The Adversary - 4 (13 page)

"Now that's what I call a strategic objective!"

You keep a clear head-and that goes for the Worm, too. Or else! Just remember that we'll be counting on Famorel to guard our south flank when we make our big move on Roniah next month. This Bardelask action is just a piddling little skirmish, but it's a perfect opportunity for performance evaluation. Do a good job. Once the battle's won and you've sent your reports in, I don't care how much beer guzzling or Lowlife futtering you do. Now get moving-and Slitsal!

The warrior-ogress saluted the fading vision. "Slitsal, High Queen!" Then she threw Tony over her shoulder and headed for the hotel stables.

Ten hours later, the two Great Captains of the Firvulag and their unconscious captive reached a certain derelict Tanu fort on the River Saone, after having been slowed only slightly by a thick fog that rolled in over the Cote d'Or. There, by prearrangement, they took delivery of a confiscated riverboat and its detorced human pilot. The Firvulag regulars who had seen to the procurement of the boat loaded the heroes' baggage while Tony stood groggily on the fort deck wondering where he was.

The boat's skipper, a homely beanpole of a woman, proved unexpectedly mettlesome in spite of her lost grey torc and the fact that both her ankles were chained to a twenty-seven-kilo anchor that she was obliged to hold in her arms. She spat at Karbree's spurred feet when he told her that she was to take them to Bardelask, and said, "Fat chance. Go take a flying fuck."

The Worm's ophidian eyes crinkled in good humour. "Don't be unreasonable, Lowlife. Your alternative is a melancholy one-a diving lesson with that large piece of polymer-clad lead preceding you to the bottom of the Saone."

"I might as well die now as later," she retorted. "Everyone knows what happens to humans captured by you fiends. Rape, dismemberment, and then watching bits of yourself being gobbled up before your dying eyes. No thanks, ogre. You can drown me now."

"You've listened to too many Tanu lies, dear," said Skathe.

She propelled Tony up the gangplank and eased him into a comfortable seat. "Ask this chap. Nobody's eaten him"

"Not yet," said the woman.

Tony snapped wide-awake.

Skathe croaked merrily. "Just propaganda. Fairy tales. My, what a lovely boat!"

Karbree drew himself up. His obsidian armour, inset with hundreds of green beryls and chased with gold, gleamed splendidly in the swirling mist. "Do you know who we are, Lowlife?

Heroes of the Grand Combat! Peaceful emissaries of the Firvulag Court!"

"You're spooks, and spooks eat people," the skipper insisted.

"At least, the giant ones do-and you qualify on that point with knobs on, big buddy."

Karbree smote his breastplate with a ringing clang. "On my honour as a member of the Gnomish Council-I, Karbree the Worm, swear that you will be unharmed if you cooperate! Pilot the three of us to Bardelask speedily, get us past the Tanu marine patrol at Roniah and through the four stretches of rapids, and we will set you free in your own boat when we arrive safe at our destination."

The baggage was all stowed and dwarf troopers stood ready at the bow and stern lines, Karbree smiled, held out a hand to the skipper, and said, "Let me carry your anchor into the wheelhouse."

The woman chewed her lower lip. "Well ... "

"Such a well-kept craft," Skathe said. "She must be very fast.

How long will it take for us to make the trip, dear?"

"I can get you to Bardy-Town inside of twenty-six hours. Less if this puke blows away and I can shoot the rapids at speed."

"Wonderful," said the ogress. "Let's be off."

"All right, it's a deal." The skipper marched up the gangplank with Karbree solicitously bearing the anchor, and a few minutes later they were on their way.

In the calm stretch of water below Roniah, when deepening night and the fog transformed the plass-roofed boat into a gently rocking womb, Tony dozed again and it seemed that the terrible creature who held him in thrall was not a Firvulag she-warrior at all, but his own Howler bride, Rowane.

"I didn't want to leave you," he mumbled. "It's just that I'm not too strong these days. If only they hadn't robbed me of my silver torc, it would have been all right. Forgive me for going away. Forgive me ... "

She said, "But you didn't go, darling Tonee. You're right here with me. You don't have to be afraid. Just love me the way you used to do."

