“One side. I examine,” Chumley said, kneeling beside the prone Cordu. Both women clutched each other. The Troll shook his head with magnificent gravity.
“Dead.”
“Dead?” Renimbi said.
Tananda descended magnificently from the ceiling, foot in a loop of rope. The crossbow was slung at her back.
“As ordered, Duchess,” she said. “I think I've earned my fee.”
“But I didn't really want him dead,” Renimbi wailed. “He's my best friend.”
“Did you want him as a husband?” Tananda asked, surprised. “He has been acting like such a jerk.”
Renimbi wrung her hands.
“I know, but that's just the way he is … I mean, was. Oh, how could I have been so stupid?”
The Tue-Khan came down from his throne and stood over the body of his momentary son-in-law. Shaking his head, he took the document out of the pocket in his robe. Sorrowfully, he tore it into strips and let the pieces fall down onto the body.
“This agreement becomes null and void on the death of one of the couple,” he said. “I should never have let my ambition get in the way of my good sense. I am so very sorry, daughter. Your oldest friend, dead, and all because of me.” He turned and pointed a finger at Tananda. “Seize her!”
“You really can't arrest me,” Tananda said, as burly Nobs crowded in on her from all sides. “My contract was properly registered with the Assassins' Guild.”
One of them fastened manacles around her wrists, and bent to loop lengths of chain around her ankles. She winked outrageously at him.
“You know, I don't usually go in for this kind of thing, but I'll try anything once.”
The Nob turned away, nervously. Chumley almost laughed out loud.
“You are very bold for a wench who is about to suffer torture and death,” the Tue-Khan rumbled. “You … you Trollop!”
“Why, you noticed!” Tananda said, flirting her eye-lashes at him. Chumley surreptitously yanked the arrow out of Cordu's chest.
“You will die most painfully!” the Tue-Khan roared.
“Oh, I don't think so,” Tananda said. Her wrist chains jangled as she raised a hand to pat a yawn. “It's not on my schedule, you know.”
Renimbi and Larica hung on each others' shoulders, weeping. The Tue-Khan and Tue-Khana came to wrap their arms sympathetically around them.
“Oh, this is all my fault!” Renimbi said. “He was my best friend. I didn't really want him to have him killed. I just didn't see any other way out of my father's contract.”
“Well, it worked, didn't it?” Cordu asked.
Renimbi spun, gasping.
“Cordy!”
“Rennie!”
“Cordy!”
“Larrie!”
The three of them enjoyed a group hug, then Renimibi's parents made it five.
“But you were dead!” Renimbi exclaimed.
“Not really,” Tananda said. “The arrow's just a party gag I picked up in Deva. The person you plunge it into falls into a magical coma until you pull it out again. It doesn't even leave a mark.” She pulled one from the quiver at her belt and stabbed it into the arm of the guard beside her. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed on the floor. “See?”
“So your behavior was all an act?” the Tue-Khan said. His face darkened.
“Of course, sire,” Chumley said. “They could not be free of your machinations unless you destroyed the compact. You wouldn't do that unless Cordu was dead, or was so reprehensible in nature that you would not countenance him as a son-in-law any longer. We decided to make doubly certain.”
“I didn't know he was such a good actor,” Renimbi said, giving him a pinch on the cheek.
“He was a star,” Tananda said, with a grin, “and you were his cross lover. It all played out just as we hoped. I knew you didn't really want him to die, but you were a classic mismatch.”
“Cordu is alive, so the contract is in force again!” the Tue-Khan said. He reached to gather up the torn pieces of parchment.
Tananda pointed a finger.
“Don't do that,” she said.
The fragment in the Tue-Khan's fingers blazed up.
“OW!” He dropped it The ashes fluttered away. “Ill have it rewritten,” he howled.
“Don't bother,” Cordu said. “I wouldn't sign it again. Rennie and I will be good joint rulers, with our respective spouses by our sides. I hope she finds someone who loves her as much as Larica loves me, to put up with my hi-jinks.” He hugged both of the young women, and they kept their arms around him. “Who knows, perhaps our offspring will like one another enough to marry. It's been over three centuries. Why hurry?”
“I think I will write a drama based upon this for the reunion of our university Footlights Club.” Chumley put a hand to his hairy chest and declaimed. “‘Never was there a tale of such a row, than that of Rennie and her mismatched beau.’”
“It’ll be a great hit,” Tananda said, hugging her Big Brother's arm. “I love a tragedy with a happy ending.”
MYTH-TRAINED
By Robert Asprin
I focused on the candle's flame. Forcing myself to remain relaxed, I reached out and gently wrapped my mind around it.
The flame didn't flicker. If anything, it seemed to steady and grow. Moving slowly, I extended a finger, pointing casually at the object of my attention. Then, as I released a quick burst of mental energy, I made a small flicking motion with my hand to speed the spell along it's way. There was a tiny burst of power, and the flame flared and went out. Neat!
I leaned back in my chair and treated myself to a bit of smug self-congratulation.
“Have you got a minute, Skeeve?”
I glanced toward the doorway. It was my curvaceous assistant. At least, the theory was that she was my assistant. Since she tagged along when I retired from M.Y.T.H. Inc., however, she had taken over not only running the household and the business side of things, but also my life in general. Some assistant.
“Bunny!” I said with a smile. “Just the person I wanted to see. Com'on in. There's something I want to show you.”
With a casual wave of my hand, I relit the candle.
“So?” Bunny said, unimpressed. “I've seen you light a candle before. If I remember right, it was one of the first spells you learned.”
“Not that,” I said. “Watch this!”
I wrapped my mind around the flame, pointed my finger, and released the spell again.
The candle exploded, scattering droplets of hot wax across the table and onto the wall behind it.
“I see,” Bunny said, drily. “You've learned a new way to make a mess. Some day you'll learn a spell that helps with cleaning up. Then I'll be impressed.”
“That's not how it's supposed to work,” I protested. “I did it perfectly just before you came in.”
“What is it, anyway?” she said.
“Oh, it's a new spell that was in my latest correspondence lesson for the Magikal Institute of Perv,” I said. “It's a magikal way to extinguish a flame. It didn't seem very difficult, so I've been puttering around with it as a break when I'm working on the other lessons.”
“A magikal way to extinguish a flame,” she repeated slowly. “Is it really a vast improvement on simply blowing the candle out?”
“It's an exercise,” I said, defensively. “Besides, if I get good enough at it… I don't know, maybe I could put out a whole burning building.”
“Hmpf,” she said, and I realized I was losing an argument when we weren't even arguing.
“Anyway, what was it you wanted?”
It's an old ploy. When in doubt or in trouble, change the subject. Sometimes it works.
“I just wanted to say that I think you should take a look at Buttercup.”