The King th-3 Read online

  “But Fuldan is not here,” said Otto.

  “‘I am king, but there is no king,’ had said Fuldan,” said Ulrich. “He avoids the hall. He avoids the folk.”

  “Then there is no king, truly,” said Otto.

  “There is one who was named king,” said Ulrich.

  “If you would have no king, then name Fuldan king again,” said Otto.

  “No,” said Ulrich. “A year king can be a king but for one year only, and now, after the year, the nobles are ready, once more, none willing to yield place to another, to fly at one another’s throats.”

  “This must please the Heruls,” said Otto.

  “They will have it no other way,” said Ulrich.

  “I would have it otherwise,” said Otto.

  “It is a long time since the pelt of a white vi-cat has been in the hall of the Otungs,” said Ulrich.

  “It is here now,” said Otto.

  “The meat will soon be done,” said Ulrich.

  “I am hungry,” said Otto.

  “One does not eat the meat, of course,” said Ulrich.

  “Why not?”

  “Its cost tends to dampen hunger,” said Ulrich. “Its price is high, and paid in blood. One tends to lose one’s appetite.”

  “One should have a stronger appetite,” said Otto.

  “Perhaps,” said Ulrich.

  “There is no drink, no bread,” said Otto.

  “We do not eat nor drink at the feast of the king naming,” said Ulrich.

  “It is a poor feast,” said Otto.

  “It is not a feast,” said Ulrich. “It is the Killing Time.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Julian, codes exchanged, brought the hoverer down in the muddy yard outside the administration building.

  There was, with the change in inertia, as the craft decelerated, a small, soft, startled cry from the object lying on its side in its net behind Julian and to his right.

  ‘’Inform the governor of the arrival of Julian, of the Aurelianii, kin to the emperor!” called Julian.

  “Yes, your excellency!” said a guard.

  Guards, shielding their faces from the spattering mud and water, whirled by the lifters, had hurried to the gunwales of the small craft, even as it had landed.

  Julian cut the motors, and the craft eased into the mud.

  The object in its net, lying behind Julian and to his right, whimpered. It could move but little, its legs drawn up, in the net.

  The trip from the festung of Sim Giadini had been a bitterly cold one, and the small hoverer had been often buffeted with winds. Sometimes it had been impossible to see more than a few feet before the windscreen. They had been forced to land several times. More than once the tiny craft had been dug out of the snow by mittened hands, or, lifters roaring, had torn itself free, in its urgency, even at the cost of precious fuel.

  “The yard is muchly empty,” said Tuvo Ausonius. There were only two vehicles in the yard, both covered with canvas.

  There were few lights in the barracks, at one side of the yard. The slave shed was dark, and no smoke emerged from its two chimneys.

  Too, there were few supplies in view, though these might be housed in the dark warehouses to the north.

  “The stables seem empty,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Hold!” called Julian to the guard, who turned about.

  “Summon, too,” said Julian, “Phidias, captain of the Narcona, and Lysis, officer of supply, with the Narcona!”

  “The shuttle has departed,” called the guard. “Phidias is gone. Lysis, and other officers, and several men, with equipment and trade goods, have gone.”

  “The trade expedition has departed?”

  “Yes, your excellency,” said the guard.

  “It is being led by the blond-haired captain, Ottonius?”

  “The barbarian?”

  “He.”

  “No, it seeks him.”

  “He is not with the expedition?”

  “No, your excellency.”

  “It is imperative,” said Julian, “that I follow them and make contact with the expedition immediately. I will need their route, seven hoverers, fuel for a month, a hundred men, draft animals, two dozen sleds, perimeter defenses, weapons and supplies!”

  “The garrison is muchly gone,” said the guard. “There is little left, even fuel, until the next supply ship.”

  “Go!” said Julian.

  The guard turned about, again, and hurried toward the administration building.

  “Surely all is not lost?” said Tuvo Ausonius to Julian.

  “We shall leave Venitzia within the hour,” said Julian.

  The two men looked down at the object at their feet. It was lying on its side, in its heavy furs, on the metal decking of the hoverer, its legs drawn up. The net was of closely linked chain, a slave security net, though it may be used also for the securing of cargo, that usually done, however, with a rope net. The chain net cannot be chewed through, nor cut with a knife. The slave is inserted into the net, usually sideways, and then the opening is closed and padlocked, with a single lock, a massive one, about one of the deck rings. This makes it impossible for the slave to rise to her feet, to interfere in any way with the operation of the craft, even to extrude a hand from the net. Too, perhaps most importantly, it assures her safety, or, perhaps more realistically, the safety of the master’s cargo, that she, or it, will be kept within the craft should it, say, engage in unusual maneuvers, as in evading predators, giant insects, or insectoidals, on some worlds, winged lizards on others, magnetic air mines, other ships, or such, or encounter turbulence. A strong wind can occasionally invert such light, disklike craft. But even in fine weather such confinements, or others, are often resorted to, as their imposition pleases the masters, and is experienced as informative by the slaves. This is not unusual as that which pleases the masters is often found instructive by the slaves, even extremely so.

