Chapter 35 Sanre-tay Day 28 - Deja Vu with Blades
01
I was shaken painfully awake. Again.
I felt a cool hand on my bare shoulder and a sibilant whispered, 'I believe it's my husband,' warm against my cheek
I tried, and failed, to made sense of that. I had to be alive – I hurt all over – but for a reason that escaped me, that seemed unlikely.
I pried an eye half open... and when it came in focus, I noted a high and ornate ceiling with a border of gilded plaster work. I shifted my gaze downwards – a large room sketched in soft grey light from tall windows behind thin, elaborate curtains on my left.
The cool hand shook me again, 'Do something, my dear. You need to go.'
Right. I tried opening my other eye.
Turning my head, I saw her, the spaceer reflected in the clearsteel doors – my assassin – resting her head on one elbow next to me looking down at me. She wore a cool, amused smile, her dark grey and icy eyes bright with anticipation, her loose black hair falling over her bare shoulder to the pillow in soft waves.
There was a commotion, a pounding and scraping, and muffled voices from the dim corner of the room, across the covers of a wide bed. Beyond the carved foot-board of the bed I made out a painted white door in the corner and along the wall, a gilded edged mirror over a white dresser. And in the mirror, dimly seen, the reflection of a large bed with a high, elaborately carved headboard with two people on it under covers. One of them me. Everything was white, silver, pale gold and soft grey-green shadows.
She slowly drew her leg off of mine and half rising said in a loud urgent whisper, her sarcastic smile taunting me. 'It's my husband. Do something. You need to go. If he finds us like this...'
The door was flung open banging against the doorstop. We both looked up to see a hulking man burst in with others in tow. She sat bold upright in bed with a wailing shriek, clutching the coverings, dragging them half off of me, revealing her slim naked back and long raven hair in disarray.
'Nadine! Oh, Nadine, my dear, what have you done?' exclaimed the hulking man in a heavy accent as he bounded forward, leaving the rest of the people peering from the far corner.
'Max! Oh Max!' my assassin exclaimed in alarm.
I closed my eyes hoping to escape this Gothic nightmare, unable to think clearly or even think at all.
'I would not believe! I could not believe! My wife has betrayed me! My life's partner, my wife! Alas, I was mistaken! You have made yourself a whore, a whore! My wife a whore... My honor, oh my honor!' His accent and word choices made him hard to follow and sounding like something out of an ancient operetta. Such a strange nightmare.
'Oh, Max! Max my dearest! I am so sorry! Please forgive me! Please, my love! This was the last time I swear! He, he insisted! He threatened to expose this foolish affair. To bring shame on you and me if I did not agree to sleep with him one last time. I'm so sorry, so very sorry. He said he was going away and may not come back and I thought it best to let him have his way, and he would be gone and I would be free...' she earnestly pleaded in the same dissenting accent using the same comic-opera phrasing.
A strange and badly scripted nightmare.
I was roughly pulled upright by hard vice-like hands on my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see the red, vicious face of Max glaring at me. 'You beast!' he shouted shaking me.
I recognized him now – the hulking spaceer who'd pushed me aside at the space boat field.
'You black hearted scoundrel! You have made a whore of my dearest wife! You have ruined my life!' he roared and rearing back, released a hand from my shoulder and struck me in the face with an open hand, sending my head reeling to one side.
As the stars cleared I knew I wasn't dreaming or in some immersive-vid.
'You will die today, before the sun is over the rim!' he bellowed. 'I demand satisfaction. You have ruined my wife and my life!' And turning to almost a dozen people who had been drifting into the room, he bellowed. 'Send for an Honor Judge. This sordid affair must be settled now!'
There were two fully dressed men watching from the corner of the room, one dressed in black and bearded, the other young and in a blue uniform. The bearded man turned and nodded, sending the uniformed one slipping through the gathering throng and out the door.
The dim shape of what was happening began to dawn, though it was far outside any previous experiences. I asked myself, What would Captain Miccall or the Four Shipmates – or Brilliant Pax do? Well, none of them would lay about being rough handed and slapped to start.
With my head still ringing, I brushed his hand off my shoulder and finding my voice, demanded, 'What's the meaning of this farce? Who are you? What in the Neb are you? And what are all of you doing in here?' This last at the gathered mob, all but one still in pajamas, robes and slippers. 'Get out!'
They just stared back at me, unmoved.
The assassin, Nadine was sobbing quite convincingly now, 'Oh, please, Max. Let this affair rest. Let him go. This is between the two of us.
'Never!' growled Max. He shall pay with his life for stealing your honor and my self-respect.'
'Everyone go! Please everyone go!' Nadine sobbed.
A few of the onlookers shuffled back a step, but others from the hallway used the opportunity to slip in to get a better view. This was theater and no one seemed willing to miss it.
I'd no idea who or what was an Honor Judge, but the next scene seemed to depend on him, so I took the opportunity to get my bearings.
