Tales From the Vulgar Unicorn Part 23

'Not only is it legal, it's done! Kurd is out of business as of now.'

'What do you mean?'

'Kurd can't work without subjects,' the slaver smiled, 'and I'm his supplier - or I was. Not only have I ended his supply of slaves, I'll spread the word to the other slavers that if they deal with him I'll undercut their prices in the other markets and drive them out of town as well.'

Zalbar smiled with new distaste beneath his mask. 'You knew what he was doing with the slaves and you dealt with him anyway?'

'Killing slaves for knowledge is no worse than having slaves kill each other in the arena for entertainment. Either is an unpleasant reality in our world.'

Zalbar winced at the sarcasm in the slaver's voice, but was unwilling to abandon his position.

'We have different views of fighting. You were forced into the arena as a gladiator while I freely enlisted in the army. Still, we share a common experience: however terrible the battle: however frightful the odds, we had a chance. We could fight back and survive - or at least take our foe-men with us as we fell. Being trussed up like a sacrificial animal, helpless to do anything but watch your enemy - no, not your enemy - your tormentor's weapon descend on you again and again ... No being, slave or freedman, should be forced into that.

I cannot think of an enemy I hate enough to condemn to such a fate.'

'I can think of a few,' Jubal murmured, 'but then, I've never . shared your ideals. Though we both believe in justice we seek it in different ways.'

'Justice?' the h.e.l.l Hound sneered. 'That's the second time you've used that word tonight. I must admit it sounds strange coming from your lips.'

'Does it?' the slaver asked. 'I've always dealt fairly with my own or with those who do business with me. We both acknowledge the corruption in our world. h.e.l.l Hound. The difference is that, unlike yourself, I don't try to protect the world - I'm hard-pressed to protect myself and my own.'

Zalbar set down his unfinished drink. 'I'll leave your mask and cloak outside,'

he said levelly, 'I fear that the difference is too great for us to enjoy a drink together.'

Anger flashed in the slaver's eyes. 'But you will investigate the murders?'

'I will,' the h.e.l.l Hound promised, 'and as the complaining citizen you'll be informed of the results of my investigation.'

Tempus was working on his sword when Zalbar and Razkuli approached him. They had deliberately waited to confront him here in the barracks rather than at his favoured haunt, the Lily Garden. Despite everything that had or might occur, they were all Army and what was to be said should not be heard by civilians outside their elite club.

Tempus favoured them with a sullen glare, then brazenly returned his attention to his work. It was an unmistakable affront as he was only occupied with filing a series of saw-like teeth into one edge of his sword: a project that should run a poor second to speaking with the h.e.l.l Hound's captain.

'I would have a word with you, Tempus,' Zalbar announced, swallowing his anger.

'It's your prerogative,' the other replied without looking up.

Razkuli shifted his feet, but a look from his friend stilled him.

'I have had a complaint entered against you,' Zalbar continued. 'A complaint which has been confirmed by numerous witnesses. I felt it only fair to hear your side of the story before I went to Kadakithis with it.'

At the mention of the prince's name, Tempus raised his head and ceased his filing. 'And the nature of the complaint?' he asked darkly.

'It is said you're committing wanton murder during your off-duty hours.'

'Oh, that. It's not wanton. I only hunt hawk-masks.'

Zalbar had been prepared for many possible .responses to his accusations: angry denial, a mad dash for freedom, a demand for proof or witnesses. This easy admission, however, caught him totally off-balance. 'You ... you admit your guilt?' he managed at last, surprise robbing him of his composure.

'Certainly. I'm only surprised anyone has bothered to complain. No one should miss the killers I've taken ... least of all you.'

'Well, it's true I hold no love for Jubal or his sell-swords,' Zalbar admitted, 'but, there are still due processes of law to be followed. If you want to see them brought to justice you should have...'

'Justice?' Tempus laughed. 'Justice has nothing to do with it.'

'Then why hunt them?'

'For practice,' Tempus informed them, studying his serrated sword once more. 'An unexercised sword grows slow. I like to keep a hand in whenever possible and supposedly the sell-swords Jubal hires are the best in town - though, to tell the truth, if the ones I've faced are any example, he's being cheated.'

'That's all?' Razkuli burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. 'That's all the reason you need to disgrace your uniform?'

Zalbar held up a warning hand, but Tempus only laughed at the two of them.

'That's right, Zalbar, better keep a leash on your dog there. If you can't stop his yapping, I'll do it for you.'

For a moment Zalbar thought he might have to restrain His friend, but Razkuli had pa.s.sed explosive rage. The swarthy h.e.l.l Hound glared at Tempus with a deep, glowering hatred which Zalbar knew could not be dimmed now with reason or threats. Grappling with his own anger, Zalbar turned, at last, to Tempus.

'Will you be as arrogant when the prince asks you to explain your actions?' he demanded.

