Myth-Told Tales

MYTH-MATCHED By Jody Lynn Nye

Premier Number One Daughter Renimbi of the Reigning House of Eyarll whirled around her personal chamber and came to a halt facing Tananda, who was sitting cross-legged on a cushion at the end of the huge bed.

“I can't marry Cordu of Vol Grun,” she concluded, crystal-blue eyes flashing in her gold-scaled face. “So I want you to kill him.”

The Trollop opened her big hazel eyes wider than they had been.

“Isn't that a little drastic?” she asked.

Renimbi whirled away again, too agitated to sit down.

“No more drastic than my father concluding a wedding contract with someone who is already married!”

“Unless I am forgetting my history of the dimension of Nob,” Tananda said, watching her gyrate, “having more than one spouse is permitted in Vol Grun.”

“But not in Eyarll.” Renimbi tossed her head. “One spouse. I refuse to do anything that will call my uniqueness into question. My father is desperate to join our nations and secure the safety of our western border, but that isn't good enough. I want to be the only woman in the life of the man whom I marry. I am, after all, a duchess of Eyarll. Will you take the contract, or won't you?”

Tananda sat thoughtful for a moment. The rules of the Assassins' Guild were pretty strict. If she took the contract and didn't complete it for any other reason than her own death, then two new assassins would be dispatched from the Guildhall, one to finish off the original target, and one to take care of her. There would be nowhere to hide, not here, not in the Bazaar at Deva, one of her favorite haunts, or at home on Trollia. This was one of the many reasons why she wasn't taking so many jobs lately off the employment board, and she was noticing similar discomfort among her fellow members. The reasons for disposal were getting more frivolous. Personally, Tananda blamed the crystal ether network. Watching the shows that came in on crystal ball made you think that life-threatening problems were easily solved in no more than forty minutes, and that no one really minded if you knocked off an inconvenient business rival. Or would-be spouse. She much preferred it if her client was in mortal danger, not just piqued. Not that she hadn't taken commissions like that in the past. Maybe she was just getting older.

“I want to make a few modifications to the standard boilerplate contract,” Tananda said, unrolling a parchment from her belt pouch. “You won't mind, will you?”

“Oh, anything!” Renimbi said, throwing her hands into the air dramatically. “As long as when you're finished I never have to see Cordu again.”

Tananda smiled. “Then, please, sign here.”

Vol Grun's castle was a day's ride by camel, half a day by horse, or a few seconds if one used magik to blink one out of the dimension at one point and reenter it at another. Tananda had been there before, on Cordu's majority day, in fact. Her big brother, Chumley, had been at university with him. Cordu flirted with her, as he had with every female under the age of fifty who was present. He seemed to be a nice man. Tananda intended to observe him for a while. Whether or not she'd have to bump him off she left open to question. The contract in her pouch had no time limit on it, though arguably it was assumed she would have to complete it before Cordu and Renimbi got married. Still, Renimbi had signed it in such a hurry she didn't have time to review the alterations Tanda had made to its clauses.

Such as the one giving discretion to the operator on whether to execute.

Vol Grun had been at peace a long while. Tananda made a quick survey of the grounds immediately adjacent to the castle to make sure that the one sentry at the gate was the only guard on duty — except for signs of a commando hiding in the bushes somewhere inside the circle of the moat. It was no problem for her to avoid both of them. She didn't even have to use a lick of magik.

Instead, she used that to help her hang on to the steep stone wall as she climbed it. If she remembered correctly, Cordu's personal suite was in the center of the northeastern tower. If she had guessed wrong, she could disguise herself as a chambermaid.

The heavy blocks of stone afforded her many easy handholds. Tananda swung herself up onto the head of a gargoyle.

“Sorry,” she said, as she realized she had been hanging from its tongue.

“No problem,” the stone creature said. “Nice day, ain't it?”

“A little cool for spring,” Tananda said, and struck an appealing pose. “You wouldn't mind not telling anyone you saw me, would you?”

“No problem,” the gargoyle repeated, cracking a granite grin. “No one ever asks me anything anyway.”

She patted him on his crested head before making a leap to the next step, the roof of a buttressed turret. Just two jumps away was a window frame, with the glass window just a hair ajar. Once she reached that, she could climb inside and find a good hiding place to observe her subject.

