The Universe Twister (67 page)

"Speaking of confirmed reservations, we'd better travel," Lafayette snapped. "I can see there's no point in trying to explain anything to you, you fair-weather chum."

"Mind your tongue, lackwit, else I'll probe for your jugular with my point!"

"Yeah, sure. All right, let's stop wasting time. You two can make your escape via the secret passages. I'll wait here for Quelius to show. When he does I'll give him a shot from his own shooter." He patted the disaster gun in his belt.

"What? You think I'd flee and leave even a scurvy knave like you to face the foe alone? Hah! Adoranne, you go, and—"

"Don't prattle nonsense," the princess cut him off coolly. "I stay, of course."

"If this were an ordinary situation, I'd argue with you," Lafayette said. "But under the circumstances, you may as well. If I miss, it's all over for Artesia."

"How is't, sirrah, that you seem to be privy to information unknown to the general public—or even to her Highness?" Alain demanded.

"I'll explain all that later—if there
is
a later."

"Not so," Alain barked. "Who else but a lackey of the tyrant would know his plans?" The sword leaped out to prod O'Leary's chest.

"If you must know, I got the information from a place called Central!"

Alain and Adoranne looked at each other.

"Indeed?" the count murmured. "That being the case, I suppose you'd be pleased to meet a fellow minion of this Central you speak of?"

"Certainly—but you're not supposed to know anything about Central. Its existence is a secret from everybody but accredited Central agents."

"Even so," Alain said. "And it happens, an emissary from Central arrived before you."

"That's right! I'd forgotten! Where is he?"

"Lying down in the next room. Adoranne—wilt summon the agent?"

The princess left the room. Lafayette heard low voices, then soft foot falls on the carpet. A slim, girlish figure in a trim gray uniform appeared in the doorway.

"Daphne!" Lafayette gasped. "What are
you
doing here?"

5

"You know her?" Alain said in an amazed tone.

"I thought you were safe at Central casting," Lafayette said, starting forward. "You poor kid, I knew they'd sent someone, but it never occurred to me they'd be idiots enough to—"

Daphne jerked a pistol from the holster at her waist, aimed it at O'Leary.

"I don't know how you know my name," she said in a voice with only the faintest quaver, "but if you take another step, I'll fire!"

"Daphne—it's me—Lafayette! Don't you know me?"

"What, you too? Does everybody think I'm so addled I don't know my own husband?"

Lafayette moistened his lips and took a deep breath. "Look, Daphne—try to understand. I don't look like myself, I know. I look like a Wayfarer named Zorro. But actually I'm me, you see?"

"I see you're out of your mind! Stand back!"

"Daphne—listen to me! I stepped out that night—Wednesday, I think it was, two weeks ago—to, er, drop down to the A & D—and
this
happened to me! It's all because of a thing called a Focal Referent. A fellow named Quelius is responsible. He paid the Red Bull to entice me down there, and—"

"Stop it! You're not Lafayette! He's tall, and handsome, in a baby-faced sort of way, and he has curly hair and the sweetest smile, especially when he's done something foolish—"

"Like this!" Lafayette smiled his most sheepish smile. "See?" he said between his teeth. Daphne yipped and jumped back.

"Not anything like that, you oily, leering monster!"

"Look, Zorro can't help it if he has close-set eyes!"

"Enough of this, varlet!" Alain roared. "Art daft, lout? Think you the Countess Daphne—and her Highness and myself as well—know not this turncoat O'Leary on sight?"

"He's not a turncoat!" Daphne cried, whirling on Alain. "He's just . . . just . . . sick . . . or something." She sniffled suddenly, and blinked back a tear.

"Look, we can't have a falling-out now over a little misunderstanding," Lafayette appealed. "Forget my identity; the important thing is that we stop Quelius—fast! He's got some sort of probability engine set up that will rotate Artesia right out of the Continuum! Once he does that, he's safe forever from outside interference from Central!"

"What do
you
know about Central?"

"Don't you remember? You saw me there, yesterday! You even helped me—"

"I saw another crazy man there who tried to convince me he was Lafayette O'Leary. I never saw you before in my life—or him, either!"

