The Wizard of Karres

CHAPTER 25

Himbo Petey looked at the chaos which had once bragged the name "The Greatest Show in the Galaxy." He sighed, reflexively twirled his mustachios, and then uncharacteristically stopped and sat down. His shoulders drooped. He shook his head. There was a small tear in the corner of his eye.

Dame Ethulassia came and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "We'll get it all back together again, Himbo," she said in a quiet voice, quite unlike her usual brassy contralto.

"No. Not this time, Ethy," he replied quietly, sadly. "The old show is over. What is left of the lattice ship will be broken up for scrap. We could have afforded to get off-world, since there's enough money for fuel. But there's nothing extra for repairs. Not repairs on this scale, anyway. And with this wreckage, we can't even put on a show to earn any more."

He sighed. "No, we'll have to sell the old girl off for scrap and pay off the artistes as best we can. This is the end of the Petey, Byrum and Keep."

Mannicholo's colors turned a melancholy blue. The other show-people looked silently at the walls and scuffed shoes.

"Ahem." One of the two Sedmons cleared his throat, stepping forward from where the clones stood with the Venture's crew. "Perhaps we can be of assistance?"

Himbo looked at him and laughed bitterly. "I think you've assisted me to ruin well enough already, thank you."

"Quite." The Sedmons nodded in unison, looking just a trace embarrassed. "And thus it seems only fair that we should attempt to make amends. I think we may safely assume that Messrs. Byrum and Keep are long dead?"

Himbo Petey shrugged. "Legend traces the show all the way back to Old Yarthe. The lattice ship is at least fifteen centuries old. She's held together with hull-metal welds on hull-metal welds. I presume there must once have been a Byrum and a Keep. Like the name Petey: All gone now." He picked up a handful of premier deluxe-box tickets and flung them like confetti up into the air.

"So, you, Himbo Petey, are the sole owner?" continued the other Sedmon, ignoring the theatricals.

Himbo looked at the still smoldering remains of the bright lattice awnings. "Of this ruin? Yes. It would be a waste of effort suing me, though. By the time my creditors are finished, there won't even be a square inch of skin for you to auction off at the slave market."

The Sedmons frowned, again in that uncanny unison. "We have no intention of suing you. How would you feel about another partner?" His clone cleared his throat. "One with, ah, capital to invest."

The Showmaster blinked at them. "Invest in what? This wreckage? Where would I find such a fool?"

The Sedmons smiled sardonically. "It seems likely to me, Showmaster, that you might find at least two right here," said the one.

"Has it not occurred to you that such destruction and such expense would only be incurred for very high stakes?" continued the other.

Himbo shook his head, refusing to allow any trace of hope to trickle into his mind. "Your 'high stakes,' Mister Twins-or-Clones, are very small compared to the debts we've racked up. I leave aside the cost of getting the lattice ship into space again. I'm sorry, but you just don't have any idea what repairing the Petey, Byrum and Keep would cost."

"On the contrary," said one Sedmon. "This estimate is child's play."

His eyes and those of his clone flicked here and there, assessing the damage. Very expert eyes, they seemed. Not surprising, thought Pausert. The Daals of Uldune would be experts at assessing havoc and ruin.

"Repairs would cost approximately seven million, three hundred thousand maels. Not more than eight million, for a certainty."

The other Sedmon chimed in. "Simply say the word, and you will find that the Petey, Byrum and Keep account has been credited with ten million maels."

"Which will mean your account would be in the black, for a change."

They each raised one eyebrow. "For the first time in generations, actually."

Pausert's conscience started tugging at his sleeve. While it went against the captain's grain to disrupt the dawning look of amazed hope on Himbo Petey's face, he also felt that it was only fair to explain to the Showmaster exactly who he was dealing with. Pausert had seen enough of Sedmon's operations to be very sure that Uldune had not moved that far from its piratical past. The Daal was—were? dealing with a six-way person was confusing—still neck-deep in smuggling and had certainly taken the lead over the Empire in some fields of weaponry, to judge by the latest display of firepower. The Showmaster might just prefer bankruptcy to being indebted to Uldune. The captain cleared his throat.

