“Up yours, lady,” Hickok said.
Dhurga’s eyes narrowed. She pointed at Hickok, about to give a command that might call for his head.
Blade was quick to distract her with, “We’ve heard that the Lords of Kismet plan to conquer North America. That you’ve already infiltrated the Free State of California and the Civilized Zone.”
“Infiltrated, nothing,” Dhurga said, still glaring at Hickok. “They are completely under our sway.”
“And now you’re out to destroy the rest of the Freedom Federation.”
“To coin a human expression, as a general rule we don’t destroy meat unless we consider it an exceptional threat,” Dhurga replied. “We merely assumed control of the Flathead Indians, the Moles in their underground hovels, and those frontiersmen in the Dakotas.”
“Assumed how?” Blade was anxious to learn.
Dhurga flicked a finger at Kantoz Shan, and smirked.
Blade was taken aback. That meant five of the Federation factions had been taken over by shapeshifters. “What about the Clan?”
“Too trivial to bother with.”
“So the only faction you are out to eliminate is our Family?” Yama broke his long silence.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“What makes us so special?” Hickok asked. “Are you afraid we’ll kick your butts like we have everybody else’s?”
“Oh, please,” Dhurga said scornfully. “Fear is a human failing. But yes, I am willing to concede that the many foes your Family has vanquished was indeed a factor. That, and your influence in the Federation. Despite the fact your Family is one of the smallest factions, the others looked to you for leadership in times of crises.”
“Crush us,” Blade said, “and you crush the heart of the Freedom Federation.”
“Exactly.”
“Then bringin’ the fight to you was the right thing to do,” Hickok said.
“The three of your against half a continent? You are stupid in the extreme.” Dhurga started to laugh, and caught herself. “Wait. Something has occurred to me. How did you three get here?”
“Pogo stick,” Hickok said.
“What?”
“Haven’t you ever seen one? We have a few at the Home left over from before the Big Blast. You stand on them and jump up and down.” Hickok grinned. “We hopped here.”
Dhurga looked at Blade. “Is he always this idiotic?”
“You have no idea,” Blade said.
“Hey!” Hickok said.
“How did you come to Bangkok?” Dhurga demanded of Blade. “And don’t be as ridiculous as him.”
“We swam,” Blade said.
Hickok cackled.
Dhurga turned to the Indrian and grilled the purple demigod at length. When she faced the Warriors once more, she was scowling. “Apparently my servitors have no idea how you managed it. No unexplained aircraft were detected on our grid. Nor has there been a report of an unidentified oceanic vessel.” She rested four of her six elbows on the arms of her throne. “I was mistaken in saying you will be summarily executed.”
“Don’t you hate it when that happens?” Hickok said.
Dhurga’s smile was positively sadistic. “I am going to drain your brains first.”
CHAPTER 44
Half a dozen red Ganairabs were waiting outside the throne room when the purple Indrian and the green Batuan led the three Warriors out. But only after the Indrian clamped manacles onto Blade’s and Hickok’s wrists.
“What a revoltin’ development this is,” the gunfighter said as the circles of steel were applied.
“They’re too strong to break,” Yama said. “I’ve tried.”
Blade attempted to, anyway, surreptitiously, exerting every muscle in his huge arms and shoulders. It was to no avail.
“You know,” Hickok remarked. “I’m beginnin’ to regret comin’ here. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.”
“Pretty much,” Blade agreed, which was why he’d reached a decision he had yet to share.
They were being ushered toward the lift, the Indrian in the lead, the Batuan at his side. Two Ganairabs lumbered in front of the Warriors, the rest, in double file, came behind.
Since none of the creatures spoke English, as far as Blade knew, he deemed it safe to say, “On my signal we take them, hand-to-hand.”
“Fine by me,” Hickok said. “That green critter has my pistols and I want them back.”
The Batuan was carrying all their weapons. Blade looked longingly at his twin bowies, reflecting that he knew exactly how his friend felt.
“A true warrior should not become dependent on guns and the likes,” Yama said. “Our most deadly weapons should be our own bodies.”
“Here we go again,” Hickok grumbled.
“Pardon?” Yama said.
“You’ve brought this up before,” Hickok said. “A hundred times.”
“Martial philosophy is near and dear to my heart,” Yama said. “We are Warriors, after all.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hickok said, “but we don’t have to make a religion out of it.”
Blade let them quarrel. They had a ways to go to reach the elevator, and he had another decision to make.
“I disagree,” Yama said. “Our lives should be devoted to our craft. Everything we do should be an extension of that.”
“So, what, we should practice our knife throwin’ while we’re rockin’ a baby to sleep at night?” Hickok said.
“Your example is absurd.”
“We can’t be Warriors twenty-four seven,” Hickok said. “We have to unwind, to spend time with out families,our loved ones. I bet Blade doesn’t use his bowies to carve up a grouse at the supper table.”
“Again, you’re misconstruing,” Yama said. “Of course a Warrior must make time to relax now and then. We can’t be at a razor’s edge every minute of the day.”
“Nice to hear you admit it.”
“My point is that a Warrior must not just his skill with a weapon. We must become weapons. Our hands, our feet, must be as deadly as our sidearms.”
“I agree there,” Hickok conceded. “But I don’t spend as much time hittin’ trees as you and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.”
“It toughens the hands.”
“Punchin’ bags work fine for me,” Hickok said. “You don’t have to be a fanatic about things.”
“You are a fanatic about your pistols,” Yama countered. “You practice with yours revolvers more than anyone.”
“That’s