"Daphne—there were both me! I mean, I was both of them! I mean—oh, never mind. The point is—I'm on your side—and Adoranne's side. I just talked to Nicodaeus. He was the one who warned me about Lom—I mean Quelius!"

"Do you have any proof?"

"Well—nothing documentary—but Daphne—listen: close your eyes, and imagine I've got a bad cold, or got hit in the larynx by a polo ball, or something. Now . . . remember the night I met you? You were wearing nothing but soapsuds, remember? So I ordered up a nice dress for you to wear to the ball—a pink and silver one. And later that evening you saved my life for the first time by dropping the chamber pot on Count Alain's head! And—"

"Who told you all this!"

"Nobody! It's me, I remember it! Just pretend I'm . . . I'm enchanted or something, like the frog prince. Inside this unwashed exterior is the same old Lafayette who wooed you and won you!"

"There
is
something . . . it's almost as if . . ."

"Then you
do
recognize me?"

"No! But . . . but I suppose there's no harm in listening to what you have to say—even if you
are
crazy."

"Well, that's something . . ."

"We've heard enough madman's raving," Alain said. "The question remains—what to do? We know the false king plans some great coup for this evening: the rumors make that plain. We must make our move before then—or not at all. I say the time has come for me to fare forth, beat my way through the usurper's hirelings who guard us here, and slay their master as he takes his place in the banquet hall!"

"You'd never make it, Al," O'Leary said flatly. "Anyway, there's no need for a grandstand play. We can use the secret passages and pop up in the ballroom, surprise, surprise."

"If we can trust this intelligence of hidden ways . . ."

"Alain—he's our friend; I feel it. It almost seem I know him . . ." Adoranne looked searchingly at O'Leary.

He sighed. "Let's not get me started on that again," he said. "What time is this big affair scheduled for?"

"Eight p.m.—about an hour from now."

"Unless I'm badly mistaken, you'll have callers before then—bound on the errand you thought I was on. Quelius can't afford to have you alive when his puppet springs his big announcement this evening. He probably figures on the confusion of the big dance to cover sneaking the bodies out of the palace. Later he'll make the sad announcement that you've fallen victims to the fever. Your showing up in good health will blow that plan off the map. After that we'll have to play it by ear."

"Once in the ballroom, in full sight of the people," Alain mused, "we'll be safe—for the moment. He'd not dare to cut us down before our subjects."

"And our very presence there," Adoranne added, "will give the lie to his claims of our indisposition."

Alain smacked a fist into his palm.

"'Tis possible—but if this secret way leads into a trap . . ." Alain gave Lafayette a fierce look. "I know who will be first to die."

"Don't be nervous, Al—you'll get through all right," O'Leary assured him. "Now, I think you both ought to look your best, to properly impress the public. Medals, orders, jewels, tiaras—the works."

"You could do with a wash yourself, fellow," Alain addressed O'Leary. "There's a distinct odor of goat about you."

"A bath?" Lafayette said wonderingly. "I'd forgotten such things existed."

"In there." Alain motioned along a short passage toward a door through which were visible pale-green tiles and golden fittings. "And you may burn those garish rags; I think my footman's attire will fit you well enough."

"I guess I can spare the time," Lafayette said, heading for the bathroom.

For a quarter of an hour O'Leary luxuriated in hot, scented water, scrubbing his skin with violet soap until it tingled.

"Easy, boy," he advised himself. "You'll wash all the hide off. Some of that dark shade is permanent . . ."

Afterward, he shaved, deciding to retain Zorro's mustache, trimmed drastically to an Errol Flynn effect with a pair of fingernail scissors, which he also employed on his fingernails. His glossy blue-black hair was also trimmed lightly and toweled dry, after which, with a minimum of brushing, it fell into a rather dashing natural coif.

Alain had laid out clothing in the anteroom. Lafayette put on clean underwear, tight black pants, a white shirt with baggy sleeves and an open collar. Before adding the black coat provided, he donned the scarlet cummerbund from his former outfit—a recent acquisition, apparently, almost unsoiled. Of necessity he also retain the gold rings on his fingers, as well as the one in his left ear, since they seemed to be permanently attached.

He strolled back along the passage into the drawing room; Daphne turned with a startled expression.

"Oh—it's you. You look—different."

"Where are Adoranne and Alain?"

"In their boudoir, dressing."