"I can't, without the torc. That's the trouble." But Rowane-or was it the scarlet-haired houri?-was tantalizingly insistent, and he was trying to remember a danger, and pushing at her, and thrashing about on some couch that was much too narrow, and when his sleep-drugged eyes opened and he finally saw-"

"Aaugh!" he screamed, and threw a wild punch. He fell off the slippery leather couch and landed flat on his face. Fortunately, the deck of the pneumatic craft was quite resilient.

"Everything all right back there?" came the amused voice of Karbree from the forward cabin.

"No!" said Skathe. "Mind your own business, Worm."

The houri lifted Tony and sat him back on the couch. The only light was a greenish glow from some redundant instrumentation in the stern. This had the unfortunate effect of turning the succubus's hair from scarlet to muddy grey. Cuddling up to him, she began to kiss the angle of his jaw and stroke his spine.

He flinched. "Please don't. I'd like my clothes back."

Her fingernails nipped his earlobe. The kisses skittered down his chest like light-footed insects.

"I'd like something else!"

But he was shivering and pulled away. "You have a lot to learn about human men. You really can't make me, you know.

I have to be in the mood. Which at this moment I most emphatically am not."

"Are you frightened, poor baby? There's no need to be. After our little experiment, I promise to let you go. Just ... cooperate a little! Our people have always been very prejudiced against alliances with you humans. But lately there have been rumours-from the Howler women at Nionel who took human mates-that you were something special."

In spite of himself, Tony felt a prideful chauvinistic stirring.

"There's a certain allure," he ventured primly, "in novelty."

"Exactly! So what's wrong? This body I'm wearing doesn't appeal to you? Let me try another! You had a Howler wife, so I thought you'd go for something kinky. But I could be a human wench just as easily. Or ... since you were a silver-torc, how about a domineering blonde with wraparound breasts-"

"Please!"

Tony edged away.

The houri's expression became calculating. "What did you mean, about not being strong enough since you lost the torc?

You're not burned out, are you?"

"Of course not! It's just-well, you see, when humans experience sex with you exotic women-that is, when we have the torc, most of us are able to carry on-uh-more efficiently.

Whereas without it-and even with it, if one proves incompatible-I mean, there's a danger-a certain inhibiting factor takes over-"

"Ah-Aa!" said Skathe.

There was a meditative silence. Feeling about in the dark, Tony found his pants and shirt. The houri made no move to stop him, and he gratefully slipped into his clothes, simultaneously slithering to the far end of the couch. The monster did not follow, but she never took her eyes off him.

Finally she said, "You have no significant metapsychic powers. Why did the Tanu give you a silver torc, then? For your prowess in the pleasure dome?"

Tony bridled. "Certainly not. I was a very important person in Finiah. As a metallurgical engineer, my professional skills were highly valued. I was in charge of the entire barium extraction operation."

"Interesting. That mine was our principal target, you know.

Madame Guderian pointed out to us that without a barium supply, the Tanu are unable to manufacture new torcs."

Tony had the distinct feeling that he might have said too much. He hastened to add, "The mine's completely buried in lava, you know. Not the remotest chance of its ever being opened again. Not in a million years."

"Or six," said Skathe.

Tony kept very quiet. The houri's body was melting, lengthening. The dreadful Skathe looked down at him and asked quietly, "Why did you come through the time-gate, Tony?"

"Well ... it was very commonplace, really. My lover told me she was leaving me for another chap, my immediate superior.

We three worked together in the same facility, you see, and there was no question of their leaving. The situation became quite unbearable."

"So you ran away."

"Actually, I tipped the pair of them into an eight-hundredmeganewton forging press."

The monster's eyes bugged. "Te's titties!"

"It passed as an accident at the time, but I knew that the Milieu's forensic redactors would catch up with me sooner or later. It seemed the sensible thing to leg it."

Skathe patted Tony on the head. "You know, I like you."

"Then why not turn me loose? I'm never going to be any good for your experiment. Aside from being scared to death of you, I'm so tired that I could sleep for a week, and devilishly hungry besides."

"Are you, by damn!" She exploded in great gusts of laughter that brought Karbree to the compartment door. "Sling that hamper of food and drink in here, Worm!" She tipped a wink to Tony. "After you've eaten, get some rest. Strap into one of the soft seats so you won't be bothered by the rapids. I've got business to attend to down in Bardelask, but when that's over-we'll see about letting you go."