  A wisp of Nika’s red hair emerged from within the heavy fur hood.

  She looked up, her eyes wide and frightened, over her shoulder, at Julian.

  “We expect to soon encounter the Lady Publennia,” said Julian, looking down at the confined, lovely slave. “When you see her you are to identify her for us, immediately and clearly.”

  “But she is my mistress, Master!” said the slave.

  “She is an outlaw and traitress, and no longer possesses property,” said Julian. “And you are a slave and we are free men. You will obey us instantly and unquestioningly.”

  “Yes, Master,” moaned the girl.

  “As soon as you see her, thusly, you will identify her for us, immediately and clearly.”

  “I will try, Master,” whispered the girl.

  Julian kicked her, with the side of his foot, through the chain net, with a sound of chain. “And you will succeed,” he said.

  “Yes, Master!” she said.

  “Or die,” said Julian.

  “Yes, Master!” she said.

  “Sir,” said the guard, returning. “The governor inquires as to your rank.”

  “Ensign,” said Julian, angrily.

  “Your requests are to be conveyed through channels,” said the guard, “your excellency.”

  “I am Julian, of the Aurelianii,” said Julian, “kin to the emperor, on a mission of importance and delicacy.”

  “Such a mission is already in progress, and under the imperial seals of secrecy,” said the guard.

  “I would know its route, and consult its maps,” said Julian.

  “The seals are imperial,” said the guard. “The governor suggests you avail yourself of the hospitality of the junior officers’ quarters. He is prepared to see you tomorrow.”

  “I want the hoverer refueled, now,” said Julian.

  “There is no authorization for that,” said the guard.

  “What of sleds, and men?” asked Julian.

  “Resources are limited,” said the guard. “It is our hope that the fence holds, and the expeditio
n soon returns.”

  “What of those vehicles?” asked Julian, indicating the two vehicles under canvas in the yard.

  “They are in need of repair, and are not fueled,” said the guard.

  Julian smote down on the gunwales of the hoverer with his mittened fists.

  “The governor,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “seems unduly rigid, and severe.”

  “No,” said Julian, straightening, angrily. “That is the fury of it! We must admire him! His behavior, under the circumstances, is impeccably correct. He cannot be faulted. His behavior is in strict accord not only with protocol and regulation, but, I fear, good judgment. He is not, upon the petition of any nobleman, short of the emperor or his representative, to break imperial seals. Too, he is acting in accordance with his primary charge, the security of Venitzia. If he would not rush to grant an audience to any junior officer, why should he grant me one, as that is, precisely, my rank. We must admire him for putting duty before an attempt to curry favoritism with a patrician. Would there were more like him!”

  “At this point,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “we could use a sycophant. The last thing we need now is an incorruptible official, an honest man and a good officer.”

  “Sir,” said the guard, “the governor would be honored, unofficially, of course, if you, and your companion, were to have dinner with him this evening.”

  “Thank him,” said Julian, “on behalf of my friend and myself, for the honor would be ours, but inquire if we may not, instead, have snowshoes, and a single sled, a small one, with supplies, such as may be drawn even by a slave.”

  “Yes, your excellency,” said the guard, turning about.

  “Surely you have no intention of leaving tonight?” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “That is my intention,” said Julian.

  “You do not know where to find the expedition, or where, even, to look,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “We must do what we can,” said Julian. He looked down at Nika in the closely linked, stout meshes of her confinement. “I had thought, my dear,” said he to the exquisite slave, “that we might be in time, and that, tonight, we might have spent pleasant hours in a pleasant, cozy tavern, well-appointed and well-stocked, and well-lit with roaring fires, with you and your former mistress.”

  “With us, Master?” asked the girl.

  “Yes, to let you both, a free woman and a woman’s slave, see what true women are like, women in an exquisite, enhanced, refined order of nature.”

  Nika regarded him, wide-eyed and trembling.

  “It would do you both good,” said Julian, “to let you see true women, slaves, in wisps of slave silk, in collars, aroused and begging.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “To let you, too, both of you, a free woman, and one once a mere woman’s slave, feel silk, and metal, upon your own bodies, and firelight, and sense what it would be, what it will be, to be at the command of, and in the power of, men.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “But,” said Julian, “it seems that it is not to be, and that rather it is the winter night of Tangara, and a dangerous, doubtless fruitless, journey, which lies before us.”

  “It is madness, milord, to so enter the night,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “The life of Ottonius is at stake,” said Julian.

  “It is madness nonetheless,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Do not accompany me, friend Ausonius,” said Julian.

  “No, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I would rather share a glorious madness, a noble madness, than linger indefinitely, wormlike, counting days, until the end, in a dusty, terminal sanity.”

  “We may not return,” said Julian.

  “That is true of any journey, milord.”

  Shortly thereafter, a sled and supplies provided, the sled drawn by a small, trudging figure, Julian and Tuvo Ausonius left Venitzia.

  They trekked north by northeast, following speculations afforded earlier by Brother Benjamin, of the festung of Sim Giadini, which speculations, in broad outline, tended to be confirmed by various officers in the garrison.

