White Stars

7. The Terms of the Duel

Lord Shark's warning devices apprised him of the approach of an air car, and his screens revealed the nature of that car, a large kitelike contraption from which hung a gondola — in the gondola, two figures.

"Two," murmured Lord Shark the Unknown to himself. Beneath his mask he frowned. The car drifted closer and was seen to contain the Duke of Queens and a plump individual in poorly fitting overalls of some description.

He instructed his automata, his servants, to admit the couple when they reached the building, then he sat back to wait.

Lord Shark's grey mind considered the information on the screens, but dismissed the questions raised until the Duke of Queens could supply answers. He hoped that the duke had come to admit himself incapable of learning the skills of the duel and that he need not, therefore, be further bothered by the business which threatened to interrupt the routines of all the dull centuries of his existence. The only person on his planet who had not heard the news that the universe was coming to an end, he was the only one who would have been consoled by the knowledge or, indeed, even interested, for nobody else had paid it too much attention, save perhaps Lord Jagged of Canaria. Yet, even had Lord Shark known, he would still have preferred to await the end by following his conventional pursuits, being too much of a cynic to believe news until it had been confirmed by the event itself.

He heard footfalls in the passage. He counted thirty-four before they reached his door. He touched a stud. The door opened and there stood the Duke of Queens, in feathered finery, and lace, and gold, bowing with elaborate and meaningless courtesy.

"Lord Shark, I am here to receive your instructions!" He straightened, stroking his large black beard and looking about the room with a curiosity Lord Shark found offensive.

"This other? Is he your second?"

"Trooper O'Dwyer."

"Of the 46th Star Squadron," said Trooper O'Dwyer by way of embellishment. "Nice to know you, Lord Shark."

Lord Shark's small sigh was not heard by his visitors as he rose from behind his consoles. "We shall talk in the gunroom," he said. "This way."

He led them along a perfectly straight corridor into a perfectly square room which was lined with all the weapons his long-dead companion had collected in his lifetime.

"Phew!" said Trooper O'Dwyer. "What an armoury!" He reached out and took down a heavy energy-rifle. "I've seen these. We were hoping for an allocation." He operated the moving parts, he sighted down the barrel. "Is it charged?"

Lord Shark said tonelessly, "I believe that they are all in working condition." While Trooper O'Dwyer whistled and enthused, Lord Shark drew the Duke of Queens to the far end of the room where stood a rack of swords. "If you feel that you wish to withdraw from our agreement, my lord duke, I should like you to know that I would also be perfectly happy to forget —"

"No, no! May I?" The Duke of Queens wrapped his heavy cloak over his arm and selected an ancient sabre from the rack, flexing it and testing it for balance. "Excellent!" He smiled. "You see, Lord Shark, that I know my blades now! I am ready to meet you at any time, anywhere you decide. Your automaton proved an excellent instructor and can best me no longer. I am ready. Besides," he added, "it would not do to call off the duel. So many of my friends intend to watch. They would be disappointed."

"Friends? Come to watch?" Lord Shark was in despair. The Duke of Queens was renowned for his vulgarity, but Lord Shark had not for a moment considered that he would turn such an event into a sideshow.

"So if you will name when and where…" the Duke of Queens replaced the sword in the rack.

"Very well. It might as easily be where we first met, on the plain, as anywhere."

"Good. Good."

"As to time — say a week from today?"

"A week? I know the expression. Let me think…"

"Seven days — seven rotations of the planet around the sun."

"Ah, yes…" The duke still seemed vague, so Lord Shark said impatiently:

"I will make you the loan of one of my chronometers. I will set it to indicate when you should leave to arrive at the appropriate time."

"You are generous, Lord Shark."

Lord Shark turned away. "I will be glad when this is over," he said. He glared at Trooper O'Dwyer, but the trooper was oblivious to his displeasure. He was now inspecting another weapon.

"I'd sure love the chance of trying one of these babies out," he hinted.

Lord Shark ignored him.

"We shall fight, Duke of Queens, until one of us is killed. Does that suit you?"

"Certainly. It is what I expected."

"You are not reluctant to die. I assumed…"

"I've died more than once, you know," said the duke airily. "The resurrection is sometimes a little disorientating, but it doesn't take long to —"

"I shall not expect to be resurrected," Lord Shark told him firmly. "I intend to make that one of the terms of this duel. If killed — then it is final."

"You are serious, sir?" The Duke of Queens was surprised.

"It is my nature to be ever serious, Duke of Queens."

The Duke of Queens considered for a moment, stroking his beard. "You would be annoyed with me if I did see to it that you were resurrected?"

"I would consider it extremely bad-mannered, sir."

The duke was conscious of his reputation for vulgarity. "Then, of course, I must agree."

"You may still withdraw."

"No. I stand by your terms, Lord Shark. Absolutely."

"You will accept the same terms for yourself, if I kill you?"

"Oh!"

"You will accept the same terms, sir?"

"To remain dead?"

Lord Shark was silent.

Then the Duke of Queens laughed. "Why not? Think of the entertainment it will provide for our friends!"

"Your friends," said Lord Shark the Unknown pointedly.

"Yes. It will give the duel an authentic flavour. And there would be no question that I would not have created a genuine stir, eh? Though, of course, I would not be in a position to enjoy my success."

"I gather, then," said Lord Shark in a peculiar voice, "that you are willing to die for the sake of this frivolity?"

"I am, sir. Though 'frivolity' is hardly the word. It is, at very least, an enjoyable jest — at best an act of original artistry. And that, I confide to you, Lord Shark, is what it has always been my ambition to achieve."

"Then we are agreed. There is no more to say. Would you choose a sword?"

"I'll leave that to you, sir, for I respect your judgement better than my own. If I might continue to borrow your automaton until the appointed time…?"

"Of course."

"Until then." The Duke of Queens bowed. "O'Dwyer?"

The trooper looked up from a gun he had partially dismantled. "Duke?"

"We can leave now."

Reluctantly, but with expert swiftness, Trooper O'Dwyer reassembled the weapon, cheerfully saluted Lord Shark and, as he left, said, "I'd like to come back and have another look at these some time."

Lord Shark ignored him. Trooper O'Dwyer shrugged and followed the Duke of Queens from the room.

A little later, watching the great kite float into the distance, Lord Shark tried to debate with himself the mysteries of the temperament the Duke of Queens had revealed, but an answer was beyond him; he merely found himself confirmed in his opinion of the stupidity of the whole cosmos. It would do no great harm, he thought, to extinguish one small manifestation of that stupidity: the Duke of Queens certainly embodied everything Lord Shark most loathed about his world. And, if he himself, instead, were slain, then that would be an even greater consolation — though he believed the likelihood was remote.