Gateway To Xanadu (39 page)

By the time I reached the rocks the rider behind me was a lot closer, and was now recognizably Val. I had turned to check on his progress any number of times, but not once had he tried signaling me to stop, just as though he wasn’t about to change the rules of the game. If he had signaled me we would have been partners again instead of pursuer and pursued, and I didn’t think he was ready to go that way yet.

He was getting a kick out of chasing me down, but not the sort of kick l would have enjoyed giving him.

I turned my mount in among the rocks and boulders, doing nothing to slacken my speed, but the computer brain in the kiddy car didn’t agree with my decision and automatically slowed me down to keep me from piling up because of a badly placed piece of rubble. I cursed with frustration and nearly, put my toes through the stirrups, but my speed kept going down instead of up, my mount no more than picking its way between two twenty-foot monoliths. I passed the slabs of rock, searching hard for the break I’d been hoping for when I’d entered that place, and suddenly a large form leaped up behind me, put a hand around my waist, and pulled the reins out of my quavering fingers. I’d had an instant to see that it was Greg jumping up behind me to ride double, dressed the way Val was, and the startlement quickly gave way to something a lot colder.

“You’d better watch that language, young lady,” he said with mock sternness as he began guiding my mount around the monolith on the right. “If I hear it again, I’ll have to punish you. But at that, you’ve done me a favor. I expected to have to ride out after you, not have you come in here to me.”

“Greg, what are you doing?” I asked unsteadily, seeing with surprise that behind the rock there were three male slaves waiting with four mounts, the men also dressed in the costumes Greg and Val wore. I knew immediately that the three were slaves; they were too good-looking and well made to be guests; what I didn’t know was what they were doing there, riding with Greg. I thought I knew well enough what he had in mind, in general if not specifically.

“What I’m doing is capturing a runaway female I intend having some fun with,” he answered in amusement, stopping my mount in front of the slaves, then gesturing to two of them. “I’m going to have a lot of fun with my captive, Jennifer, right after I have even more fun with the man following her.”

He put both arms around me then lifted me toward the two reaching slaves, and all I could do was struggle a little as they got me on my feet between them. Greg slid down off my mount and let the third slave lead it away, then moved closer to stop in front of me. I looked up at him with what must have looked like vulnerability, and he grinned suddenly and put a hand to my cheek. ,

“Pretty little Jennifer,” he murmured, letting his fingers move gently over my cheek. “You said last night that you wanted to make it up to me for what you did. Are you still ready to make it up to me?”

“Yes,” I conceded with difficulty, knowing it was a waste of time, but saying it anyway. “I am ready, Greg, so you don’t have to . . . ”

“Ah, but I do,” he interrupted with an even stronger grin, watching as I tried to get away from the two slaves and go to him. “Your uncle has to be punished for the way he spoke to me, and you-you have to be punished for what you did last night. Are you ready to be punished?”

“Greg, please don’t . . .” I began, but I was being ignored again. Both of his hands came to the front of my dress and pulled with moderate strength, and. the fingers of the slaves tightened on my arms as the whole top of my dress ripped away.

“You really are very pretty, Jennifer,” Greg drawled, smirking as his eyes ran intrusively over my now bare breasts. “Pretty all over. Have you any idea what it will be like to be used by three male slaves who have spent the last year or more catering to the whims of very rich, very spoiled ‘women? In all that time they haven’t been allowed to really have a woman, but now I’ve told them they can have you. Do you think you’ll still be able to make things up to me after they’re done with you?”

The fingers of the two slaves holding me automatically closed tighter on my arms again, and a glance at them formed the ice in my middle and froze it solid. The looks in their eyes held the memory of everything those men had been forced to go through so long, the memory of every pain and insult and slight and frustration they’d been made to put up with.. Right next to that look was the one that said they’d soon be able to replace those memories with better, more pleasant ones, and the soft breeze fluttering around the pile of rocks touched my bare flesh and made me shiver.

“Greg, don’t do this,” I tried, looking up at him distressed. “I know you’re angry with me, but if you give me the chance I really can snake you forget about it. My uncle won’t . . . . ”

“Do anything but regret what he’s already done,” he finished for me, an absolute refusal to consider anything but what was already decided on in his tone and eyes. “And I don’t think that will be long in coming. Since he’s gotten so possessive about you, maybe I ought to make him watch your punishment before giving him his.”