  On the sled, among other supplies, was, wrapped in silk, and then coarse cloth, a small object, weighing about a pound and a half. It had been given to them by Brother Benjamin, while they were in the festung of Sim Giadini.

  When they were beyond the fence something like a hour’s trek through the frozen, crackling, moonlit snow, Tuvo Ausonius, looking about, said, “We are being followed.”

  “I know,” said Julian.

  What they did not know, nor had Brother Benjamin, nor the garrison officers, was that the location of the territories of the Otungs, little more now than their pastures and fields, had changed several times over the years, due largely to the demands and pressures of Heruls. The trading expedition, under Lysis, supply officer of the Narcona, had had somewhat better information, information obtained by the governor of Venitzia through secret agents, posing as trappers, traders and such. The locations of Herul groupings and those of other barbarians, such as Otungs and Basungs, were, as on many worlds, seldom publicly disclosed, and tended to be known only in a very general way. Even the trade expedition, as we have noted, was counting on obtaining a refinement of information in the wilds themselves, presumably from natives.

  “How are our friends doing?” asked Julian of Tuvo Ausonius, after another hour’s march.

  Tuvo Ausonius looked back. “They are much closer now,” he said.

  “Then they are not simply following us,” said Julian.

  “No,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “What do you think their intention is?” asked Julian.

  “I do not know, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “And they have made no attempt to contact us, either by light, or by shouting, or such.”

  “No, milord.”

  “They are closing in for the kill,” said Julian.

  “What shall we do?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  “We shall accustom them to seeing only two pairs of snow-shoe tracks,” said Julian. “I shall ride on the sled for a time. You draw it, if you would. Nika will walk where I have been walking. Later, in a wood, by clinging to branches, or over rocks, where there is no snow, I will leave the sled and circle about, coming up behind them.”

  “What will you do then?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Kill them,” said Julian.

  CHAPTER 31

  “Draw again the sled, slave girl,” said Tuvo Ausonius, after a time.

  She swiftly crossed before the sled, and, in a moment, with the help of Tuvo Ausonius, was fitted into the harness.

  “Master?” she asked, for the harness was not simply slipped into, as it had been with Tuvo Ausonius, when he had drawn the sled, but it was tightened and buckled on her, even to a ring and band about her throat, through which, by means of a rein running back to the sled, pressure might be exerted upon her. A bridle, too, was put upon her, with its bit, headstall and reins. Her small hands, too, were buckled behind her in the leather cuffs, between the fur sleeves and the fur mittens.

  No more then could she speak for the bit was back, between her teeth, fastened there, she helpless.

  She looked wildly, questioningly, at Tuvo Ausonius, but he paid her no attention.

  The bit would keep her quiet.

  She whimpered.

  Tuvo Ausonius raised his hand angrily, menacingly, and she was instantly, totally silent.

  Things had not been thus with her when she had been a lady’s maid, with little to worry her but her mistress’s hair, clothes and switch, but she was now in the power of men.

  Nika secured, at least to that moment, to that extent, though not at that moment in ankle hobbles, Tuvo Ausonius freed his rifle from the sled. Fifteen minutes earlier, as Tuvo Ausonius had counted, as Julian had prescribed, Julian had stepped from the sled to rocks, between which the sled was conducted. Julian had then, snowshoes on his back, rifle in his mittened hand, left them.

  They waited there
for some five minutes when, suddenly, on the backtrail, perhaps a half mile or more behind them, there were three flashes, sudden and bright, one after the other, brilliant in the cold, pure air. He saw them reflected even from the lowering clouds, and flashed back, a lighter, sudden, momentarily flickering gray, on the snow.

  After a minute or two there were more flashes.

  “There were flankers!” said Tuvo Ausonius, angrily.

  In a moment there was another flash, and then only the stillness of the winter night.

  Tuvo Ausonius, stopping only for a moment, began to parallel the backtrail, hurrying beside it, a few yards from it, rifle in hand.

  In a few minutes he came on a burned body in the snow. He could see flesh inside the blackened, opened fur.

  He turned the body over with the rifle muzzle.

  It was not Julian.

  “Do not fire!” called a voice from the side.

  “Milord!” cried Tuvo Ausonius.

  “There were five,” said Julian.

  “And how many are accounted for, milord?”

  “Five,” said Julian. “One fled, wounded, returning to Venitzia. I followed the blood for a few yards. It was plenteous. I finished him by firing into the snow in which he had sought to hide himself.”

  “There,” said Julian.

  Tuvo Ausonius’ glance followed the muzzle of Julian’s rifle. A body lay there, its lower portions frozen in ice. In the flash of heat from the rifle, the snow had spumed upward, yards into the air, then rained down in droplets and crystals. About the body itself, it and its vicinity momentarily torrid with heat, the snow had melted, forming a small lake in a hollow, which fluid had then, in moments, frozen. The lower body lay then locked in ice, as in a congealing pond, its image distorted. The furs had been muchly burned away, and the skeleton, the upper right quadrant, was partly exposed. Julian had fired from short range with a wide setting on the muzzle. He had not been certain where in the mound of snow the target had been hidden. With that setting, effective only within a few feet, it did not much matter.