Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

have nothing more to say to each other in private."
    "I could raise the matter directly with the King," said du Bois. "He might be more . . . reasonable."
    "The King is very reasonable," said Lewis. "He's also even more honorable than I am. He'd have you arrested for treason on the spot, just for trying to put pressure on me. So you go right ahead, if you want.
    I'm told Traitors Hall is comparatively comfortable, these days."
    He bowed briefly to du Bois and walked away, and du Bois watched him go, and thought many things.

Chapter 3
    ALL KINDS OF BETRAYAL
    It had been two weeks since Douglas's Coronation, and everything in the garden was wonderful. The planet of Logres, and most especially that ancient and golden city, the Parade of the Endless, blossomed like a rose in summer under the rapt attention of the whole Empire. The new King's positive attitude had caught Humanity's mood exactly, and his unexpected political skills had delighted everyone who enjoyed seeing the established political elite embarrassed and outdone. The media followed King Douglas and his people wherever they went, and absolutely everyone was fascinated to see what he would do next. It was only another two weeks until he would be marrying the Empire's most beloved diva, anticipation was already at fever pitch, and the media were going out of their minds. They had all made it very clear that nothing short of armed force was going to keep them out of this one, so Douglas had bowed to the inevitable, and graciously agreed to Empirewide live coverage of his marriage, to be carried on all the major channels. Jesamine had already promised that she would be singing at the ceremony; her last ever live performance. Bidding for the recording rights was fierce, bordering on vicious. Already there were newsgroups, websites, and whole vid channels devoted to nothing but gossip about the buildup to the marriage ceremony.
    And you were nobody in Society if you didn't already have your invitation.
    The Parade of the Endless buzzed with rumor, and bristled with all kinds of life. Tourists were flooding in from all sides of the Empire, and you couldn't book a room in a hotel for love or money. News channels were offering outrageous sums just for a peek at the wedding dress, and the wedding banquet organizers were getting everything from stock option offers to death threats over the seating arrangements.
    Excitement was in the air wherever you turned, and everyone agreed there had never been a better time to be alive. It was, in fact, the last great Season of the Golden Age, though no one knew that then.
    On the surface, all was calm and peace and happy anticipation. But down in the dark, dark depths, something with teeth and appetite and awful ambitions was laying the groundwork for a terrible storm.
    Brett Random's stomach hurt all the time now. It hurt when he woke up, ached all through the increasingly long days, and barely subsided enough to let him sleep at night. He didn't eat much, and he was drinking a lot. It was all tension, of course. Nerves. And it was all Finn Durandal's fault. The Paragon drove Brett like a slave driver.
    Brett had never been bothered with butterflies in the stomach before, even during the most complicated and risky of his confidence tricks; but back then he had always been the one in charge. He had always taken great pride in the careful planning that went into every one of his stings, and had the utmost confidence in his ability to function and if necessary improvise under pressure. But now Finn was in the driver's seat, demanding remorselessly that Brett lead him further and further into the seediest, darkest warrens of the Rookery; searching out the extremely disreputable people and expertise that Finn had decided were necessary for his bitter revenge.
    Brett assumed Finn had some secret overall plan, though he couldn't see it for the life of him. But he had to assume that Finn knew what he was doing, because the alternative was frankly too awful to contemplate. Far better to be the accomplice of a master criminal than the victim of a raving lunatic. So Brett took Finn where he wanted to go, introduced him to the often appalling people Finn said he needed to meet, and did a lot of sitting miserably in corners, with his arms folded tightly over his aching stomach.
    Sometimes Rose Constantine joined them, and then Brett's head hurt too. He just knew the Wild Rose was a disaster waiting to happen. When he had trouble getting to