A careful stretch, and Tananda clung to the underside of the window frame. She levered herself up to peer inside. She saw a flight of the spiral staircase, but no living beings. She listened intently. The castle was bespelled against intruders, but since the window was slightly open, she could work a filament of magikal force through to lift the latch.

It swung open silently. Tananda was grateful to the cleaners who had oiled the hinges. And dusted, she observed, grasping hold of the upper window frame to swing herself in. It was clean as a whistle.

She nearly let one out in surprise.

A vast, hairy hand clamped upon her wrist and dragged her inside.

Tananda broke free with a dirty twist she had learned from a street-fighting master, and used a tickle of magik to land safely on the stairs. By the time her feet touched down, she had daggers in both hands, but the bulky defender was on guard, too. He let out a growl.

She feinted at the figure with one knife then started to lunge to the left.

Her opponent countered both her moves. He leaped back to avoid the knife, then closing with her inside the arc of her second dagger. Tananda retreated and riposted. He countered. Her right-hand dagger went flying. She and the defender ended up tangled in one another's arms, grappling for the remaining knife. The big, hairy hand felt its way down her arm to her back and up to her face. It stopped, as if in surprise.

“Little Sister!” a big, hearty voice boomed.

“Big Brother!” Tananda cried, recognizing both the voice and the scent of the fur.

The siblings stopped wrestling. Tananda squeezed her Troll brother until the air was knocked out of him then looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

Chumley patted his chest, trying to get his breath back.

“I presume, my dear sister, that I am engaged in a counterpoint to what you intend to do here. Or do I fail to recognize the knot in the scarf around your neck?”

Tananda sighed and sat down on the step. “No, you're right. I've been hired to assassinate your friend.”

His big furry brow lowered. The usually even-tempered Troll looked angry.

“Why? Why take the contract? Cordu is an old friend of mine, if not of yours.”

She noticed a torch on the wall and lit it with a lick of magik force.

“Read the contract before you get upset, Brother,” Tananda said, handing it over.

The brow lifted at clause three. “And she signed it?”

“She didn't even read it through. But it'll hold up before the Guildmaster, and that's all I care about. Mums would get so upset if the Guild punishers came looking for me. She might get blood on that new Djinni carpet she just had put in.”

Chumley shivered. Their mother was a force to be reckoned with.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Well,” Tananda said. “I would say at this point, what are we going to do? He's your friend.”

“Come and talk with him, Little Sister,” Chumley said, wrapping her in a fond fraternal arm. “I think you will find what he has to say most interesting.”

“I was a fool,” Cordu said, pacing up and back in his own bedchamber. This room, Tananda noted with an eye toward interior decorating, was much more a male's idea of a cozy hideaway. The heads of animals stared glassily at her. Three very large, red-scaled hunting beasts lay asleep in front of a crackling fire. A suit of armor stood beside the doorway, holding a tray containing a square, cut-crystal whiskey decanter and a clutch of glasses. Cordu, rather a good-looking male of the Nobish type, poured out beverages for each of them. He held up his own glass in salute. Tananda surreptitiously used a thread of magik to test her own whiskey for poison. Chumley noticed her movement.

“Tsk tsk,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said. “I'm on duty.”

“I understand,” Cordu sighed. “I am glad that you are willing to talk to me. Rennie won't.”

Chumley poured himself another glass of whiskey. “Casting my mind backward, Cordu, I seem to recall that you and Renimbi cared for one another.”

“We do — I mean, did. We have been best friends all our lives. That is why I thought she would understand — the mistake I made. I had no idea that she would go so far in her displeasure as to hire an assassin. Truthfully, it's not entirely my fault. Her father and I… well, it is all a misunderstanding. I know he has always wanted to join our two realms. Perhaps you know that they were one country, three hundred years ago.”

Tananda and Chumley shook their heads.

“My studies of your history are more of the first and last,” Chumley said. “The ancient origins of your people, and most recent, social studies, if you like. So many dimensions, so little time.”

Cordu found a map in the bookshelf that sat underneath the arched window and unrolled it to show them.

“The arrangement makes sense, for our mutual prosperity and defense. This part of the continent is one big river valley, best defended at its mountain passes on the circumference. My father and I had discussed it with our ministers and found it to be workable, so I went to the Tue-Khan with a diplomatic proposal. We would write a treaty that left our realms each under separate thrones, but as one with an open border to allow easy movement. I stressed that our peoples were of one blood, as close as kin could be. He got the idea into his head that I must marry Renimbi to seal the arrangement. And, well, there was a lot to drink. And, well … I didn't really read the document that he shoved underneath my nose early the next morning.”