The room was furnished, from the frames of the paintings on the wall to the dresser and occasional chairs in an over-ornate style – white, gilded and carved. The grey light in the room came from tall windows behind thin curtains. It was a bedroom, probably a hotel room for the spectators seemed neither family or servants. The fellow in uniform who left to bring the Honor Judge was likely a clerk and the gent with the beard, perhaps the hotel's manager. From the way Max talked, his heavy accents and awkward phrases, and the way Max and the manager were dressed – in antique fabrics and styles, this had to be a dissenting throw-back society, modeled after an ancient Earth or early Earth settled planet's culture. There were thousands of them scattered across the Nebula's moons.
So how did I get here, naked, and in bed with an assassin? I recalled boarding the bumboat, the blue of the stun-level plasma dart, and the awakening in the dark for a brief, painful interrogation, and the blue flash again. I recalled the scent of pines and the chill and how the box seemed to move, so it was probably some sort of mock-ancient vehicle. But into this room? I glanced back at the windows, or more likely glass doors leading to a balcony. In Lontria's low gravity, it would've been easy to hoist me up to the balcony in the darkness of night. Nadine may have hauled me up herself after checking in, but more likely Max slipped in and helped arrange this dramatic tableau.
I realized sitting naked in bed with an angry, brutal looking husband pacing and occasionally raging at me and my supposed lover, was not the strategic position I needed to shape the coming events. My clothes were the first order of business. Looking about, I found them, and hers, artfully scattered around a chair in the shadows beyond the window – a carefully choreographed still life of passion. I threw off the bed covers, stood, and brushing past the still blustering Max, made for the chair to get dressed. The assembled crowd gasped in shock, nudity must be a local taboo. Not that I cared, they'd no business being here.
'Get out, you gaping idiots!' I yelled. 'This is a private room, not a Neb-blasted theater! Get the Neb out, all of you! What manner of people are you? Have you no sense of shame?' I added, standing naked and pointing to the door. Whether it was my words or that I seemed to have no sense of shame that drove them out into the hallway, save the bushy faced manager, I couldn't say and didn't care. They went no further than the hall outside, however.
I quickly picked out and donned my clothes from the collection by the chair – women in this society seemed to wear an awful lot of things – and wr
apped my com link around my wrist. I turned to Nadine and Max who had stopped their squabbling to watch me. 'I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing it. Good day.'
'Where are you going?' growled Max. 'Stop him.' This to the hotel manager. 'The yellow coward will not escape his fate!'
'I'm returning to my ship, and you'll not stop me... I've had my fill of this farce.' Max was built on a scale that he probably could stop me, but I was angry enough now that I was ready to see him try.
'Not until honor is satisfied, you spineless coward. No, Herr Captain, you're not returning to your ship standing up. I intend to put a cold lead bullet through that black heart of yours. You've been challenged to a duel and in New Prusza you can't run from it, no matter how big a coward you are!'
'No, Max. Please don't kill him! Please Max... I share the blame!' exclaimed my Nadine. How she could say that without laughing, I didn't know.
Fortunately, there was a disturbance in the hall to put an end to that act – the arrival of the Honor Judge and his assistant. I used those few moments to consult the information that had been automatically transmitted to my com link when it had crossed into this community from the outside. I learned, via the neural link of my com link, that I was in Prusza, a large, multi-crater throw-back society. Its laws and customs were available to me from the com link as if I had memorized them myself.
A quick check told me that it was, indeed, legal to kill a person in a duel in Prusza. And in the case of adultery, it was legal to demand immediate satisfaction. And further, in this type of affair I could not decline the challenge. If I refused to fight, the authorities would be called and I'd be tied to a ring in the ground and shot by Max. Cuckolding Prusza's husbands is frowned on. Nadine had indeed found a legal way to kill me and from their accents and clothing, they may actually be part of this community so no suspicion would fall on them. The sinister beauty of all this was that the squalid nature of the affair and the legality of my death would likely insure that it would be quickly covered up, least said the better. I glanced at Nadine. She'd been watching me with her cool grey eyes in my brown study and had seen the light of understanding dawn on my face. I caught just a flicker of a smile when she saw me realize what she'd done.
Would it draw Min out of hiding? I didn't know. Cold comfort.
In the meantime, Max had been talking to the Honor Judge, demanding immediate satisfaction, to which the Honor Judge readily agreed under the circumstances, adding that the dueling park was available, he'd just returned from an earlier affair settled at first light.
'Send around to the armorer,' Max growled. 'Dueling pistols. We shall settle this like men. He'll not sleep with another man's wife again.'
The Honor Judge nodded and turned to his assistant to give the order for the weapons.
'Wait, sir.' I called out. 'Since I'm the one who's been challenged, I believe the choice of weapons is mine.'
He turned back, gave me a bland look, and nodded. 'That is correct, sir.'
Having no experience with darters, much less throw-back pistols, a duel with them would amount to no more than a simple execution. He'd have to work harder than that...
'Since dueling swords and daggers are an acceptable choice of weapons for this type of an affair, I'll defend my honor with them,' I said without a glancing back at Max to see his reaction. I hadn't been sparring with Barlan these past fifteen years in Mycolmtre's two blade style fencing to have any doubt that a sword and a dagger offered my best chance of escaping Nadine's trap alive.
'Honor! Ha! Blades will allow me to savor my revenge a little longer,' sneered Max, brightly enough.
