Ammonite Stars (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #4-5 (38 page)

Petra’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose so.” Her voice dragged.

“And, since I can’t be of any use protecting Cimma, my duty is to attach myself to
Valhai
Six’s honour guard.”

Six held up a hand. “I already have eight or ten guards,” he pointed out. “I really don’t think you will be necessary.”

Tallen gave a sniff. He disagreed. “They will have to stay outside. I shall accompany you inside.”

“You are too young,” said Bennel. He appeared to be on the brink of saying more, but was silenced with one look from the Namuri boy.

“You can come if you like.” Six was amused. “You will be entering in a meritocratic party, though. What if somebody in your clan sees you?”

“My clan knows that you saved our lives. They understand about blood payment. They will leave me alone.”

“As long as you promise not to steal anything.”

Tallen gave a gasp of outrage. “I would not! My job as your bodyguard is incompatible with civil disobedience.”

“Good. Because I promised Diva not to get into any trouble. And you know what she’s like.”

Tallen limited himself to a grunt, but Bennel gave a definite nod. He did indeed. She could be quite intimidating.

THE WIDOWMAKER WAS packed to the rafters. It seemed that they had arrived at a particularly busy time – there was some sort of show about to start.

Bennel settled the party of four into a table tucked discreetly at the back of the large arena, in a position where he could scan any approaching figures at his leisure. Tallen took a stance behind them, squinting into the dark to detect any threats.

Six made the Namuri boy sit down. “I don’t care how many blood oaths you have sworn,” he told him. “We are just here to enjoy ourselves. There is no need to see trouble at every corner.”

Tallen sank down into one of the comfortable chairs on the other side of Ledin, and gazed around. As his eyes raked over the fat and self-satisfied meritocrats at nearby tables, his scowl deepened, but he refrained from saying anything further.

Ledin was staring, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. There was a girl nearby who seemed to be removing her scanty clothing one piece at a time; he was fairly sure that he would leave that part of the evening out of the account he was going to give Grace. Hard music was slamming sound after sound into his protesting eardrums, and he noticed another group of ten girls who were dancing the most intricate and sinuous dance. They appeared to be contortionists.

The whole thing seemed overblown, grotesque almost, to a Kwaidian who had never known anything like it. Ledin was fascinated, but slightly repulsed at the same time. He felt embarrassed and out of place at the ostentation of the customers, at the largesse they were distributing around the raucous nightspot. He turned to Six, and found his friend looking back at him with understanding. Ledin gave a wry smile, and lifted his glass. Tallen caught the movement, and seemed to realize that neither of the Kwaidians fitted in such a place either, for the tension in his face disappeared and he relaxed.

Bennel was determined not to let Six get into any trouble due to his own lack of vigilance; this time he was skillfully avoiding the insinuations of the girls who made their way to the table, although Tallen’s eyes widened with amazement to find himself a target of their lures too. Since neither Six nor Ledin were in the least bit interested in any women other than Diva and Grace, the party was eventually left alone to enjoy the shows in peace.

It was in the middle of one of the most provocative numbers that Six looked up to see Tartalus standing in front of him. He got to his feet, but was unable to approach, because Bennel had put himself directly in the way.

“So you came back.” Tartalus stepped around Bennel and looked Six up and down. “Pity.”

“Tartalus.” Six edged slightly around his bodyguard to confront the Coriolan.

“You don’t deserve her, you know.”

“And you do?”

“You are ruining her life. She will end up hating you for it. And then she will turn to me.”

“You delude yourself. She will never turn to you. Ever.”

Tartalus’s teeth flashed against the dark, almost as bright as Diva’s. “Don’t be too sure of that, unmentionable. Perhaps you don’t know as much as you think about Coriolis – or about your wife.” He put his chin up. “I’ll be waiting for you outside. It is time we settled this, once and for all. If you aren’t afraid to fight, that is.”

Bennel gave an audible moan, but Six ignored him. His face was hard, and set.

“I’ll be there.”

“Shall we say, in ten minutes? And—” he looked around at the rest of Six’s party, “—come alone!”

Six gave a short nod, and Diva’s second cousin faded back into the surrounding gloom.

“You cannot go out there alone,
Valhai
Six!” Bennel was adamant.

“Of course I can.” Six began to get to his feet.

“He won’t fight clean!”

Six looked up. “Then neither will I.” He grinned, although his teeth were not as noticeable in the dark as Tartalus’s had been, and wended his way through the nearby tables towards the exit.

Bennel turned to Ledin. “Please stop him.”

Ledin shrugged. “He isn’t likely to listen to me either. Why? Who is the man?”

Bennel explained, and Ledin’s interest sharpened. “Drew a blade during unarmed combat, did he? Well, you needn’t worry. Six is quite skilled in battle; I can’t see a primped-up meritocrat beating him. That man looks as if he spends all day soaking his skin in Mesteta wine!”

“Tartalus was the strategy and tactics champion of Mesteta for four years running!”

“Then Six will have to watch out,” agreed Ledin equably. “Good. It will do him good to release all that pent-up tension. Diva seems to be making him nervous.” He took a gulp of his potent beverage, and stared into the glass, considering. “But perhaps we should stop his opponent from having outside help.” He drained what was left of his drink, and then stood up, followed closely by Tallen. “You are right. We should go, but only to make sure that it is a fair fight.”

