A Whiff Of Madness Part 16

The fluffy-furred catman leaned toward the monarch. "Blame it on the media, your highness. They inform me the light's better at midday."

King Waldo wiped his hand across his stubbly cheek. "I know I personally enjoy an execution in the cool of the day. I will have to discuss this with Buzzkirk, my Minister of Public Communications.''

Warden Heartloft coughed. "I do believe Buzzkirk was hanged for high treason last month, your majesty."

"Yes, you're right, so he was, Heartloft Well, I'll find out who the new man is and give him my views." He, sighing, replaced his crown on his head. "You should be thankful you don't have to wear a crown on a scorcher like today."

The warden chuckled. "The perils of kings.h.i.+p, eh?"

The carts had reached the foot of the scaffold. Two uniformed catmen lifted the Scarlet Angel out and set her on the lowest step.

"Up you go, sweet." One of them patted her on the backside.

"Hey, you overfamiliar b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Palma leaped over the side of his cart and hurled himself at the offending guard.

The catman groped for his shockstick.

Palma got an elbow into his stomach before he reached the weapon. "Let's maintain a little dignity for this execution," he said.

The guard fell over on the flagstones, and Palma stepped on his face.

The crowd screamed, hooted, laughed.

"b.l.o.o.d.y murder!"

"Public outrage!"

"Slit the skinhead's gullet!"

"Step on his knackers, Baldy!"

"Bravo!"

The other guard cracked Palma across the back of his neck with his shockstick, causing him to go stumbling toward the steps.

"Palma." The Scarlet Angel caught him and kept him from falling. "'Tis much too late to fight."

It was some seconds before the power of speech returned. "I'm stalling."

"Whatever for?"

"To save our lives, I hope."

The fallen guard had arisen. "Ah, just you wait, me lad," he snarled. "When it comes time to slice you open I'll do a special dance on your innards."

"May you slip and bust your hairy a.s.s." Palma took hold of the red-haired girl's arm and escorted her, wobbling a bit, up to the gallows.

The hangman bowed to the Scarlet Angel. "Good morning, miss. I'm Lizorty, your hangman. I'll attempt to makes things as comfortable as possible for you." He shook his head at Palma, turning his back on him.

"Snubbed by my own hangman. I thought you were above pettiness, Lizorty."

"You nearly ruined my career, nipped it in the bud as it were," said the bulky hangman. "I got a peris.h.i.+ng talking to after your antics yesterday."Clatter! Clatter! b.u.mp!

"In the name of the lord, go easy, you buffoons!"

The guards at the foot of the stairs were attempting to help a plump birdman in clerical garb to ascend He was strapped to a wheelchair.

"Suppose I carry you, Bishop, and my mate hefts the chair," suggested the one Palma had stepped on.

"Imbeciles! Clowns! The chair is attached to me by several life-giving tubes and wires. Would you have the Archbishop of Laranja East perish here in the shadow of the gibbet?"

"Not any shadows at high noon, your grace."

"I was speaking allegorically, you dolt. Hurry, hurry now. I have to administer the last rites to this pair of vipers."

"We'll surely try, your grace."

"Who's that?" The hangman stuck a thumb under the lip of his black hood. "I still can't see too well out of this d.a.m.n thing."

"Appears to be a birdman dressed up like a bishop," said Palma, grinning.

"Oh, that must be Archbishop O'Malley J. O'Malley. A fine G.o.d-fearing man, though a bit crusty since his speedboat accident. He'll do you a splendid last rites," said Lizorty. "Be careful, though, should you decide to repent at the last moment and kiss his ring. There's a sharp edge on it and you're likely to slice your-"

"There, there, that's more like it." With considerable further clatter and b.u.mping the archbishop was placed on the platform between the Scarlet Angel and Palma. "You may kiss my ring if you like, you churls," he said, holding out a feathery hand to the guards.

"Meaning no offense, your grace, but-"

"Never mind, then. Clear the deck and let's get rolling." He rubbed his hands together, his golden ring flas.h.i.+ng in the sunlight. "Oh, Lord, I ask you to grant-"

"Hsst. Hsst."

The Archbishop's head darted from left to right several times. "What's that?"

It was Hutchison, the producer-director, peering up over the back of the platform. "Hold that ladder steady, cookie," he told someone down below. "Can you hold off on your blessing for about five minutes?"

"Lad, I've a wake and two heresy trials to attend before sundown. I can't ..."

"Turns out there's some girl from the King Waldo Civic Clubs who's got a bouquet to present to him. See her down there by the viewing-stand?"

The Archbishop leaned over and gave his miter a poke. "Ah, yes, a comely la.s.s."

A dark-haired girl, wearing black-tinted gla.s.ses and a pure white dressing, was climbing the steps toward the king. A huge bunch of yellow flowers was clutched in her hands.