The Honor Judge inclined his head gravely. 'As you wish, sir.' Turning to his assistant, 'Dueling swords and daggers to the Castle grounds.' And back to us, with a quick sidelong glance towards Nadine, still clutching the bed clothes to cover her nakedness, 'If you will follow me, we can proceed to the grounds and prepare the field.'
I glanced back as I followed him out. If my choice of weapons alarmed her, she didn't show it at all. She flavored me with a brief bright, triumphant smile and a mocking goodbye kiss.
'Do both of you have gentlemen to act as seconds?' the Honor Judge added as we reached the hallway, the spectators opening a lane for us while he discretely closed the door behind us.
'My driver will act as mine,' said Max.
'No, but one's not necessary,' I said.
'Excuse me, sir. If you will allow me, I'm willing to act as your second. My name is Doctor Hans Wissen. I am staying here on holiday.'
Doctor Wissen was a spare, trim gentleman with a grey pointed beard in a grey tweed walking suit standing on the fringe of the curious crowd which filled the hallway. I gave him a hard look. Already dressed – another of the gang?
'Wil Litang, Captain of the Lost Star,' I said with a brief nod of greeting. 'May I ask why; given the creature I'm portrayed to be?'
He shrugged carelessly. 'A second is necessary. One will be chosen from the crowd, should it come to that. And since you are a stranger, it is a simple act of courtesy,' he said with apparent sincerity. 'Your character, or lack of it, will be decided on the field of honor. Until,' here he shrugged again, 'you need a second.'
He struck me as sincere. And it didn't seem to matter, in any event, so I nodded. 'That being the case, Doctor, thank you.'
He nodded, and turning to the Honor Judge said. 'I must fetch my bag. No need to wait. I shall catch up.'
I sighed and glanced at the Honor Judge, who'd been standing behind me, no doubt making sure I'd not bolt. He nodded, and we proceeded down the hall to the stairs that lead to a dark wood paneled lobby, while the spectators rushed to their rooms to throw on some clothes so as not to miss the final act.
It was very cool and damp in the predawn twilight – the dome here must have been designed to reflect more radiation to produce a cooler than normal climate for Lontria. The morning shower must have just dissipated for the air smelled of earthy wet stones and tangy pines. The street was narrow, puddled, paved in glistening cobbled stones and lined with grey stone and red brick buildings built in some ancient Earth pattern.
Our small party, Max and his driver, the Honor Judge, myself, and several hastily dressed men from the hotel, strode swiftly in long, low gravity strides through the empty streets, the rhythmic clattering of our footfalls loud in the silence. With time to think, I glanced at my com link to determine how much time had elapsed – nearly seven hours since I boarded the bumboat, half a moon away. The Lost Star should just be finishing fueling and I should've been back aboard hours ago. Blast and damn. I tried calling the ship, but could not connect. Prusza's dome was likely blocking the signals – these throwback communities often did that to keep technology at some mythical ideal level.
I'll confess that in my early years of learning two bladed fencing I'd romantic dreams of some day needing it. I'd grown out of that. Now, in the span of two months, ever since I'd crossed orbits with Tallith Min, I've had to call to use those skills twice in life or death situations. The imagined romance I found notable only in its absence. I walked in a mix of anxiousness (fear), eagerness, and anger with a churning gut. It struck me once again, I needed to be careful what I wished for.
Doc Hans, half out of breath, pulled up alongside as we entered through a stone gateway, a dark wooded park in the brooding shadows of a tall, grim stone building, presumable, the castle.
'Do you know your opponent?' he asked.
I shook my head No. 'It's a comic-opera sham,' I said bitterly. 'You'd not believe my story. It's operatic as well. Doesn't matter.'
'Oh, I'm rather curious, Captain. I'm fond of live drama, and I found the performance rather unconvincing, too operatic, as you say, to be authentic. But, I'm not a native, which might explain it. My wife is Pruszian, so we split our time between Prusza and the Met.'
I gave him an appraising look. Talking would keep my mind occupied, so I said, 'As you wish...' And very briefly outlined the story from th
e Yacht Club to date.
'...So you see, they think they've found a way to kill me legally and in a manner that will likely be hushed up and forgotten.'
'Can you handle a sword at all?' he asked, with some concern.
'Better than a pistol,' I said with a grim laugh. 'I've fenced as exercise under a master, so I know how, in theory. This, of course is far different.'
'Not as much as you might think. You'll find your skills will not desert you. The gleaming edge of blade focuses your mind quite remarkably.'
'Personal experience?'
'Oh, no. I've attended only occasionally as a physician in attendance when asked. But I've seen indifferent swordsmen perform remarkable feats. Very few die, by the way. It should end before anyone is fatally injured.'
'That'd not serve their purpose. This one may be different.'
By then we'd traversed the dark woods under large trees and found ourselves in an open, flat grassy clearing with the walls of the castle on one side and a small misty lake below a steeply falling hill on the other. Beyond the little lake, in the far distance, a sliver of golden sunlight began illuminating the crags of the crater rim above the timber line as the new day arrived in Prusza.