"You look pretty cute in that uniform, Daphne," O'Leary said. "But I liked you better in soapsuds."

"Please—spare me these fanciful reminiscences, sir! I have no choice but to work with you. But it's silly for somebody who doesn't have the remotest resemblance to Lafayette to attempt to impersonate him!"

"Well—I guess I'll have to settle for a platonic relationship. But it's hard, Daphne. You'll never know how I've missed you these past two weeks, how I've wanted to take you in my arms, and—"

"Don't be impertinent," Daphne said mildly. "You'd best fill me in on the plan."

"Oh, the plan. Well, frankly, the plan needs work. Daphne, did you know you have the most beautiful eyes in the world?"

"Do you really think so? But never mind that. We must talk of what we'll do when we reach the ballroom."

"Well, this fellow Quelius is a potent operator. Our only chance is to sneak up on him and nail him before he can use his sonic projector. Do you know, your hair is like spun onyx. And even in that uniform, your figure is enough to break a man's heart at a hundred yards."

"Silly boy," Daphne murmured. "I must say you look better with a shave. But we really can't stand here chattering all day . . ." She looked up into Lafayette's face as he came up to her. His arms went around her. She sighed and closed her eyes, her lips upturned . . .

"Hey! What are you doing!" he said suddenly. "Kissing a stranger, eh? I'm surprised at you, Daphne!"

She stiffened, then stepped back and swung an open-handed slap that sent him staggering.

"Here—what's this?" Alain spoke up from behind O'Leary. He stood in the doorway, resplendent in a dashing costume of blue and scarlet.

"It's quite all right," Daphne said haughtily, turning her back on O'Leary. "I've dealt with the matter."

Alain gave O'Leary a crooked smile. "The lady is abominably true to her marriage vows," he commented, rubbing his cheek reminiscently.

Adoranne appeared, regal as a fairy queen in silver gown and diamonds. She turned from Alain to O'Leary to Daphne, standing at the window with her back to the room. She went to her, put an arm around her waist.

"Never mind, Daph," she whispered. "I know someday Lafayette will come to his senses."

Daphne sobbed once, dabbed at her eyes, then turned, straight-backed. At that moment there was a peremptory knock at the outer door.

"I think it's time to go," she said.

1

Ten minutes later they were crowded in the stuffy chamber scarcely a yard deep, ten feet long, concealed in the thickness of the wall behind the ballroom.

"Now, remember," Lafayette said. "Adoranne, you and Alain give me time to get in position. Then wait until this phony's just about to make his big announcement—then spring it on him. Just behave as if everything were normal: this is just a delightful surprise, you recovered unexpectedly, and here you are to join the fun. He'll have to play up to it. And while he's busy trying to regroup, I'll have my chance to take a crack at him."

"But—that will be dangerous for you!" Daphne said. "Why don't we draw lots—or something."

"He knows all of you; I'll be a stranger to him, a nobody. He won't be watching me."

"He's right, girl," Alain muttered. "But I'll stand ready to join in as opportunity offers."

"All right—here I go." Lafayette pressed the latch, the panel rolled aside, and he slipped through into the dazzle of light and the babble of conversation. The football-field-sized white marble floor was crowded with guests in laces and satins, gold braid and glittering jewels, aglow in the polychrome light from the great chandeliers suspended from the gold-ribbed vault of the high ceiling.

Solemn-looking guards in uniforms with unfamiliar armbands were posted at twenty-foot intervals against the brocaded walls, he noted. By sheer luck he had emerged midway between two of them. A few familiar faces turned casually to glance his way; but most of those present kept their eyes fixed firmly on the great golden chair set up at the far end of the room. And in spite of the superficial appearance of casual gaiety, there was an air of tension, a note of anxiety in the laughter and chatter.

Lafayette moved along the fringes of the crowd unchallenged. He took a drink from a passing tray and downed it at a gulp.

Abruptly, horns sounded. Silence fell, broken by a few nervous coughs. The wide doors at the opposite end of the room swung wide. A second fanfare blared. Then a tall, slender, fair-haired man appeared, strolling through the archway with an air of negligent authority. He was dressed in yellow silks adorned with white ermine, and a lightweight sport-model crown was cocked at a jaunty angle on his head.