Close to the birdman Palma said, "Your grace, I'm struck by the uncanny resemblance between you and certain members of the Starbuck clan. Would you be related?"

"Don't blow my disguise yet," whispered Mulligan Starbuck. "Watch this next bit of business.

Should it not work, we'll have a tough time indeed."

As the girl presented the flowers to the smiling King Waldo a cloud of greenish mist suddenly sprayed out of the bouquet and into his face.

Mulligan wheeled to the edge of the platform and grabbed a public-address mike. "Citizens of Laranja East, you are about to learn the real ident.i.ty of the Phantom of the Fog," he said. "Yes, the Phantom is, despite all his protests to the contrary, your own King Waldo."

"What?"

"Impossible!"

"Told you so!"

"What'd he say?"

The spray was having its effect on the king. He tossed away his crown, made growling noises, hunched down. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the warden's slouch hat and pulled it down tight on his head. Ripping alarge piece of bunting down, he flung it over his shoulders to make a cape. "Old ladies," he roared. "Boy, do I hate 'em! Old ladies, what do they know? Tell you when to brush your teeth, when to go to bed.

Ugh, I hate 'em!" His hands formed clutching claws and, with a growl, he ran down the steps, knocked aside the bouquet girl, and threw himself at the crowd. There's one! There's an old biddy. Ugh! Let me get my mitts on her! Let me strangle her!"

The girl stood up and pulled off the black wig she was wearing. She climbed to the viewing-stand to take hold of a microphone. "My people, I am Princess Joline," she announced.

"Oh!"

"Ah!"

"Thought so!"

"Pretty, ain't she?"

"I am sorry, sorrier than any of you, that I had to do what I did. There was, however, no other way. The people who stand on yonder gallows are innocent. In order to save them I was forced to reveal my father's awful secret."

"Grr! Grr! Let me at that old dame!" Ten or more citizens were sitting on or holding parts of the crazed monarch.

"I say to you now," said Joline, "that the reign of injustice is over. I am the rightful heiress to the throne, as you well know. I, therefore, proclaim myself queen of this territory. Should any man oppose me, let him speak out." She turned to the dozen on the stand.

They s.h.i.+fted in their chairs, coughed, but said nothing.

"Long live the queen!" shouted a lone voice in the crowd.

That's Jack Summer," said Palma.

"Long live the queen!"

"Long live the queen!"

Soon the entire throng was chanting it The hangman took off his hood. "Well, there's another botch"

Palma led the Scarlet Angel to the edge of the scaffold They both sat down, feet swinging.

"We're innocent," he told her.

"I don't feel so very innocent."

"You can't argue with the queen."

"No, I suppose not." She put her arms around him.

CHAPTER 24.

Palma came into their s.p.a.celiner cabin with bright flecks of confetti dotting his head. "You're missing a considerable frolic," he said, unwinding a yellow streamer from around his ear.

Summer was sitting at a wheeled talkwriter, the mike swinging in his hand. "I want to finish up this Phantom piece."

"Captain's birthday party it is." The photographer ambled to a worktable which had several sheets of photographic proofs spread out on it. "You should have seen the first mate dancing on the bar."

"Gifted, is he?"

"A lady, the first mate is a young lady. You have never witnessed such yonkers, Jack. Shaped exactly like ... you know, those melons you always get for breakfast on Murdstone."

"I usually have juice and cereal."

Palma rested both hands on the table edge, studying the pictures he'd taken on Peregrine.

"You're in one of your glum moods again," he observed. "After every a.s.signment you become very dour.

I'm going to miss those knockers..." He held up some tiny contact shots of the Scarlet Angel, "You know, Queen Joline doesn't have a bad set of hangers herself. These pix of the coronation bring that out Not very many coronations I've covered here and there across this old universe of ours have involved agirl with such exemplary equipment Although once on-"

"Why don't you go back up and dance on the bar?"

Palma said, "I can't actually, Jack." He started brus.h.i.+ng the bits of colored paper off himself. "The captain suggested I withdraw from the celebration. There's some nitwit s.p.a.ce-naval regulation about fondling a s.h.i.+p's officer. I didn't think it applied to girl first mates, but he insisted and since it's his birthday and since our cabin is a shade more comfortable than the brig ... "

Summer hung up the mike, clicked off the talkwriter, and pushed it aside, "OK, tell me about the first mate's bosom."

Tapping the camera hanging around his neck, Palma said, "Show you the pictures later." He looked again at the sheets of pictures. This puts you one up on me, I've never slept with a real queen."

"She was only a princess at the time."

"Oh, so? You mean after she took the throne you never ... you spent a lot of time with her at the palace."

"Joline wanted me to stay in Laranja East."

"Hey, you mean as king?"

"Nope, as her speech writer," replied Summer. "She feels a monarch should be clear and incisive."

"I suppose it's indicative of the differences in our character that you fall in with a princess and I with a highwayperson."