Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 16

But Tony only gave a woozy sneer when the houri reappeared, said, "Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely," and collapsed and slept like a dead man.Skathe cursed human fragility roundly and rea.s.sumed her gigantic shape. There were ways to rouse Tony, and other droll experiments besides the amatory sort that he might be encouraged to partic.i.p.ate in as a prelude to the ultimate diversion. But no sooner had the ogress begun to rehea.r.s.e the possibilities than she felt her brain tingle. The fur-covered bed with Tony snoring on it wavered and grew dim, and a vision of Queen Ayfa of the Firvulag took its place.

Skathe, my Great Captain! came the farspoken voice of the Monarch.

"I am here, Your Appalling Highness."

Up to your old vulgar tricks, I see-while princes perish and worlds quake and omens and portents proliferate like hoobies in a mulch pile! Well, you can forget about playing games. Momentous deeds are pending-battles!-and you're going to be there.

"Your obedient va.s.sal, Sovereign of the Heights and Depths."

That's better ... I want you and the Worm to ride h.e.l.l-forleather to Bardelask. With Nodonn dead and the Trickster slightly the worse for wear, we have a perfect opportunity to launch a decisive a.s.sault. The town's well softened by raids and ripe for the kill. We've ordered Mimee of Famorel to march on it-and you and the Worm are to hightail it on down there and act as official observers. Sharn and I want an honest report, not one of the Birdbrain's usual self-serving pieces of bombastic bulls.h.i.+t.

You know these male generals! Stuff their dispatches with endless accounts of glorious derring-do, and stint the casualty reports and unit efficiency ratings and loot inventories. This will be the first field action for the Famorel host in more than fifty years.

They did well enough in the Last Grand Combat with the general staff keeping a close eye on them-but I want to be certain that they're fully committed to the new ways.

"Arms united, minds united!" Skathe interposed smartly, quoting the new Firvulag victory slogan.

Save that b.u.mf for the troops-not that they'll need much encouragement, what with Bardelask's having the biggest brewery in the Many-Coloured Land ...

"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 f.u.c.k."

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. n.o.body'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 k.n.o.bs 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 pla.s.s-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 pus.h.i.+ng at her, and thras.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+vering 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."