We stripped to trousers and boots. I noted the pale red welts on my shoulders, arms and knee where Nadine had struck me during my first interview. They hurt as I moved but I didn't think they'd hinder me. Not with my life in the balance. I stretched and warmed up as we waited for the weapons, jumping about, looking the fool, to get a feel for how Lontria's gravity would affect my footwork. I'd practiced in the ship's inertial gravity while accelerating and in free fall with magnetic boots, but every move would be subtly different in Lontria's .21 standard gravity and I wanted to get the feel of it, before I was facing sharp steel.
A crowd was gathering in the shadows of the trees as we waited for the weapons, along with the official doctor, and a Civil Guard to keep the fight legal. Doc Hans was called over to go over the rules with Max's second and the Honor Judge.
I felt that sudden eerie chill, and glancing around, found the dark haired assassin had arrived, looking demur with her hands clasped behind her back, joining the throng of onlookers on the edge of the field of honor. She was dressed in the local style, an ankle length grey dress, a white blouse with a high lace collar under a short black jacket with its collar and cuffs colorfully embroidered, with a grey felt hat set at a rakish angle, her dark hair hastily tied back with a black ribbon.
Having caught my eye, she flashed me a brief smile and drifted, spaceer fashion, towards me, watched, with evident disdain by the women from the hotel who'd come to see me get my just reward. From her manner, I could sense her sarcastic delight in their disdain. As she neared, I could see that though she had set her face in a study in somber seriousness, her icy grey eyes, sparkled with mischief.
'What do you want?' I snapped, hoping to put her off. I didn't need this now...
She looked at me in mock sadness, and shook her head sadly while laughing with her eyes. 'Don't be cross with me, Wil. I must decide how to play the final scene.'
'Hopefully not as melodramatic as the one in the hotel,'
'Oh, that's how we do things here – that's how we do everything,' she replied, with a little staged shutter and a fleeting smile. 'I must decide if you're to be my brave hero, killed attempting to free me from my brutal, arrogant lout of a husband, or if you're a dashing rake of a spaceer who's led this poor naïve Pruszian housewife so very far adrift.' She paused as if to ponder the question – clearly enjoying herself she added, 'What role do you prefer?'
'It doesn't matter; I intend to win. So go away.'
She shook her head. 'Don't make it hard, my dear. Max assures me that he's every bit as adept with a blade, as he is with a pistol. He doesn't lose duels. So you see, I must decide how I'm to shed my tears for when you're dead. Should they be tears of joy as I cling to my brave, triumphant husband, or bitter tears of sorrow as I cradle your poor dead body in my lap?' she mused in mock seriousness, all the while coolly taunting me with her laughing eyes.
'Don't care. Go away.'
'I know I'm being foolish,' she continued, ignoring my ill will. 'But I so want to make this affair a work of art. A matter of professional pride, you see. '
I stared into her bright, icy eyes and shivered again. Still, I'd not let her intimidate me, so I replied, 'Well, if you really want my opinion, I'd say that even on my short acquaintance, Max plays the brutal lout like he was born it – and probably was. I, on the other hand, have neither the looks nor arrogance to make a believable rake any more than you can successful pass yourself off as a naïve Pruszian housewife. I suspect yon gallery has already pegged both Max and I as two of your many fools, and bigger fools than most for fighting over a woman like you. Shedding even a single tear would be out of character for you.'
'Oh Wil, how can you be so bitter... after last night?' she asked brightly, unfazed by my venom.
'Oh Nadine,' I replied sarcastically. 'I find it easy enough, after last night. Besides, I rather doubt you're capable of producing convincing tears of sorrow on demand...'
'Ha! You'd be surprised by all the skills I've been trained in, including crying on demand. Too bad you'll never live to see me do it. But you're right, I can't play the wayward little woman, so I'll weep bitterly over your poor corpse...' she replied somberly – though her dark grey eyes were watching me merrily.
'I'll make no promises,' I replied catching sight of Doc Hans approaching, adding grimly, 'Now run along, I have your husband Max to attend to.'
She glanced beyond me. No doubt at her husband, and stepping close, put her cool hands on my bare shoulders, and pulling me close, kissed me, for a long second or three, before she pushed me away.
Looking into my eyes, she said very softly, her eyes almost serious, 'Die gallantly, my dear Wil,' and turned and walked away to join the throng under the trees at the edge of dueling grounds.
'Captain,' said Doc Hans, 'We need to select our weapons and review the rules.'
'Right,' I turned to follow him.
'What was that about?' he asked as we walked towards the gathered officials.
I shook my head. 'Who knows? Play acting. A cat playing with a captive mouse. Or maybe she's just motivating Max... All I know is that I intend to disappoint her and not die.'
We joined the small gathering about the Honor Judge. Max glared at me, that kiss rather made him, the supposed husband, look the fool. Motivation, I suppose. All parties authenticated the formal dueling document and Max, being the challenger, paid the Honor Judge his fees – actual money and prudently upfront – and we chose our weapons, two identical dueling swords and two long daggers with cross bar hilts. They differed only slightly in the grip, weight and length from those I was used to. The Honor Judge stated the rules simply, we were to fight until one of us could no longer continue, as agreed on by the Honor Judge and at least one of the seconds.
