Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

throats. Lewis then assembled all the section heads together in one place and explained how unhappy the King was with their lack of progress. And how unhappy that made him. He went on to explain that if they couldn't or wouldn't do their job and get things running smoothly and back on schedule in very short order, he would personally see that they were all buried in one big communal grave (probably but not necessarily after they were dead) and see how their seconds-in-command did as section leaders. Everyone agreed to be much more civilized in future, and send the King's office regular progress reports to prove it, and Lewis sent them all back to work with smiles and encouraging words, a promise of a substantial bonus if they came in on time and under budget, and a good kick up the arse to help the slowest moving on his way.
    And that should have been that.
    Except . . . Lewis couldn't get over how frightened of him they'd all been. All right, he'd played his part to the hilt, complete with menacing stare and heavy breathing, because they wouldn't have taken him seriously if he hadn't, and he'd been quite prepared to slap a few heads if that was what it took to get
    their attention, but some of them had started sweating the moment they recognized him. Some of them looked like they would have run away if they'd dared. If he hadn't known better, Lewis would have sworn they were actually taking his threats seriously. That they really believed he would kill them if they didn't do what he said.
    Which was . . . disturbing.
    Lewis took up a position on the raised dais, beside the King's Throne, and looked out over the Court again. There was a lot less shouting and carrying on going on now, and rather more constructive effort, but no one wanted to look at him. In fact, people were going out of their way to avoid even having to come close to the dais. Lewis was honestly baffled by this. He was used to respect, he felt he'd earned that in his years as Paragon and the King's Justice, but this . . . this wasn't respect. It was fear. They were acting like some wild animal had come into their midst, one that might go mad and attack them all at any moment.
    Lewis looked around until he spotted a journalist, doing an on-the-spot commentary to his camera floating before him. Lewis stepped down from the dais and headed casually towards him. People scattered to get out of his way. The journalist looked around sharply, took one look at Lewis bearing down on him, broke off his commentary, and headed straight for the nearest exit, his camera bobbing along behind him. Lewis increased his pace. The journalist glanced back over his shoulder, saw that Lewis was catching up, and broke into a run. Lewis sighed, drew the thin throwing dagger from the top of his boot, took careful aim and let fly. The dagger snapped through the air, caught the journalist's flowing sleeve, and pinned it firmly to the wall. The journalist was jerked to a sudden stop, and almost fell. He was still tugging furiously at the sleeve and the dagger, cursing and swearing and blaspheming, when Lewis finally caught up with him. The journalist straightened up, flashed Lewis a desperate and entirely unconvincing smile, and set his back firmly against the wall.
    "Sir Deathstalker! Sir Champion! Wonderful to see you! Looking good. Yes. Aren't we having absolutely marvelous weather?"
    "Why did you run?" Lewis said interestedly.
    "Urgent story!" said the journalist. He was sweating heavily now, and his eyes were very big. "Just breaking. You know how it is. Very important story, and significant, and I really must be going. Can't stop! Sorry!"
    "Stand still," said Lewis. "You're not going anywhere until you and I have had a friendly and informative little heart to heart."
    "Oh shit," said the journalist, miserably.
    "What's your name, and who do you work for?"
    "Adrian Pryke, sir Deathstalker. Channel 437. News and views and everything that moves. If it matters, we're there. Look, I really must be-"
    "No you mustn't," said Lewis. "Talk to me, Adrian Pryke. Talk to me openly and honestly, or I will bounce your head off that wall until your eyes change color. Why are you so scared of me?"
    "Are you kidding?" said Pryke, so desperate now he was too scared even to be polite anymore. "After what you did in the Neuman riot? Everyone's shit scared of you!"
    Lewis looked at Pryke for a long moment. "I did my duty."
    "You killed people! Lots of people! Cut them down and butchered them,