothing else!" Inyx kicked out again, this time sweeping the man' s foot from under him. He fell in a pile of thrashing arms and legs. A hard blow from the chair leg she brandished put him out of the fight temporarily. But instead of running, Inyx turned to Velika, still passively accepting Lyk Surepta' s overtures.
" Scum!" Inyx flared. The wooden rod whished through the air and landed on Surepta' s unprotected kidneys. He howled in anguish and turned to face his attacker.
" So he failed with you, eh? A woman such as you needs to be tamed by a real man." Surepta stood and moved lithely to one side, avoiding a second blow from her club. " You' ll be more exciting than this passive lump of flesh." Surepta paused, a look of confusion crossing his sharp features. He looked down at Velika and the tears streaming down her cheeks. His hand worked against his tunic as if he wiped away grime. Only a damp spot from the woman' s tears appeared on the lush fabric. " Still, she had her moments," he said in a choked voice. Then his normal arrogance flared back. " She might have been dead for all the pleasure I got from her!"
Lan and Krek slipped into the room, bolting the door behind them. Lan wanted no outside intervention.
" Behind you!" screeched Krek, his long legs springing straight. The huge arachnid launched through the air like a furry skyrocket. He landed between Inyx and the groggy general.
" Take care of him, Krek. Lyk Surepta is mine!" shouted Lan. But he found himself bowled over by a sudden rush. The attack cost him both his sword and pistol. Rather than attempt to recover either fallen weapon, Lan locked his arms around Surepta' s body. Whatever else the man might have been, he was no weakling. Lan felt the flow and play of powerful muscles. He experienced a curious dйjа vu feeling, remembering the night in the Dancing Serpent so long ago when he and Surepta had fought over Zarella.
Now they fought over Velika.
Lan gritted his teeth and tightened his bear- hug. Doubting he could win with this tactic, but fearful of letting go and allowing Surepta to pick up his own sheathed sword, Lan continued to squeeze with all his might. An adept twist sent him flying across the room.
He landed and rolled to his feet. As he faced Surepta, he saw death advancing on him. The gleaming length of blade between them was both sharp and well used. From the step- glide, step- glide motion, Lan knew Kyn- alLyk- Surepta meant to end this quickly.
" So, Dar- elLan- Martak," snarled Surepta, " we meet again. The sheriff thought you had escaped through the Road, but I never expected to find you here. It' s my pleasure to kill you now as I should have done before!"
Surepta' s first thrust was intended to be the last. Lan' s counterattack only partially succeeded as he avoided the blade and drove his fist toward an unprotected throat.
The sharp, searing pain told him his right side had acquired another scar. But the meaty thunk of his fist drove Surepta to the ground. Lan felt a murderous rage seizing him. Surepta had killed his lover, poisoned the old sheriff against him, driven him from his home world, raped and killed his half- sister, and now he had raped Velika. Lyk Surepta deserved no mercy.
He got none from Lan Martak.
Powerful fingers clamped around the straining throat. Slowly, inexorably, life fled from Kyn- alLyk- Surepta' s body until only a corpse remained behind.
Lan Martak stood and shook in nervous reaction, looking down at the dead body of his adversary. He realized then that the Resident of the Pit had been correct. Surepta had been brought to justice, but Lan' s revenge tasted bitter and dry. There should have been more.