We took our places. Max, blades in hand, seemed to have put aside his outraged husband act and was now the consummate professional, testing his weapons and giving me dark wolfish glares. I ignored him and glancing around, found Nadine on the edge of the crowd, eager to see the color of my blood. I gave her a sarcastic salute with my blade which she returned with a nod and a bright, and equally ironic, smile as I took my guard position. My heart was pounding and my legs seemed rather shaky, even in low gravity. The Honor Judge dropped a handkerchief and as it reached the ground, Max leaped forward and the duel began.
Max, with an arrogant smile, aggressively attacked, banking on his greater strength and longer reach. The ringing clang, clatter and grunts of his attack sounded loud in the hush of the grove as I carefully parried and warily retreated, making sure I kept in contact with the ground and circled away from his dagger side. His attack was showy but simple, allowing me to settle down, focus and seek the rhythm and flow of his attack. Though he had strength and reach, he needed to kill me, which would ev
entually force him to take risks once he decided I wasn't going to be simply butchered. Still, I couldn't parry and retreat forever – free fall, even with daily exercise, doesn't do much for your stamina, so I studied the movement of his sword arm which would be my target, to nullify his longer reach. Hopefully I'd do enough damage on his arm in a short enough time to weaken the strength and dull the speed of his attack.
I'd no idea how long we'd sparred, likely less than a minute, when I decided that there was no longer any point in delaying the resolution, so I launched my counter attack – parry, parry, feint, check and envelopments to engage and hold his blade while I leaned in along his off (non-dagger) side to slash at his arm with my dagger. Within seconds I'd drawn two gashes on his forearm, neither deep nor too damaging, but drawing bright red blood and giving him something to think about.
I doubt he'd ever fenced with two blades as he did nothing with his dagger, holding his left arm positioned for balance only. So much the better. I stepped up the pace, feinting with my dagger to distract and drive him back. I slipped in, parrying his sword down and out with my dagger while raking the tip of my blade along his forearm up to the crook of his arm, burying the tip into his flesh. He made a hasty retreat and I followed, beating his blade and attempting to envelop it and carry it off with his weakened arm and grip. His arm was red now in fresh blood, while I had only a few minor nicks on my ribs where my parries had not quite cleared his blade. He was constantly falling back now, smile gone, grimly watching me as intently as I watched him. He'd have to change his approach soon, as I was pressing my advantage, though warily.
With a series of lightning feints, he launched a flashing lunge, beating my blade away and forcing me to evade his driving blade by falling nearly to the ground, steadying myself on my dagger in the ground. In the low gravity, lunges can be launched from afar, but once airborne, you've limited maneuverability and agility and it carries you far beyond your target, allowing your opponent time to recover and perhaps attack. I was back on my feet and on guard before he'd landed and turned, but had no time to follow up. Undaunted, he continued to press this new line of attack, carefully gauging his lunge to be able to land and turn just quick enough to defeat any counter attack.
On his fifth lunge, I reacted too aggressively to his feint and failed to parry his lunge before he had his blade inside my guard. I managed to fall away and catch his blade in the guard of my sword to limit the blow to a glancing cut along my rib cage – only the fact that he had held his feint a fraction of a second too long allowed me to save my life. The clash and tangle of our blades staggered his airborne lunge and I was able to twist and swing my dagger up, deeply raking his sword arm and shoulder as his impetus carried him wildly by.
He gasped and his sword went flying, but landed near where his lunge took him. He flung his dagger in my direction and snatched the fallen blade with his left hand.
I dodged the dagger and glanced down at the wound on my side. The blood was just beginning to well up along the cut, perhaps fifteen centimeters long, and deep enough to touch bone. I didn't feel it yet – the blades were razor sharp, but I could still move my arm, though with more effort. It could have been worse. Still I'd need to end this soon.
I jumped to attack almost before he had the sword in hand. He beat my attack off and retreated, his defense, in any case, nearly as good as it had been right handed. Still, I pressed my attack, focusing on penetrating his defense with my dagger to now weaken his left arm. Our blades flashed and clanged and his arm began to bleed with the slashes I scored. But I, too, felt the warm blood as it began to run down my side and every movement of my arm was now an effort. Desperate, he lunged with a flurry of feints and attacks that I was only able to parry from my neck with my dagger. The tangle of our blades again slowed his lunge and twisting, I slashed down on the back of his far leg as his lunge carried him by. He collapsed as he landed. There was new blood on my shoulder. And my breaths were being grabbed by the lungful, but he was down, twisting into a sitting position and attempting to push himself upright against the light gravity. I leaped forward, feinting for his head and followed it with a swipe for his other leg, landing a glancing blow that nevertheless sent him tumbling across the grass in the light gravity. I followed him and hooking his blade in my guard, twisted it from his weakened hand and sent it flying, some ten meters away.
Even as I stepped back to glance at the Honor Judge and Max's second, I caught his swift movement in the corner of my eye and just managed to raise my arm to shield my face against the flash of his dagger which he'd found in the grass behind him. It hit my arm at less than an ideal angle, and was thrown with his weakened right arm, but it struck and tore a deep gash before I shook it out. Had it hit my face or neck, I wouldn't be writing this. As it was, I gasped, and no longer able to hold my sword, dropped it.
He rolled to collect his sword, so I dropped my dagger and grasping the sword left handed, lunged, slashing at his reaching arm, hitting the hand reaching for his sword, all but cutting it off. He gasped, saw the blood pumping from the stump and sank down on his back, clutching it.
