The Wizard of Karres

That could get even worse than the little vatch on the rampage. 'Oh, yes, I have often wanted to be on the stage, but my real skills are in, in escapology.'

At the moment, he wished he could escape from here. Ethulassia seemed be some sort of magician, herself —The Incredible Expanding Bosom—and Goth's expression had gone from sour to that blank-faced look which meant she was already plotting and scheming in ways that Pausert really didn't want to think about.

'I do some stage magic too,' Pausert said hurriedly. He pointed at the two girls. 'With my nieces as assistants.'

The Leewit stuck her tongue out at him. 'I'm a clown. I don't assist.'

The showboat boss had plainly recognized Pausert's intervention for what it was, even if he thought Pausert was saving him from the leading lady and not vatch-trouble. After all, as a stage magician himself, Himbo knew the importance of distraction. He shifted his cigar. 'Well, show us something, then.'

'Er. I'll need some props . . .'

Himbo stepped across and opened a locker. It was a large walk-in locker, meticulously arrayed with everything a conjurer might desire. 'What can I offer you? Forcecuffs? Strong rope? Chains? A lockable chest?

'I . . . I'll skip the chest. I'll take the ropes, forcecuffs and chains. You, sir, and the good lady, would you be good enough to tie my hands and feet—attach the cuffs as well—and then wrap the chains around me and padlock them? And then put the keys in your pocket.'

He sat down on the office floor and offered his hands and feet. Himbo and Ethulassia tied and chained Captain Pausert up, with considerable showmanship—and a speculative gleam in the Leading Lady's eyes which made him still more uneasy. Goth's face now had that utterly blank expression which meant the little witch's brain had gone into overdrive. It was a pretty fiendish brain, when it wanted to be.

Himbo displayed the ten feet of rope carefully, engaging in a little tug of war with the Leading Lady. Ethulassia clicked the locks closed and then challenged Hantis to open them, displaying that they were indeed locked as they appeared to be. And Himbo insisted on tying his hands behind him. 'There is no science to escaping if they're in front of you,' he said cheerfully. Then he wrapped rope around Pausert's chest in some seven or eight turns.

Captain Pausert thought having his hands behind him was a poor idea. But he couldn't exactly say so and he wasn't too concerned about it, anyway. The little vatch had proved able to undo forcecuffs and locks before.

'Now . . . if you could just drape two of those allweather cloaks over me, Dani.'

He was covered from head to toe in voluminous allweather cloaks. And, sure enough, the keys for the locks and the forcecuffs were in his hands a moment later, thanks to Goth's teleportation skills . . .

The little vatch was giggling furiously. And so, Pausert realized, was everyone else. Well, he'd show them. Even if the vatch was not going to cooperate he had the keys. Now . . .

Pausert began realizing that having the key in your hand was not the same as actually being able to get it into the lock of a forcecuff behind your back. Especially when your hands were tied. He strained. And twisted his hands . . . And finally got the key to the keyhole . . .

It didn't fit. It must fit the one on his feet. With difficulty he managed to exchange keys. He was concentrating fiercely by this time, and was hardly aware of the laughter. It was only when he'd just managed to reach the lock the second time—and the key somehow twitched out of his fingers with more vatchy laughter—that he realized that while the rest of him was stifling and hot, his back and hands were cold. By the breeze blowing on their sweatiness, they weren't covered up!

No wonder everyone was laughing. Cringing with embarrassment, with no thought except to get out of there, Captain Pausert stood up, clumsily, as a man whose hands are manacled behind his back will, the hot allweather cloaks falling away. It was only when he was on his feet, that Captain Pausert realized that his feet were no longer manacled. Or tied. Or even chained.

'Brilliant misdirection, boy! Brilliant! I didn't even notice you doing the legs.'

Pausert blushed. This had gone so wrong. He brought his hands up to hide his face.

It was only when the length of chain still on his wrist hit him on the head that he realized that his hands were free too. All that remained of his bonds were the loops around his chest. He realized that the little vatch had kept its promise after all. He was free!

Well, almost. There were just the loops of rope around his chest. If he could pretend it was all planned . . . He sent begging thoughts at the little vatch. All he got was the tinkle of laughter. He strained desperately at the rope. Strained and strained. He felt the veins stand out on his forehead.

The ropes stayed as tight as ever. Pausert wilted. 'I'm afraid . . . something has gone wrong with this stage. I'll have to ask you to undo the knot. Or cut it,' he said lamely.

Himbo got up from his perch on the edge of his desk and walked across. 'Never mind. A fine performance anyway. As good as any I've seen. You'll just have to practice that part. And we'll need to find something better in the way of a cloak than those silly things. Turn around.' A moment later: 'Ho ho! Very clever. Very good indeed!'

Pausert wished that he knew just what piece of naughty-minded witchery had again sent everyone, from that pestilential little vatch to Dame Ethulassia, into gales of laughter. Of course, he couldn't see it. With a sinking heart, Pausert knew that just as Pul and Hantis had to sacrifice their dignity to being part of the 'freak' show, he would have to make a fool of himself in front of audiences across the Empire. Well. At least they probably wouldn't be going to Nikkeldepain.

He was too gloomy at the thought to pay any real attention to the rope falling around his ankles. Or the little twist of flowers where the knot had been.

* * *

Pausert sat in the control room talking to Goth. The Venture was safely snugged into the latticework on the second tier. Her hold was now full of an assortment of ropes, screens, fake treasure chests, feather-light swords, and an eclectic collection of bric-a-brac furniture ranging from ornate ancient chairs to stools some showperson might just have stolen from an ultramodern bar somewhere.

'You got us a good deal,' said Goth, hugging her knees and grinning. 'You're a hot witch, Captain. I wouldn't have thought of that trick with the flowers. And I nearly died when the back of the allweather cloak lifted up so that we could see you and the keys.' She started laughing again. 'It was so neat! You had them all fooled.'

'Actually, Goth, I didn't plan any of that. It was that dratted little vatch. It was playing its tricks on me. We were just lucky, I guess.'

'Luck's a klatha thing too, Captain.'

Pausert sighed. 'We're going to need it, Goth. Everything has gone haywire on this trip. We expected an easy voyage . . . and look at it. We've lost our money, we've nearly lost our ship. I've even lost my best boots. I'm getting used to these new ones now, but they're not the same.'

Goth examined the boots. 'They're pretty spiffy ones, Captain. Looks like Lambidian iguana leather.'

The captain looked at the boots in question. They were smarter looking than he remembered. 'They're a spare pair I've had for years. I certainly never had the money for Lambidian iguana. Even my best pair were just tanned miffel-hide, but made to measure. Anyway, I think boots are going be the least of my problems. I'll have to try to get that bit of vatch stuff I gave to the little one back. I might be able to rely on that. I can't rely on the little vatch. I'll be all chained up on stage and it'll think it a capital joke to disappear.'

'I wonder if I can talk Dame Ethulassia into being chained up in one of your performances?' asked Goth, innocently.

'You stay away from her,' Pausert said sternly.

'You do the same, then,' Goth growled. 'Even if I'm not marriageable age yet, I don't want you fooling around with anybody else.'

The captain rolled his eyes. 'Great. Not only does it seem I've gotten myself a pint-sized fiancee—and how did that happen, exactly? I don't remember anybody asking me—but she's jealous as Medea to boot.'

'Don't need to ask, not on Karres,' Goth replied firmly. 'What's bound to happen is bound to happen. Besides, fair's fair. I'm not fooling around with anybody else either.'

'Of course you're not. You're only twelve years old!'

'Still. Fair's fair.'