“Why would the Tue-Khan even do such a thing?” Tananda asked.

“It's his dream. He had told us ever since we were children that he hoped we would marry. My father, too, wished that Renimbi and I would marry. He found every opportunity to throw us together, even leaving us alone in romantic settings.” Cordu's cheeks deepened in color to bronze. “For our parents' sake we tried. But we never really hit it off as lovers, and our relationship has only gotten worse over the last few years. It was with genuine regret that we decided it could never be. My father came to terms with our incompatibility. That is when I married Larica. Rennie and I agreed we would stay best friends. I still love her dearly, but not romantically.”

“But after the, er, meeting with her father, you did press your suit to Renimbi?”

“Well, yes, I did. What with the document and all, I believed I had no choice. Larica is not happy about it, but she understands the customs of our culture. At first I thought that it could work.”

“But Renimbi soon disabused you of that notion,” Chumley said.

Cordu looked sheepish.

“Well, yes. She sent back all of my presents in pieces, except the horse. My page told me that she threatened him with a sword, too.”

“Sounds serious,” Tananda said, grinning.

“But the upshot is that her father and I signed a compact. I am as good as married to Renimbi already. We don't even need the priests to solemnize the union. That is why she wants me dead. She has more or less become my second wife.”

Tananda shook her head. “Worse than I thought Renimbi doesn't know it's already happened. She thinks she can forestall it by having you killed.”

He sighed. “I was a fool.”

“You certainly were. But why can't you simply have the document vacated? Doesn't the Tue-Khan want his daughter to be happy?”

“I am afraid he has gotten what he always wanted, and he has convinced himself that we will eventually settle down and go along with it,” Cordu said sadly. “I have tried to ask him to void the marriage contract, but he won't. As long as it exists, Rennie and I are husband and wife. Hence,” he said, sighing, “your arrival.”

Tananda looked at Chumley. “How did you get involved?”

“Oh, Cordu sent a message out to all of his old mates from school. What? We used to be on the skeet-shooting club together. Birkley, from Cent, is up on the roof. He's got a spear he uses as a focus for his wizardry.”

Tananda fluttered her eyelashes. “I've always had a thing for Centaurs,” she purred. “Especially ones with magikal spears. Anyone else?”

“Krans, from Imper, is hanging around outside, watching for intruders. He's deadly with a crossbow. I don't think any of us anticipated the method of your arrival, except for Chumley, who insisted on being in my chamber with me. And he was right to do so. If it had not been you, a friend, I might be dead already had Chumley not been here.”

“Do you think that she will send another deadly envoy?” Chumley asked.

“No, and no other Guild assassin would take the contract as long as I am in the picture,” Tananda said. “That's not to say she won't send an amateur.”

“No, she won't do that,” Cordu said. “Rennie always goes for the best. She thinks it's only her due, as a daughter of the Tue-Khan of Eyarll.”

“Good,” Tananda said. “That gives us a chance to brainstorm. If I'm the only femme fatale you're waiting for, then why don't we get your friends in? I always think better in the presence of a lot of good-looking men.” She flirted her eyelashes at Cordu.

“Spare me, my lady,” he said, laughing. “I'm already in trouble with two women. I don't need a third.”

The Centaur and the Imp had plenty of suggestions.

“Flood her with other suitors,” Birkley said. “Shell forget about you.”

“One thing you have to know about Rennie,” Cordu said, “she is always faithful to promises. The other thing you must know is that she never forgets a grudge. No.”

“Bribe her father,” the Imp said. “You've got a lot of money.”

“Money can't buy him off,” Cordu said. “Nothing will buy him from this notion.”

Chumley looked thoughtful. “What if your lady wife made an appeal to him? She wasn't planning to be supplanted.”

“She is not supplanted. No matter what the rank of each successive spouse we might take, the first gains precedence. My mother had two husbands. The second one was a prince of Jongling, but my father was a butcher from Karpuling. Rennie loses rank. I know that will make her angrier when she knows.”

The men turned to Tananda.

She shook her head. “Sorry, Cordu,” she said. “I've thought it over, and you're going to have to die.”

The Nob rose to his feet in alarm.

“What? Call for my guards! Call for my wizard!”

“Forget them,” Tananda said, toying with her whiskey glass. “If I meant it, you'd be dead already. Big Brother knows that.”

