The Kingdoms of Evil (15 page)

***

"I'm sorry," said Istain, "
we
are invading the
Kingdoms of Evil
? The four of us?" He spread his arms to indicate himself and the two Proctors, Madene, and their rattling train car. A worse invasion force would be hard to imagine.

Lucan rolled his eyes. "Of course not. 'We' means the nations of the Rationalist Union." He grinned "
And
the Warrior Maidens
and
The Nation of Love. But it'll be
us
Rationalists
who bring the big guns to the field."

"Oh right," said Istain, "'cause that's
a lot
less crazy."

"You're a word-wizard," said Lucan, "you don't know gibberish about applied Universal Science. Just accept that you are being placed at the forward line of the most advanced army in history!"

Clanat leaned forward and spoke before Istain could object. "Congratulations, Fellow-Enlisted man, you are now a conscript of the Rationalist armed-forces"

Istain thought for a moment. "Hooray for me," he said. "I don't suppose I can turn down the offer."

The senior Proctor smiled, "the boy can learn."

"Well, what if I---"

"And what about me?"

Everyone looked startled that Madene had spoken. Clanat recovered first. "Your job is more straight-forward, Ms. a'Leagh. We need an ally among the Warrior Maidens. Someone on the inside."

She nodded condescendingly, hair waving.

Of course that
would
satisfy Madene.

Something dark flashed by the window outside. Then another one. They were buildings: low and square and soot-gray; army barracks. The locomotive pulling their car gave a wail that made conversation impossible. By the time he could speak again, Istain realized he might want to stay quiet.

"Okay," said Clanat, "unpack your crap, soldiers. We've arrived."

The next half hour was an improvement over the previous one only because they weren't on a train any more. The muddy, cold, coal-dust-stinking, noisy military garrison was at least unlikely to explode or run screaming off its rails and kill them all. And Istain could stretch his legs without putting his foot in Lucan's crotch.

But the company was still the same. The Proctors spent most of their time signing things and telling Istain to shut up. And this close to Virgin Soil, Madene was getting weird.

"I can hear them," she said as they squelched across the yard next to the gate that capped the Rationalist end of the bridge across the river to Virgin Soil. In front of them, a pair of what looked like enormous wooden shish kebabs were slowly sinking into the mud.

"Hearing voices again?" Istain said to her, then gestured at the two palanquins. "They can't seriously be expecting us to ride in those things."

"Istain, I hear…" Madene's eyes flashed silver and she jerked as if goosed. "Someone's coming for us." In her surprise, she forgot to sound sullen. "I can hear them: their running feet. They're
fast
."

"That would be the Silver Guard, all right. The Warrior Maiden border patrol," Clanat said, "the High Maiden sent them to...well, to carry us. It's quite an honor."

"
Is
it?" Istain said, "because
me
, I'd feel kind of dishonored, being forced to squat in a box for six hours while some goon drags me across however much mud there is between here and wherever it is we're---"

The border patrol came into sight over the crest of the bridge, and Istain quickly re-arranged his priorities
.
"Wow."

"Not exactly, goons, are they?" murmured Clanat.

Istain shook his head. The four girls were a little willowy, but what they had, they showed off. "So I guess you can't wear much clothing when you're carrying people very fast across Virgin Soil, huh?"

"Happier with the trip now, are you?" Madene asked in a tone that could have etched steel.

Istain shook his head. "Hell yeah! I mean, how nice of the High Maiden. What enlightened international relations."

"Typical," Madene snorted.

"I hope it's typical, Madene. When I stop appreciating a nice ass in leather shorts, please just burn my body and put me in an urn."

"Those are Warrior Maidens from the Silver Guard itself," Madene hissed as they followed the two Proctors toward their transportation, "They are not Rationalist girls."

"What, you mean, like you?"

One of the benefits of having long legs was that Istain could outpace Madene's cloud of surliness.

"Hi ladies!" Istain cried as he strode forward, "now who wants to carry me?"

Istain's good mood lasted until he actually got into his palanquin. After that, it took less than five minutes for his mind to turn from thoughts of taut and silky-smooth thighs back to his own discomfort. Curses directed at Warrior Maiden carpenters. Or cabinet-makers, or whatever it was you called the people who made palanquins. Istain tried to pop the crick out of his neck, but succeed only in getting a splinter from the ceiling in his ear.

"You know," said Istain, "there are probably some people whose knees I wouldn't mind jammed into my groin."

"Oh really?" growled Captain-
Assistant
Clanat, his fellow passenger, "that's interesting, because I can't think of
anyone
whose knees I would want stuck in my ears. It looks like we're both out of luck."

