Now Leif lost it, hurling himself forward into another running attack, sword raised for a head cut. This time, he thought, the guy wouldn't move away!
The Frenchman didn't. He moved forward, into Leif's attack, his blade across his body, parallel with the ground. Neither the Frenchman's point nor the sharpened edges of his saber threatened Leif…. But the metal guard that protected the swordsman's hand was in a direct line with Leif's jaw. There was no way to stop, to turn away. Running full-tilt, Leif rammed into the equivalent of brass knuckles backed by a very muscular arm, shoulder, and body.
'Better than killing you, puppy,' the Frenchman said.
Then it was lights out for Leif.
Leif opened his eyes with a wince, finding himself on his computer-link couch in 2025 New York. 'Ouch!' he muttered. 'Knocked right out of the sim!'
Gingerly he rubbed his temples. His head throbbed a little, but it wasn't as bad as the headache that came with a system crash.
Of course, that didn't factor in the hit his pride had just taken-
Leif didn't have time to fret over that for very long. The communications chime sounded from his computer. Someone was calling. He responded, and Roberta Hendry's furious face appeared in holo projection. 'That was a lousy thing you did, Anderson,' she accused. 'Setting me up like that.'
'Setting you up? Me?' Leif said in confusion. 'Not bloody likely-unless you think my idea of a big payoff is getting my butt kicked. I had words with one of Gray Piotr's goons'-better not to say what it was about, he decided-'and found myself in the most one-sided duel-or fencing match or whatever you want to call it-of my life.'
Roberta calmed down slightly as she considered what Leif had said. 'It has to be Slaney, then, who set me up,' she finally said viciously. 'That worm has always hated my politics-he thinks they're a stain on his little aristocratic fairyland.' She gave Leif a sidelong look. 'And it would seem that sword-boy has some sort of problem with your fencing reputation. Could it be jealousy?'
Leif shook his head. 'Two completely different styles-they don't even intersect. Slaney and his friends are essentially academic-preserving the old forms that aren't used much anymore. I'm into the sport end-you know, competition.'
'Maybe that's exactly what he sees you as,' Roberta cut in, 'Competition. Does he know about your championships?'
Thinking about the enormous database form that he'd filled out, Leif could only shrug. 'Yeah, I'm sure it got mentioned somewhere in the character profile. But, still-'
Roberta, however, had heard everything she wanted to hear. She leaned in towards her system pickup. 'I've got friends on the national board of AHSO-at least my parents do. We shouldn't let Slaney get away with this. A strong enough protest to the right people would get Latvinia shut down.'
Leif couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'For what?' he said, pouring cold water on Roberta's idea. 'You could have suffered an accident. And I didn't have the brains to check up on the guy who called me out. Neither incident can be pinned to Slaney, and they're hardly mortal offenses even if we could prove he was behind them.'
He shrugged, suddenly wondering how Megan would feel if somebody pulled the plug on Latvinia. 'Besides, it's just a sim-a fantasy.'
On the other side of the connection, Roberta had calmed down a little-not necessarily a good sign. She had gotten over getting mad. Now she was into getting even. When she answered Leif, every word seemed to come out like a drop of venom.
'Maybe that's what Alan Slaney needs to learn,' Roberta said. 'That his fantasies can have real-life consequences.'
Chapter 7
Megan had gotten as far as the French doors to the courtyard before the Graf von Esbach caught up with her- and gently stopped her.
'Your Majesty,' he said softly, 'it would be most improper for you of all people to witness that duel.'
The background knowledge programmed into the sim backed him up a hundred percent. Duels were supposed to be private affairs-audiences were frowned upon. Female audiences were especially frowned upon, although there were a couple of scandalous historical references. But for a member of a royal house to involve him- or herself in such an irregular affair..
In properly old-fashioned terms it just wasn't done.
Megan's initial response was the urge to yell 'Frack that!' and go to back up Leif, regardless of the consequences.
But then, she wasn't really Megan O'Malley in this here and now. She was in a sim, playing Marguerite O'Malley, adventurous society girl masquerading as Princess Gwenda. Marguerite would never use language like 'Frack that!' And the real princess wouldn't be caught dead at a duel.
Standing beside her, the older man watched the duelists head off for the walled garden. Then he glanced at Megan. 'You and the baron… is it a matter of the heart?'
Megan shot the old guy a look that could have scorched off his side whiskers. 'We're just friends,' she snapped. Then, in a lower voice, 'If I were the real princess-'
'I would never have dared to ask such a thing,' von Esbach finished for her in equally quiet tones. 'However, dear lady, I am fighting for the life of my country. So I will risk an impertinent question if it will help discover a weakness to be defended.' He nodded toward the garden. 'Even as our antagonist seeks out any weaknesses he can exploit.'
Megan's hand went to her mouth. 'That man who challenged Leif-the baron-'
'One of Gray Piotr's creatures.' Von Esbach almost spat out the word. 'He's an unknown foreign adventurer, given rank in our army by the Master of Grauheim.'
The prime minister bit off any further words as Gray Piotr himself approached. Once again he seemed to be scanning Megan with his monocle. Searching for signs of weakness?
'Your Majesty,' Piotr murmured. 'You left the court in such haste that many were surprised. Some even thought you were going off to witness the vulgar spectacle outside.'
Oh, Vm sure your stooges are even now spreading that particular bit of dirt, Megan grimly thought.
She looked hard at the face, so like the Alan Slaney she admired… and yet so different.
'You can tell the court that I shall return-'
When I'm damn well good and ready, a rebellious voice piped up from the back of Megan's head.
'Presently,' she finished aloud, deciding a more diplomatic tone was appropriate.
Then she ruined the effect by gasping as the gate of the walled garden swung open. Four men were carrying another. And even at that distance, she could make out the red hair on the lolling head.
'Is he-?' She couldn't force the words out.
Gray Piotr's mask of aristocratic irony cracked. He muttered some sort of command, and everything around them-the palace corridor, the courtyard outside-went gray. Beside them, Graf von Esbach stood frozen like a store mannequin or some hyper-realistic statue.
'Don't worry,' Alan said-and it was Alan speaking, not Gray Piotr. 'I'm just freezing the sim for a moment. It's hard to play a character and get all the information you want.'
His face got a distant look, as if he were listening to a faraway voice. 'You're friend's fine. No blood shed- he just got knocked unconscious. In fact, that's a simulacrum they're carrying. The real Leif synched out.'
His smile of relief turned less pleasant. 'So did Roberta Hendry, after her curtsy showed off more than she intended. The Viola da Gamba leaving the court is just a simulacrum, too.'
He waved an arm at the scene. 'I thought you'd like to know that everything's okay. This is just cleaning up the set.'
Alan readjusted his monocle, and Graf von Esbach and everyone else came back to life. But a thoughtful
