A Covenant of Justice (26 page)

Azra reached into her travel sack and pulled out a large flat wooden box. She put it on the table between them. “You may look,” she said.

Sawyer and Lee exchanged glances. Sawyer licked his lips nervously. Lee turned around to survey the empty plaza. Neither Dragons nor Vampires lurked anywhere in his vision; but he didn't feel reassured. Anyone could have hidden a hundred cameras to spy down on the dealings in the shops around the plaza. Behind him, Sawyer rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, debating with himself whether or not he could risk opening the case.

Finally, his curiosity won out. He unlatched the chest and lifted the lid just enough to slide his hand into the darkness within. Something cool and metallic
tingled
there. Sawyer swallowed hard. He put on an expression of disgust and annoyance. He withdrew his hand, closed the lid, and latched it shut. He pushed the case back toward Azra. “I apologize,” he said. “I thought that you and I might have helped each other. Apparently, I made a mistake. But here—let me give you some money for your trouble.” He passed some bills across the table. “Here, that should buy you a week's food and lodging at the Inn of the Red Flower. Perhaps we will even see you there, as we may have some business in that neighborhood soon.

Sawyer stood up quickly and pulled Lee to his feet as well. “Come, my friend. We have dallied too long here and wasted the best part of the evening. Let us go seek some real entertainment and some fancier prizes.”

“But, what—?”

“Shut up, stupid. You've drunk too much again. Why, look. You can hardly hold yourself erect. Will I have to carry you home again tonight?” Sawyer grabbed Lee's arm firmly, and drag-walked him into an alley.

“I don't have to put up with this—”

Sawyer pushed Lee swiftly up against a nearby stone wall, putting his hand carefully around the clone-brother's throat. “Don't. Talk.” he said. Then, just as quickly, taking on the pretense of a penitent lover, he fell into Lee's arms and put his lips close to the other's ear. “The woman can take care of herself. She'll have to. The spies of Pig Town watch us, not her.”

“Then she—”

“She has the TimeBand, yes.” Sawyer looked into Lee's face with a grin. “Now, what did you say before about not believing in coincidence?”

Kernel d'Vashti stepped out of the connecting tube between the two starships and into the private greeting chamber where the Dragon Lord waited. The great warrior lizard shifted his weight from one foot to the other and his tail lashed uneasily. Captain ‘Ga Lunik and several officers waited to one side. d'Vashti ignored them and headed straight for the Dragon Lord.

He didn't even bother with formal greetings. He walked directly up to the Lord of All Moktar Dragons, putting himself immediately below the great creature's head, an uncomfortable position for himself—but a painful position for the Dragon Lord as well. The monster had to arch his neck back to tilt his head downward far enough to see the Vampire military lord.

d'Vashti waited until the Dragon's gaze had found him and then addressed the huge reptile in an extraordinarily casual tone. “I've heard the most
amazing
rumor,” he said. “I couldn't possibly give it credence, except I've heard it from six different sources. Perhaps you know the rumor, I mean?”

The Dragon Lord grunted and cleared his throat. He said nothing else.

“Well, then let me enlighten you. According to this . . . this astonishing news, several of the Lady's ‘dinner guests'—including the trackers, Sawyer and Finn Markham, and the TimeBinder of Thoska-Roole—somehow broke free of their bonds, captured the Lady, overpowered a troop of Dragon Guards, seized a landing shuttle, evaded a squadron of marauders, landed undetected on Burihatin-14, escaped into the blacktree jungle with the Lady Zillabar as hostage, and have managed to elude the crack search teams of the Elite Dragons for more than seven days.”

d'Vashti laughed at the outrageousness of the story; but his laughter at a nasty edge to it. “Don't you agree,” he said to the Dragon Lord, “that the story has such an air of impossibility that only a deranged prankster would dream of repeating it? Indeed, the first time I heard it, I found it so amusing that I insisted on sharing it with the entire bridge command of my ship. But—” His expression darkened. “The most curious thing happened. We kept hearing the same story. We heard it from one source, and then we heard it from another. We heard it repeated as if people actually believed this tale.”

d'Vashti paced back and forth in front of the silent Dragon Lord. “We heard that the Dragons had sealed the StarPort. We heard that Dragons had run amuck on the surface of Dupa, killing and eating thousands of civilians. We heard that Dragons found the Lady's lander at the bottom of Little Crater Wreak, and it blew up in their faces. We heard that the Dragons behaved so stupidly that even the Lord of All Moktar Dragons had prepared himself for dishonorable suicide.”

d'Vashti stopped his furious pacing and looked sideways and up at the Dragon Lord. “Now, I don't believe any of these tales. But I would certainly hope that if any of them have any truth at all, then certainly the last one—the part about the dishonorable suicide—should also carry significant weight as well. Wouldn't you agree?”

