she had the farthest to go.
As soon as she passed beyond the firelight, Differel looked at Sunny and nodded. She returned it and nocked another arrow. She fired again in a different direction and Differel ducked around the corner of the break. At the same moment, however, the Leng Man on the opposite side of the fire glanced in her direction, and she threw herself face-down behind a line of tall weeds along the inner side of the wall. The Lengite frowned and looked past his fellows, as if trying to get a better look at something he glimpsed for a moment. Differel lay still and held her breath. Her blood-red great coat, forest-green trousers, and mud-brown boots and gloves were dark enough to blend with the shadows, and she turned her face towards the ground to hide her medium-tan skin, but her long smoke-gray hair might be visible if the light was right. After a few moments, however, the Leng Man turned his attention back to his companions and took a drink from his bottle.
Exhaling a quiet sigh, Differel crawled along the edge of the wall until she reached the side of Victor's building. Standing, she flattened her back to the structure and looked out into the courtyard. The Leng Men were still preoccupied with their reverie. Gazing across the open area, she saw Eile wave at her from behind the tower. She was in position.
Differel signaled her acknowledgement, then turned away from the corner and moved towards the back of the building. The space behind it lay in shadow almost to pitch blackness, except for a light that spilled out a hole onto the curtain wall. A man-shaped shadow played over the stone blocks, flickering with the campfire.
She groped through the darkness, feeling her way with her free hand on the building. When she reached where the light came from, she found an opening big enough to step through. The room beyond consisted of a single large space with four pillars down the center. Three yaks were tethered to one side, and their packs stacked nearby against the far wall. Almost directly across from her she saw Victor silhouetted against the firelight.
Holstering the pistol, she crawled through the hole and deftly sprinted across the room to stand on the left side of the threshold. Victor stood taller than her by a head, with a strong svelte body. That handsome, angular face, with its chiseled, rugged features of a cinema star and wavy collar-length walnut brown hair, could make her swoon like a schoolgirl, though his goatee gave him a diabolical caste.
He stiffened, as if hearing something, and his head twitched as he made ready to turn it.
"Don't look," she whispered.
He relaxed and a faint smile crossed his lips. "I figured you'd come," he murmured. "Did they contact you or Karchedon?"
"Me. As luck would have it, I had just arrived at my mansion in Celephaïs when I received the ransom demand. But I never had any intention of paying."
"That goes without saying, My Love. Is Team Girl with you?"
"Naturally."
"I expected you sooner."
"Bloody cheek. I stalled the negotiations as long as I could, but I wasn't able to discover where they were holding you, so I arranged to make the exchange here at noon tomorrow, and I insisted they bring you along. I refused to cooperate unless I could see you were alive and well."
"I appreciate that. You do realize this is a trap."
"Of course. I'm well aware of the various rewards the Moonbeasts and others have offered for my head. I calculated they would arrive ahead of us to set up their ambush, so we got here early."
"Well, better late than never, I suppose."
"You're one to talk. I'm still trying to figure out how you got yourself into this mess."
"I'd be more than happy to enlighten you later."
"We have some time. I want to wait for them to get good and plastered. Besides, the Punicae authorities were less than forthcoming."
"Very well. Queen Elishat had sent me on a mission to Lelag-Leng."
Victor had been a British diplomat in the Waking World before he died, and he continued that profession in the Dreamlands, only now he worked for the city-state of Karchedon, which ruled the island-nation of Punica.
"She commanded me to keep a low profile, so as not to raise suspicion. I decided to travel as a trader, and I had hired these four 'gentlemen' to be my escort. One of them must've recognized me, or they were tipped off. Either way, they kidnapped me as soon as we arrived in the Northern Lands. The rest you know."
"Why didn't you wait until my next Dream cycle?"
"I couldn't; the mission was time sensitive, and frankly you're too recognizable." He then shrugged. "Besides, this isn't the first time I've done something like this. Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate being rescued."
"Hmph. A damsel you're not."
