The council of blades, p.17
The Council of Blades, page 17
Skyrockets burst and Catherine wheels blurred; overhead, Tekoriikii squealed as a great black hippogriff slammed into him from below. Miliana rose up out of an astounding pile of rubble, dust and ash, dimly reaching out to take her crumpled pointy hat. The dazed girl blinked about herself trying to remember what was wrong.
There was something she had to do …
Miliana felt a fluttering piece of paper land itself across her face. She peeled the paper away, saw that it was an exquisitely detailed sketch of her own naked rear, and finally felt the world jump into focus.
Yes! Kill Lorenzo!
A soldier lay half buried under fallen tiles. Miliana dazedly ripped herself up out of the ruins and took the enormous halberd from the soldier’s hands.
“Can I borrow this?”
A fearful racket started overhead—screams and howls—a piercing eagle screech. Miliana ignored it all, her stunned mind fixed on a single thought as she tottered up across the ruins of Lorenzo’s rooms.
A head popped up out of the rubble; Miliana took one look at Lorenzo, lifted up the halberd, and raced toward him with a manic battle scream. Wailing in abject terror, Lorenzo took off like a rabbit. Overhead, a mighty battle filled the air with feathers, wings, and screams, while a thousand skyrockets shook the heavens with a deafening crash of light.
“You and I—two creatures almost from different worlds! Who knows what adventures might greet the explorer’s eyes? The pounding pulse—the alien touch of scents and dreams. We owe ourselves the experience—let us seize it while we may!”
One eye blackened, and the sharp mark of a woman’s handprint standing sharp and red across his cheek, Luccio Irozzi wandered disconsolately through the plazas of the Mannicci palace, reciting his little litany in puzzlement. His evening had somehow gone sadly astray. Now, with the firework display lighting up the world and shuddering every windowsill, the entire party population had crowded onto the balconies to marvel at the unprecedented show. Having been beaten nearly comatose by a dozen eligible females, Luccio decided to take a break and reassess his romantic strategies.
“You and me are two creatures almost from different worlds?” Luccio changed the timbre of his voice and tried again. “You and I? Yes—you and I are both inhabitants of far, far different worlds …”
It didn’t seem to work quite as well as it should. The daughter of Blade Captain Toporello had somehow managed to pour the contents of a flower vase into his tights, and it felt as though some of the rose stems might still be down there. Dejected and defeated, Luccio made his way into the deserted courtyard and sat himself down beside the bubbling waters of the ornate fountain.
A note written on mother-of-pearl had asked him for a tryst here at midnight; Luccio scanned the deserted courtyard and hung his head with a disappointed sigh.
Fireworks burst and blasted overhead like a war between the gods; crowds made “oohs” and “aaahs” of appreciation, sounding like the ebb and flow of distant seas. The rear courtyard suddenly dissolved into a noisy chaos of bellows, shouts, and screams, while the whole palace shuddered to an unseen blow.
Having lost the party mood, Luccio ignored it all and sadly trailed a fìnger into the cool water at his side.
A penniless father had left Luccio the heir to an empty house and a world of debt. Without funds, there were no mercenaries—without mercenaries, no votes, and without votes, a gentleman had no influence at all. Disinclined to don a metal suit and join the troops himself, Luccio normally faced his misfortunes with a flippant smile.
Heaving a sigh, Luccio laid himself back against a marble statue of a spouting dolphin and let his velvet cap fall to the ground. Spray from the fountain kissed his cheek as he closed his eyes to the flash and glitter of artificial stars.
“It’s true, really. I don’t really have anything to offer. Nothing but poor old Luccio—who, frankly, is not much of a prize. No fortune, no mansion, no votes, no ties; a simple promise of devotion doesn’t hold any water these days.”
A stream of ripples in the fountain drifted to a halt; the whole world seemed to draw a quiet breath.
“It never really seems to work out for me. There’s nothing to fall back on but myself—and I keep wondering if that’s anything to offer to a girl.
“But a real girl—someone just … different. Someone who could maybe see that there’s a prize here for the taking … now that’s a dream worth having!”
Behind Luccio, a pair of startling lavender eyes shone beneath the waters. Tall, delicate, fish-finned ears rose quietly up into the air.
