37
A series of vignettes beginning with ruined Longshore:
Nalderick stomped away from Val and Filimar, too heartsore and cross to thank them… or anyone else… for tracking him down. He was alive, had plenty of mice left for Kia, and a gutted town on his conscience. Was theoretically elvish again, but not at all happy.
Derrick would have slunk off, but then a squadron of pudgy brass dragons appeared in the smoky red sky overhead, jetting confetti and tickets. A trumpet fanfare rang out, followed by Magister Serrio’s deeply irritating theme song. Yeah. He got it: ‘Line right up and raise a cheer, the carnival is finally here! Marvels shown and joy increased! Step right up, two bits apiece! Serrio, Serriooooo!’
An ivory-colored ticket folded into the shape of a swan glided down to land on Nalderick’s right shoulder. It popped flat again upon striking the prince.
‘Special discount for victims of godly justice,’ was printed in glowing letters, directly under his name and title. Derrick cursed, stuffing another dead mouse in his tunic for Kia to tear into shreds.
Meanwhile, a swirling cavalcade of bright wagons popped through a sudden gate in the sky, from someplace still in the grip of full night. They banked and circled above the smoldering town, scattering sweets, cheap jewelry and stupid toys. No less than seven gold-plated necklaces dropped over Nalderick’s scruffy head, along with a tinsel crown (which wasn’t funny at all).
His mother turned up just as those soaring wagons descended to land with a chorus of thumps on the hard-frozen tarn. Reality bent like a fish-globe afterward, penning them all within. Safe… or just imprisoned again.
Autumn Princess Marika-Li ignored all the chaos, music and fuss to stand before Derrick, who tore off that gaudy tin crown and cast it away. Then he bowed, not quite making eye contact.
“Good morning, Your Serenity,” he greeted Marika, straightening once more.
Slender, dark-haired and lovely, with almond-shaped eyes full of unshed tears, his mother reached up to caress Derrick’s stubbly face.
“You are healed of body,” she murmured, “but I sense much trouble within you. Jewel of the Realm, why do you cling to this unseemly guise?”
Nalderick took his mother’s slim hand and squeezed it. Still wouldn’t meet her anxious gaze, though.
“I… it’s just… the gods held up a mirror, and I don’t much like who I saw there,” he tried to explain. “Killing that dragon should have made everything right again, but… somehow, it hasn’t.”
Marika shook her head, unveiled and radiant.
“Your heaven has made its ridiculous point,” she replied. “Heavy-handed as always. Such failures of justice are why Okuni dispensed with its gods and put the Blessed A’Kann in their place. He is quite stable by comparison.”
(Also, completely out of reach. For Derrick, at least.)
“Good for Okuni,” he mumbled rebelliously, wondering how to get started deposing the gods.
His father was next to show up, picking his way through the broken stones and charred timbers of Longshore, mumbling “excuse me”, to sprawled, sheeted corpses and even a big, shaggy dog. A magical, leather-bound tome floated along at Korvin’s right shoulder, flanked by assorted pens.
The scholarly prince looked the same as ever, Derrick noted; rumpled, vague and stained with freshly-ground ink.
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“Genevera ought to be stirring soon,” he told them, dispensing with greetings. “And that tonic is making short work of the draconic blight. White dragon, was it? Lamed and undead, at that? Quite an unusual specimen, in any case. Did you happen to notice its horn-length and scale-pattern, Nalderick?”
Korvin’s enchanted book flipped open to a blank page, while a selection of pens came to hover beside his thin hand.
Marika made a small, frustrated sound and moved slightly away as Korvin came over to stand… not beside her, exactly. Closer to Derrick. Right, so… just like that, Nalderick realized that something momentous had happened, surpassing the death of an overgrown reptile. Looking from mother to father and back again, he blurted,
“You’re not… together anymore, are you?”