'I won't have to.' Tempus grinned again. 'Kitty-Cat will never call me to task for anything. You got your way on the Street of Red Lanterns, but that was before the prince fully comprehended my position here. He'd even reverse that decision if he hadn't taken a public stance on it.'

Zalbar was frozen by anger and frustration as he realized the truth of Tempus's words. 'And just what is your position here?'

'If you have to ask,' Tempus laughed, 'I can't explain. But you must realize that you can't count on the prince to support your charges. Save yourselves a lot of grief by accepting me as someone outside the law's jurisdiction.' He rose, sheathed his sword and started to leave, but Zalbar blocked his path.

'You may be right. You may indeed be above the law, but if there is a G.o.d - any G.o.d - watching over us now, the time is not far off when your sword will miss and we'll be rid of you. Justice is a natural process. It can't be swayed for long by a prince's whims.'

'Don't call upon the G.o.ds unless you're ready to accept their interference.'

Tempus grimaced. 'You'd do well to heed that warning from one who knows.'

Before Zalbar could react, Razkuli was lunging forwards, his slim wrist-dagger darting for Tempus's throat. It was too late for the h.e.l.l Hound captain to intervene either physically or verbally, but then, Tempus did not seem to require outside help.

Moving with lazy ease, Tempus slapped his left hand over the speeding point, his palm taking the full impact of Razkuli's vengeance. The blade emerged from the back of his hand and blood spurted freely for a moment, but Tempus seemed not to notice. A quick wrench with the already wounded hand and the knife was twisted from Razkuli's grip. Then Tempus's right hand closed like a vice on the throat of his dumbfounded attacker, lifting him, turning him, slamming him against a wall and pinning him there with his toes barely touching the floor.

.'Tempus!' Zalbar barked, his friend's danger breaking through the momentary paralysis brought on by the sudden explosion of action.

'Don't worry. Captain,' Ternpus responded in a calm voice. 'If you would be so kind?'

He extended his b.l.o.o.d.y hand towards Zalbar and the tall h.e.l.l Hound gingerly withdrew the dagger from the awful wound. As the knife came clear the clotting ooze of blood erupted into a steady stream. Tempus studied the scarlet cascade with distaste, then thrust his hand against Razkuli's face.

'Lick it, dog,' he ordered. 'Lick it clean, and be thankful I don't make you lick the floor as well!'

Helpless and fighting for each breath, the pinned man hesitated only a moment before extending his tongue in a feeble effort to comply with the demand.

Quickly impatient, Tempus wiped his hand in a b.l.o.o.d.y smear across Razkuli's face and mouth, then he examined his wound again.

As Zalbar watched, horrified, the seepage from the wound slowed from flow to trickle and finally to a slow ooze - all in the matter of seconds.

Apparently satisfied with the healing process, Tempus turned dark eyes to his captain. 'Every dog gets one bite - but the next time your pet crosses me, I'll take him down and neither you nor the prince will be able to stop me.'

With that he wrenched Razkuli from the wall and dashed him to the floor at Zalbar's feet. With both h.e.l.l Hounds held motionless by his brutality, he strode from the room without a backward glance.

The suddenness and intensity of the exchange had shocked even Zalbar's battlefield reflexes into immobility, but with Tempus's departure, control flooded back into his limbs as if he had been released from a spell. Kneeling beside his friend, he hoisted Razkuli into a sitting position to aid his laboured breathing.

'Don't try to talk,' he ordered, reaching to wipe the blood smear from Razkuli's face, but the gasping man jerked his head back and forth, refusing both the order and the help.

Gathering his legs under him, the short h.e.l.l Hound surged to his feet and retained the upright position, though he had to cling to the wall for support.

For several moments, his head sagged weakly as he drew breath in long ragged gasps, then he lifted his gaze to meet Zalbar's.

'I must kill him. I cannot ... live in the same world and ... breathe the same air with one who ... shamed me so ... and still call myself a man.'

For a moment, Razkuli swayed as if speaking had drained him of all energy, then he carefully lowered himself onto a bench, propping his back against the wall.

'I must kill him,' he repeated, his voice steadying. 'Even if it means fighting you.'

'You won't have to fight me, my friend.' Zalbar sat beside him. 'Instead accept me as a partner. Tempus must be stopped, and I fear it will take both of us to do it. Even then we may not be enough.'

The swarthy h.e.l.l Hound nodded in slow agreement. 'Perhaps if we acquired one of those h.e.l.lish weapons that have been causing so much trouble in the Maze?' he suggested.

'I'd rather bed a viper. From the reports I've heard they cause more havoc for the wielder than for the victim. No, the plan I have in mind is of an entirely different nature.'

The bright flowers danced gaily in the breeze as Zalbar finished his lunch.

Razkuli was not guarding his back today: that individual was back at the barracks enjoying a much earned rest after their night's labours. Though he shared his friend's fatigue, Zalbar indulged himself with this last pleasure before retiring.