With his back to the water, Luccio ran his hand across his brow.
“When I close my eyes, I can see you drifting there in front of me. You and I—two creatures almost from different worlds. Who knows what adventures might greet the explorer’s eyes? The pounding pulse—the alien touch of scents and dreams. We owe ourselves the experience. Let us seize it while we may!”
A figure erupted from the water with an excited squeal and clasped Luccio in its arms. A curvaceous, scaly body, bright eyes, and wild pink hair flashed briefly in the light of fireworks as the nixie locked Luccio in a passionate, soaking kiss. With a shout, the man spilled backward into the freezing waters while the nixie damsel drew a breath, crammed his face up against her impassioned breast and happily wrapped him against her scales.
Cool and quiet in the darkness, Lorenzo stated his case with an admirable degree of calm.
“Look—traditionally, all beauty is judged by ultimates; the perfect figures, the studied poise … you know the kind of thing.” Lorenzo sat cross-legged on the floor of a cupboard, trying to be the voice of sweet reason in the storm. “I merely determined that if I wanted to define the actual basics of beauty, I would have to try to discover the beautiful within a subject who exhibits absolutely none of the … ah … the actual … that is, none of the accepted attributes of feminine …” The artist stumbled, sensing himself sliding into even more trouble.
Lorenzo’s refuge shuddered as Miliana’s halberd blade viciously hacked its way in through the door.
“Come out of there, you—you suitor, you! Open that damned door!”
Inside the cupboard, Lorenzo watched his barricades and makeshift locks splinter one by one. He tried to keep himself adrift inside a sea of studied calm.
“I realize that I have behaved badly—nay, inexcusably. I can only say that what I did was done from the most pure of motivations, and that my respect for you is utterly sincere. Nor did I realize until last night that you were actually my … intended.
“Now perhaps we ought to get the nude painting of you back into hiding before it goes out on public display.”
“What?”
Miliana hurtled the halberd aside, rammed a fist through the broken door and undid the lock with one sharp tug of her hand. She dragged Lorenzo out into the light and shook him like a stick insect in her claws.
“What do you mean it’s going on display?”
“Well it’s … it’s the only painting that’s missing!” Lorenzo felt the words being squeezed bodily out of his throat by Miliana’s grasp. “Someone must ha-have taken the picture to put up for the ceremony!”
The girl released her victim, turning herself quite green with shock.
“Was it anything like those—those sketches?”
“Um …” Lorenzo tried to see a way to somehow escape with his life. “Um—no …”
Miliana felt a brilliant ray of hope. “No?”
“Well … yes.” Lorenzo felt the sweat pour off him as he glanced at the halberd leaning against a nearby wall. “Um—quite a lot like them actually.”
Scorched, torn, and wild, Miliana hoisted Lorenzo up to his feet, turned him about, and dragged him toward the ruins of his apartment.
“Come on! Get the painting of the sea goddess! It’s going to take both of us to carry it!”
Confused, Lorenzo felt himself being propelled across the rubble by a freckled amazon in skirts.
“Aren’t you going to kill me?”
“I’ll kill you later. Now help me get that painting back!”
Standing on a balcony that faced off across the Akanamere, Lady Ulia Mannicci stood in splendor, wearing a hat that would have done justice to the goddess Umberlee herself. Puffing out her indignant bosom, the lady watched the brilliant fireworks with an air of irritation and disdain.
“Miliana should be here to applaud this display! Cappa, my dear—where has your unruly daughter hidden herself now?”
Prince Cappa Mannicci scowled and scanned the crowds, then signaled for the services of an aide.
Standing proud and hostile amidst a crowd of haughty elves, the lady of the Yuirwood threw her cloak back from her pale shoulders and pushed free from the crowds to confront her awesome hostess.
Ulia turned to face the elf like a stone giant confronting a sprite. The two women met eye to eye in a strange fellowship of mutual anger and pride.
“I am called Lonereed Silverleaf, of the Clan of Wandering Spray.” The slim queen tilted her angry silver eyes. “I have come here as a guest to your house, and I claim a guest’s right of justice!”
