Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

early years under Family-approved nannies and were currently attending Family-approved boarding schools. Strong Clan loyalty was made, not born, and the Family believed in starting early. They also didn't want to risk any interference from the parents.

    Finlay often thought wistfully of his son and daughter. He enjoyed their company, when he could, and had a feeling he might have made a good father for them, given the chance. But as in so many other things these days, it was Not Allowed. Finlay sighed quietly and looked around him, hoping for diversion if not inspiration. He himself was the height of fashion, as always, from his shocking pink cutaway frock coat to his fluorescent face and shoulder-length metallicized hair of burning bronze. His cravat was midnight blue silk, fashionably badly tied to show one did it oneself, his velvet cap was jet-black with a single peacock's feather, and he regarded the scene through a pair of jeweled pince-nez spectacles he didn't need but which added just the right touch. He also carried a sword on his hip, as custom required, but though the hilt and scabbard were crusted with precious stones, only Finlay knew the blade in the scabbard was perfectly serviceable, and not in the least ornamental.
    The wedding was due to take place in half an hour, and the ballroom was crowded.
    Bright colors shouted at the eye every way Finlay looked, interrupted here and there by the flickering holograms of those who couldn't attend in person. Most Family members were scattered across the Empire on Clan business, but they attended the wedding in spirit to show their solidarity and catch up on the latest gossip. One voice still rose above the general din, and without looking round Finlay knew it had to be his wife, Adrienne. She had one of those laser beam voices that can cut through anything. Not for the first time, Finlay thought if the Family could just find some way of harnessing it as a weapon, they'd make a fortune. He turned slowly, resignedly, and sure enough there was Adrienne, holding court before a group of minor nobles' wives, who looked like they'd rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
    Adrienne was of average height and just a little more than average weight, but
    made her presence known by being the loudest, both visually and audibly, person in any gathering. She wore a long black gown, partly because she thought the color suited her pale skin, but mostly because that way she could claim to be in mourning for her marriage. It was as far off the shoulder as she could get it without actually have it tall around her knees, and it was split up the sides as far as her hips. It looked like it would take one good sneeze for it to tall off.
    She had a sharp face, all planes and angles and angry scarlet mouth. Her eyes were narrow and perhaps just a little too close together, and she had the smallest, most up-turned nose that money could buy. She had a mop of curly hair, shining bright gold like a distress beacon. Her movements were sudden and abrupt, like a striking bird, and she treated each conversation as an enemy to be dominated and brought to heel. It was possible she might have heard of tact somewhere, but if she had, she'd never been seen to bother with it. If she'd been a man, her mouth would have bought her a hundred duels. As it was, there were those who suggested broadening the term man to include Adrienne Campbell, on general principles.
    She had a large drink in her hand, from which she took large gulps in between hectoring her audience, and God help the servants if they weren't there to refill her glass when she needed it. She looked about the magnificent ballroom and shook her head disgustedly.
    "God, this place is a dump. I've seen livelier funerals, and better catered. I'd pour this wine down the toilet, but I'd swear someone already beat me to it. And would you look at the groom? I've seen men being prematurely buried who looked happier than he does. And the bride; she's a child! Probably have to give her
    wedding night a miss so she can finish her homework. I take it someone has taken her to one side and filled her in on the facts of life? Like one, always use a contraceptive, and two, always get it in writing and preferably witnessed. Look at her; poor thing looks as confused as a blind lesbian in a fish market. Still, a good lay should put some color in her cheeks. Not that she'll necessarily get one from that long drink of tap water she's marrying."
    Adrienne went