Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

down, politely pretending not to notice as Donald Royal lowered himself carefully back into his chair, with just a little help from Madelaine. Donald studied Random with sharp, weighing eyes. There was nothing vague about him anymore, as though the memory of the man he used to be had recharged him. Madelaine moved away to give them some privacy, but stayed by the door, leaning casually against the doorjamb. It hadn't escaped Random that her hand was still resting near her gun.
    He smiled warmly at Donald.
    "Nice place you have here. Comfortable. I like your clock."
    "Do you?" said Donald. "Can't stand the bloody thing myself. But it was a favorite of my late wife's, and I haven't the heart to throw it out. You're looking good, Jack. Must be twenty years since I last saw you, sitting in this room, in these same damn chairs. You were a firebrand then, so young and alive and full of hope and vinegar that I couldn't resist you. Gave you all the gold I had on me, and the names of everyone I could think of who might listen to you.
    I'd have gone with you myself, but even then I was getting a bit too old and
    fragile for adventuring. You had the gift of words, Jack, and I never could resist a plausable rogue."
    "You were one of the first people to really believe in me," said Random. "I never forgot that. Though it's just as well you didn't come with me to Lyonesse.
    Things went badly, from start to finish. I was young and inexperienced, still learning my way. We had some victories, but in the final battle we were thrown back and routed. I had to run for my life, while good men and women died to buy me time. But we still struck a blow for freedom, and made the Iron Bitch afraid, if only for a moment."
    "I remember Lyonesse," said Madelaine from the doorway. "Your army was cut to ribbons, one in ten of the population was hanged for supporting treason, and the survivors had their taxes doubled for the next ten years. There are those who might say Lyonesse was better off before your rebellion."
    "Don't mind Madelaine," said Donald. "She doesn't believe in luxuries like optimism and virtues. She's never happy unless she's seeing the dark side of things. She persuaded me to come out of retirement to work with her as private investigators. I provide the brains, and Madelaine sorts out the bad guys. I have to say, I've felt more alive this last year than I have for ages. I was never meant for retirement. She still insists on acting as my bodyguard, even though I haven't forgotten how to use a sword."
    "I'm sure she's very proficient," said Random. "Donald, I need to talk to you."
    "Of course you do. Jack. We have a lot to catch up on. Twenty-two years since I last saw you. I've followed your career as best I could. News takes a while to reach Mistworld. You haven't changed a bit. Jack. Unlike me. How have you stayed so young? You must have been in your late twenties when I first met you, and you don't look as though you've aged a day since then."

    "I have several heavy-duty regenerations to thank for that," said Random. "And a little cosmetic surgery. People won't follow an old rebel. It's no secret that I've been pretty badly messed up on more than one occasion. I may be young on the outside, but my bones know the truth. But I'm still me. Still the professional rebel, ready to fight for truth and justice at the drop of a hat.
    My cause hasn't changed in twenty-two years, Donald, and just like then, I need your help."
    Donald sighed, and settled back in his chair. "Afraid my help's rather more limited these days, Jack. I'm still on the city Council, but I don't take much interest in politics anymore. Which means my influence is pretty much nonexistent. I stick my oar in now and again, just to remind them I haven't died, and I try to do my own small bit for truth and justice as a private investigator, but truth be told, on the whole the important life of the city just passes me by. I can give you names and addresses of some people who might be willing to listen to you, but my name isn't the recommendation it was the last time you were here. Times have changed, Jack, and not for the better.
    Mistport is a colder and far more cynical place than you and I remember."
    "You can still vouch for me to the Council," said Random. "There seems to be some question as to whether I really am who I say I am. If you were to speak up publicly to confirm my identity, it would help a lot."
    "No problem there," said Donald. "I may not be as young as