Deathstalker Legacy (30 page)

She marched right up to Lewis, looked him up and down, nodded curtly and stuck out a hand for him to shake. When he took it, she gave his hand a brief knuckle-crushing shake, and then pulled him forward into a fierce embrace that drove half the breath out of him. She kissed him loudly on each cheek, rapped him on the armored chest with a knuckle, nodded at the sound it made, and then stepped back to nod approvingly at Lewis.

“Deathstalker!” she said loudly, in a deep thrilling contralto. “Good to meet you at last. Love the armor. Congratulations on your new post. You earned it. Would have liked to be there for the Coronation, but I had to chase that Hellfire creep over half of Xanadu before I finally ran him down. I did send a card, and a present.”

“Ah yes,” said Lewis. “The flower that eats insects. And small rodents. Douglas was . . . very impressed. Welcome to Logres, Emma. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Don’t believe a word of it,” Emma said briskly. “No law-abiding citizen has anything to fear from me. It’s just that I never seem to meet any.” She looked around her, and suddenly she was grinning widely. It transformed her face, making her look a lot younger than her early thirties, and not nearly so daunting. “God, I love this place! Biggest starport in the Empire. I grew up around Mistworld’s starport; my great grandfather used to run it. Romantic places, starports. Always people coming and going, dropping in from fabulous far-off places. Families parting and meeting . . . and more crimes and scams and generally dirty dealing than any other place you can name. Mind you: Customs and Immigration here are crap. No one’s challenged me at all yet.”

“They’re probably still trying to find someone daft enough to try,” said Lewis. “Do you have anything to declare?”

“Only my magnificence,” Emma said, and then laughed loudly. “No media here today? There’s usually half a dozen news crews waiting to greet me whenever I step off a starship.”

“The King wants to keep your presence here under wraps, until he’s had a chance to bring you up to speed,” said Lewis. “Once the local bad guys find out you’ve arrived, they’ll either go to ground or head for the hills. Besides; the situation here is . . . more complicated than you might think.”

Emma shrugged easily. “Isn’t it always? I never get the simple assignments. So; tell me all about the legendary Finn Durandal. I’m a fan of long standing. Studied all his major cases, and watched all five of the documentaries on him. It was because of him that I determined to become a Paragon. Mistworld’s first. I’m really looking forward to working with him. You were his partner for years; what’s he really like?”

“Ah,” said Lewis. “That’s part of the problem. Finn rather thought he was going to be chosen as Champion. In fact, he set his heart on it. He took it very hard when Douglas named me instead. As a result, Finn . . . isn’t as focused on his work as he once was. In fact, no one’s seen much of him at all since the Coronation.”

Emma gave Lewis a hard look. “Are you telling me that he’s sulking? That the legendary Finn Durandal is off sitting in a corner somewhere, pouting?”

“Well, basically; yes. I’m sure he’ll get over it, in time. But until he does, you’re going to have to take up the slack. And since Douglas is the King and I’m the Champion, that just leaves you to be Logres’s Paragon. I hope you know how to hit the ground running.”

“Wonderful,” said Emma. She pursed her large mouth and spat on the ground, uncomfortably close to Lewis’s boot. She glared at him as though it was all his fault, and then sniffed loudly, and shrugged. “I should have known it was too good to be true. I did wonder why they chose a wild card like me. Still; it’s not the first time I’ve been dropped in the deep end with lead weights on my boots. Don’t you worry, Deathstalker; I can hold my end up.” She grinned suddenly, and once again looked almost girlish. “I can’t wait to get stuck in. This is a major step up on the career ladder for me; defender of Humanity’s homeworld. Back on Mistworld, I dreamed of coming here . . . A chance to show what I can really do! Face some real challenges at last. Screw the Durandal. Give me a year here, and people will have forgotten all about him. I’m going to take Logres by the scruff of the neck and shake it till all the filth drops off; you see if I don’t.”

