World of Mazes

CHAPTER NINE

" Don' t use that," said Lan Martak, holding his hands in front of him, as if to prevent the woman from firing her death tube at him. " This is all a mistake."

" No mistake," the grey officer said. She hadn' t risen to the rank of captain by being stupid. " You and the spider are the ones Silvain ordered arrested." She paused, cocked her head to one side as if appraising Lan and finding him wanting, and finally asked, " How did you escape so easily from Zol and his patrol?"

" Zol?" Lan asked. His fingers tried to tie themselves into knots. He felt power beginning to flow. Gently teasing it, he wanted to delay the woman as long as possible until he got a good grip on his spells. The deflection spell required too much concentration; it welled up from deep in his unconscious mind. He had to employ another spell if he wanted to get away unharmed.

Power surged. He reached, almost controlling it, almost making it his own.

" The leader of the troops at the cenotaph. Zol' s a good man. You hardly appear the sort to get by him."

" He frightened much too easily," said Krek, his voice louder than normal. " All I did was-"

" Stop!" the woman barked. She swung her tube toward Krek. This was the opening Lan needed. He took a pace toward her.

" Don' t harm him," he said, pulling her attention back from Krek. " He' s a bit simple- minded."

" Simple!" The spider' s mandibles clashed horribly. But this time her attention remained on Lan. She had figured out what the man had tried to do- she wasn' t going to allow him to take even one step more toward her without firing.

" Enough talk. We go to the palace. The commandant wants to speak with you."

" Can' t do it," said Lan, advancing. The woman' s finger tensed on the trigger. He kept moving. She fired.

" Friend Lan Martak!" shrieked the spider. " You are hit!"

The beam went straight and true- and missed his body by several inches. Lan felt no pang of chivalry as he danced forward and squarely planted his feet. His fist drove short and powerful for her chin. Her head snapped back. She fell to the ground, unconscious.

" But I don' t understand," said Krek. " Her death beam struck in your rather scrawny midsection."

" I' ve been reading up on illusions. I' m not too good, but I did find one that was easy enough to conjure. I made her think my body was shifted a foot to the right. The beam hit an illusion."

" You might have informed me you were going to do such a thing. It is unseemly for me to carry on as I just did." The spider primly pulled himself upright, back and abdomen brushing the ceiling.

" No time for that. She' s brought her soldiers with her."

" I fail to see what problem that presents."

Krek bellowed, then charged- directly through a wall.

A cloud of plaster filled the air as the spider rushed out. Screams of terror quickly drowned out Krek' s battle call. Only one grey- clad held his line. Even so, his shaking hand barely held his cylinder. As he brought up the weapon to fire on Krek, Lan triggered the death tube he' d taken from the fallen woman. The beam lanced forth and speared the man. He died before his body struck the ground. If the other soldiers had been willing to fight, the sight of their captain unconscious, Jonrod the Flash' s building in ruin, and one of their own number cut in half on the street dissuaded them. They broke and ran.

" Let' s get out of here," Lan said, tugging at the spider' s hind leg. " Some officer' s going to wonder why they' re running around without supervision; then all the demons of the Lower Places won' t be able to help us."

" Quite," said Krek, composing himself. " Let us explore in that direction." He indicated the opposite direction from that taken by the soldiers.

" It' s remarkably easy avoiding them," said Lan, ducking into a store as a small patrol of grey soldiers went by. " The election has them tied up too much to pay any attention to individuals." He glanced at Krek, who stood silently by, lost in his own thoughts. With the campaign heating up for Lord of the Twistings, more and more illusions stalked the streets. In comparison to any of them, Krek now seemed to be minor, insignificant, not worth a second glance.

" Where are we?" asked Krek. " We wander aimlessly and for too many days. This pavement tires my feet. When you have eight feet, it does not pay to have even half hurting."

" Sorry, old spider," said Lan, without too much sympathy. " Ever since we left Jonrod' s headquarters a couple days ago, I' ve been trying to section off the city for a systematic search. We' ve gone through the majority of the places I think Inyx most likely to be."

" This is Lossal Boulevard," said the spider. " I recognize it from our first day in Dicca. The part we traverse is much seamier than that we previously explored."

" You want anything or did you just come in to pee and get out of the sun?" asked a gruff shopkeeper. Lan looked around the shop and decided he didn' t have much appetite for pigs' ears or ox eyes, both considered gourmet items by the Dicca gentry.

" Need information," he said. " A few days back someone told me about an illusion along Lossal."