Around the edges of the room, Captain ‘Ga Lunik and his officers had gone pale. They expected mayhem to occur at any moment. Yet they saw no convenient way to beat a diplomatic retreat.

The Dragon Lord did not answer d'Vashti immediately. He chewed thoughtfully for a long moment, as if dislodging a forgotten piece of gristle from the rear part of his jaw. His tongue prowled around between his teeth, searching for the item. Finding it at last, the Dragon's gaze returned unenthusiastically to d'Vashti. The great warrior lizard seemed almost surprised to find the Phaestor aristocrat still waiting for an answer to his earlier question. “I wonder what Vampire tastes like,” he said.

“I wonder what Dragon blood tastes like,” d'Vashti retorted. “You don't scare me, you overgrown toad-suck. My family raised yours out of poverty. A thousand years ago, your ancestors wallowed in their own shit while mine had already won their positions in the Regency. So don't give me your supercilious arrogance. What we gave you, we can just as easily take away. If necessary, I'll see you wrapped in the skin of a hundred lawyers and buried in an unmarked grave beneath the worst sewage of Pig Town, and you'll never get to paradise. So don't mess with me, fella. I haven't even started on you and your incompetent, bumbling, walking stink-bags that dare to wear the insignia of the Regency. You have raised ineptitude to a new low!”

The Dragon Lord waited until d'Vashti started to run down. He sucked his teeth thoughtfully and asked in a gravely roar, “Have you quite finished, you little pissant?”

d'Vashti ignored the Dragon's rudeness. He took a few steps back, so he could stare up into the Dragon's eyes more easily. “Do you realize the importance that Lady Zillabar represents to the future of the Regency? With a proper mating, she could invigorate the aristocracy with a hundred thousand new young lords. With her, you and I will hold the reins of power throughout the entire Cluster. Without her, you and I lose everything—but I promise you this . . .”

d'Vashti's voice came down an octave. His listeners had to strain to hear what he said next. Even the Dragon Lord lowered his head respectfully. “If I go down, I will see you go down before me. In flames. I will see that your name will carry the greatest stain that any Dragon ever bore. Dragons from now until the end of time will curse you and all of your offspring. I will put such a curse on your name that no one will even dare to kill your children out of mercy, for fear that such a kindness would stain them as well. Your children will carry your shame as their own, and their children, and their children, from now until forever. Every Dragon who carries even the barest hint of your genetic heritage will carry the stain. Do you understand what I tell you? Even after I have ground your bones to dust and scattered them over the garbage dumps of a thousand worlds, I will still devote my remaining days to thinking up ways to add to your shame. Not even if you groveled and begged for my forgiveness for a thousand years would I relent—”

d'Vashti never completed the sentence. He never had the chance. The Dragon Lord moved then. He took several quick steps back and lowered his massive bulk to the floor, flattening himself into a mountain of abject green flesh. Captain ‘Ga Lunik and the others scampered backwards to get out of his way. The Dragon spread out his great arms and legs in a vast spread-eagle sprawl and let out a mournful howl toward the ceiling.

“Kill me now, then!” he demanded. “If you truly believe these calumnies and lies, then kill me now! Disgrace me, disgrace my name, disgrace my children! Go ahead! I'd rather bear that disgrace and any other disgrace you care to name than try to defend myself against the malicious little gossips of others. I will not dignify these stories. To do so gives them credence. I will give not give that satisfaction to the enemies of the Regency. Kill me now. I accept your penalty.” The Dragon Lord fell silent, his head pointing across the floor gazing directly at d'Vashti.

d'Vashti stood on the same level as the monster's gaze. He stared directly into the great lizard's eyes. Without hesitating, he walked carefully forward, right up to the Dragon's mouth. He could feel the hot breath of the beast like the wind from the open door of a furnace. He placed one booted foot directly on the end of the Dragon's snout, leaned forward, and rested his arms on his knee. “Listen to me,” he said to the Dragon Lord. “I don't care how many villages you burn, and I don't care how many humans you eat, and I don't care what other crimes and foulnesses you commit along the way. I want Zillabar and nothing else. If you can't do it, I'll get someone who can. Tell me now why I should let you go on.”