"I couldn't agree more, though I find the parallels amusing, and I'd be more than happy to offer the usual reward. But, seriously, could we table this discussion for another time? I really would like to be set free sooner than later."
"Patience." She examined his bonds. His wrists were secured by ropes looped around the lintel through gaps between the masonry. She could see no slack, but the cords ran along the underside of his palms and wrists.
A half-smile tugged at her mouth. "I have an idea."
"A successful one, I hope."
"It will be tricky. I'll need you to stay perfectly still."
"I believe I can manage that."
She grinned at his sarcastic tone. He didn't like taking a passive role.
"I'll be right back." She patted him on the rump as she retreated into the middle of the room. She turned and positioned herself until his body blocked her view of the fire, then started forward in a slow and careful manner. She intended to hide herself from the Leng Men as she came up behind him.
The distance between them shrank with interminable slowness, but finally she came close enough to embrace him. "I've arrived. Don't move." He didn't reply, but she didn't expect him to.
She drew her poignard dagger from her belt and crossed her arms over her chest. She opened them across her face and held them on either side of her head. After a moment she raised and spread them until they matched the position and placement of his arms, as near as she could with their height difference.
"Hold the ropes with your hands." He grasped them as if using them for support.
"All right, this is the tricky part. I'm going to try to slip my dagger blade between your wrists and the ropes, then cut the latter, but don't let go."
He gave his head a twitching nod to indicate he understood.
She strained on tiptoes, steadying herself by gripping his other arm, as she stretched to reach his right wrist. She tried poking with the tip of the dagger to slip the long, thin, razor-sharp blade between his wrist and the rope.
"Ouch!" he hissed in a whisper.
She froze as one of the Leng Men looked in their direction, but he only grinned with evil mirth at their captive's apparent discomfort and turned his attention back to his companions.
"That was close," he murmured.
"Hopefully he was too drunk to notice anything. Relax your wrist."
A gap opened up between the rope and his arm, and she inserted the blade through.
"Now, pull the rope taught." He did so, and she started sawing.
"It's working."
"I know, I can feel the strands part."
She sliced through the cord in seconds. "Keep holding the rope. It will look like you're still secure."
"Figured that out the first time."
"Bloody cheek." She lowered her arms and transferred the dagger to her left hand. "I have half a mind to leave you like this while I kill them myself."
She turned her head as she raised her arms, and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Whipping around, she spotted a dark shape fly at her; firelight flickered off the polished blade of a shamshir scimitar. Following through with her turn, she parried the blow with the dagger and lashed out with a jujitsu kick, knocking her attacker back.
"What's happening?" Victor asked.
Coming in April.
From "Dribb
le & Maggot in the Land of Dreams"
Sir Differel Van Helsing strolled into the recovery room of the infirmary in her manor. Lady Margaret was awake, and she tried to make herself comfortable in the hospital-style bed. She pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
"How do you feel?"
She rubbed her stomach. "Like I was put through a wringer. Just what the hell did that crackbrain do to me!?"
The 'crackbrain' was Dr. Mabuse, the Caerleon Order's resident mad scientist. "She's developed a whole technology based on the Schrodinger wave function. You remember what that is?"
"Barely."
"Never mind. In essence, she used a device that sped up your pregnancy, so you came to term in a few hours instead of nine months."
"And that was better than an abortion how?"
"The baby is alive, and will be adopted by a loving childless couple, anonymously. While you avoided the embarrassment, inconvenience, discomfort, and maternal bonding. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but I didn't expect it to hurt so bloody much!"
She smirked. "Think of it as payback, for being a selfish slag."
Margaret scowled. "You're all heart, Dribble."
She returned a grin. "What are frenemies for, Maggot?"
"So what happens now?"
"Mabuse says you should rest for a day, but I have a better idea. How would you like a fifteen week vacation? On me?"
She made a sour face. "The way I feel, I'd rather sleep for that long."
Differel chuckled. "Funny you should say that."
Margaret flashed a puzzled look. "Besides, I don't have the time."
She stood up. "Neither do I. Meet me in my bedroom after supper. We