Chumley gawked. “Little Sister!” She smiled at him. “I mean it, Big Brother. Let's get going. I can explain it all on the way.”

“Way?” Cordu echoed. “Where are we going?” “Eyarll. We've got a marriage to annul.”

The heralds honked out a note on their yard-long trumpets.

“Lord Cordu, heir of Vol Gr—!”

Before they could finish announcing the new arrivals to the assembly in the throne room, Chumley stepped forward and shoved them aside.

“Sorry,” he called as they went flying. He cocked his head to Cordu, who stepped into the room and stood framed in the doorway with his hands on his hips. After a deliberate three-count, he strode in. His entourage, led by Chumley, crowded in after him.

Behind them came the small figure of Larica, draped in sea-blue silk with a wreath around her head, and her ladies-in-waiting. The expression on her little round face clearly said that she did not like what was going on.

The Tue-Khan, a bulky Nob with a large nose, stood up from his damask-cushioned throne. Cordu swaggered up to him.

“Where's my bride?” Cordu demanded.

The Tue-Khan looked taken aback.

“She's not present at the moment, er, son,” he said. “We weren't expecting you yet!”

“Well, why not?” Cordu bellowed, his voice making the amethyst chandeliers ring among the ceiling rafters. “Shouldn't take you that long to get her ready. You're her father — command her!”

The Tue-Khan assumed an indulgent smile.

“Come now, son, you've known her all her life. She's not that easy to command.”

“Well, she's going to have to learn how to take orders! Things are about to change! Get her down here! I said,” he repeated, thrusting his face into the Tue-Khan's, who cowered back in his throne, “get her down here NOW!”

Chumley could have applauded. Cordu always had been the pride of the Footlight Society at university. Such a mild personality as his had to be disguised in an aggressive role. It was an absolute inspiration on Little Sister's part to come up with this scenario. It seemed to be working very well. He tipped a wink in the direction of the rafters, hoping she could see him from her vantage point.

“You've changed so much, Cordu,” the Tue-Khana, Renimbi's mother said, shaking her head. “I don't like it. You must not be too rough on Rennie. She's entitled to the courtesies as a duchess and daughter of the Tue-Khan.”

“Yes, courtesies,” Cordu said. He whispered desperately over his shoulder to Krans. “Line!”

“I want her to meet…” the Imp prompted.

“Ah, yes,” Cordu said, recovering his aplomb. “I want her to meet my other wife, Larica. She's going to be Rennie's superior from now on. I'd like to see Rennie curtsy to her.”

The Eyarllian courtiers gasped in unison.

The Tue-Khan clicked his tongue. “Son, dynastic marriages take time to arrange. We have to send for a priest, and call for guests, arrange gifts, draw up paperwork …”

“The document I signed is as good as a marriage, isn't it?” Cordu asked.

“Er, yes …”

Cordu spread out his hands.

“Then she is already my bride. I expect you to present her to me so we can get on with the honeymoon!”

The Tue-Khana looked horrified. “Decent people don't speak of such things in public, Cordu!”

“Who said I was a decent person? After that, I intend to make some changes around here.”

“What changes, my son?” the Tue-Khan asked, frowning. “I am sure Renimbi will enjoy discussing them with you, for the day when you and she rule over our joined lands.”

“In Vol Grun, the man becomes head of the household,” Cordu said. “She will obey my will. But why wait? We signed a contract to join our lands. That means that what is yours is mine. So, I am moving in here, giving myself a little pied-a-terre that I can drop in on when I feel like it”

“Er … that wasn't exactly what I intended in the wording of our agreement, son.”

Cordu looked shocked. “It wasn't? I thought you wanted one land, under one rule.”

“In a way, over time …”

“Why wait?” Cordu rubbed his hands together and looked around. “For a start, I think this place is too full of decorator trash. I think we'll start to get rid of some of it right now.”

He signed to the others. Chumley studied the room to see what could be removed or brought down without causing permanent damage. A hundred gilt-edged chairs stood arrayed on each side of the aisle leading to the throne, places for visiting nobles to sit. Only one was occupied. That left ninety-nine to play with.

“Roarrr!”

He charged the neat rows. A dozen chairs went flying into the others, knocking them flying. Courtiers raced to get out of the way of furniture. A few cowered behind the Tue-Khan's throne. Chumley picked out a chair that already showed signs of decrepitude and tore the legs asunder as easily as parting a wishbone. CRACK!

