Ruler of the Realm

Eighty-three

Pyrgus slid his knife slowly back into its sheath. From the corner of his eye, he could see Nymph carefully setting her bow and arrows on the ground. Then she stood up and raised both hands to show they were empty. A little to his right, Woodfordi had ignored the order to take cover and was standing with his empty hands exposed as well.

‘We come in peace,’ said Pyrgus, feeling stupid.

There were maybe twenty-five nomadic Trinians in plain sight and Light alone knows how many more still hidden in the rocks. They were wearing only loincloths on account of the heat and all three Trinian types were represented. Violets predominated as you’d expect in a hostile environment, but there was a goodly scattering of orange and even one or two green. None of them was armed. They didn’t need to be – all three breeds were toxic. A Trinian bite was almost always fatal and even a venom spit – which travelled several yards – could incapacitate you for months. Pyrgus noted with relief that the leader – you could tell he was a leader from the feathers – was orange.

‘Ayre ning?’ the leader asked solemnly. His face was striped with white and purple paint.

Pyrgus looked at him blankly. Trinians – even nomadic Trinians – were supposed to speak Faerie Standard and perhaps this one did, but his accent was so thick it might as well have been the click-speech of High Halek.

Nymph said, ‘North-east, Plainsman,’ and pointed. Plainsman was an honorific, roughly equivalent to saying sir.

‘Ou eek our yolader?’ asked the Trinian chief.

‘Yes,’ Nymph told him promptly. She gestured. ‘Pyrgus.’ Then, pointing to the third member of their party, added, ‘Woodfordi.’

The Trinian struck himself forcibly on the chest. ‘Nagel!’ he said explosively and coughed.

It was clearly introduction time. ‘We come in peace,’ Pyrgus said again, rather feebly.

One of the greens pushed forward, accompanied by the strangest little animal Pyrgus had ever seen. It was short and squat, hairless and wrinkled, much like its master. The Trinian launched into what sounded like a stream of invective, the content of which Pyrgus couldn’t even guess at. It had a galvanising effect on the rest of the tribe, who advanced muttering, and on the leader, who began to wave his arms about.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked Nymph helplessly.

Nymph smiled a little. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘He just wants to marry me.’

For an instant Pyrgus thought he’d misheard. ‘He wants to what?’

‘He wants to marry me,’ Nymph repeated. ‘He says he’ll give you forty placks.’

‘He can’t -’ Pyrgus began, then asked, ‘What’s a plack?’

‘That little creature he has with him. He makes them. He’s the tribe’s witch doctor.’ Nymph’s smile broadened. ‘It’s a terribly good price for a wife. I think I’m flattered.’

‘But he can’t marry you!’ Pyrgus protested. ‘I won’t have it!’

‘You’d better tell him,’ Nymph said blandly. ‘Just speak slowly and pronounce your words carefully.’

‘You can’t marry -’ Pyrgus shouted at the witch doctor, then aside to Nymph, ‘What’s his name?’

‘Innatus, I think.’

‘Now listen, Innatus,’ Pyrgus began again. ‘There’s absolutely no way I’m going to let you -’

‘Best not to threaten,’ Nymph put in quietly. ‘He carries a lot of weight.’

But Pyrgus was already losing it, ‘- marry this girl, and if you so much as lay one of your ugly little fingers -’ he drew his Halek blade again to a chorus of ‘ Oooh ’s and wide grins from the surrounding Trinians, ‘- on a single hair of her -’

Nagel’s voice cut across him, talking not to Pyrgus, but Innatus.

‘Oh, how sweet,’ said Nymph. ‘He wants to marry me as well.’

‘Is he out of his -?’

Woodfordi touched Pyrgus’s elbow. ‘Beg pardon, sir, but I’d suggest you give her to the chief. Army policy in situations like this. Always give the girl to the most important man in the tribe. Witch doctor’s a big noise, OK, but the orange one with feathers and stripes is definitely the Chief.’

‘Are you out of your -?’

Woodfordi backed off, hands raised. ‘Just telling you the army way, sir.’

Nymph said, ‘Forty placks, seven bales of ordle and a full service contract.’

‘What in the name of Light are you talking about?’ Pyrgus exploded.

‘That’s what Nagel’s offering,’ Nymph said. ‘You can tell he’s an orange Trinian, can’t you? A full service contract! A Violet would just kill you.’

Pyrgus’s panic-stricken gaze jumped from one Trinian to the other. ‘You can’t marry this girl!’ he shouted desperately. ‘Neither of you! Because… because…’ He looked around for inspiration. This whole thing was insane. ‘Because she’s engaged to marry me!’ he screamed at last.