The Sedmons continued without a pause for breath—easy for them, of course, since they could speak in turns. "I suspect, although I would have preferred them not to be involved, that their Wisdoms of Karres will match that in the near future."

That threw Pausert right off his moral stride. Match ten million maels?

"I've lately gotten the feeling," said the second Sedmon, looking pointedly at Captain Pausert, "that they don't entirely trust the Daal of Uldune, though I can't imagine why. That's me, by the way. So we propose one-third ownership."

"Of course you will retain day-to-day control," said Sedmon, smoothly.

Pausert was still mentally stumbling. Even cut in half . . . Match five million maels? HOW?

Himbo Petey stared at the Sedmons, his eyes resembling the proverbial saucers. Then, turned his very wide, blue-eyed gaze on the others. "Uldune . . . and Karres! I should have guessed. It wasn't stage magic at all, was it?"

Goth was still-faced. The Leewit fidgeted. Then, the little blond witch half-wailed: "It's not cheating to use the real thing!" She glared about, the surface belligerence in her eyes covering not-so-veiled anxiety. "Well, it's not. I don't think."

Ethulassia barked a laugh. "Ha! An interesting question, that. Our magicians will probably spend a year wrangling over the professional ethics involved." The Dame bestowed a fond and approving look upon the Leewit. "Never you mind, dearie. Even if those cranky magicians crab and complain, you'll always have a place in the thespians' company."

The Leewit beamed. Goth's face still held no expression, but her brown eyes seemed to lighten a bit.

Pausert kept his mouth shut. Five millions maels? HOW?

If didn't occur to him until some time later that, in addition to his—their?—other talents, the Daal of Uldune would be a superb card player. And he had just bluffed the captain right out of the hand by simply cranking up the stakes.

For the first time since the disastrous fight, Himbo Petey let his round face slip into the creases of his familiar smile. "It is against magicians' union rules, as a matter of fact. Says so right there in Section III, Article 1, Clause 3(f): 'no use of exotic mental powers to imitate stage magic and fakery.' " He glanced about the area. "But since there are no members of the magicians' union here . . . Well, if you don't tell them, I won't."

He did something totally unlike himself, then. He took the waxed end of one of his proud mustachios and chewed it.

Everyone was silent, waiting. Then he pulled it out and twirled it in a familiar manner. Nodded abruptly. Took a deep breath, knelt on the floor and began picking up the premier deluxe-box tickets he'd scattered about.

"Well, come on. All of you! We'll be needing these. Collect them up before someone stands on them. We can't waste funds by throwing tickets on the floor." He turned to Pausert and waved a handful of tickets at him. "I'll be looking to Karres to provide us with a counter-weight to Uldune. They're notorious criminals, you know, the lot of them." Then he waved the tickets at the two Daals. "And you will have to keep an eye on the witches. Their reputation is no more savory than yours."

"We have been trying to do that."

"It's less easy than we would like," said the other. "Do we have a deal, then?"

Pausert was uncomfortably aware that the Venture's account stood at four hundred thousand maels in credit. That once-magnificent amount seemed measly now, when compared to the resources the Daal of Uldune had on call. "Well . . ."

Goth interrupted him smoothly. "I reckon Karres will buy in, Sedmon—if we can get through to the Imperial Capital in time for the Winter Carnival. But you'll just have to wait for our share of the money until then. And help us get there."

Pausert knew that if they didn't get there, it wouldn't matter if Karres agreed or not.

Himbo Petey nodded. "I think we have a deal."

"You're undervaluing the Petey, Byrum and Keep," said Dame Ethulassia, her brassy voice miraculously returning. "She's more than just a lattice ship. More than a mere showboat. She's a body of Artistes!"

The Incredible Bosom made a grand entrance. Ethulassia put a hand on Himbo's shoulder, as he knelt and gathered tickets. "The Greatest Show in the Galaxy, with real dramatic and artistic merit. She's worth at least twice that!"

The two Sedmons looked at Hulik do Eldel. Looked at the hand on Himbo Petey's shoulder. The nails were red, and there were a number of rings studded with improbable diamonds on the fingers, and a vast clatter of gold-in-appearance bracelets on the plump wrist. But the grip was a firm one.

