Deathstalker Return (4 page)

Lewis shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I don’t know. It worries me that perhaps I did, and turned a blind eye, because he was so good at catching villains. But we spent time together off duty, Finn and Douglas and me. We talked, and drank together, had good times. I trusted him to guard my back, and he never let me down. Till now.”

“I never trusted him,” said Jesamine. “He was always too pretty, too perfect. When people like that break, they break all the way.” She glared at Brett. “At least Finn has the excuse of being crazy. Why did you go along with him, knowing what he was?”

Brett cringed under the weight of her contemptuous gaze. “Hey, it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter! He said he’d kill me if I didn’t go along, and I had every reason to believe him. Some of the things I heard him say . . . I’m no saint, lady, Sir Deathstalker, I’m a career criminal and proud of it, but . . . he’s so far over the edge now he can’t even see it from where he is. Like Rose said, there’s nothing he won’t do, no atrocity he’d flinch from, to get what he wants. And much to my surprise, it turned out there’s a line even I won’t cross, after all. After what I found in his secret files, I had to help you escape. And . . . I am a Random, after all. My ancestors and yours were friends, comrades. Perhaps . . . we’re meant to be together.”

“Oh, please,” said Jesamine. “Spare me. Lewis was a Paragon, and I was a star, but even we are not the stuff of legends. You are and never will be anything more than a common thief who got in over his head and panicked.”

“I was never a common thief!” Brett said hotly. “I was a top-rank thief! I could con you out of everything you owned, including the clothes you were wearing, and so skillfully you wouldn’t even notice until the wind changed direction.”

“We left the Durandal of our own free will,” said Rose Constantine. “Brett for his reasons, and I . . . because Finn wasn’t worthy of me. He had ambition, but no taste. For him, killing was just killing. I expect a much higher quality of murder with you, Sir Deathstalker. With you, I confidently expect death-defying schemes, overwhelming odds and suicide missions, and all the other things that make life worth living. The killing’s always good around a Deathstalker. You draw it to you. It is your destiny. Just lead me to the slaughter and turn me loose upon your enemies. It is all I ask of you.”

I want to go home,
Lewis thought miserably.
I want to go back to when my life made sense, and I wasn’t surrounded by crazy people.

“Thank you, Rose,” he said finally, because he had to say something. “Rest assured that if we ever come to the point where one of us has to make a last desperate stand so the others can escape, I promise I’ll think of you first.”

Rose considered him thoughtfully. “How is it, Sir Deathstalker, that a warrior of your renowned abilities never fought in the Arena? I would have been delighted and honored to cross swords with you.”

“I kill for duty,” Lewis said stiffly. “When there’s no other way to get the job done. Never for pleasure.”

Rose sniffed, and looked away. “Boring,” she said, seeming to lose all interest in Lewis. He didn’t know whether to feel insulted or relieved.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on us like that,” said Jesamine, flaring up immediately at the insult to her Lewis. “Since we’re talking about your career on the bloody sands, perhaps you’d care to explain to us just how a complete bloody psychopath got into the Arena in the first place? There are supposed to be a whole series of psychological tests that have to be passed by all would-be gladiators, expressly designed to keep out people like you! So how the hell did you get in?”

Rose turned back to smile at Jesamine with her humorless crimson mouth. “It was easy. The Arena owners rig the tests. They always have. They realized a long time ago that people like me, the natural born murderers, make the best fighters—the stars who’ll give the crowds what they want, and keep them coming back for more. Sane people don’t last long on the bloody sands. They get careless, or they burn out too quickly. Come on, what sensible, well-adjusted person would want to fight in the Arena anyway, to face the threat of suffering and dismemberment and even death, over and over again? The Arena is where we go to sate our ancient appetite for blood. I’ve often thought they should test the crowds . . . but that would give the game away, wouldn’t it?”

“The Arena is a place to display valor and skill and fortitude,” said Lewis. “A testing ground, to bring forth heroes.”

Rose laughed breathily, a dark disturbing sound. “Blood, Deathstalker. It’s always been about blood. When your civilized men and women go to the Arena, they go to see people like me. To glory in what we do. And afterwards, they dream about being me. Underneath all the culture and refinement of your precious Golden Age, all the old appetites are still there, repressed but not forgotten. Why do you think Pure Humanity and the Church Militant became so popular so quickly?”

