Brim shook his head in defeat—it was hard to argue with Bears, especially in their own embassy.
"A done deal, Nik," he acquiesced, squeezing Romanoff's hand again. Then abruptly, he frowned.
"What else did you learn?" he asked.
Ursis frowned back. "Well, for one thing," he declared, "I don't think they originally intended to use the dart gun. It's my guess that they planned to kill you by hand, so to speak, as if your death occurred accidentally during a chance robbery instead of a planned murder."
"They were Leaguers, of course," Borodov added, "very probably members of the Agnord Legion, an organization that specializes in assassinations." He adjusted his eyeglasses. "You were fortunate, my friend," he said. "Our skimmer arrived at a most serendipitous moment. Such persons do not often fail in their sordid missions."
Brim shuddered. He'd heard of the Agnords. "Did they all get away?" he asked.
Ursis pursed his lips. "Three escaped without a trace," Ursis said. "We saw them run for it before we could even brake the skimmer to a halt. Flight is part of their training, you know. But I chased the one who stayed behind to shoot you. I do not personally believe he was an Agnord. He seemed to be more interested in the killing itself."
"I take it he got away, too," Brim said.
"Not completely," Ursis growled. "The filthy zukeed jumped into the Grand Achtite Canal, where he had a boat waiting. But I personally marked his face with my claws—came off with a bit of skin and blood, too." He chuckled grimly. "He'll be recognizable for a while."
"Perhaps," Borodov observed, "General Drummond and his men will discover who he was for us."
"Perhaps he will, Doctor," Ursis grumbled. "But I plan to keep my own vigil, also. I have a feeling that I shall chance upon that particular Leaguer without any help from General Drummond."
Later that evening, after an enforced period of relaxation, Brim and Anna Romanoff were chauffeured to her town house in a huge Sodeskayan Rill limousine skimmer by three armed Sodeskayan Guardsmen. And from that time on, the street was never without at least two skimmers somewhere close to either side of Romanoff's doorway, occupied with both humans and Bears.
CHAPTER 10
The Champion
On a stormy evening two nights before the actual competition began, Prince Onrad hosted his prerace divertissement at Cyndor Castle, the most elegant of the royal family's three "country"
palaces in the outskirts of Avalon. Brim once more found himself beside Moulding in the reception line, dressed in a formal uniform the elegance of which would have been far beyond the imagination of an impoverished cadet in the Helmsmen's Academy. Shaking his head in amazement, he considered for the ten millionth time how amazingly fortunate he'd been over the years—by anyone's assessment!
The reception itself took place amid perfumes and spice-laden smoke in Cyndor's famous Court of Portals: a lofty, mirrored hall of vaulted ceilings and crystal doorways that opened onto opulent formal gardens, tonight drenched by the chill, steady rain of a passing front. At each corner of the room, string orchestras drenched in the amber light of ten thousand authentic candles blended their harmonies with tongues from all over the galaxy. Now and then, Brim caught sight of Anna Romanoff—dressed in pale lavender—mingling with prospective clients of every living persuasion: humans, Bears, A'zurnians, even less-common creatures like the gentle, feathered Antiirs or three-eyed Orpians who only recently had achieved starflight.
He smiled to himself. Anna Romanoff. What a dramatic change this witty, talented woman had made in his life: giving endlessly, yet demanding nothing, and appreciative of everything—and anything—he did. She'd even ridden with him during a number of wild Atalantan afternoons on his gravcycle, laughing and hugging him with obvious delight as they sped along the twisting little roadways of the island. For the first time in his existence, he felt complete: loved—with no strings attached nor limits set. She was perhaps the most elegant, genteel being he had ever encountered, yet she seemed forever thrilled by the little things he managed to do, even in bed, where her capacity for innovation appeared to be totally limitless.
"I say, Wilf," Moulding warned during a short break in the line, "you have noticed the LaKarns making their way toward us, haven't you? They say he's had some sort of accident. He certainly looks it."
Brim jerked himself back from his musings and glanced to his left, where he immediately locked glances with Margot's sleepy blue eyes. Beside her, Rogan was a withered vestige of his once-formidable self, a ghost whose black uniform hung loosely on a shockingly atrophied frame.
On the moment, he knew absolutely that he had damaged the man's spine during his frenzy of rage—a type of internal motor wound that required years of treatment by the most advanced healing machines. "Thanks, Toby," he said in a subdued voice. "I guess I had been daydreaming."
Moulding laughed innocently; he'd never been told the full story of Brim's "meeting" with the Leaguers. "Right ho, I don't blame you in the slightest!" he chuckled, taking the opportunity to straighten his black bow tie. "Your friend Anna is quite the luscious dish tonight, isn't she? I'm afraid I've been just as guilty of gawking as everyone else."
Brim grinned in spite of himself—how she loved her low-cut gowns! Tonight's was even more revealing than usual. "Luscious doesn't half describe her, my friend," he said, only scant clicks before the new Starflight Attache from Villibit-3 arrived in a florescent orange gown with both her husbands in tow. After that, the interminable series of handshakes commenced anew, until...
"Grand Duke Rogan LaKarn, Absolute Ruler of the Torond and Grand Duchess Margot Effer'wyck-LaKarn," the protocol officer announced in a clear voice.
Abruptly, Margot's chilly hand was in Brim's, and he bent to kiss the perfectly manicured, tapered fingers he had once known as well as his own. "Margot," he said, gazing into blue eyes that again tonight seemed to bear the sorrows of an entire Universe. She was dressed in another apricot gown that perfectly set off her dazzling strawberry blond hair and flawless complexion. "Are you... all right?" he asked instinctively. She nodded and made a little smile. "A trifle cold," she said, indicating a flash of lightning that temporarily lit the hall like disrupter fire, "—and you?" she asked.