They made their way out of the Widowmaker, Ledin with a blend of regret and relief that he couldn’t quite explain. Outside, the Coriolan night air was crisp, and their breaths puffed out in front of them. They walked down the road towards the palace, correctly assuming that Tartalus would have chosen that way to find somewhere private for his fight.

The company of guards fell in, having clearly been successfully avoided by Six, who had managed to leave the Widowmaker unseen. Its members were looking around in a confused way, unaccustomed to their meritocrats slipping by them unseen. Bennel fixed their troop leader with a look which practically turned him to stone, and the man began to splutter excuses as best he could.

Bennel held up one hand to request silence, and the man finally stuttered to a halt.

“You have been derelict in your duty,” he said sternly.

The man hung his head.

“However,” went on Bennel, who was a fair-minded man, and had been with Six long enough to know how hard the job could be, “you will be given one further opportunity to prove your worth.
Valhai
Six is not the easiest person to protect.”

The man could hardly believe that he had been pardoned. His eyes sparked with hope.

“Just make sure that this never happens again.”

The troop leader signaled to his men. “It won’t,” he promised grimly. The phalanx of men fell in behind Tallen.

They came across the fight some two kilometres further on. Six had clearly not trusted Tartalus, because they had both laid their weapons upon the ground. They were circling each other warily, Six with his hands down, Tartalus with his fists up in front of his face.

Ledin shook his head. “He’s scared of injuries to his good looks,” he observed. “Bad mistake to let your opponent find out things like that.”

Tallen made as if to step into the fray, but Bennel held him back. “
Valhai
Six would not thank us for interfering,” he told him. “Your job is to make sure that his opponent has no tricks up his sleeve. Circle round to the right, and make sure there are no assassins waiting in the shadows. I will take the left.” He indicated the group of Tartalus’s waiting guards with his head, and looked at Ledin. “Perhaps you could make certain they take no part in the fight?”

Ledin and Tallen nodded, and the Namuri melted into the shadows. Ledin and both details of guards were left to watch the proceedings, and each other, uneasily.

Six was tiring. He had not been in training for some time, and that showed. His opponent, on the other hand, had clearly spent what free time he had in perfecting his fighting technique, and was still breathing easily. But he had nothing of Six’s astuteness. The Coriolan’s skill might be prodigious; his mental abilities were not. After watching for a few minutes, it became obvious to Ledin that Six was playing with the meritocrat. He was letting him feint and jab, allowing him to think he had the upper hand.

Ledin smiled, and waited for the inevitable end of the combat. He winced from time to time, in fellow feeling, because Six was receiving some fierce blows, especially to the head. Then he grinned to himself. The meritocrat clearly had no idea just how hard a Kwaidian’s head could be.

But Six was giving punishment, as well as receiving it, and as the minutes ticked by, there was a subtle change in the battle. The Kwaidian was beginning to dictate the moves, and slowly the Coriolan was having to fall back, further and further.

Then, just as Six was moving in for the finish, Tartalus gave a whistle through his teeth, and flung himself down on the ground.

Six looked down at his opponent, momentarily confused.

An arrow whistled past Six’s head, narrowly missing him, and burying itself into an unsuspecting tree-trunk with a harsh thud.

There were sounds of a tussle off to the right, and Tallen appeared, dragging the slumped figure of an archer behind him. He dropped the man at Ledin’s feet.

“I was nearly too late.” He sounded cross. “He was very well hidden. They must have set this up some time ago. If I hadn’t caught the glint of the arrowhead as he armed the bow,
Valhai
Six would not be with us.”

Ledin clapped the boy on the back. “Good job!”

Several feet away, Six was staring down at Tartalus, who had decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and was still prone on the ground. It had taken Six some seconds to realize what had happened, but he was now icily calm. He tried to suppress the urge to make an end to the man, but it was not an easy task. In the end he bent to turn him over, to look directly into the man’s eyes. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Six was aware of the feeling of having made a mistake, one that he might live to regret. He shook it off. He would hardly ingratiate himself with Diva’s parents by eliminating one of her cousins.

“That is the second time you plotted to kill me by trickery, Tartalus,” he said, shaking his head with disgust. “I advise you not to try it a third time, because you might just not live to boast about it.”

Tartalus continued to stare at Six, eyes beaded and dark with anger. “You should never have come here, unmentionable! You are trying to change our world, but I shall stop you!”

Six glared. “If you are an example of what this world has to offer, then the sooner it gets changed, the better, if you ask me!”

Tartalus looked around wildly. “GUARDS!” he yelled.

Ledin couldn’t allow that. As soon as Tartalus’s company of guards moved, he raised one hand above his head, nodded to their own troop leader, and flung himself at Tartalus’s group.

From there, things deteriorated quite quickly. The two groups were on each other far too fast for even weapons to be drawn, and the fighting was hand-to-hand, and savage.

Half-an-hour later, those of the enemy that could were in retreat, bruised and much the worse for wear, and Bennel was staring around, wide-eyed. Six was bleeding from several cuts and bruises to the face; one of the enemy faction had laid open a slice of Ledin’s cheek, Tallen was dripping blood from a skirmish with a sharp piece of armour plating, and Bennel himself was trying to see out of an eye which had swollen up to alarming proportions.

The other side had fared even worse. Two or three of their men were lying with broken bones, and Tartalus was holding one hand up to his nose, and sobbing with anguish and hurt pride.

Six looked at his handiwork, and was satisfied. “He won’t be quite so pleased with his face from now on,” he said, feeling that the evening had gone quite well. “Wait till I tell Diva!”