“No,” said Lewis. “I don’t believe that. I won’t believe it. People are better than that. They proved it, by overthrowing Lionstone, and building the Golden Age. We have our dark side, our baser instincts, but it has always been the triumph of Humanity that most of us rise above them.”

“Of course you believe that,” said Rose. “You’re a Deathstalker. You are the best of us. But you still need someone like me, just as the blessed Owen needed his Ruby Journey.”

“Excuse me,” said Saturday. “Fascinating though this conversation undoubtably is to those who care about this sort of thing, I have a question. How is it that you and I never fought in the Arena, Rose Constantine?”

“Because we were stars,” Rose explained patiently. “And the Arena owners didn’t want to risk either of us while they could still make money out of us. You wouldn’t believe what they make off of merchandising alone. They would have given you to me eventually. When they’d made all they could off of you.” The pale tip of Rose’s tongue moved briefly over her dark lips. “I was looking forward to it.”

“I’m sure it would have been quite delightful,” the reptiloid said politely.

Brett looked disgustedly at Rose. “Hardly a word out of you for days, and now you can’t stop talking. A whole new philosophical side to you, and all of it utterly depressing. Why can’t you say something nice, just for once?”

“Sorry,” said Rose. “I don’t do nice.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” said Jesamine. “Such corruption, and . . . vileness, going on right at the heart of Logres. It’s like something out of Lionstone’s time!”

“People want what they want,” said Brett, immersed in his private viewscreen again. “And as long as they do, other people will be right there, ready and willing to supply it to them. For a price.”

Lewis glared at Brett. “God, you depress me. I used to bust scumbags like you. Psycho killers in the Arena, alien porn . . . why do people want shit like that anyway?”

Brett sighed and looked up from his screen. “Because, Sir Deathstalker, Sir Paragon, people always want what other people think they shouldn’t want; things they can’t have because other people say they shouldn’t be allowed. Maybe especially in a Golden Age. Being civilized is hard work. The higher we rise, the more fun there is to be had in allowing yourself to fall. Honor and virtue are all very well, but they don’t satisfy like a good old roll in the mud. You and Miss Flowers should understand that. She was engaged to be married to your best friend. You were the Champion, and she was going to be Queen. But you both threw it all away to be together. So here you are, Sir Deathstalker, on the other side of the law, with scumbags like me. How does it feel? Had any good insights yet?”

“What we did,” Jesamine said steadily, “we did for love.”

“Oh, love,” said Brett. “Well then, that makes everything all right, doesn’t it?”

“Finn Durandal has to be fought,” said Lewis. “He has to be stopped. Nothing else matters. And if I have to work with poor materials like you, Brett, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll make a hero out of you or kill you trying.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Brett growled, and turned ostentatiously back to his viewscreen.

Lewis leaned back in his captain’s chair and pretended to study the comm panels before him. For all his professed confidence, he felt lost, abandoned, and very alone. So much of what he’d believed in had turned out to be built on sand. Or blood. The people he’d sworn to protect had disowned him and betrayed his faith in them by embracing madness and evil. He’d fought so hard to be perfect, for them. Surely he had the right to expect as much from them? And now here he was, a reluctant rebel against the very authorities he had once proudly represented.

Deep down, he had often wondered what it must have been like, to be an outlaw like his blessed ancestor, the Owen. To fight, alone and heroically, against an evil Empire. He’d had his quiet, secret fantasies of putting himself to the ultimate test. To be a real Deathstalker. Well, now he was living out his dreams, and they had turned out to be nightmares. He’d become the rebel hero at last, but he’d never dreamed he’d have to give up so much. His oath of fealty, to King and Empire. The honor of being a Paragon, and then Imperial Champion. He had finally discovered the great love of his life, but couldn’t believe how much it had cost him. He had betrayed and lost his best, closest friend, King Douglas. Lewis looked over at Jesamine.

Jesamine threw what was left of her protein cube away. It hit the cabin wall and bounced. Jesamine tossed her cup aside and folded her arms tightly. “That was disgusting! God knows how many times it’s already been through recycling! I’d rather starve. There are convicted mass murderers on prison planets who eat better than this!”

“What’s the matter, diva?” said Rose. “Not used to slumming it with the real people?”

“The food is disappointing,” Saturday said mildly. “Where’s the fun in food if it isn’t kicking and squealing?”

