"I want her to meet..." the Imp prompted.
"Ah, yes," Cordu said, recovering his aplomb. "I want her to meet my other wife, Larica. She's going to be Rennie's superior from now on. I'd like to see Rennie curtsy to her."
The Eyarllian courtiers gasped in unison.
The Tue-Khan clicked his tongue. "Son, dynastic marriages take time to arrange. We have to send for a priest, and call for guests, arrange gifts, draw up paperwork ..."
The document I signed is as good as a marriage, isn't it?" Cordu asked.
"Er, yes ..."
Cordu spread out his hands.
"Then she is already my bride. I expect you to present her to me so we can get on with the honeymoon!"
The Tue-Khana looked horrified. "Decent people don't speak of such things in public, Cordu!"
"Who said I was a decent person? After that, I intend to make some changes around here."
"What changes, my son?" the Tue-Khan asked, frowning. "I am sure Renimbi will enjoy discussing them with you, for the day when you and she rule over our joined lands."
"In Vol Grun, the man becomes head of the household," Cordu said. "She will obey my will. But why wait? We signed a contract to join our lands. That means that what is yours is mine. So, I am moving in here, giving myself a little pied-a-terre that I can drop in on when I feel like it"
"Er ... that wasn't exactly what I intended in the wording of our agreement, son."
Cordu looked shocked. "It wasn't? I thought you wanted one land, under one rule."
"In a way, over time ..."
"Why wait?" Cordu rubbed his hands together and looked around. "For a start, I think this place is too full of decorator trash. I think we'll start to get rid of some of it right now."
He signed to the others. Chumley studied the room to see what could be removed or brought down without causing permanent damage. A hundred gilt-edged chairs stood arrayed on each side of the aisle leading to the throne, places for visiting nobles to sit. Only one was occupied. That left ninety-nine to play with.
"Roarrr!"
He charged the neat rows. A dozen chairs went flying into the others, knocking them flying. Courtiers raced to get out of the way of furniture. A few cowered behind the Tue-Khan's throne. Chumley picked out a chair that already showed signs of decrepitude and tore the legs asunder as easily as parting a wishbone. CRACK!
"Cheap!" he declared.
"No!" the Tue-Khana cried. "Dear, make him stop!"
"Guards!" the Tue-Khan shouted. "Seize him!
A coterie of armored men lowered their spears and charged at him.
With one hand Chumley picked up a chair, drew it to his chest. He took three careful steps, and bowled the golden chair across the room. It spun over the floor. The guards windmilled their arms as they tried to get out of the way, but the chair caught four of them right in the knees. They fell, scattering. Two of the guards kept coming.
"Need spare," Chumley announced, reaching for another chair. "Seventen, not easy!" He rolled the chair at the two guards, but they dove for opposite walls. The chair smashed into the wall. "Darn!
"Those are for people awaiting audience," the Tue-Khan said, agog.
"Oh, you don't need those," Cordu said. "I have something better. Bring it in!"
The chef du protocol who led Cordu's entourage raised a hand, and the huge double doors were flung open. Though they were two spear-lengths wide from lintel to lintel, it was still barely enough room for the huge Nobish beasts of burden, who were led in by a couple of ostlers. A dozen Vol Grun guards sprang to help untie the enormous parcels strapped to their backs. These were a pair of twelve-foot padded sofas that resembled giant cockroaches that had been upholstered in green and gold brocade, with piping around every fat, overstuffed cushion and a wealth of tassels at each end. They were arranged to flank a triangular end table possessed of a stunning orange-varnished finish, and overlooked by a skinny brass standard lamp with a marabou-fringed shade in brilliant pink. Tananda had spotted this furniture arrangement as they had passed a flea market on the way out of Vol Grun's capital city. The owner, who had inherited it from his rich aunt, had been on his way to deposit it in the dump. They were so ugly that the moths wouldn't touch them. She had bargained with him, and for less than a gold piece, the duke's party found itself in possession of an experiment in extreme distaste. Cordu's men placed the four pieces facing the throne, about five yards away, and lit the lamp.
"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.