“Cheap!” he declared.

“No!” the Tue-Khana cried. “Dear, make him stop!”

“Guards!” the Tue-Khan shouted. “Seize him!”

A coterie of armored men lowered their spears and charged at him.

With one hand Chumley picked up a chair, drew it to his chest. He took three careful steps, and bowled the golden chair across the room. It spun over the floor. The guards windmilled their arms as they tried to get out of the way, but the chair caught four of them right in the knees. They fell, scattering. Two of the guards kept coming.

“Need spare,” Chumley announced, reaching for another chair. “Seventen, not easy!” He rolled the chair at the two guards, but they dove for opposite walls. The chair smashed into the wall. “Darn!”

“Those are for people awaiting audience,” the Tue-Khan said, agog.

“Oh, you don't need those,” Cordu said. “I have something better. Bring it in!”

The chef du protocol who led Cordu's entourage raised a hand, and the huge double doors were flung open. Though they were two spear-lengths wide from lintel to lintel, it was still barely enough room for the huge Nobish beasts of burden, who were led in by a couple of ostlers. A dozen Vol Grun guards sprang to help untie the enormous parcels strapped to their backs. These were a pair of twelve-foot padded sofas that resembled giant cockroaches that had been upholstered in green and gold brocade, with piping around every fat, overstuffed cushion and a wealth of tassels at each end. They were arranged to flank a triangular end table possessed of a stunning orange-varnished finish, and overlooked by a skinny brass standard lamp with a marabou-fringed shade in brilliant pink. Tananda had spotted this furniture arrangement as they had passed a flea market on the way out of Vol Grun's capital city. The owner, who had inherited it from his rich aunt, had been on his way to deposit it in the dump. They were so ugly that the moths wouldn't touch them. She had bargained with him, and for less than a gold piece, the duke's party found itself in possession of an experiment in extreme distaste. Cordu's men placed the four pieces facing the throne, about five yards away, and lit the lamp.

“I thought you would be pleased,” Cordu said, flinging himself full length upon the left-hand sofa. “I knew that my moving in here would probably strain the facilities, so I brought my own seats. Like them?”

The Tue-Khana looked as though she might faint, but the Tue-Khan smiled weakly.

“They … will take a little getting used to.”

Clearly he was not yet outraged enough to take action. Chumley signaled to Krans to start the next onslaught.

The grinning Imp made a beeline for the king's personal wine rack, under the guard of a butler and sommelier. The two Nobs tried in vain to protect it from him, but he levitated them out of his way.

“Hey, Cordu!” he shouted, holding up a bottle. “Chateau Punding '04. What do you think of this swill?”

“Only the '03 was any good,” Cordu replied. “Pour it out!”

“Right-o!” The Imp sent the bottle sailing into the air. The cork seemed to pop, and a cascade of purple liquid glugged down onto the priceless hand-knotted carpet. The two servants ran to intercept it and stop the flow. Krans made the bottle dance around the room just out of their reach. When the last dregs had poured out, he let it drop and chose another.

“How about this one?”

Cordu waved a dismissive hand.

“Vinegar! Get rid of it!”

“His Excellency's favorite!” the butler cried, racing to stop him. Krans lofted up out of his reach. The butler jumped for him, his belly jiggling.

“Aha!” Krans cried, drawing a ceramic jug to him with a wisp of magik. “Finiffian brandy!”

“Ill take some of that,” Cordu said. Krans threw him a priceless balloon glass. Cordu caught it just before it hit the ground. The sommelier fainted dead away.

Birkley the Centaur, a good-looking male with a long blond mane and beard, galloped around the room, picking up women and heaving them onto his back.

“May I have this one, Cordu?” he asked. “Or perhaps this one?”

“Take them all!” the heir called back. The ladies screamed and beat at him, but he grabbed their wrists, laughing.

Instead of ordering them rescued, the Tue-Khan stood gawking. Chumley thought he ought to cause a little more havoc. He started toward the wall full of tapestries, roaring.

“I do not like your color scheme!” he bellowed. He yanked the colorful hangings down. They fell on his head. He tore his way out through a seam, and lurched out of them, toward a wall full of gleaming glass vases and sculptures. The Tue-Khana followed him, pleading.

“Not my granny's crystal, please!”

