“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!”