Lewis had to smile. She reminded him irresistably of a younger, less cynical Lewis Deathstalker, from when he first came to Logres; so confident, so full of himself and all the great things he was going to do. His smile slowly faded as he considered how far he’d come from that naïve and optimistic young man. He’d achieved a great many things in his time, done a good job . . . but at the end of the day the world still went as the world went. The Shadow Court was still out there somewhere, and the Hellfire Club. And the poisonous lies of Pure Humanity seemed to reach more receptive ears all the time . . . Lewis shrugged mentally. Maybe Emma Steel was just what they all needed; someone to shake them out of their complacency.

And then Lewis all but jumped out of his skin as Emma roared with a parade ground voice, right in his ear, “You! I see you! Stop that right now!”

She charged right past Lewis, racing across the landing pad, her long legs driving her at incredible speed, her sword and her gun already in her hands. Lewis chased after her, glaring about him for some sign of the enemy, doing his best not to fall too far behind. Surely the ELFs couldn’t have struck again already, so soon after their debacle at the Arenas? Or maybe it was another Neuman suicide bomber? Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, as far as he could see, but he trusted Emma’s instincts. He drew his sword and gun too, and pounded after her as she headed for the baggage area.

And that was where she finally skidded to a halt, gun aimed squarely at two terrified luggage handlers, who couldn’t get their hands in the air fast enough. Lewis crashed to a halt beside her, and had to stop for a moment to get his breath back before he could speak. Emma wasn’t even breathing hard.

“You’re both under arrest!” she said crisply. “Hands on top of your heads, and don’t even think about running or I’ll blow your kneecaps out. Did you really think you could get away with this, right under my nose?”

“Get away with what?” said Lewis, just a little plaintively. “What’s the problem? I thought we were after terrorists. They’re luggage handlers. All right, there have been times when I’ve felt like shooting them too, when my trunk’s ended up on a whole different planet, with all my spare clothes in it, but . . .”

“They’re running a scam,” said Emma. “And a pretty obvious one, at that. They run the cases through that portable scanner there, detect the good stuff, and mark the cases with a secret sign that only shows up under ultraviolet. Someone at the other end will intercept the marked cases before they even reach the carousel inside the terminal, and then they’ll all split the proceeds later. I told you, I grew up around a starport. There isn’t a con or a dodge that I can’t spot.”

“And that’s it? All this, for a couple of con men?” Lewis shook his head, and put away his gun. “Jesus, I nearly had a coronary. I haven’t run that fast since that bomb disposal guy said
oh shit
and threw himself out the window. And you wouldn’t believe where this leather’s chafing me. Emma; this is peacekeeper work. Not something a Paragon needs to get involved with. Anything else you see, just contact port security, and let them handle it.”

“Be your age, Deathstalker,” said Emma. “Port security are part of the scam. That’s how it works.”

She rounded up her quivering charges and marched them at gunpoint to the starport brig, where she made sure they were officially charged and securely locked up before leaving, with a stern warning to everyone present that she would be back later to check on how the investigation was going. Lewis trailed after her, feeling distinctly superfluous.

“You really don’t need to get this personally involved with low-level crime like that,” he said later, after they’d picked up her very minimal luggage and left the terminal. “You’re Logres’s Paragon now. Which means you don’t have to sweat over the small stuff. Or you’ll have no time or energy left to deal with the real trouble when it breaks. You have to take a larger view.”

“Real trouble?” said Emma immediately, her ears pricking up.

“ELFs, devils, Shadow Court assassins. Neuman riots. That’s when we get called in, when the peacekeepers can’t cope. That’s Paragon business.”

“Any crime or injustice is my business,” Emma said briskly, toting her single suitcase with one hand, as though it weighed nothing. “Especially when someone’s stupid enough to do it right in front of me.”

Lewis manfully suppressed another sigh. He’d been just the same when he first arrived on Logres. No one could tell him anything either. Hopefully she wouldn’t take as long as he did to learn that you had to delegate the petty stuff, or you’d drown in it.

“You’re going to be very busy,” he said, diplomatically.

