At the moment, however, Julian was ready to call the pool off. Just as soon as he saved Roger's life-the ungrateful bastard ...
The hard-driven slap slammed painfully into Julian's forearm as he blocked it.
"Despreaux!"
"Get out of my way, Julian!" the enraged bodyguard screamed. "I won't kill 'im! I'm just going to rip his balls off!"
"That would kill him, Nimashet," Julian protested as he blocked another swing. Fortunately, the inebriated Marine was still trying to hit the rapidly retreating Roger rather than deliberately aiming for her fellow noncom.
"No, it wouldn't." Warrant Officer Dobrescu sounded remarkably-and falsely-sober for a man stretched out under a nearby table, bottle in one hand and little black bag in the other. "I'd stop the bleeding. They'd even regrow with enough regen and enough time. I saw it once in a guy that had a bad accident on Shiva."
"See!" Despreaux yelled, trying to force her way past. Roger had retreated into the group of singers in the corner, but the tall, long-haired figure was still easily discernible. "It wouldn't kill him-just hurt. A lot! And it's not like he'd miss them!"
She tried for one more moment to shove past Julian, but then, suddenly, all the fury seemed to drain out of her. Her strength went with it, and she dropped back onto a bench and put her face in her hands.
"Oh, Julian, what the hell am I gonna do?"
"There, there," he said, patting her awkwardly on the back. The thought crossed his mind-briefly-that this was probably the best time ever to make his own play. But even he wasn't that evil a bastard. Probably. He'd have to think about it. He'd done things nearly as low to get laid. But not quite that low. Well, some that were. And, admittedly, some that were even lower. But not to a friend. Had he? "There, there."
"Oooooh." Despreaux groaned and took a long pull out of a bottle. "What the hell am I gonna do? I was willing to be the laughingstock of the company, but this is worse! I'm in love with a man who's unable to screw!"
"He isn't functionally incapable," Dobrescu said carefully. He sat up and slammed his forehead on the underside of his table. "Ouch. Damned low ceilings in this joint. As I was saying. He's functional as a male."
"Oooooh," Despreaux moaned again. "I just wanna crawl under a rock and die!"
"Don't tell me this is the first time you've ever been turned down," Julian joked. "You'll get over it. Everybody does."
"It's the first time I've ever asked, you idiot! I never had to before! And I didn't even get to ask-he just assumed I was going to suggest it! Assumed!"
"Were you?" Dobrescu asked, sticking his head out from between the table and the bench. "Damned odd architecture in this joint."
"Well, yes," Despreaux admitted. "But that's not the point! Did you hear what he said to me?"
"Yes," Julian said. "That was when I got the tranquilizer gun ready."
"Can you believe the nerve!" she spat so furiously that wine flew out in a spray over the other NCO.
"Yes," Dobrescu said. "I can. And since he turned you down, I don't suppose you could do with some comforting from a warrant officer? If, of course, you're thin enough to fit through the entrance to this cozy little room I seem to have lucked upon."
Gronningen, fortunately, was large enough to pull her off the warrant officer. Who complained, vociferously, that since he was the only medic in the company, there was no one else who could work on his wrenched back and bleeding nose.
The owner, the new manager, and the survey parties had left the valley. The long process of pumping out the mines and putting them back into production would start the following day, but for tonight the valley was deserted. Not even the guards had been replaced.
Which made the fact that three of the windmill-powered pumps were running all out at the moment more than a tiny bit peculiar. Their hoses snaked into the mouth of an abandoned mine shaft, and Armand Pahner parked himself just outside its entrance and clicked on his helmet light as a Mardukan emerged from the opening.
"Why, hello, Nor Tob."
The Mardukan froze in the opening, pinned by the brilliant glare of light. He clutched a chest between his false-hands, while one true-hand carried an uncocked cavalry pistol.
"It was the carts that got me thinking," the Marine continued cheerfully. "If somebody thought really fast and worked quickly, he could wheel quite a bit of this stuff away in just a few minutes. But he couldn't get far with it."
"So he asked me what was right near the storehouse," the sergeant major said from her perch above the entrance behind the Mardukan. "Ah, ah, let's keep those true-hands away from the pistol flint, shall we?" She chuckled. "I nearly kicked myself. Tell me something, did you have them dig this shaft just for this reason?"
"I've slaved in this mine for years!" the former manager said. "It was my right!"
"And when the Vasin came through the gates, you saw a chance to take your 'right' in the confusion," Pahner observed. "Or did you arrange that, too?"
"No, that was mere chance," the Mardukan said. "But I took that chance when I saw it! Look, I can ... share this with you. Nobody ever needs to know. You two can have half of it. Hell, forget that foolish child-there are cities on the plains where this much gold will allow you to live like a king for the rest of your life!"
"I don't think so," Pahner said quietly. "I don't like thieves, Nor Tob, and I don't like traitors even more. I think you ought to just go." The captain judged the weight of the chest the former manager was carrying. "You can take that with you, and nobody has to know any different, as you said. But that's it. Time to get on your civan and leave."
"This is my right," the former mine manager snarled. "It's mine!"
"Look," Pahner said reasonably, "you can leave vertical, or horizontal. It really doesn't matter to me. But you're not leaving with more than what you're carrying right now."
"That's what you think!" the Mardukan shouted, and grabbed the cocking arm of his pistol.
"I'm feeling kind of ambiguous about this," Pahner said as the shaft started to fill again.
"Don't," Kosutic said. "His Evilness knows he's no loss."
"Oh, no," the CO said, walking back up the shaft with her. "Not that. It's Roger. How are we going to tell him?"
"I'd suggest that we just pretend there's a magic bag somewhere with more money," Kosutic said. "I mean, he never has to know, right?"
"But what about Poertena?" Pahner asked as he threw one of the cases onto a turom. The local draft animals were, indeed, some sort of distant cousin of the civan, but they had far more placid dispositions, and this one only whuffled with mournful resignation under the weight.
"What about him?" The sergeant major lashed a bag to a second turom. "We tell him there's no cash at all; it just brings out his creative side."
"We don't want him getting too creative," the captain pointed out. He paused, trying to judge whether or not the turom was overloaded on one side.
"That's always been your problem, Armand," the NCO told him as she picked up another of the heavy cases and loaded it onto her beast. "You're too kindhearted."
"True, true." Pahner gathered up the reins of his civan, swung into the saddle (now equipped with human-style stirrups), and made sure he had a firm grip on his turom's lead. "I need to get over that, I suppose."
"It'll get you killed some day, I swear," the sergeant major said as she mounted in turn. "Take it from me," she added as they headed down the track to town.
Behind them, the water rose over the last of the rock pile at the bottom of the shaft.
CHAPTER SIX
"You know, I really didn't miss this," Roger said as he slid down off of Patty.
"To be terribly honest, Your Highness," Pahner replied, wiping the sweat off his brow, "neither did I."
The first day of travel had been uneventful as the company followed one of the regular caravan trails down out of the mountains. Within a few hours of leaving Ran Tai, however, they'd hit the enveloping, sweltering clouds of the jungle-covered lowlands and passed once more from the region of relative cool back into Marduk's standard steambath.