Greg chuckled in amusement, reached out to take one of my breasts in his hand, then turned to watch –

the faint trail around the monolith we stood behind. I could hear Val’s mount picking its way through the rocks on the other side just the way he could, and the two slaves didn’t let me pull away from the deliberately insulting touch.

In no time at all Val appeared, his mount rolling easily around the slab, he himself looking around in amusement while glancing down at this saddle. I was sure then that there was something that let his mount follow mine no matter where I went, but what I wasn’t sure about was what to do next. I now knew what Greg had in mind for me, and although it wasn’t likely to be pleasant it also wasn’t likely to kill me or incapacitate me for long, which meant I had no real excuse for breaking my role. What he had in mind for Val was the kicker, though, the unknown that could make or break the entire assignment. It was almost certain that we were under the sort of observation we’d been under since we landed on the planet, so I had to be careful about what I did. I was sure Greg was just angry and didn’t intend doing anything too awful to Val . . .

“Well, good morning, Mr. Carter,” Greg called out to Val as soon as my partner saw us, pleasant welcome in his voice. “Lovely day for a ride, isn’t it?”

“What do you think you’re doing, Rich?” Val growled, his amusement gone, his mount pulled to a halt about ten or fifteen feet away from us. “I thought I told you to stay away from my niece.”

“So you did, Mr. Carter, so you did,” Greg agreed amiably, giving my breast a last squeeze before turning all the way to face Val. “But I’m not really here to see your niece; she’ll be taken care of by the men with me. The one who actually brought me out all this way is you.”

“You’re not much my type, Rich,” Val answered dryly, then dismounted and walked forward a few feet.

“Tell your men to let her go, and then we can settle this between us.”

“I don’t think they’d care for the idea of letting her go just yet,” Greg drawled, taking a step or two toward Val. “You see, I promised her to them after I took care of you, and I’d hate to disappoint them.

How are you with your hands, Mr. Carter?”

“You intend fighting me?” Val asked, his face expressionless as he watched Greg open his swordbelt and throw it aside. Someone who didn’t know him might believe he was expressionless through fear, but I could see the strong, eager anticipation in his eyes. I stirred between the two men holding me, surprised and relieved that that was all Greg had planned for Val, and the two slaves tightened their grips again.

“No, Mr. Carter, I don’t intend fighting with you,” Greg answered, and now there was a cold, hard edge to his voice. “I intend beating the living hell out of you, and I usually make my intentions good. Get rid of that swordbelt and step right up-if you’ve got the guts.”

The mockery in Greg’s challenge brought Val’s head up in insult, the damned fool, and his hands went immediately to his swordbelt. A minute later it was open and gone, and then the two of them had closed to fighting distance with each other. Greg held his hands up in formal boxing style, and Val’s loose, non-boxing stance and movement made the Management man grin.

“I’m really going to enjoy this, Mr. Carter,” he gloated, beginning to circle to his left. “You, however, won’t get any fun out of it at all. ”

With the last of his words he threw a left jab and a fast, hard right, obviously intending to catch Val flat-footed, but he should have remembered that saying about the best laid plans. The left jab didn’t quite make it and the right missed by a mile, and then Greg’s head snapped up and he was stumbling backward, his nose bloody from the gentle touch of Val’s fist. Val didn’t box, of course, but what he did do seemed to be a pretty good substitute.

“If that’s your idea of enjoyment, you’re in the wrong zone, Rich,” Val commented, watching as Greg swiped at his bloody nose with the back of his hand. “If you’re smart you’ll call this off right now, and go back to where you’re supposed to be.”

“You bastard!” Greg snarled, glaring at his opponent. “I’ll go back after I take care of you!”

