Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

brightly against the shadows. Akotai and the Deathstalker circled each other unhurriedly, boots slamming hard against the bare floor as they thrust and parried. Akotai was a swift and subtle swordsman, his curved blade moving faster than most people could follow, and he was strong and brave and tricky; but never at any time was he a match for the Deathstalker. Lewis moved almost casually around his opponent, drifting here and there, somehow always in the right place to frustrate Akotai’s increasingly frenzied attacks. Lewis’s blade licked out to touch Akotai here and there, leaving bloody marks behind. Akotai threw all his strength and ferocity into every blow, trying to force an opening, and it did him no good at all. The Deathstalker dueled Akotai to a halt, and then stepped calmly back and lowered his blade, while Akotai stood breathless and beaten before him.
    Manfred Kramer drew his sword and started forward. Jesamine opened her mouth and sang a single piercing note that drove Kramer immediately to his knees, grabbing at his head and crying out in pain. Everyone else in the room winced, including Lewis. Jesamine glared about her.
    “Behave yourselves, darlings. Or I’ll sing you an aria that will have your brains dribbling out your ears.”
    “A Siren,” said Caswell, respectfully. “It’s been a long time since a Siren came to Mistworld. I’ll have to tell Topaz.”
    Lewis nodded casually to Akotai. “You really should have known better, Councillor. Maze or no, I’m still a Deathstalker.”
    “I know that now,” said Akotai, still trying to get his breathing back under control. “But I had to be sure. Damn, you’re a fighter. Please forgive Manfred. He’s loyal, but not terribly bright. You have proven yourself in all our eyes, Sir Deathstalker, and all Mistworld will follow wherever you lead.”
    “Good,” said Lewis. “We’re going to need you.” And then he stopped, and looked around. “Oh, hell, where are Brett and Rose?”
    Everyone looked around them, but the con man and the killer had disappeared during the swordfight.
    “Oh, God,” said Jesamine. “They’ve gone wandering. Brett always was far too keen to come here, to scare up some serious money with his dubious skills. And I don’t even want to think what Rose might get up to while she’s off the leash.”
    “Is she really as dangerous as she’s supposed to be?” said Goldman.
    “Trust us,” said Lewis. “You have no idea.”
    “My people will track them down,” said Akotai. “Anything in particular they should look for?”
    “Oh, the usual,” said Lewis. “People suddenly missing their valuables, or their heads. And just possibly, buildings on fire and people running around screaming.”
    “Hell,” said Akotai. “That’s just a good Saturday night, in Mistport.”

    Brett Random was having a severely bad time. He was finally where he’d been trying so hard to get to, and it was all turning out to be a terrible disappointment. Being a Random’s Bastard cut him no ice here; the city was lousy with pretenders to the title. And all his skills at the con and the scam were useless in a city where such things had been raised to an art form over the centuries. In fact, if Rose hadn’t been there to protect him, some of his increasingly desperate maneuverings might well have resulted in bloody mayhem. He thought wistfully of the fortune in alien porn he’d so briefly had his hands on, briefly considered trying to sell the pinnace they’d come down in, and finally settled for sulking in a truly disgusting tavern, where the wine tasted as bad as he felt. He couldn’t even escape from Lewis and his crusade by disappearing into the crowds; Rose’s presence made that impossible. Everyone here knew the Wild Rose from her televised appearances in the Arena, and she point-blank refused to let Brett go off anywhere on his own, on the understandable grounds that he’d probably get himself killed without her.
    “I can look after myself!” he protested. “You taught me how to fight.”
    “Yes,” she said. “But not how to want to. You’re far too civilized for a place like this, Brett. Mistport is a city of predators. I can sense it. It makes me feel . . . horny.”
    “I’m in Hell,” said Brett.
    He’d been drinking for some time, and was blearily wondering how he was going to sneak out of the tavern without paying his bill, when Manfred Kramer finally caught up with him and Rose. Brett had descended from