I lowered my sword and leaning on it, looked to the Honor Judge and the seconds.
All three had dropped their handkerchiefs, ending the duel. I took a few steps, stopped and was sick. Not so very gallant, I thought, I wiped my lips, and not so dead either... And with that thought, I realized what she'd been up to with her play acting before the duel. I started and stared about me, searching for her amongst the gallery, now either streaming on to the field to get a better look at poor Max's blood, or turning away for their homes or hotel and their breakfasts.
She was already a mere ten meters away. On her lips, a wild, triumphant smile, in her dark grey eyes, my necessary death – with just a hint of sadness. I made a stumbling leap backwards and raised the sword before me.
'Not a step nearer,' I croaked, still gasping for air.
Neither my words nor my sword gave her pause. I had to die in her arms, and quickly while everyone was paying attention to poor Max. She deftly blocked my sword down and out of line with her right arm, careless of the consequences and closed to embrace me. In that fleeting instant, I caught sight of a long thin white blade suddenly appearing in her left fist.
With what little energy, concentration, and training I had left to call on, plus a great deal of fear and panic, I leaped backwards, and in the low gravity, far enough back to twist and bring the sword, in my unaccustomed left hand, into a position to stop the thrust of her blade.
As quickly as it began, this duel was over as well.
She simply froze, her whole attack snapped off just that quickly. A quick glance showed the sword was embedded in her fist. I'd felt a faint click, so the point had likely penetrated through her hand to strike the blade handle she held.
We stood facing each other, less than a meter apart, her arms at her side. Her left arm, held close at her side was half hidden in the folds of her dress. My sword, held high at my side and in my left hand, was between us, its point was buried in her left hand. We both glanced about, no one seemed to be paying us any attention, at least from any position that they could see what had happened between us. We were not committed to any given action. Her cold, dark eyes, held mine as she calculated her chances, her next move. Looks may not kill, but hers came very close. Still, I held her gaze, shaking and panting for perhaps six long seconds. It was, after all, her decision. She always had it in her power to kill me. That was never the issue, nor was it now. It had always been – did she want to be sent to Felon's Riff to accomplish it?
'Madam! This is not proper! He needs my attention,' gasped Doc Hans in a shaken voice, as he pulled up beside us, medic bag in hand. And, 'Oh!' as he took in our situation. After several seconds he glanced at me and asked, 'Should I summon the Civil Guard?'
'No Doctor,' I said slowly, watching her closely. 'I believe we've reached an understanding. Neither of us wants to bother the authorities.' More a hope than a
certainty.
She nodded ever so slightly. An understanding that defied definition. But an understanding.
'Right. Would you be so kind, Doc, to prepare to treat the lady's wounded hand when I withdraw the blade,' I panted, adding with my next breath, 'It must be quite painful.'
'You should be treated first, you've lost a fair amount of blood already,' he protested.
I shook my head, 'It won't take you long, and I don't want to keep the lady in pain any longer than necessary,' I said as I watched her blood seep around the blade and drip to the ground. I simply wanted her gone but I couldn't have her wandering about with a bloody hand. It was essential to keep this our secret. And to her, I added, 'While the Doc is getting ready, I must ask you to drop your blade.'
'Why?' she asked softly, unhurried, seemingly impervious to pain.
'Because I respect you too much, and trust you too little,' I said.
'Why?' she asked, more of herself than to me, and almost too soft for me to hear.
'Luck runs out, eventually. I'd like half a chance,' I said with a faint smile. It was a little act of kindness, perhaps. Little comfort in failure, but perhaps some, and a way out. My life depended on her having a way out of failure.
Still watching me, she opened her fist and the blade dropped, by the time it reached the ground, it had shape-shifted into a white hollow tube with the two ends slightly notched inwards to make it easier to hold crosswise with two fingers. Her red blood beaded up and rolled off the shiny surface.
'I'm ready, Captain,' said Doc Hans, having set down and opened his bag and now holding two small circles of the sealing material to temporarily patch the wounds.
'You or I?' I asked.
'I,' she said simply, and slipped her hand off of the sword's blade with a gush of blood. Doc slapped the patches on her palm and on back of her hand, to keep the bleeding to a minimum.
I stuck the bloody tip of the sword in the ground, and using it for support, bent and picked up her coiled blade with the blood from my wound running down my arm.
'I'll wait by my gear for you to finish treating her hand,' I said, adding, 'How's your arm? Does it need to be attended to?'
She was watching the doctor who held her hand as he reached for his medic kit in the bag. She shook her head No. The jacket was likely an armored one.
'Right,' I said, made a sketchy bow, turned my back on them to make my way back to where the balance of my wardrobe was piled on the grass. It felt like a thousand cold spiders were crawling up my back as I turned away. I wasn't exactly sure what we'd agreed to – a truce of some sort, but for how long, or even if she'd keep it, I couldn't say. I made it to my gear and turned to see the Doc working on her hand. I sat down – collapsed, really – into the cool damp grass and sank back to lay flat on my back. The rush of adrenalin which had kept most of the pain at bay, receded, and the wounds were pulsing with pain. I closed my eyes and thought of growing cha on Belbania, high on an old volcanic peak surrounded by a turquoise sea – mentally dialing down the date from twenty to ten, to maybe five years in the future, if I had one, until the Doc arrived at my side. I sat painfully up and he began to work.