His anger launched him at Val again, fists up and chin tucked in, the overconfidence gone and determination in its place. A number of lightning blows were exchanged, the sort that make you flinch at the thought of being on the receiving end of one of them, but the two big men weren’t flinching. They really wanted to get at each other with their hands, but when Greg finally reached Val he didn’t find the satisfaction he was looking for. I don’t know much about boxing, but it looked like he set Val up for what’s usually known as the “old one-two,” then pulled it off. His left fist caught Val in the middle and his right followed immediately to Val’s jaw, and then Val was supposed to go down. What really happened was Val grunted at the left in his stomach and moved his head a little with the force of the right, then came back and belted Greg in the face with what looked like more strength than he’d started with. I really did flinch at the power in that blow, briefly sympathizing with the stunned surprise Greg showed just before he was hit. I’ve mentioned before how well Val can take pain and punishment, but I don’t know if I’ve made it clear how demoralizing that ability is for his opponent. When you hit someone with everything you’ve got and they just stand there grinning and getting ready to give it back, your first, very wise impulse is to turn tail and get the hell out of there. I didn’t start my career as an agent with a nine rating in hand to hand, so I speak from personal experience. Greg Rich must have felt that impulse just before Val’s fist reached him, but by then it was too late.

Greg staggered backward to sprawl on his back, his handsome face a bruised and bloody mess, not unconscious but too dazed to get up again. Val stood and looked at him for a minute, briefly sucking at one knuckle on the hand that had connected with Greg, then he turned away from his former opponent and started toward me, his black eyes going to the two slaves holding me. The slaves dropped my arms so fast you would have thought I’d suddenly burst into flames, and the third one over by the mounts paled and edged away from what looked like the new action that was about to start. No one was prepared to argue with that look in my partner’s eyes-but Greg Rich, on the ground behind him and to the left, couldn’t see it.

“Stop right there, you bastard,” he slurred, leaning up on one elbow to glare his hatred at Val, one of his fists no longer empty. Val stopped and turned slowly to see the blaster the rest of us had already seen, and rather than laugh in relief, the slaves to either side of me froze in shock. What Greg was doing was clearly not on the announced agenda, and the slaves were suddenly more afraid than eager for fun.

“You really did think you were going to get away with it,” Greg half-snarled, half-laughed, keeping his eyes on Val as he struggled to his knees. “I wasn’t going to use this on you until I was good and ready, but I’m ready sooner than I expected to be. You can delay it a minute or two by getting down on your belly and begging, so why don’t you try it? If you do it nicely enough, I might only burn your legs off.”

The blaster leveled on Val was unwavering-even when Greg chuckled, and my mind was racing so fast it nearly reached light speed. Anything can be stopped by words except a blaster bolt that’s already on its way, I’d once thought, and even in that instance I wasn’t entirely wrong. I looked around carefully as I waited for Val to say the words that would buy us some desperately needed time, but I suddenly noticed that those words weren’t coming, and Greg noticed the same thing.

“Beg me, damn you, beg for your life!” he snarled, his eyes blazing as he forced himself to his feet.

“Don’t just stand there staring at me as if you don’t give a damn what I do! Don’t you care about living?”

“Life at any price turns out to be worth what you pay for it,” the idiot who called himself my partner answered, folding his arms as he calmly continued to hold Greg’s gaze. “If I let myself fall so low that I crawled and begged, what would I do with my life even if I got it back? And if I lost it anyway, I’d have put myself through hell for nothing. You’re wasting your time waiting for something that won’t happen, Rich. Whether I live or die, I’ll be doing it on my feet.”

“Not for long, you won’t,” Greg growled, finality clear in every word as his hand tightened around the blaster hilt. “It’s all yours, sucker, and you can’t say you didn’t beg for it.”

He lifted his hand and extended the blaster just a little more, taking careful aim instead of just squeezing one off, sighting directly on a motionless, expressionless Val. With Greg Rich being so far out of reach my partner had no other real option open to him, aside from diving and trying to hit dirt, but Val didn’t even try that. If he’d been alone only a misfire would have saved him, but luckily for him he wasn’t alone. When it first came to me that the damned fool was going to be the way he’d been on the liner in front of those men who were going to jump on his head, I stopped looking around for a miracle and did the only thing I could. The slave to my left was too intent on the confrontation to notice when I slipped the knife out of its sheath on his hip, and also didn’t notice my whispered thanks to the Lord of Luck.