"A point," one of them acknowledged, "but only valid so long as the component parts of the show are kept solidly together." He cocked an eye at his clone, who picked up the train of thought flawlessly.

"Precisely. So I think—a matter of simple fiscal prudence—that our offer should be contingent on Petey, Byrum and Keep being maintained as a family enterprise."

The eyes of the two Sedmons, like gun barrels on a single turret, swiveled back and forth from Himbo to Ethulassia. "The deal hinges on an imminent marriage. A young Petey to take over the reins one day. Otherwise who knows what we might get?"

"The sooner the better," agreed Hulik, doing her best—not entirely successfully—to disguise her glee. "Starship captains are empowered to perform marriages, aren't they, Captain Pausert?"

Pausert nodded. "Indeed," he said sententiously. "We're often called on to perform the rite. It is legally binding."

It was a pleasure to see Dame Ethulassia doing a very good imitation of a fish suddenly pulled from the water. For once in her life, she wasn't acting.

Himbo Petey got up from his ticket collecting. He was quite a lot shorter than the Leading Lady. "Ethy is married to her Art," he said, in a tone which was an odd combination of humility and sarcasm. "I don't even understand it half the time."

Ethulassia's gaping mouth snapped shut. She bestowed upon Himbo a look that was its own peculiar combination: indignation, calculation, amusement, and . . .

Something else. Something quite warm, in fact, if Pausert didn't miss his guess.

"Just as I don't understand the mystical significance of that mustache of yours," she said, a bit acidly. "However—"

She struck a truly dramatic pose. The Incredible Bosom soared to impossible heights. "We must all make sacrifices for the common good."

The tone was tragic—but Pausert noticed that the bejeweled hand never left Himbo's shoulder. Never even twitched.

"He's not such a bad old dope," the Leewit said gruffly. "You could do worse."

For a moment, there was an awkward pause. Everyone did their best to look somewhere else, sure and certain that the brash little witch would continue the thought: You DID do worse—recently.

Whether she would have said it or not, would never be known. The Dame, after all, was a lady of many parts.

Ethulassia laughed, easily and throatily. "Oh, sweetie, you can say that again! I hate to say it, but that bum Vonard probably wasn't even the worst."

The Incredible Bosom vanished magically. There stood before them, now, just a quite attractive woman of middle years—still with a most impressive bust—her pleasant face lined with much experience. The look she gave Himbo was a fond one, and her hand squeezed his shoulder.

"We'll consider it a marriage of convenience, Himbo, how's that?"

He nodded solemnly, though his eyes seemed to twinkle a bit.

The same twinkle that was in the Dame's eye, in fact. "Of course," she mused, "we'll have to figure out how a marriage of convenience manages to produce the heir our ruthless financial backers demand. A desperate situation. But . . . I dare say two experienced and stalwart troupers like you and me can manage to pull it off."

"Imagine so," huffed Himbo, rising to his feet. "In fact, a notion has already come to me."

He glanced towards that section of the wreckage which had once—and might still—contained his stateroom. "This clever witchly trick of faking fakery . . . it has possibilities applied elsewhere, you know?"

* * *

Hulik do Eldel was the maid of honor. Mannicholo, the best man, in a face of startling pinkness. And the Leewit would have been a flower girl, except that she had a newly broken collarbone from trying to ride Mannicholo's unicycle for the occasion. She was going to have to endure strapping and an hour a day in the bone-growth-promoter for the next two weeks.

* * *

She was very grumpy about it. "Back on Karres someone coulda done a bone-meld."

Goth spoke the usual serene, philosophical phrases spoken in the presence of those recuperating from injury and illness. The Leewit glared at her.

"You!" She slapped her hands on the rim of the growth-promoter. "Just happy that she won't be sniffing around the captain any more! Can't fool me."

Goth's serenity seemed untouched. "Don't be silly. Though, now that you bring it up, I notice that Himbo and Ethulassia disappeared right after the wedding."

"Course!" sniffed the Leewit. "They're sweet on each other. I always knew. Probably been for years. People are stupid."