It got worse. Nalderick felt his empty stomach lurch when Princess Marika’s gaze drifted to land on Alexion, who was talking to Magister Serrio atop the burnt warehouse. She just about glowed, and…
Oh.
Oh, drek, no. Impossible! Wasn’t it?
“Your pardon,” Nalderick growled between tightly clenched teeth. “I’m about to get very drunk now or maybe throw up.”
He escaped-spelled then, leaving his startled parents alone by the wreck of a shattered wood pier. They looked at each other, then away, deeply uncomfortable.
“Well… that could have gone better,” mused Korvin. “But I can get the wyrm’s description later… once Nalderick sobers up and accepts the change. It was never much of a marriage, anyhow.”
“Through no fault of mine, Prince,” said Marika, icily. Then, when Panya slid down a heap of rubble with Honey and Skipper, “I wish you much peace and happiness in your choice. She is beneath you, but the heart goes where it will.”
Korvin stiffened. His former wife hadn’t troubled to lower her voice. Why would she, for a mere sea-elf commoner? Angry for Panya’s sake, he snapped,
“Leave the girl out of this. It was nobody’s fault but the Grand Council’s that you and I were forced into marrying, Serenity. And Alexion’s. Heroes act first and think not at all, in my experience, leaving the ashes and shards to everyone else.”
Marika spun round to glare at him.
“Your emperor… my betrothed… is beyond the ken of a grubby clerk. For the sake of our children, I would have peace between us, Prince. We shall speak no more of the past.”
Korvin nodded, quite willing to shove away two awkward and fumbling nights with his brother’s grieving intended.
“So be it,” he replied, setting his face like stone
Prince Korvin’s book snapped shut with a bang as he turned to clear up his share of Alexion’s mess.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Around the same time, aboard Flying Cloud:
Questioned later, Kaazin could always claim that the gods had put him up to it. Here and now, though, he’d driven off the cyborg ‘captain’, leaving just himself and a hoard of ghosts to defend their vessel from five incandescently angry assassins.
Four, rather, as one of the captives dumped on the airship by Pilot was only a terrified, quivering tiefling boy. The rest were a fox-headed woman, a massive grey shark-man, a scaley green warrior wench with twin, blazing swords, and a vaporous, part-djinni mage.
Kaazin stepped forward, taking a very deep breath.
“I accept your surrender,” announced the tall drow, readying spells and unsheathing his icy black sword.
The fox-woman chuckled, signaling her team to surround him. A fan of nine glowing tails spread out like a peacock’s, behind her.
“Oh, sweetling,” she crooned softly, “you have no idea how badly you’ve just drekked up.”
XXXXXXXXXXXX
OS1012, in synchronous orbit with Glimmr:
He came to himself quite suddenly, prodded awake by Vee. Not in his battle-mech or an incubation tube, either. In… bed? Having… slept?
V47 Pilot sat up on a narrow cot, causing the overhead lights to brighten by 15%. His location sense put him squarely in the Gold Flight housing area, bang in his never-used quarters. Never used before, anyhow.
A silky grey cover slipped off of his upraised knees to puddle on the bed as Pilot scanned his… quite luxurious… surroundings. Two whole rooms and a personal-relief station, with a food service panel, climate control and wall-sized view screen. The bedroom floor was carpeted in black and gold fibrous cloth, patterned in tiny red griffins. The walls were currently set to drab grey, but the pulldown menu offered a selection of prints or planetary views… and no way out. No exterior hatches at all. Maybe worse, his holographic ID badge now sported a vivid red crossbar.
‘Pilot,’ observed V47. ‘You have regained consciousness after materialization. I have scanned the public database and newsfeeds in the .05 tick that it took you to rise. There is much to impart.’
Pilot nodded, reestablishing linkage with his AI and Flight Command. Next, pushing dreams of pirates, gods and assassins firmly away, he said,
“This has a ‘confined to quarters’ feel to it, Vee, so I’ll take the bad news, first. What did we do to get locked up, this time?”