'You sent for me. h.e.l.l Hound?'

Zalbar didn't need to turn his head to identify his visitor. He had been watching him from the corner of his eyes throughout his dusty approach.

'Sit down, Jubal,' he instructed. 'I thought you'd like to hear about my investigations.'

'It's about time,' the slaver grumbled, sinking to the ground. 'It's been a week - I was starting to doubt the seriousness of your pledge. Now, tell me why you couldn't find the killer.'

The h.e.l.l Hound ignored the sneer in Jubal's voice. 'Tempus is the killer, just as you said,' he answered casually.

'You've confirmed it? When is he being brought to trial?'

Before Zalbar could answer a terrible scream broke the calm afternoon. The h.e.l.l Hound remained unmoved, but Jubal spun towards the sound. 'What was that?' he demanded.

'That,' Zalbar explained, 'is the noise a man makes when Kurd goes looking for knowledge.'

'But I thought ... I swear to you, this is not my doing!'

'Don't worry about it, Jubal.' The h.e.l.l Hound smiled and waited for the slaver to sit down again. 'You were asking about Tempus's trial?'

'That's right,' the black man agreed, though visibly shaken.

'He'll never come to trial.'

'Because of thatT Jubal pointed to the house. 'I can stop...'

'Will you be quiet and listen! The court will never see Tempus because the prince protects him. That's why I hadn't investigated him before your complaint!'

'Royal protection!' The slaver spat. 'So he's free to hunt my people still.'

'Not exactly.' Zalbar indulged in an extravagant yawn.

'But you said...'

'I said I'd deal with him, and in your words "it's done". Tempus won't be reporting for duty today ... or ever.'

Jubal started to ask something, but another scream drowned out his words.

Surging to his feet he glared at Kurd's house. 'I'm going to find out where that slave came from, and when I do...'

'It came from me, and if you value your people you won't insist on his release.'

Theslaverturnedtogapeattheseatedh.e.l.lHound.'Youmean...'

'Tempus,' Zalbar nodded. 'Kurd told me of a drug he used to subdue his slaves, so I got some from Stulwig and put it in my comrade's krrf. He almost woke up when we branded him ... but Kurd was willing to accept my little peace offering with no questions asked. We even cut out his tongue as an extra measure of friendship.'

Another scream came - a low animal moan which lingered in the air as the two men listened.

'I couldn't ask for a more fitting revenge,' Jubal said at last, extending his hand. 'He'll be a long time dying.'

'If he dies at all,' Zalbar commented, accepting the handshake. 'He heals very fast, you know.'

With that the two men parted company, mindless of the shrieks that followed them.

THE LIGHTER SIDE OF SANCTUARY.

The reader response to the first volume of Thieves' World has been overwhelming and heartwarming. (For those of you who were not aware of it: you can write to me or any other author in care of their publisher.) The volume of correspondence helped to sell volumes two and three and prompted a Thieves' World wargame soon to be released from the Chaosium. It seems that none of our Thieves' World readers realize that anthologies in general don't sell and that fantasy anthologies specifically are sudden death.

While the letters received have been br.i.m.m.i.n.g with enthusiasm and praise, there has been one comment/criticism which has recurred in much of the correspondence.

Specifically, people have noted that Sanctuary is incredibly grim. It seems that the citizens of the town never laugh, or when they do it is forcefully stifled ... like the time Kitty-Cat spilled wine down the front of his tunic while trying to toast the health of his brother, the emperor.

This is a valid gripe. First of all because no town is totally dismal. Second, because those readers familiar with my other works are accustomed to finding some humour buried in the pages - even in a genocidal war between lizards and bugs. What's worse, in reviewing the stories in this second volume, I am painfully aware that the downward spiral of Sanctuary has continued rather than reversing itself.

As such I have taken it upon myself as editor to provide the reader with a brief glimpse of the bright side of the town - the benefits and advantages of living in the worst h.e.l.lhole in the Empire.

To this end let us turn to a seldom seen, never quoted doc.u.ment issued by the Sanctuary Chamber of Commerce shortly before it went out of business. The.fact that Kitty-Cat insisted the brochure contain some modic.u.m of truth doubtless contributed to the doc.u.ment's lack of success. Nonetheless, for your enjoyment and edification, here are selected excerpts from SANCTUARY VACATION CAPITAL OF THE RANKAN EMPIRE.

Every year tourists flock to Sanctuary by the tens, drawn by the rumours of adventure and excitement which flourish in every dark corner of the Empire. They are never disappointed that they chose Sanctuary. Our city iseverything it is rumoured to be - and more! Many visitors never leave and those that do can testily that the lives to which they return seem dull in comparison with the heartstopping action they found in this personable town.

If you, as a merchant, are looking to expand or relocate your business consider scenic Sanctuary. Where else can you find all these features in one locale?