Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

bright a day for such dark thoughts. Forget the past, Kit. No one here cares who you used to be, and no one from our past can reach us anymore. We're free to reinvent ourselves, to be who we want to be. Come on; race you back to the Standing. Loser buys drinks for everyone tonight!"
    "You're on!" said Kit and gunned his engine. His flyer plunged forward, rapidly gaining speed. David roared with mock rage, and sped off after him. Together they disappeared into the distance, their laughter sounding clear and happy and untroubled on the quiet summer day.
    They parked their flyers in the caves under the Deathstalker Standing, and made their way up through the great old house, arguing amiably about who'd won the race. As always, the result had been so close they finally agreed on a draw.
    Neither really cared about winning, which was a new experience for both of them.
    David looked around him approvingly as they strode through the wide stone corridors on their way to the great dining hall. The Standing had been in the Deathstalker Family for generations, on various planets. Owen had had the vast building transferred to Virimonde brick by brick and reassembled there when he bought the planet's Lordship. It was Family tradition that each new head of the Clan chose a new world for his or her Standing, but David couldn't be bothered.
    Virimonde suited him just fine, and it pleased him to rebel against Family tradition, even if only in such a small way. He didn't want to be just another Deathstalker.
    David had spent a lot of time and effort in removing all traces of Owen's presence from the Standing. He was Lord now, and he didn't want anyone being reminded of his predecessor. So he had all of Owen's remaining belongings thrown
    out or burned, and did his best to fill the many rooms and halls with his own belongings. If truth be told, his own bits and bobs looked rather small and out of place in the great old house, crowded as it was with treasures and trophies from generations of Deathstalkers, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone but Kit.
    In the end, all that mattered to David was that the Standing and the world were his now, and by the time he'd finished, no one would remember that there had ever been any other Lord.
    They'd almost reached the dining hall when the Steward intercepted them. David took one look at the thick sheaf of papers in the Steward's hand and groaned loudly. He hated paperwork, and made sure the Steward knew it, but still he insisted on dealing with the really important business himself. The Steward could deal with day-to-day things, but David didn't want the man making decisions that were the rightful province of the Lord of Virimonde. He didn't trust the Steward. He'd wasted no time in turning against Owen when the Empress outlawed him, and a man who betrayed one Deathstalker might well betray another.
    The Steward was a grey man. Tall, stick-thin, and grey-haired, he wore grey clothes and presented a grey, passionless face to the world. His voice was a respectful murmur, his eyes were always respectfully downcast, but David could never quite escape the feeling that the man was silently mocking him. He seemed to care for nothing but the upkeep of the Standing and his precious never-ending paperwork, and sometimes gave the impression that he considered the Standing his, and the various Deathstalkers who passed through merely visitors.
    Deathstalkers may come and go, his bearing seemed to say, but I and my people remain. He snacked constantly on little pieces of bread without butter, and cracked his knuckles loudly if you kept him waiting. David detested the man, but tried to keep it to himself. He knew he couldn't run the Standing without him.

    "More papers?" he said resignedly. "Can't they wait till after dinner?"
    "That's what you said at breakfast, my lord," said the Steward in his calm, grey voice. As always, he made the title sound like an insult. "The various matters here have, if anything, only grown more urgent since then. I must respectfully insist…"
    "All right, all right," said David. "There's an office just off this corridor, isn't there? We can do it there. And this had better be really important, or I'll have you inventory all the silverware again. Kit, you stay with me. If I have to suffer, everyone suffers."
    "Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Kit calmly. "I love to watch the veins throb in your forehead as you struggle with the longer words. Besides, suffering's good for the