"I'd move," said Istain, "but then I'd be castrated and you'd have a squished brain. Hey ladies," he called out the window, "I don't suppose I could sit on the roof, huh?"

"No," called a dulcet voice from behind Istain's back, "but you can sit on
me
, boy-ah."

The bearer behind Clanat laughed and said something in breathy Maidenspeak.

"Just suggest a position!" said the first voice.

The green countryside flashed by as Istain tried to get his higher mental functions to re-boot.

"Don't get your hopes up rookie," said the Proctor, "
I
know about these things, and Warrior Maidens are all talk."

"Maybe the ones who talk to
you
." Came the shouted response from outside.

"How can they hear us in here?" Istain tried to look around, but his head hit the palanquin's wall. "And how can we hear them?"

"You should look outside, boh-ya." called the lead palanquin bearer.

Istain hunched over to peer through the slatted window. He saw grass, more grass, the wall of the palanquin, and then at the limit of his flexibility, he saw the legs of the bearer in the front of the palanquin.

"Burning libraries! She isn't even touching the ground!"

"Thanks!" Came the reply.

And from behind the other bearer said, "In Maidenspeak, say you...uh...'blind silver.'"

"'Blind silver'?" said the first bearer, "who taught you to curse, my gramma?" Then she repeated the jibe in her own language, which started an unintelligible exchange that might have been an argument or a joke or lesbian flirting for all Istain knew. He wished he could understand Maidenspeak.

"Oh yeah, it's real exciting," said the Proctor from between Istain's knees, "a pair of real live Warrior Maidens. Pure. Right, girls?"

"As the new-fallen snow!" Called the one from the front.

"Wow," said Istain, "you know I always thought, well I mean from Madene I assumed, I mean, what about pure in thought and deed?"

There was a laugh from the front while the one in the back answered, "Hey, are pure on my thoughts. Are..." she asked a question in Maidenspeak.

"Our thoughts are pure," translated Selene. "They're d
istilled
, boh-ya."

"Somebody shoot me," said the Proctor.

"I like you. What's your name, boh-ya?"

"Istain." said Istain.

"I'm Selene," said the lead Maiden, "and that's Tara behind. We're both glad to meet you, but I'm
more
glad."

"How are you? Please to meet you!" That was Tara, the wingman. Or maybe it was palanquin-pole-woman.

"Oh I'm great. Selene has given me a much nicer reason to look forward to getting out of this box."

"Yes? What is that?"

"Well I've got all this blood that wants to get to my crotch and I'd love to unfold and give it a chance."

"If you need any help unfolding anything, Istain—"

"All right," Clanat rapped on the wall behind Istain's ear with a knuckle, "enough! You kids can flirt all you want when we're out of this thing, but girls, I need to talk to your new boyfriend here for a minute."

There was a chorus of agreement, then giggles, like little tinkly bells. Istain sighed, then gasped as Clanat's knee jerked.

"Listen up, Fellow-Enlistedman Scander," Clanat fixed Istain with glare that drove thoughts of Selene's rolling hips most of the way out of his mind. "You and I have some talking to do. About your friend Feerborg."

Istain made a face at him. "Strike it out, it's Freetrick! Why the hell do you keep calling him Feerborg?"

"As a reminder that he's the king of an enemy nation. And the emperor of a collection of enemy nations." Said the Proctor, "Even if you've known him since you were toddlers."

"And if you know that much," said Istain, "then why don't you know that Freetrick has never had anything to do with Skrea. Since when has being knocked unconscious and kidnapped by the bad guys been an enemy action?"

"Fellow-Enlistedman Scander—"

"I mean, true words, why are you being so antagonistic about him? He's not going to fight us, he's
one
of us! I mean, if anything, he's the RU's
lever
in…oh."

Clanat grinned at him. "Understand now?"

Istain's brain stumbled, "Look, this doesn't have to be so…I mean, three days ago Freetrick was trying to get a girlfriend and not fail his exams. He's not a…a
spy
for Truth's sake. Freetrick's just a regular guy, alright?"

"Who said I was thinking about using
him
as a spy, Fellow-Enlistedman Scander?" The Proctor raised an eyebrow. "In exchange for promises about divvying up spoils, the High Maidens have agreed to take us all the way to their border with the Kingdoms of Evil. North, then east, then south again. From there you'll get to the Skrean capitol, and be our man on the inside when the time comes to negotiate the surrender-without-terms." He continued, plowing like a locomotive through Istain's shocked silence. "You might wonder why I brought Sergeant-Lecturer Lucan on this little jaunt." Clanat nodded toward the window, and by extension the palanquin that carried Lucan and Madene. "He's here because it was his think-tank that determined the most efficient way to traverse the desert of central Skrea. It's by air,"