“It does,” she affirmed solemnly. “Captain Richard, here, was a master of starships. He will be able to pilot one of the flyers spoken of in your legends, if they have not been destroyed by the elements. Martha and Stefanko possess technical knowledge that will enable us to make both the aircraft and the Spear operational. Chief Burke and Felice will defend us against natural perils en route. I myself will use my metafunctions to confound inimical members of your own race, as well as such Tanu that may venture to pursue us. Professor Claude will lead us to the crater once we are safely on the river. As to success…” She ventured a wintry smile. “That remains in the hands of le bon Dieu, n’est-ce pas?”
Yeochee glowered at her. “Why can’t you speak English like a regular human being? Don’t I have enough trouble with you? Oh, I admit the plan sounds good. But so did the scheme for tunneling under the Finiah wall and setting off that damned guano explosive your people cooked up. And at the last minute Velteyn let the Rhine into the diggings! A hundred and eighty-three Firvulag stalwarts swiming for their lives in a soup of bird shit!”
“This time it will be different, Monseigneur.”
Yeochee beckoned to the steward. “Bring me some of the best ale. And have that new human cook, Mariposa, the one with the nose, bake up one of those big flat open-face tarts with the melted chamois cheese and tomato sauce and the new sausage.”
The steward bowed low and ran off.
“We have your leave, then, to pursue the expedition immediately?” Madame asked.
“Oh, yes, yes.” The King’s growl was petulant. He drew his golden bathrobe around himself. “We command it, in fact. And now you are dismissed… Fitharn, you stay here. I’ve got something to talk over with you.”
The palace guards, who had stood immobile in their black-glass armor during the interview, now thumped short lances on the floor and prepared to escort the human visitors out. But the smallest female, the one with the cloud of pale hair , who was scarcely as tall as a Firvulag woman, had the boldness to call out.
“Your Majesty! One more word.”
“Oh, very well,” sighed the King. “I know who you are. I suppose you still think we ought to give you a golden torc.”
“Don’t make me wait!” Felice fixed him with a gaze even more penetrating than Madame’s. “With a golden torc I could insure that the expedition would be a success.”
The King vouchsafed what he hoped was a suave smile. “I know all about your extraordinary abilities. You’ll be rewarded with your heart’s desire in good time. But not yet! First, help your friends get the Spear and the flyer. If you should happen to find Lugonn’s torc there at the crater, take it! If not, we’ll see what can be done when you return. Deliver the goods and then we’ll talk about presents.”
He waved his hand in dismissal and the guards ushered the humans out.
“Are they gone?” Yeochee whispered, jumping down off the dais to peer into the gloom.
“Gone, King,” Fitharn confirmed. He sat on the edge of the regal platform, pulled off one boot, and tipped a pebble from it. “Ah, you little bastard!”
“Show some respect,” growled Yeochee.
“Speaking to the stone in my shoe, Appalling One… Well? What do you think?”
“Risky, risky.” The King paced up and down, hands clasped behind his back. “If only we could do without these damned middlemen! Pull off the whole thing ourselves!”
Fitharn said, “The despicable torc wearers must often entertain the same thoughts. They, too, are dangerously dependent upon humanity. But there is no other way for us, Appalling One. The humans are smarter than we are, stronger in other ways as well. Could we ever hope to operate a flyer after all this time? Or put the Spear into working order? We’ve had forty years to think of ways to bring down the Foe, and all we’ve done is cry in our beer. I don’t like the redoubtable Guderian any more than you do, King. But she’s a most formidable person. Like her or lump her, she can help us.”
“But we can’t trust humans!” howled Yeochee. “Did you feel that blast of hostility from Felice while she was saying ‘pretty please’? Give that one a golden torc,’ I’d sooner try to plug a lava dike with my royal swizzle stick!”
“We can control Felice. Pallol and Sharn-Mes have been giving the matter thought. Even if she finds a torc at the Ship’s Grave, she can’t learn to use it overnight. They’ll fly back here right away and Felice will be wild to get into the fight against Finiah. We’ll put her in the care of our Warrior Ogresses…”
“Te’s titties!” blasphemed the King.
“…and Ayfa or Skathe can put her down at the least hint of treachery. If Felice survives the assault on Finiah we can get rid of her by sending her south to the Combat. That will seem to fit right in with the second phase of Guderian’s famous plan. Don’t worry, King. We’ll use Felice and the rest of them to our advantage… and then Sharn and Pallol will engineer a suitably heroic demise for our noble human allies. If we play this right, the Firvulag can end up with both the Spear and the Sword, on top of the Tanu torcers and the Lowlives, too. And you can really mean it when you call yourself Undoubted Ruler of the Known World.”
Yeochee gave him an awful look. “Just wait until it’s your turn in the king barrel! We’ll see how well you…”
The steward came skipping out of the passage, carrying a large steaming tray and a glass flagon of tawny liquid. “It’s ready, Appalling One! Hot-hot-hot! And not with ordinary salamander sausage, either, but with a new kind! The cook Mariposa says it’ll frizzle your cojones!”
Yeochee bent over the tray to savor the fragrance of the wheel-shaped open pie. It was cut into wedges, each one oozing delectable layers of creamy white and red.
“Beggin’ your pardon, King,” Fitharn ventured, “but what the hell is that?”
The King took the platter and the bottle of ale and began to trudge happily toward the crystal grotto. “The special dish of one Señora Mariposa de Sanchez, late of Krelix Plantation, earlier of Chichen-Itza Pizza Parlor in Merida, Mexico… Leave us, Fitharn. Go with those damned Lowlives and watch ’em.”
“As you command, Appalling One.”
At last, the great cavern was quiet once more. Yeochee poked his head around the entrance to the geode chamber. The candles burned low and two fascinating eyes peered at him from the stack of dark furs.
“Yoo-hoo!” he caroled. “Goody time!”
Lulo came bouncing toward him in the most charming way.
“Grrum! Yumyumyum!”
He gave a delighted screech. “Let go! Let me put it down first, you mad succubus, you! Oh, you’re going to love this. It’s my newest favorite. Half cheese, half axolotl!”
CHAPTER THREE
“The unicorn! The unicorn! The unicorn!”
Martha keened the word unceasingly as she wept over the torn body of Stefanko lying in the middle of the marsh trail. Great cypresses reared up from pools of brown water on either side. Where the morning sunlight shone through the trees there were clouds of dancing midges and scarlet dragon-flies hawking among them. A lobster-sized crayfish, perhaps attracted by the blood dripping into the water, scrabbled slowly up the shallow embankment that raised the trail above the Rhine bottomland.
Peopeo Moxmox Burke sat propped against a mossy trunk, groaning as Claude and Madame Guderian cut away his deerskin shirt and one leg of his pants.
“The horn seems only to have grazed your ribs, mon petit peau-rouge. However, I will have to sew. Claude, administer a narcotic.”
“See to Steffi,” the Chief pleaded through clenched teeth.
Claude only shook his head. He took a herendorf bleb from the medical kit Amerie had prepared for them and applied the dose to Burke’s temple.
“Oh, God. That’s better. How is the leg? I could feel the bugger’s teeth press me to the bone.”