The Dragon Lord howled. “You have my loyalty, d'Vashti. You have always had my allegiance. I will not rest until you achieve the honor of fertilizing the Lady's eggs and bring forth the next generation of proud Phaestor aristocrats. I will redouble my efforts. I will do whatever necessary for you to have what you want.”

d'Vashti took his foot off the Dragon's snout, unimpressed. “I worry when someone gets that effusive in their loyalty,” he remarked. “It makes me want to hire an extra food-taster.” He kicked gently at the big beast's jaw. “Get up. You make me sick.”

The Dragon Lord rumbled deep in his throat. He levered himself awkwardly back to his feet. “I share the same feelings about you, bloodsucker,” he grunted.

“Good,” acknowledged d'Vashti. “Then we understand each other perfectly.”

Legend has it that when night falls across Dupa, strange things happen. Birds talk, cats walk on their hind legs, the machines whisper with strange noises, and even the very bricks in the walls huddle closer in fear.

However, those who spend their time near StarPort know that the stuff of legends compares poorly to the events that occur in the gloomy underside of the Pig Town. Southwest of StarPort, where Pig Town evaporates against the broken rocks of the Crumble, residents have occasionally claimed to see willowisps, ghosts, trolls, goblins, and other grotesques. Of course, no one believes that supernatural beings actually prowl the edges of the night, but at the same time, only the foolhardy go out into the darkness to investigate.

In truth, the monsters of the Crumble have a much more mundane existence. Most have day-jobs and only retreat to the broken slabs of the Crumble for activities they prefer to keep hidden from the Regency authorities. Here, beyond the casual crimes of Pig Town, the serious explorer will find the big money crimes that juice the underground economy of the planet—especially the smuggling of contraband goods. If Pig Town serves as the free market for StarPort, then the Crumble serves as its wholesale supplier. Every freebooter in the sector knows of the Crumble, and a thousand other places just like it on a hundred other worlds.

Beyond the Crumble, the Trail of Fear leads past the abandoned mines of the ancient Calico Corporation, and from there north and west into the Valley of Broken Dreams. A few reclusive settlements lie up the valley. Beyond them, scattered lights occasionally become visible, suggesting the presence of either hermits or pirates. Few have gone to investigate. Fewer still have come back to report.

On this night, however, neither Sawyer nor Lee chose to venture anywhere near the Crumble, the Trail of Fear, the Valley of Broken Dreams, or anywhere beyond.

Instead, they walked—seemingly at random—northward through the streets of Pig Town, eventually staggering back up into StarPort. They continued to wander in a haphazard manner, pausing here and there for the occasional drink or snack, then eventually maundered back toward Pig Town, almost as if by accident. By now, it seemed as if they could not pass a tavern or a cafe without stopping to sample its wares, and if any Regency authority followed them, he would have had long since developed a severe case of indigestion and sore feet. Nevertheless, the tracker and the clone continued on.

To any casual observer, they appeared as two drunken fools, oblivious to both the virtues and the dangers of the town around them; that same casual observer would not have seen what happened to the three mugs who tried to separate Sawyer and Lee from their purses. Just as well, for it would have spoiled the carefully crafted illusion they had worked all evening to create. The two did not return to their hostel until the hour of the roach. Already the first faint glow of the primary had become visible beyond the distant horizon. Several habitues of the residence eyed them suspiciously as they entered.

They bumped their way down the long narrow hall, all the way to the back of the building, hanging onto each other for support, loudly whispering words of endearment and affection, kicking the door to their room open with boisterous promises of additional pleasures still to come, and tumbling loudly onto the bed, which creaked alarmingly. Sawyer planted a big wet kiss on Lee's mouth as he kicked the door to the room shut—