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Authors: Dave Duncan
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fixed her silvery gaze on him and angled her ears at him too. “You do realize that they’re all afraid of you, little tweenling?”
“Frightened of
me
? Why?” That was crazy.
“Your scars and the blood that covered you when you arrived. I know Fomalhaut said it was just earthling blood, but we starfolk don’t go in for fighting and killing all the time like earthlings do.”
He wished she hadn’t reminded him that he was a mass murderer. Who was this Fomalhaut, anyway, and why had he turned up to rescue him right after the killings? Rigel hadn’t had time to wonder about that strange coincidence yet, not to mention the mystery of what had motivated the strange mass violence in the first place.
“We don’t do it all the time either,” he said. “I’ve never killed anyone before, but I was attacked, and Saiph defended me.”
“Well, earthling blood doesn’t count for much here. We starfolk never die, you know?”
Of course not. Goddesses were immortal.
“Lucky you. How long do halflings live?”
“Not long by our standards, just a few centuries, but much longer than mudlings or earthlings. We can be killed by violence, of course. One of my greatmothers was eaten by a kraken,and my grandfather drowned. But we don’t go around killing one another. No wars, no murders.” She pulled her feet up, hugged her knees, and stared fixedly at him. “You know why?”
“Because you’re more civilized?”
“Oh, no, we’re not. Because any starborn who kills another dies of guilt, that’s why. It takes all the fun out of blood feuds.”
She paused, waiting for his reaction. He was pretty sure now that Alniyat’s childish, dreamy manner was a velvet sheath on a steel stiletto. She was dangling something important just out of reach. Now it was time for an IQ test apparently.
He said, “Suppose you hired a killer? No, you couldn’t. You couldn’t hire a starborn killer, anyway—same problem. How about arranging an accident, a leaky boat, say?”
She shook her head, lighting up the cave with a hint of a smile. “Indirect murder is still murder.”
“Hiring an earthling, then?”
“That’s absurd. No earthling or mudling would stand a chance against a starborn. Besides, they’re only tools, so the curse would fall upon their owners.”
Now he saw where she was heading. “Halflings, then? Do we tweenlings die of guilt if we kill starfolk?”
“Not usually.” She flashed her teeth again.
“And we’re not tools? We have free will?” Rigel looked down at the Saiph amulet. It was like owning Excalibur, Naegling, Durendal, or the sword of Welleran… or, rather, it was like being owned by them. “How do I ditch this damned thing?”
“Just by dying. Most amulets can be put on or off like ordinary jewelry, but defensive amulets are different. Saiph wouldn’t be much good if you could be threatened or blackmailed into taking it off, now would it?”
“Of course not,” he said, although the logic was obscure.
“Poor Rigel! They won’t give you status, not ever.” She floated to her feet and drifted close to press her breasts against him and touch the tip of her tongue to the end of his nose. “They won’t dare. Halflings make good assassins and you’re impossible to defeat. They can’t let you loose. It’s out of the question. You have the white hair of a child before his color comes in, but you’re not a boy, are you?”
No he wasn’t, and she knew it. This was her third attempt at seduction. “You really want me to prove it? Lie down.”
“You already have proved it,” she said. “You’re a man and you wear Saiph, the king of swords. I have to decide what to do about that. In the meantime, let’s go to dinner.”
Chapter 8
M uphrid explained that he had created the Versailles room as a copy of the Hall of Mirrors in that what’s-its-name French palace, but the huge paintings were blurred and the gold frames were half-melted, giving the room the same phony, half-baked
“Frightened of
me
? Why?” That was crazy.
“Your scars and the blood that covered you when you arrived. I know Fomalhaut said it was just earthling blood, but we starfolk don’t go in for fighting and killing all the time like earthlings do.”
He wished she hadn’t reminded him that he was a mass murderer. Who was this Fomalhaut, anyway, and why had he turned up to rescue him right after the killings? Rigel hadn’t had time to wonder about that strange coincidence yet, not to mention the mystery of what had motivated the strange mass violence in the first place.
“We don’t do it all the time either,” he said. “I’ve never killed anyone before, but I was attacked, and Saiph defended me.”
“Well, earthling blood doesn’t count for much here. We starfolk never die, you know?”
Of course not. Goddesses were immortal.
“Lucky you. How long do halflings live?”
“Not long by our standards, just a few centuries, but much longer than mudlings or earthlings. We can be killed by violence, of course. One of my greatmothers was eaten by a kraken,and my grandfather drowned. But we don’t go around killing one another. No wars, no murders.” She pulled her feet up, hugged her knees, and stared fixedly at him. “You know why?”
“Because you’re more civilized?”
“Oh, no, we’re not. Because any starborn who kills another dies of guilt, that’s why. It takes all the fun out of blood feuds.”
She paused, waiting for his reaction. He was pretty sure now that Alniyat’s childish, dreamy manner was a velvet sheath on a steel stiletto. She was dangling something important just out of reach. Now it was time for an IQ test apparently.
He said, “Suppose you hired a killer? No, you couldn’t. You couldn’t hire a starborn killer, anyway—same problem. How about arranging an accident, a leaky boat, say?”
She shook her head, lighting up the cave with a hint of a smile. “Indirect murder is still murder.”
“Hiring an earthling, then?”
“That’s absurd. No earthling or mudling would stand a chance against a starborn. Besides, they’re only tools, so the curse would fall upon their owners.”
Now he saw where she was heading. “Halflings, then? Do we tweenlings die of guilt if we kill starfolk?”
“Not usually.” She flashed her teeth again.
“And we’re not tools? We have free will?” Rigel looked down at the Saiph amulet. It was like owning Excalibur, Naegling, Durendal, or the sword of Welleran… or, rather, it was like being owned by them. “How do I ditch this damned thing?”
“Just by dying. Most amulets can be put on or off like ordinary jewelry, but defensive amulets are different. Saiph wouldn’t be much good if you could be threatened or blackmailed into taking it off, now would it?”
“Of course not,” he said, although the logic was obscure.
“Poor Rigel! They won’t give you status, not ever.” She floated to her feet and drifted close to press her breasts against him and touch the tip of her tongue to the end of his nose. “They won’t dare. Halflings make good assassins and you’re impossible to defeat. They can’t let you loose. It’s out of the question. You have the white hair of a child before his color comes in, but you’re not a boy, are you?”
No he wasn’t, and she knew it. This was her third attempt at seduction. “You really want me to prove it? Lie down.”
“You already have proved it,” she said. “You’re a man and you wear Saiph, the king of swords. I have to decide what to do about that. In the meantime, let’s go to dinner.”
Chapter 8
M uphrid explained that he had created the Versailles room as a copy of the Hall of Mirrors in that what’s-its-name French palace, but the huge paintings were blurred and the gold frames were half-melted, giving the room the same phony, half-baked
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