 

Lewis escorted Emma to her designated Paragon’s apartment. It was a roomy enough place, for one person, in a nice enough neighborhood. On the way there, Emma arrested three muggers, seven pickpockets, and one flasher; who was very lucky not to be shot somewhere extremely unfortunate, when Emma thought he was opening his coat to show her his gun. Lewis decided he wasn’t going to hang around while she familiarized herself with her new neighborhood. He didn’t think his nerves would stand it. No; a nice quiet, solitary walk was just what he needed. He had a lot of thinking to do, about his various problems, and he thought a lot better when his pulse rate didn’t keep going through the roof every ten minutes. So he bade Emma a polite farewell, endured another hug, gave her his private comm number, just in case she needed him
in an emergency,
and then left as quickly as was still courteous.

He strolled down the pleasant tree-lined boulevard, frowning just heavily enough that the passersby left him strictly alone, and gave some serious thought to what his life had become. He liked to think that he’d done good work in his time as a Paragon, that he’d made a real difference. But it seemed that was behind him now. His visit to The Sangreal had made it painfully clear that his days as a Paragon were over. He was the Champion now, and it was up to him to decide what that was going to mean. He was damned if he was going to be nothing more than Douglas’s bodyguard, honorable a position though that might be. Just standing around, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for something to happen. That wasn’t him. He needed to be busy, to be . . . doing things. Useful things.

He needed who and what he was to matter.

He was so taken up with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice as the boulevard slowly emptied of other people, until he was walking all alone. He didn’t notice how quiet it had gotten, or that the surveillance cameras were slowly turning themselves off, one by one. He was honestly surprised when a bloodred devil appeared suddenly out of an alleyway before him, and moved quickly forward to block his path. Lewis stopped short, blinked a few times, and studied the sight before him. This particular devil was clearly the result of really first-class transformation work from a major-league body shop. Goat’s horns curled up from a heavy lowering brow, the thin-lipped mouth was crammed full of pointed teeth, and the bent satyr’s legs ended in cloven hoofs. The kind of full body work that cost serious credits. And the disrupter the devil was pointing directly at Lewis’s head was also very much top of the line.

Lewis felt like he should applaud, but he really wasn’t in the mood. He glared at the devil. “Hellfire Club, right? Nice horns. Go away. I’m busy.”

The devil blinked resentfully, suddenly uncertain, and lowered his gun a little. “What?”

“I said, go away. I really don’t have time for this right now. Go mug a tourist, or something. Give them a nice story to tell when they get back home.”

“Shut up!” said the devil, extending his hairy crimson arm to point the barrel of his gun right between Lewis’s eyes. “The Hellfire Club has marked you for death, Lewis Deathstalker!”

Lewis sighed. Just looking at the devil, he could see half a dozen ways to disarm him without putting himself at risk, but he just didn’t have the energy. He was composing a really crushing remark when a second figure suddenly erupted from the alleyway, wearing the black domino mask of a Shadow Court assassin, also pointing an energy gun at Lewis.

“Say your prayers, King’s Champion! The Shadow Court has sentenced you to . . . to . . . wait a minute. Get the hell away from him, you creepy little Hellfire amateur! The Deathstalker is mine!”

“The hell he is!” snapped the devil, bringing his gun quickly around to cover the assassin. “I got here first. Piss off.”

“You piss off, you . . . dilettante! The Shadow Court outranks whatever claim you bunch of degenerates might have on the Deathstalker. So scuttle off back to your body shop, and see if you can still get a refund. And let a real professional deal with this.”

“Excuse me,” said Lewis.

“I got here first,” the devil said stubbornly. “I’m going to shoot him.”

“I’ll shoot you first,” said the Shadow Court assassin. “The credit for this kill is mine. Let all beware the vengeance of the aristocrats!”

“Bunch of pansies,” snapped the devil. “Living on past glories, and bemoaning the good old days when you could still have sex with your cousin without people sniggering at you. You wouldn’t have the guts to do the kind of things we do every day, just for kicks!”

“Oh yeah?” challenged the assassin. “Like what? What do you weirdos do that’s so damned special? Steal the lead off Church roofs and then urinate through the holes?”

“At least we don’t marry our brothers and sisters! Look at those ears of yours. You don’t get ears like that without centuries of inbreeding and a gene pool so shallow you couldn’t even go wading in it. If they were any longer, you could use them to fly.”

“You bastard. You utter bastard!”

“Oh look!” crowed the devil. “He’s going to cry now!”