Ulia’s bodice swelled like a galleon’s sails before a storm.
“Justice, you ask? Then my dear, it is justice you shall have!” The human woman gazed down from the celestial heights of her pride. “How have you been wronged within my city, and under my roof?”
“Theft!” The elf drew her robes tight against her narrow frame. “My most prized of jewels—a love gift from my people—has been stolen from me. Stolen! And the thief has the insolence to wear the necklace right here before my very eyes!”
“Then this outrage shall be dealt with at once.” Ulia took the elven woman by the arm and led her away from the thunderstorm of fireworks outside. “Tell me the identity of the thief.”
Lady Silverleaf raised a long index finger and summoned a figure from among her courtiers; Brightlightning Dragonsbane strode forth and knelt before his lady’s feet. Lady Silverleaf indicated the man with a wave of her hand.
“My bodyguard and boon companion has followed the thief to her lair.”
“Good.” Ulia settled her stomach in its spun-steel and adamantine girdle. “Then describe her to me.”
“My lady—it is the girl who stood beside you to welcome us into your home.” The elven bodyguard showed no small satisfaction in having completed his assigned task. “The short, speckled human female with eyepieces made of glass.”
Half expecting outraged denial, the elves swapped cool glances as Lady Ulia swelled up like a puffer fish in imminent danger of detonation. With a look of triumph in her eye, the woman felt all her worst—and, therefore, her most cherished—suspicions confirmed.
“Miliana! I knew the little wretch had two sides to her coin.” Sumbria’s first lady signed for two of her own guards and two ladies-in-waiting, then beckoned the elves to follow in her wake. “Lady Silverleaf—come! We shall take back your jewel and at last uncover the whys and wherefores of this city’s little cat burglar!”
“Tekorii-kii-kii! Tekorii-kii-kii!”
Mad with panic, Tekoriikii fought a ferocious battle in the air. A lean black javelin of feathers had lashed upward from the palace stables, crashing into him like lightning out of a storm. Claws ripped through empty feathers—Tekoriikii beat wildly at a pair of snapping jaws, and then both combatants tumbled free into a sky shot through with brilliant falling stars.
Carrying the massive Sun Gem, and trailing a hundredweight of tail feathers at his rear, Tekoriikii’s flight was a thing more spectacular than speedy. Laboring his wings, the bird arced like a comet past the palace towers and nodded his head this way and that, wondering where his enemy might have gone.
“Awk!”
A black streak ripped out of the night and tried to disembowel Tekoriikii with its claws; the firebird tucked in his stomach, let his foe pass under him, then nimbly plucked a fistful of hairs from its tail.
In mating fights—the only combat most firebirds would ever know—the plucking of tail feathers was the coup de grâce. Tekoriikii had won a mighty victory! He swooped into a gleeful little victory roll, whirring out his wings in utter joy.
“Tekorii-kii-kii! Tekorii-kii-kii!”
The air shuddered as a skyrocket exploded fifty yards away, the bright flash illuminating a frozen scene of running soldiers, fleeing bats, and broken walls. Having out-flown his opponent and snatched his precious prize, Tekoriikii folded his wings and sped away, crooning in smug self-satisfaction over being the cleverest bird in all Faerûn.
The sudden flicker of motion above him came as a surprise; his angry black opponent had returned for another round, quite against the usual rules of courtly war.
Combat between most birds is a purely ritual affair, a test of dominance with death and damage usually far from anyone’s mind. Tekoriikii chuffed in annoyance as his enemy streaked in from one side; then abruptly braked to a halt and watched his outraged foe miss its intended strike by a country mile.
The creature was extremely odd in its appearance; long eagle’s wings, and a slender feathered neck topped off with a cruel hooked beak. Most strangely of all, the entire rear quarters were sheathed in short, shining hair. Lacking Tekoriikii’s beautiful plumes; lacking his poise, his elegance, his brains and grace, it seemed no wonder that the creature fought with such anger in its heart. Tekoriikii powered himself upward in a giddy half-loop, tucked himself into a dive, and found himself racing head to head with his shrieking, frothing enemy. The firebird made to give vent to his deadly battle scream, drew in his breath—
—and looked straight into an astonishing pair of exotic, feminine eyes.