" Nothing but, these days," the man grumbled.

" These were Fine Rooms. A window display."

" You mean Luister len- Larrotti. Humph." The shopkeeper spat and accurately hit a spittoon, making a brass ringing noise. " Son of a sow keeps his damned unsightly place a few blocks farther south. Past Mittervault Avenue."

" Nobody seems to like this Luister len- Larrotti, but everyone knows him," observed Lan. " He must be something of a local villainor celebrity."

" Spit, that' s what he is, spit." The man demonstrated. " But this is a perky one he' s got in his window. Or so I hear."

" I' ll check it out and report back firsthand," promised Lan. He and Krek left. Outside, Lan said, " He' s been by those Fine Rooms. I can tell. But he' s like most of the people around and won' t admit it. This must be some sight."

" Your libidinal instincts are much too esoteric for me to ever understand, friend Lan Martak. We spiders keep our basic lust on a high, pure plane."

" And then your mate eats you."

" Every culture has its drawbacks," Krek said primly.

" Come on. Let' s find Luister len- Larrotti and his magical Fine Rooms."

As they walked, Lan noticed more and more mechanicals in the streets. They performed most of the menial chores and many of the more demanding ones. He' d never discovered where they were constructed nor how they were powered. Trying to detect any magical power source had failed completely. Lan wished he had the time to properly study the leather- bound grimoire he carried and learn more about such things. He was positive he lacked the skill to detect the spell powering them rather than some other form of motivating energy being used.

" They clank," came Krek' s terse comment as a pair of mechanicals swept the street clean of debris following one of the more boisterous election speeches involving much confetti, cheering, and illusions performing incredibly erotic activities.

" They also don' t need food, can work around the clock without tiring, and seem much more intelligent than the majority of the citizens likely to vote for Lord," said Lan.

" That is not difficult. These humans are so image- befuddled they no longer separate fact and fantasy. Living daily with their fondest dreams robs them of their spirit."

" I agree," said Lan. " I wonder if the mechanicals can vote in the election."

" If so, they ought to vote for one of their own kind. None of the humans I have seen is worthy of leading a slop- bucket brigade, much less running a city."

" Lord of the Twistings encompasses more than Dicca. The post rules most of the planet, from the way they talk. And not a one has mentioned the war going on."

" Friend Lan Martak, look!" the spider cried. Such a burst of emotion from Krek stopped Lan in his tracks. For a moment he wondered what the arachnid had seen.

Then he saw, too.

" Inyx!" he shouted.

Furry legs smothered him, twisted about him, held him back. He fought. Krek tightened his grip until Lan realized he' d never be able to fight free. Even his berserk rage didn' t give him enough strength to match Krek' s.

" Let me go. I won' t do anything stupid."

" You tried," accused the spider. " They outnumber us by a considerable margin."

Lan struggled to his feet, getting free of the coppery fur on his friend' s legs. He half- hid behind Krek and peered around. His hand went involuntarily to the death tube swinging at his belt. Reaction still brought out his sword when the combat promised to be close, but he had slowly retrained himself to think of the tube when the enemy appeared more than a few yards distant.

" In the window," said the spider.

Lan Martak went white. For a moment, the blood rushed from his head and he felt light- headed. Then anger caused blood to rush back. He flushed and only a great control of will prevented him from making a suicidal attack.

" Luister len- Larrotti," he said, the name coming out as a curse. " He used Inyx!"

" So it seems," said the spider. " No wonder the attraction was so potent for those along Lossal. Inyx is a comely female- for a human. However, please remember, friend Lan Martak, you were quite willing to gawk at someone else."

" They won' t get away with this," muttered Lan, under his breath.

The grey- clads snapped to attention when a tall man escorted Inyx out, Lan eyed the man, burning his every feature into memory. His stomach sank as he began itemizing: the man was good- looking. He carried himself with an air that spoke of decisiveness, and Lan knew that the soldier was nobody' s fool. Those cold eyes missed little as they scanned the crowd arrayed around len- Larrotti' s Fine Rooms.

" He did not see us," said Krek. " They travel further south on Lossal."

" We' re following them," said Lan. " I' ve lost Inyx in the whiteness between worlds. I lost her for almost two weeks on this damned planet. I' m not going to lose her now!"

They trailed along, only a half- block separating grey- clad soldiers from Krek and Lan. Lan fingered his swinging death cylinder, considering, calculating, evaluating his chances. The time wasn' t yet right to rescue Inyx.

Dammit!