Everyone looked at him. “Can I just say ‘Oh, puke’?” said Jesamine. “Also
yech,
and
urrgh
! Someone change the subject
now.
”

“And can we please not talk about prisons?” Brett said plaintively. “This overcrowded tin can reminds me far too vividly of my one unfortunate stay in durance vile. It’s making me distinctly twitchy.”

“We all know why you’re twitchy,” Jesamine said severely. “It’s because you raided the medicine cabinet yesterday and took every pill and potion you could get your hands on. It’s a wonder your brain cells haven’t melted down and dribbled out your ears.”

Brett snorted dismissively. “Given the quality and dosages of stuff I’ve tried in the past, my system hardly noticed it. Besides, I needed it. I get very nervous. Really. You have no idea. And don’t bully me! I’m having a hard time. I may cry.”

“Leave the Random alone,” Rose said calmly. “He may be small and useless, but he’s mine.”

“Oh, God,” said Brett. “It just gets worse and worse . . .”

Jesamine spun round in her chair to glare at Lewis. “You heard that overdressed cow, Lewis! She threatened me!
Do something!
”

Lewis wondered wistfully whether the
Hereward
had a sleepgas option, so he could shut them all up and get some serious thinking done.

“Everybody calm down, right now,” he said, putting all his Paragon’s authority into his voice. “We still haven’t decided where we’re going yet. More and more it seems to me that we should put our search for Owen and Hazel on hold, until we’ve dealt with all the loose ends we left behind on Logres.”

“There is no way I’m going back to Logres,” Brett said immediately. “Too many people want me dead there, most definitely including Finn Durandal. Hell, he wants all of us dead. Preferably in slow, inventive and very messy ways. Why the hell would we want to go back to Logres?”

“Some of us had friends we left behind,” said Lewis. “I’m worried about Emma Steel. She doesn’t know about Finn. And she is perhaps the only true protector Logres has left.”

“You said yourself she’s a first class Paragon,” said Jesamine, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Lewis’s arm. “She can look after herself. And she’s got backup in Stuart Lennox, your official replacement from Virimonde. You said he was a good sort.”

“I left him broken and bleeding on the starport landing pads,” said Lewis. “Another blood debt I owe Finn. Even if Stuart does make a full recovery, he’s just starting out as a Paragon. Too young, too trusting. I may have thrown him to the wolves.”

“They aren’t who you’re really worried about,” said Jesamine. “You’re worried about Douglas.”

“Yes,” said Lewis. “He is the King, and we left him alone and unprotected, surrounded by political and religious fanatics just dying for a chance to bring him down. And he doesn’t know about Finn either.”

“He has Anne,” said Jesamine. “We’ve all been friends for ...”

“I don’t trust her anymore,” said Lewis.

“Oh, Lewis,” Jesamine said tenderly. “You can’t worry about everyone, sweetie. It’s an endearing trait, but an impractical one. Worry about us instead.”

“Oh, I do,” said Lewis. “Trust me, I do. What can we hope to achieve? A dishonored Paragon, a disgraced diva, a homicidal maniac, an alien who likes eating kicking, squealing things, and Brett. It doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence, does it?”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Brett. “I think I resent that. I have all kinds of useful talents. Not particularly nice ones, perhaps, but still . . .”

“Tell him about the data crystal you stole from Finn’s secret files,” said Rose.

Brett tried to glare at her, but it came out more like a pout. “Thank you, Rose. I was saving that, in case I needed something to barter with later on. Remind me to have a little talk with you about this marvelous new concept called forward planning. But since you’ve raised the subject . . .” He looked unhappily at Lewis. “You’re really not going to like this, Sir Deathstalker, but please don’t blame the messenger for the message. I . . . happened upon certain files in Finn’s computer that he thought he’d hidden behind some really quite superior protection. The files contained some of his future plans, in some detail. I’ll let you study the data crystal later, but the Durandal’s most unpleasant scheme . . . was his intention to have all the Paragons ambushed, as they set out on their great quest to find Owen Deathstalker. Apparently the idea is that they will be overwhelmed by superior forces while they’re separated and far away from any hope of backup. Finn wants the Paragons taken out of the picture. Probably because he sees them as the only real threat left to his long-term ambitions. Or perhaps because he’s always hated them. For being what he only pretended to be.”