The Wizard of Karres

Hantis came back a few moments later, trailing the stocky yellow grik-dog. 'My dear Captain,' she said, coolly, 'I'm really not feeling at all well, and the smell of that Nenbutal food has quite put me off. I don't believe I'll dine after all. Will you call me another cab to take me back to my hotel?'

Captain Pausert fumbled for words. 'Ah. Certainly ma'am. I think we'll accompany you. To tell the truth, I'm not all that fond of Nenbutal food myself.' And he hailed a passing cab.

Back at the huge spaceport, the captain waited until he was sure they were quite alone. 'What was wrong?'

'Pul smelled Nanites,' said Hantis, worriedly. 'I think that the rendezvous must have been discovered.'

'Pretty sure, ma'am,' said Vezzarn. 'Something else smelled about that restaurant, too, and I don't mean the food or these Nanites. I looked in through the window, and those diners just didn't look right. You know why? No wine. You ever been to a Nenbutal place where they haven't served more wine than food?'

'I wonder what effect alcohol, or other drugs, would have on Nanite-controlled people?' said the captain. 'I guess it might make those bodies harder to handle.'

'Probably,' Hantis agreed. 'But what do I do now?'

A plump woman with gray hair and a rather frumpish uniform approached them. 'Pardon me, sirs and ladies, but your coach has arrived.'

The captain was about to point out that they'd not ordered a coach, when the woman continued. 'You are the party I am waiting for from Nikkeldepain, I'd venture to guess, sir?'

The captain realized suddenly that it was Hulik do Eldel. Hulik made up as an older woman, and padded out to change her shape.

'Uh. That's us.'

'If you would follow me, sir?'

* * *

Ten minutes later, after a series of maneuvers designed to shake off any pursuit, they were sitting in the Thunderbird, with the Daal of Uldune. Or, rather, with two of the six Sedmons.

'Your ship is under surveillance. A large party of ISS operatives went out there shortly after you left. We've been monitoring all incoming ships of the right size-class, as we were pretty sure the vessel's appearance would be subtly altered.'

'It took us a little time to get there—and we nearly ran into the ISS ourselves,' continued the other. 'They were probably mounting the same kind of operation.'

'And the restaurant we were supposed to use as a rendezvous is full of Nanites,' said Pausert. 'I think there was a severe security leak. But the real question is: what do we do now? We've got no way of contacting the Empress.'

One of the Sedmons coughed. 'We have an official invitation to the Carnival ball. As usual, as part of the entertainment there is to be a cultural display from various planets in the Empire, organized by the Ministry for Arts and Cultures. Folk dances, traditional singing, apparently a display of fire-eating and stilt-fighting.'

Goth was the first to catch on. 'Is the Petey B in port?'

The Sedmons nodded in unison. 'We have certain . . . associates in town. We believe a substitution could be arranged. The Ministry for Arts and Cultures is not terribly well organized.'

'In the meanwhile, the ISS is searching for you,' said Hulik. 'We've arranged that you will disappear. We have a comfortably appointed warehouse on the northern edge of the port. Himbo Petey will be brought to see you. You may leave the arrangements to us.'

'Better send Dame Ethulassia too,' said Goth, thoughtfully. 'We'll need to raid her wardrobe.'

 

CHAPTER 36

So that was how the captain found himself sweating in the uniform of a Slalonican peasant festival dancer. The puffy sleeves would have been ideal to hide a Mark 20 in, but naturally they'd all been thoroughly scanned for weaponry before being allowed into the Imperial complex. Even here they were totally isolated from the actual guests and nobility of the Empire, and of course, the Imperial House themselves. The dances and displays took place on a stage, with an unobtrusive moat separating the mere entertainers from the jeweled and masked butterflies of the Imperial court. That moat, the Sedmons had explained, was actually a kill-zone. It had everything from spikes to detectors connected to sonic fibrilators, to several Imperial household bodyguards with heavy weapons, all to forestall a would-be folk dancer assassin. They were locked into their section—and the only official way out was through a long passage that led to gates outside the main compound. Emperor Koloth was taking no chances that the traditional Winter Carnival would lead to his death, the way it had to the death of his uncle, the Emperor Tarabian. There was, however, a door, which no one was supposed to know about. The Emperor Justino had had a secret way made to the dressing rooms, so that he could visit his mistress, who had been a tsling-dancer from Ambar's World.

It was, of course, securely locked.

The Empress Hailie would be at the ball, as would her stepson the Emperor. First there would be the dancing and the entertainments, and then the Imperial House would go out to the grand balcony for the people and the vids.

Outside in the Imperial city the revelry was noisy and cheerful, with music and dancing, fireworks and the drinking of loyal toasts. It wouldn't even pause until the Emperor and his retinue appeared on the stroke of midnight on the grand balcony, to accept the adulation of his people.

Inside the grand ballroom the royal orchestra played ancient music on traditional instruments—very badly, to the captain's ear. It didn't matter much, as the masked courtiers weren't letting appreciation of it spoil their cultivated languid boredom or their gossip.

'How is Vezzarn doing with that lock?'

Captain Pausert was living in mortal fear that he might have to dance. The pin-striped kilt and wooden shoes might be traditional dress on Slalonica, but as far as the captain was concerned, they made him feel very foolish. Not to mention clumsy.

'Fine. He said another five minutes,' said a stilt dancer from Kota. She was a pretty little blonde with gray eyes.

'That's what he said five minutes ago,' grumbled Pausert.

'Well, it still looks like you won't actually have to dance, Captain.' Goth was dressed up in the red and green paint of the Mardaban fire-eaters. 'I've got your evening-dress 'ported into the changing rooms, and a lovely mask.'

Captain Pausert was going to accompany Hantis, who'd be wearing her fabulously expensive tozzami fur coat, lelaundel tippet, and a gorgeous beaked mask. The captain's costume, especially his own mask, was designed to match. The mask had jewels on it. Lots of them, and the captain didn't think any were fake. He decided not to ask where the jewels had come from. There'd be time enough later for his stern lectures on property and moral probity.

'Has anyone got the Empress picked out yet?' he asked.

'We think she's the one in the gold lame with the feathers,' said Hulik. 'But that's the whole point of the masked ball, Captain. The idea is to let the Imperial House mingle with their courtiers.'

'Stupid,' grumbled Pul. 'You can tell who anyone is by smell anyway. And that lot reek of Nanite. I'll tell you soon enough which one is the Empress. I was given her scarf to sniff, once.'

'It's open,' said the small spacer.

Lots of dream candy out there, said a little silver-eyed menace, suddenly.

Don't cause trouble now. Please, begged the captain hastily. Why did this vatch have to keep coming back?

'Let's go, Captain,' said Hantis. He offered the Sprite his arm and she rested one elegant gloved hand on it. Pul had been decorated as much as possible to make the grik-dog appear to be a pampered lady's toy, not even to be left behind at a social occasion. The grik-dog looked more sour than usual about the pink bows and the jewel- encrusted leash.

They slipped out and were soon weaving their way between the Emperor's guests. The masked dancers were