The bird froze, the hippogriff whipped past, and Tekoriikii gave a blink of astonishment as he felt a sudden breeze across his rear. He looked down between his legs, saw his bare naked rump grinning at him without a feather to its name, and moaned a pathetic, bleating little cry.
With his unlikely aerodynamics scattered to the winds, Tekoriikii abruptly made a crash landing straight into the courtyard rubble pile.
Rummaging through the ruins of Lorenzo’s apartments for his painting of the sea goddess, Miliana and Lorenzo rose and watched in bemusement as their feathery friend plunged into the ruins of an old eiderdown. Miliana adjusted her tall pointy hat—now scorched, dented, and with its veil torn all awry—and settled her grimy spectacles on her nose.
“Tekoriikii?”
Lorenzo emerged from the shards of his workroom holding a shrouded canvas in his hands.
“Who?”
“Tekoriikii? I think it’s Tekoriikii!” Miliana hitched up her skirts and wended her precarious way across the rubble. “Hey, old bird, are you all right?”
“Glub glubl Yonk-squonk glub glub!”
Tekoriikii’s high-plumed head appeared, swaying, dazed, and scarcely conscious. Miliana slithered toward him through a cloud of scorched duck down and frantically gathered the bird up in her arms. Tekoriikii flopped his wings and gave a croaking little cry before hanging like a limp rag against her breast.
Lorenzo fought his way through the ruins and took the firebird’s pulse, to be rewarded by Tekoriikii licking at his face. The man stared in astonishment at the bird’s plucked, naked backside, a parson’s nose utterly devoid of plumes.
“Where do you think all the other bits have gone?”
From the stables came the sound of running boots, rattling armor, and angry cries. Miliana stretched her small frame to its best possible height and tried to pierce the flash and flicker of the fireworks.
“Lorenzo? Lorenzo, I think we should get him out of sight.” The girl took a step in retreat as the approaching charge grew in noise. “Actually, I think we ought to move him rather quickly.”
Bursting into the yard from the stable gates, there came a wild-eyed Blade Captain Ilégo followed by a squat, savage troll of a man dressed all in black. Ilégo pointed at Tekoriikii and screamed out in bloodthirsty revenge.
“Kill that bird! A thousand ducats to the man who kills that bird!”
“Oh dear.” Miliana took one look at the horde of soldiers who rushed past Ilégo toward the semiconscious firebird, then ran clumsily through the hillocks of fallen stone. “Quick! We’ll have to carry him!”
“On what?”
“I don’t know—find something flat! Hurry!”
Lorenzo’s paintings had been daubed on canvas stretched tight over wooden frames; Lorenzo slammed the two paintings together face-to-face, rolled Tekoriikii onto the impromptu stretcher, and quickly hoisted up the stretcher’s rear.
“You take the lead!”
“Me?” Miliana lifted up the front end in surprise. “Why me?”
“Because you know where you’re damned-well going!”
They started off across the rubble, only to lose their balance as Tekoriikii suddenly surged back into life. The firebird flopped, lashed out with his neck, and plucked up a gigantic shiny object in his bill.
“The Sun Gem!”
Miliana and Lorenzo stared at the titanic jewel in shock. Before they could so much as move, Tekoriikii had thrown back his head and swallowed the jewel right down his throat. Miliana gave a scream of fright, wrenched open the astonished Tekoriikii’s beak and stared wildly down into the creature’s gullet.
“It’s down there! He’s swallowed the bloody thing!”
“What?”
“The Sun Gem! The Sun Gem!” Miliana shook the addled bird by the craw. “Cough it up! Come on—drop it—drop it now!”
The huge diamond shot out of Tekoriikii’s crop and landed on the ground. Fascinated, Lorenzo tilted his head over to one side.
“Actually, that’s an interesting thing; many birds are known to swallow rocks as an aid to their digestive—”
A soldier topped the rubble, gave a shriek of triumph, and clapped the stock of his crossbow under his arm. Taking rough aim on Tekoriikii, he stabbed a wicked looking bolt into the catch, laughing as he imagined a thousand golden ducats pouring through his hands.