At the last moment, Chumley veered off, and headed toward a suit of armor on a stand. He kicked and tore at it until the pieces were scattered all over the costly rug.

“Not fit me!” he shouted. “Discriminatory against Trolls!”

“What is all this?”

Chumley tossed aside the helmet at the sound of the outraged voice. At last, Renimbi had appeared.

Premier Number One Daughter stood in the archway, a look of absolute horror on her face. Horror changed to fury as she scanned the room and spotted Cordu on the ugly couch, drinking. Larica stood by him, head proudly erect, with an expression on her face that boded ill for her husband once the two of them would be alone.

She turned to her father. “What is he doing here?”

“Moving in, it would seem,” the Tue-Khan said.

“And you let him!”

“I don't seem to have had a choice, my dear. He … he brought all of his friends. And some furniture.”

“It's horrible,” Renimbi said. “Like something from a fun fair. And look what else he is doing! They're tearing up the entire room!”

“High spirits, child. Be a good hostess. We are going to be kin from now on.”

“No, we're not,” Renimbi said. “I told you I didn't want to marry him. I won't. You can't make me!”

The Tue-Khan actually dropped his gaze and shuffled his toe on the marble floor. “I'm afraid that you already have, child.”

“What?”

The Tue-Khan produced a paper from the inside of his over-robe. “The clauses written in here … the lawyers, you know … insisted I include a consideration to make the contract valid … and I have always wanted to see the two of you together. I was sure you'd be happy, my dear.”

“You tied me to him? And you didn't tell me?”

At last the Tue-Khan was beginning to look more angry than doubtful. “I didn't know he had become such a … lout!”

“Tear up the contract!” Renimbi demanded.

The Tue-Khan hastily stuck the parchment roll back into his robe. “Child, my dream has always been to unite our lands. It is already accomplished. We are now one great country. Surely you can put up with one another, say on state occasions, and perhaps to give us a grand-child or two? For your dear old father?” He held out his hands to her.

“No! Never!”

“What a great idea, Rennie!” Cordu called from his reclining position. “We can give him grandchildren. We can start today.” He patted the couch. “This is comfy.”

Renimbi's cheeks turned ochre with fury, but she didn't move. Chumley walked over and tucked her under his arm. She beat and kicked at him as he carried her to Cordu's couch. The prince edged out of reach when Chumley plopped her down. She didn't notice. She sprang up and raced back to the steps of the throne.

“You tied me to him! Now I am stuck with your choice! I hate you! I hate him!”

“My darling, I have only the best intentions for you in my heart!” The Tue-Khan said. Cordu finished his brandy and tossed the priceless glass over his shoulder.

CRASH!

It burst into shards on the floor. The Tue-Khan winced.

“Rennie, I'm glad you showed up,” Cordu said. He stood up, swaying. Chumley admired his acting technique. Cordu wasn't drunk at all. Most of the priceless brandy had been poured down between the cushions. He hoped Cordu could get through his entire speech without fumbling. This was the one he had been the most nervous about on the trip there. “I thought your father had a great idea. I mean, how else could I conquer a whole country with the stroke of a pen? From childhood, we've been good friends. I want… hie! … I want you to meet Larica. She's my wife, too. You're gonna be good friends. She said she's got some great ideas about how the two of you are going to get along. She wants to change your wardrobe, and teach you needlework. My personal chamber back home needs a whole new tapestry, and you haven't been doing anything useful over the last few years, so this will be a nice change for you.”

“Urrrrrgggh!” Renimbi shrieked, wringing her hands in anger. “I wish you were dead!”

“Bingo, what?” Chumley said to himself. “Couldn't have scripted it better myself.”

“Rennie!” Cordu said reproachfully. “How could you say such a thing? I'm sho…”

THUNK!

His words were cut off suddenly, because a crossbow bolt buried itself in the center of his chest.

“Gack!” Cordu exclaimed. He clutched the feathered end of the arrow. Larica let out a terrified cry. Cordu staggered to the left. He goggled at the Tue-Khan, whose expression of horror matched his own. He grasped at the air with his free hand then staggered back to the right. He held up a hand as though he was about to make a statement, but his knees collapsed under him. As the assembly in the throne room watched in horror, Cordu toppled over. His eyes sagged closed. Renimbi ran to kneel beside him. She took his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

“Cordy? Cordy? Speak to me!”

“One side. I examine,” Chumley said, kneeling beside the prone Cordu. Both women clutched each other. The Troll shook his head with magnificent gravity.