‘Oooh!’ exclaimed Nymph, and moved over to stand beside Pyrgus, her chest pushed proudly forward. She was grinning broadly.

Pyrgus still had the Halek blade in his hand, but to his astonishment, the crisis defused at once. Innatus turned and walked away, the funny little plack creature at his heels. Nagel simply shrugged, as if the matter was of no importance. He murmured something to Nymph, who said, ‘Yes.’

‘What’s he saying? What’s he saying?’ Pyrgus demanded.

‘He says we can’t go north-east,’ Nymph told him.

Pyrgus bristled again. ‘Who does he think’s going to stop us? A pack of lunatic dwarves who want to marry everything in sight? You just tell him -’

‘He’s not trying to stop us, Pyrgus,’ Nymph told him patiently. ‘We can’t go north-east because there’s a magma flow blocking our way.’

‘Oh,’ said Pyrgus, deflated. He had a feeling he’d made a complete fool of himself and not just about travelling north-east. As leader of the little party, events seemed to have slipped away from him entirely. ‘What are we going to do?’ he asked Nymph.

‘It’s all right,’ Nymph said cheerfully. ‘He’s offered to show us a way round.’

Travelling with the Trinians proved very different to travelling alone, and Pyrgus quickly found that in this territory the shortest distance between two points was not always a straight line. The dwarves constantly skirted areas that looked perfectly safe to him. Conversely, on two memorable occasions, they led the way through mud and lava pools he would never have dared to tackle on his own.

They were right about the magma flow as well. Before cutting temporarily southwards, he caught a glimpse of it in the distance, a simmering, crimson river that absolutely defied passage by anyone.

At one point in their eccentric progress, Woodfordi, who seemed to understand the Trinians almost as easily as Nymph, whispered in Pyrgus’s ear, ‘There’s talk of enemies ahead, sir.’

‘What sort of enemies?’ Pyrgus whispered back.

‘Search me, sir – I just caught a snatch of conversation.’

‘Keep your ears open,’ Pyrgus ordered. ‘And report back anything you hear.’

But it turned out there was no need. Only moments later Nymph appeared at his elbow. ‘Nagel says we must proceed with caution – there are enemies ahead.’

‘Who?’ asked Pyrgus quickly.

‘Somebody they call the Fluid Dark. I’ve never heard of them before – have you?’

Pyrgus shook his head. ‘Probably another tribal grouping. Not our fight. Unless we get caught up in it.’

‘I don’t think Nagel’s planning to fight – he’s hoping to avoid one. He wants us to keep low, keep under cover and keep still whenever he gives the signal.’

‘Suits me,’ Pyrgus said.

The order to keep low and keep still came nearly fifteen minutes later. Pyrgus found himself crouched behind a rock with Nymph. He peered cautiously around, but could see nothing of the Fluid Dark. All the same, every Trinian seemed to have vanished. The way they blended with this countryside was uncanny. He wondered suddenly how they lived here. Since he stepped into the wasteland he’d not seen a single plant; nor animal, come to that, except for the thing Innatus was supposed to have made.

Nymph said casually, ‘Did you mean it?’

‘Mean what?’ Pyrgus asked.

Nymph said soberly, ‘That we were engaged to be married.’

Pyrgus felt a flaring of emotions, not least of them panic. ‘I, ah – I, ah – I, ah…’ he said.

‘Oh, I know you only said it to save me from Nagel and Innatus, and that was very chivalrous of you.’ She hesitated. ‘But I was wondering…’

‘You were wondering?’ Pyrgus echoed.

Nymph nodded. ‘Yes, I was.’ She held his eye.

When he realised she wasn’t going to say anything else, Pyrgus said, ‘I, ah…’ He licked his lips and then surprised himself. ‘I’d… like to.’ He grinned sheepishly and felt like an idiot and didn’t care. If this went any further, Blue would kill him. His grin widened. He still didn’t care.

‘What about Gela?’ Nymph asked him.

Pyrgus’s grin disappeared. She already knew about Gela, so denial wasn’t possible. He sorted quickly through a hundred lies, then heard his mouth say something that was very nearly true. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘But you were attracted?’

‘Yes, but nothing happened.’

‘So you didn’t…?’

‘Oh, no. Oh, no, definitely not.’ Then, because truth between them was suddenly important, he said, ‘Well, I kissed her once, sort of, and she…’

The ghost of a smile was playing across Nymph’s lips. ‘Kissed you back?’

‘Punched me on the nose,’ said Pyrgus; and this time they both laughed out loud.