Again, Tony dreamed. But this time it was about Finiah, flaming and devastated, with bodies heaped in the streets and Firvulag monstrosities gathering for their final assault on the palace gate, and Lord Velteyn and his Flying Hunt poised in the smoke, their brave battlecries ringing in his mind while he, Tony, hacked his way through a horde of Lowlife invaders, wielding an aquamarine sword.

But he hadn't.

Even as the dream scenario unfolded, Tony knew it for falsehood. He had never even suspected that Finiah was under attack until the ragtag Hidden Springs troops broke into the pleasure dome, dispatched his Tanu bedmate with an iron-studded mace, and hustled him off to judgment. Dream-Tony, defying this contradiction, fought on until the moment that the sleeper opened his eyes to reality-to lurid smoke clouds rolling above the boat's bubbletop roof, to martial shouts and screams faintly heard, to the unmistakable battle-reek that smote his nostrils and shocked him into alertness.

He was alone in the after cabin of the boat. It was moored in the midst of papyrus plants so tall and densely crowded that he could see no details of the region on either side. The view forward was less restricted and he could see a dock area with devastated buildings ablaze; and when the air cleared momentarily he caught sight of a Tanu citadel with scorched walls and broken towers and a single defiant blue beacon against the lowering sky. Pulses of multicoloured light sparked fitfully behind the fortress windows. There were random small explosions that uncannily resembled heavy calibre rifle fire.

This, beyond a doubt, was Bardelask. And it seemed as though the battle was nearly over.

How long had he been asleep?

Wondering if the monsters had abandoned him, he began to make his way forward. And then he heard indeterminate soft noises and muttered speech coming from up there, and a sudden burst of choked laughter. Tony stood stock-still.

"Marvellous. Terrific!" The voice was that of Karbree the Worm.

"No turn-on like a good bit of warfare," Skathe agreed. "Just enough to whet the old lower appetites."

Karbree giggled hideously. "Still say you should have taken yours, too.

Any which way."

"My turn's coming, cockie. I have my own style."

"You watched me, I get to watch you. Fair's fair."

"Shares on your leftovers, then," Skathe demanded.

The Worm growled, then waxed jovial. "Oh, why the hell not? Here-try these toes." There came a distinct crunch.

Tony felt his guts transmute into a frigid lump. Fee fie ...

Tanu lies ... fo fum ... propaganda, on my honour as a member of the Gnomish Council ...

Somebody emitted a colossal belch. Somebody else vented a replete sigh. The voices of the Firvulag seemed to recede to a great distance.

"Great little battle, all right," said Karbree. "Discipline in the ranks pretty well fell apart after the brewery was taken, but you can't expect miracles."

Skathe murmured assent. "I'll give old Mimee the Bird high marks for the main action, though. And I thought his special forces did particularly well, considering the small number of high-technology weapons we were able to send to Famorel."

A guffaw broke from the Worm. "And didn't the Exalted Lady Armida look surprised when Anduvor Doubletarse put that steel-jacketed bullet into her gizzard! Pity the body fell into the main fermentation vat. Contaminated the whole batch."

The ogres chortled in reminiscence. There was a loud splash, followed by a number of small ones. Tidying up time, no doubt.

Karbree uttered a huge yawn.

"Why not catch a little zizz?" Skathe said. "I've got a lot of female-type preliminaries I want to enjoy before getting around to my own main event. Tease my miminy-piminy poppet before letting him have his little souvenir of Bardelask. Keep him begging. Take my time in the buildup. But you'll be waked up when the real fun starts-no fear!"

Energized at last by sheer panic, Tony spun wildly about and staggered toward the stern. There was no way he could escape overboard. Abaft the wheelhouse, the boat was still securely roofed over, the plass panels held in place by stubborn little clips. To hide then ... but the big deck hatches wouldn't budge, and the lockers were too small to hold him, and the pedestals of the benches were already stuffed with marine paraphernalia.

It would be hopeless to hide in the head; the she-monster could rip the door off its hinges in an instant. There remained only the pile of baggage jumbled in the stern sheets-all manner of bags and pouches and dispatch boxes and map cases, most unstrapped and scattering their contents in a jumble on the deck. He could burrow into the heap and"Tonee, are you awake?"