“Dead.”

“Dead?” Renimbi said.

Tananda descended magnificently from the ceiling, foot in a loop of rope. The crossbow was slung at her back.

“As ordered, Duchess,” she said. “I think I've earned my fee.”

“But I didn't really want him dead,” Renimbi wailed. “He's my best friend.”

“Did you want him as a husband?” Tananda asked, surprised. “He has been acting like such a jerk.”

Renimbi wrung her hands.

“I know, but that's just the way he is … I mean, was. Oh, how could I have been so stupid?”

The Tue-Khan came down from his throne and stood over the body of his momentary son-in-law. Shaking his head, he took the document out of the pocket in his robe. Sorrowfully, he tore it into strips and let the pieces fall down onto the body.

“This agreement becomes null and void on the death of one of the couple,” he said. “I should never have let my ambition get in the way of my good sense. I am so very sorry, daughter. Your oldest friend, dead, and all because of me.” He turned and pointed a finger at Tananda. “Seize her!”

“You really can't arrest me,” Tananda said, as burly Nobs crowded in on her from all sides. “My contract was properly registered with the Assassins' Guild.”

One of them fastened manacles around her wrists, and bent to loop lengths of chain around her ankles. She winked outrageously at him.

“You know, I don't usually go in for this kind of thing, but I'll try anything once.”

The Nob turned away, nervously. Chumley almost laughed out loud.

“You are very bold for a wench who is about to suffer torture and death,” the Tue-Khan rumbled. “You … you Trollop!”

“Why, you noticed!” Tananda said, flirting her eye-lashes at him. Chumley surreptitously yanked the arrow out of Cordu's chest.

“You will die most painfully!” the Tue-Khan roared.

“Oh, I don't think so,” Tananda said. Her wrist chains jangled as she raised a hand to pat a yawn. “It's not on my schedule, you know.”

Renimbi and Larica hung on each others' shoulders, weeping. The Tue-Khan and Tue-Khana came to wrap their arms sympathetically around them.

“Oh, this is all my fault!” Renimbi said. “He was my best friend. I didn't really want him to have him killed. I just didn't see any other way out of my father's contract.”

“Well, it worked, didn't it?” Cordu asked.

Renimbi spun, gasping.

“Cordy!”

“Rennie!”

“Cordy!”

“Larrie!”

The three of them enjoyed a group hug, then Renimibi's parents made it five.

“But you were dead!” Renimbi exclaimed.

“Not really,” Tananda said. “The arrow's just a party gag I picked up in Deva. The person you plunge it into falls into a magical coma until you pull it out again. It doesn't even leave a mark.” She pulled one from the quiver at her belt and stabbed it into the arm of the guard beside her. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed on the floor. “See?”

“So your behavior was all an act?” the Tue-Khan said. His face darkened.

“Of course, sire,” Chumley said. “They could not be free of your machinations unless you destroyed the compact. You wouldn't do that unless Cordu was dead, or was so reprehensible in nature that you would not countenance him as a son-in-law any longer. We decided to make doubly certain.”

“I didn't know he was such a good actor,” Renimbi said, giving him a pinch on the cheek.

“He was a star,” Tananda said, with a grin, “and you were his cross lover. It all played out just as we hoped. I knew you didn't really want him to die, but you were a classic mismatch.”

“Cordu is alive, so the contract is in force again!” the Tue-Khan said. He reached to gather up the torn pieces of parchment.

Tananda pointed a finger.

“Don't do that,” she said.

The fragment in the Tue-Khan's fingers blazed up.

“OW!” He dropped it The ashes fluttered away. “Ill have it rewritten,” he howled.

“Don't bother,” Cordu said. “I wouldn't sign it again. Rennie and I will be good joint rulers, with our respective spouses by our sides. I hope she finds someone who loves her as much as Larica loves me, to put up with my hi-jinks.” He hugged both of the young women, and they kept their arms around him. “Who knows, perhaps our offspring will like one another enough to marry. It's been over three centuries. Why hurry?”

“I think I will write a drama based upon this for the reunion of our university Footlights Club.” Chumley put a hand to his hairy chest and declaimed. “‘Never was there a tale of such a row, than that of Rennie and her mismatched beau.’”

“It’ll be a great hit,” Tananda said, hugging her Big Brother's arm. “I love a tragedy with a happy ending.”