CHAPTER THIRTEEN
" So good to see you," Alberto Silvain said, rising from his desk in the cramped office. He extended a hand in friendship toward Lan. Lan refused it. Silvain smiled even more broadly and turned to Krek. " Will you accept my hand?"
" Only as part of dinner," said the spider. " As a rule I am not overly fond of flesh. In your case, I make an exception."
Silvain laughed delightedly.
" Such wit, even in the face of death. I admire that. Yes, I understand why Claybore worries so about the likes of you." He joked and bandied words with them, but all the while Lan Martak felt the cold, calculating stare he' d come to expect from one of Claybore' s ablest, most cunning subordinates. Silvain was no one' s fool. He hadn' t been placed in charge of all the grey- clad soldiers on this world because of his white smile.
" Why has Claybore rushed off to another world, leaving you behind? Is the cause here so hopeless?" asked Lan.
" Attack, never rely on defense. Yes, I like you more and more, Martak."
" He left you to fight a rear- guard action."
" Nothing of the sort, as you probably already know. This world is pleasantly under control. It no longer requires Claybore' s personal attention. I rule in his place."
" This must come as a shock to the Lord of the Twistings," said Krek. " From the intensity of his campaign speeches, he believes he governs this world."
" The Lord is an annoyance we accept, nothing more," said Silvain, his mood darkening to match his swarthy complexion. " He is a fool to be tolerated- for the moment."
" Does he know how you feel?"
" Martak, how the Lord of the Twistings feels is of no real concern. As long as he has his pretty mazes to play with, he is content. The day- to- day rule in Dicca and elsewhere is in the control of my officers. Any decision that is made, we make. Is that clear?"
" What does he have that Claybore wants?" asked Lan.
" Borgo, were they spying when I contacted Claybore?"
" I do not know, Commandant. The fluttercraft patrol spotted them, then alerted me. I captured them near your window."
Silvain turned back to Lan.
" So, you overheard as I spoke with him. Then it' s no secret that Claybore seeks out still more of his body elsewhere." Alberto Silvain studied Lan for a moment, then added, " The body on this miserable mud ball is of little value."
" That' s why he entrusts you with recovering it?" asked Lan. He felt the soldiers behind him stiffen. One tiny flick on the trigger of their death tubes and he' d be smoking ruin. Still, his position was hopeless unless someone made a mistake. Better to try now than wait for Silvain to be surrounded by hundreds of his grey- clad soldiers.
" Claybore warned me that you have a sharp tongue. And a sharp wit. You shall not anger me so easily. In fact, you shall not anger me at all. Borgo, take them out and kill them both. I want evidence brought back to me that my orders have been successfully: executed."
" At once, Commandant!"
Lan tensed to make an escape. A dive through the window seemed almost suicidal. Any other course definitely had death marked on it. But before he got his legs gathered under him for the attempt, a peremptory shout echoed in the tiny room.
" Halt! The Lord of the Twistings demands their miserable presence immediately."
A mechanical dressed in a pale green tunic and nothing else pushed its way past Silvain' s guards. Lan saw Borgo turn to face the newcomer. Lan kicked out, his boot connecting with the man' s elbow just as he raised the death tube in the mechanical' s direction. The virulent beam tenaciously gnawed its way through plaster, support columns, and part of the bookcase as it fired harmlessly.
" Silvain, put a leash on your man," came the mechanical' s harsh command.
" Borgo, never mind," said Silvain with great reluctance. " You will get your chance later."
For the span of a dozen heartbeats, no one moved. The mechanical eventually faced down Borgo, who slung his tube back onto the carrying ring and shoved his way out of the room.
Only then did Lan breathe any easier.
" Both of them. The human and the spider. Bring them at once to the Lord' s audience chamber. He expects them to be in good operating condition." The mechanical pivoted and walked away on well- oiled bearings.
" You take orders from a pile of iron now?" Lan asked lightly. He still probed for the point where he gained advantage over Silvain. He didn' t find it.
" Take them to the Lord' s audience chamber," Silvain said, disgust dripping from his every word. " I' ll join you there shortly. I must report."
He turned back to the small box on the table. Lan " felt" the identical sensation he associated with a cenotaph opening. The inside of the box glowed a faint blue. As he and Krek were taken out, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a fleshless skull he remembered all too well. Alberto Silvain had contacted Claybore once more.
" So big. This one' s so big. I can hardly touch his body. Look." The Lord of the Twistings jumped as high as he could. His fingers stopped just short of Krek' s abdomen.
Krek shifted uneasily, weight rocking from side to side. He wasn' t used to anyone trying to touch him.
The Lord cavorted about, doing his somersaults and scramblings on the glassy, slick inlaid tile floor. He rolled to a sitting position and smiled ingenuously at his captives.
" You look so upset. Don' t be. I' m very nice. I' m very nice to everyone. Ask all my friends."
" What about Inyx?"
" Inyx? I don' t know her. No, I haven' t heard the name."
" You' re lying," said Lan, barely keeping his anger under control. The Lord took him for a fool by playing the fool. He' d seen this man' s campaign speech on the giant screen. There hadn' t been any trace of a buffoon then. Now he acted like a man missing the grey stuff between his ears. " You sent her into the Twistings."
" I did? Oh, perhaps I did. Was she the one who did so marvelously well in my tiny little mazes? The mazes in my playroom?" The Lord stared at Silvain.
" Yes, Lord, she is the one."
" Such a bright girl. So smart. She worked her way through my little maze in no time at all. That' s why I have a new maze. Do come and look at it."
Lan and Krek had no choice. The guards surrounding them made sure of that. Lan looked about in surprise when he entered the Lord' s " playroom." Head- tall mazes lined the walls. They reeked of magic, those transparent walled mazes. He reeled under the impact. Whatever spells had been used to form the mazes, they were potent ones.
" You have a little of the magic yourself, don' t you?" the Lord asked shrewdly. " Perhaps the girl had it, too. Perhaps that' s why she so easily escaped. But not even she could find her way out of this one. It' s special," he said in a low, confidential voice.
" Special in what way?" Lan asked.
" I' ll show you!" Like a small child with a new birthday toy, the Lord clapped his hands and bounced up and down excitedly. " You. Into the maze."
The soldier stared aghast when the Lord of the Twistings pointed at him. He pulled out his cylinder in a reflex action when several mechanicals moved in to seize him. The human fired twice and two of the mechs vaporized, leaving behind little more than rubble and the sharp tang of metallic gas. The others, however, closed from behind, grabbed the man' s arms, and hoisted him off his feet. Kicking and shouting curses, he was tossed onto the top of the transparent box.
Lan felt the magics begin their work. The man sank slowly through the top, seemed to fall into an infinite well. Diminishing in size until he appeared little more than six inches tall, the guard clung frantically to his death tube. When he smashed into the floor inside the maze, Lan began to understand the spells used. He might not counter them, but he knew how the Lord of the Twistings accomplished them.