He slapped on the quick seals and hooked up the medic kit, which quickly dampened the pain after which he began to probe my wounds with a hand held sensor.
'Just flesh wounds, Captain,' he said with an ironic smile. 'He missed everything critical. I'll have you patched up in a few minutes,' he assured me, adding after a pause while he worked, 'I must say it was gallant, if a bit foolish to let the lady off, as you did. I saw enough to make a case against her.'
'Thanks Doc, but it was neither gallant or foolish. It was essential if I – or we – wanted to live.'
'We?'
'The first time she shot to kill me, I was merely a witness, but that may've been a different type of situation. But she'd not hesitate to kill you if she thought it necessary. The thing is, Doc, she's a professional and likely an expert in the martial arts. You saw how indifferent she was to the pain of a sword through her hand. I'm certain she could've killed me with her bare hands in the blink of an eye, and you in a second later. But she couldn't have done it undetected, or escaped eventual capture. Killing me has never been her problem, killing me and avoiding Felon's Rift has been.
'That lover's act before the duel now makes sense. She was setting up this fall back plan on the off chance Max couldn't manage to kill me outright during the duel. She'd play the distraught lover, hold me close and put one more hole in me in just the right place.'
'I'd like to think I could recognize such a wound,' said Doc Hans. 'Both the shape of the wound and the angle of entry would likely be off...'
'But would you have risked making the accusation, on the basis of your field exam? I'm not questioning your bravery, but I'd imagine you'd not want to put your professional reputation on the line without making absolutely certain, which would likely take enough time for her to escape and disappear.'
'Perhaps, but she can be traced...'
'Right, either off world or deep into the criminal underground, but I'd bet this blade would have likely ended up in one of your pockets or bag,' I added, opened my palm where I still held the blade. 'It'd be a mind-probe interrogation for you...'
He shrugged, 'What if, Captain, what ifs... That's an interesting blade...' he added as he watched me attempt to find out how it worked.
It appeared to be made of some D-matter plastic or ceramics, smooth, featureless white and hard. After some playing about with it, I stumbled upon the method used to extend the blade. Squeezing the ends of the tube bent it at a crease around the middle of the tube and squeezing it further forced the tube into an inverted V shape which caused it to uncoil in two directions. The trailing edge on the outside was wider and unrolled to form a handle of sorts, as the forward facing strip unrolled into a narrow, 20 cm long inverted V blade. The crease that created the inverted V made the blade extend and stay stiff as long as it was squeezed – its razor-sharp edges and needle-like point making it a deadly stiletto for as long as you squeezed the tube.
'Ever seen anything like this?' I asked, as the blade rolled back up when I stopped squeezing it and handing the tube over to Doc.
'No, but I believe I know what it is. It's made of D-matter called phantom-glass,' he said after playing with it a bit. 'I know it from the crime fiction I read and the vids I watch. It's said to be undetectable under normal security scans, and any bio evidence, finger prints, blood, tissue and such, will not adhere to its surface. This is hardly a useful knife for anything except killing... Which makes it a damning piece of evidence, to be sure,' he added handing back to me. 'It's likely illegal in the Unity, still, you might want to keep it anyway,' he added with a significant look.
I shrugged and slipped it painfully into a pocket. 'Well it'll be some time, years probably, before I'm back in the Unity again. It may come in handy in the drifts. Anyway, as I was saying, having managed to stop her thrust and foil her plan without making a scene, it gave her a chance to consider her options. With the odds of killing me undetected and escaping a life in exile in Felon's Rift very low, she decided to bide her time and await another opportunity. It was up to her, but as long as I didn't make a scene, it was likely her best choice. I wasn't her prime target, anyway.
'However, if you'd called in the Civil Guard, that choice would have been made and since there'd be no reasonable explanation of the blade in her hand short of something like the truth and a mind-probe interrogation would certainly send her to Felon's Rift. So she'd have nothing to lose by killing me, and perhaps you as well. So you see, Doc, there was nothing gallant about my actions, only necessity.'
'But if she knows you're sailing in hours for the drifts, she'll certainly try again...'
I shrugged. 'I'll take precautions. Still, we know she's not absolutely desperate or I'd be dead...' I said as he finished cleaning the blood from my arm and chest and began to repack his bag.
'As you said, Ca
ptain, all luck runs out sooner or later. You've been pretty lucky; I'd not press it too hard. And with that sage advice, I'm done patching you up. You can get dressed and we can see if we can get you safely to your ship.'
'Thanks Doc.' I said, reaching for my gear.
Doc Hans helped me to my feet, when I made to rise. I was still a bit light headed, but I'd things to do...
'I've only cleaned and sealed your wounds. The wounds on your arm and rib cage, especially the deeper ones, should be treated with accelerated healing to avoid infection.'
'Thank you Doctor; I'll see to it as soon as I get aboard ship. I assume the patches will hold for a few hours.'
'Oh yes, the patches will hold, though you should avoid any more duels in the meanwhile. The wounds will get much more painful, however, without further treatment. They should be healed under treatment as soon as you can. They'll heal without a scar if you go for the full treatment, but you don't have to take it quite so far. Dueling scars are something to be proud of, Captain,' he said, half seriously.
'I'll keep that in mind, Doc, when I'm able to look after them.'
As we turned to go, we stopped to watch the medics emerge from the circle of onlookers and take Max off on a stretcher to a waiting carriage. After we returned the weapons to the Honor Judge, I consulted my memory of local customs. 'I believe, Doctor, I owe you an honorarium for acting as my second, as well as a fee for your professional services. I'm afraid I've no local currency, I came here terribly unprepared. But if I could have your account, I'll transfer the necessary credits when I reach my ship.'
'Totally unnecessary. You're a guest here, however unwillingly. It was my pleasure to offer my services. It has proven very interesting. I should dine out on the experience for years,' he assured me.
'Be that as it may, doing the right thing is a matter of honor for me, and a matter of luck as well. I wouldn't want to appear ungrateful to have survived.'
He smiled, 'We must not take luck for granted,' he admitted and wrote up a bill and gave his address.
As we walked slowly back towards the hotel, I asked, 'What's the fastest way out of here?'
'As I said, Captain. You shouldn't press your luck. You're looking for the safest way, not the fastest.'
I smiled. 'Aye. And the safest way would be?'
'This crater has three access points,' he replied. 'The only direct way to the outside world is a small yacht field on the crater wall, six kilometers up the road from the top of the town. But the road is steep and runs through deep forests. You've lost blood and the climb might be tiring even in low gravity. And, well, we must also consider that your would-be assassin has likely also gone that way too, if only to reach her boat.'
'Neb, you're right,' I muttered. I looked up into the dark forests surrounding the town. The yacht port was likely the way I'd arrived, unconscious, during the night so her rocket boat was likely still parked at the landing field. Was she now racing for her boat, or lingering along the way, waiting for me to follow? What could I do if I found her? My only ready answer was I'd likely die. Between the forests and low gravity, it would be easy for her to hide my body, delaying its discovery for some time.
'I'd insist on accompanying you, of course, if you choose to go that way...' Doc Hans continued. 'Murder is against the law in Prusza.'
I shook my head. 'No, Doctor. Can't have that. She's desperate and there's no reason why she couldn't wait in ambush and kill us both. Believe it or not, I am rather a cautious fellow and I'm ready to take your word. What are my alternatives?'
'There's a carriage road to Brandonburg through the crater wall, but the fastest way would be by train. May I suggest we turn at the next street and go down to the station to see when the next one is due. Brandonburg is less than an hour's ride and far more populated. Plus, it has a tram that will take you up to a much larger yacht club. I'd think you'd be much safer going that route.'
'It does sound like the most prudent plan, though I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you for a small loan to pay the train fare...'
02
The little iron steam engine chugged into the station half an hour later, spewing hissing steam and dragging three red and green carriages. I shook hands with Doctor Hans, thanking him again for all his help and loans while he wished me well and a safe passage. I gingerly climbed aboard the primitive carriage, found a seat, and waved goodbye as the train jerked, clanged and drifted out of the station.
Once on our way, the carriage creaked and swung so wildly climbing along the steep side of the crater through the pines that I occasionally feared for our lives, though my fellow passengers seemed quite unperturbed. No one talked to me, though I caught several curious glances, but those may have been only because I was obviously not a native. I was, however, thankful my uniform trousers were black so that the drying blood on them did not show. Using the time, when not peering straight down steep ravines, I kicked myself for all the things I could've, but didn't think to do – like demand proof of marriage, demanding proof of infidelity, interrogate the night clerk to prove that I'd not arrived with Nadine. Still there seemed no point in going to the authorities now – I'd been unconscious at all the critical points – the space boat flight, my entry to Elborn crater, and the hotel. Plus, I had a ship to take to Zilantre on a tight schedule. I could not afford to wait on official procedures.
The train entered the long black tunnel between craters, only to emerge – just in time to avoid asphyxiating its passengers with its smoke – into the bright sunlight of Brandonburg Crater. The large, bustling town of Brandonburg lay at its center, built along the same ancient pattern as Elborn and surrounded by a picture perfect pastoral countryside of tiny villages set amongst neat fields and dark green coppices. The tram to the yacht club proved to be a single electric powered carriage on tracks, complete with a driver, that slowly made its way along the town's streets and after escaping the town, between hedgerows. It took the better part of another hour to reach the yacht club, where I was able to raise the ship on my com link.
'Where have you been, Captain? We were getting worried,' said Illy as my call connected.
'Long story. What's our status?'
'I've moved the ship to the offing. & Kin's boat is alongside now delivering the drones, Vyn is overseeing stowing them in no. 4 hold. The trade goods you ordered will be up in the next several hours.
'Good. I'll be up directly.'
'You know Vyn and Ten have their kits packed awaiting your return. What should I tell them?'
'Nothing. I'll talk to them. See you soon,' (...I hope, this time.) I replied and broke the connection to reluctantly start sorting out my thoughts on what I needed to do when I arrived on board.
I signaled Kan Kantis, since he was back in operation again. I wasn't about to take any more chances.