Queen of Stars (21 page)

“Yes it has. Nanny Sterope, this is Halfling Avior. She’s Family.”

Nanny? Or nanny goat?

Both!

Another animal smile. “Pleased to meet you.” Sterope looked down at the baby, whose tiny, fuzzy legs were hooved. “You finished on that one? Try a burp.” She transferred the load to her shoulder, and patted its diaper. “What can I do for you, halflings?”

“Avior might have a job for a young buck, if you have one available?”

Avior had worked out what species she was dealing with now and was torn between revulsion and raging curiosity. The stench was bad, but it wasn’t straight pig farm or feedlot. There were interesting odors mixed in there too.

Sterope had pursed her thick lips doubtfully. “We’re a little short just now, dear. There’s Scheddi. But he blotted his copybook on his first rut and was sent home.”

“What’d he do?”

“Got a little too enthusiastic.”

Botein laughed coarsely. “I thought that was the whole idea! Let’s have a word with this Scheddi.”

Still looking dubious, Sterope heaved herself to her, um, hooves, and led the way along the wide passage. With a chorus of shrill squeals and screams, a dozen or so youngsters came streaming past, little hooves pattering on the flagstones. They seemed to be both boys and girls…billies and nannies…bucks and does? They were playing cha
se and the ones in front were certainly female.

“Kids, kids!” Sterope shouted reprovingly, but no one paid any attention and the herd vanished around a corner. She turned into the passage the stampede had come from. Most of the cells, or stalls, were empty, but a couple of them had straw in them. The one she stopped at was in use.

The occupant was a male satyr, asleep on his straw; facedown, because his horns were enormous compared to Sterope’s, rising straight up from his head and then curving back, and sleeping in any other position would be almost impossible for him. Apart from that he looked human above the waist, but he was thickly furred from there to his black hooves.

“You keep him locked up?” Avior asked nervously.

“It’s his first rut,” Sterope said, as if that explained everything.

Scheddi hit the cage door with a clang, and all three woman jumped. He had moved faster than a startled cat, from prone to operational in nothing flat. Massive fists clutched the bars, and he thrust his snout through them, sniffing. That wasn’t all that was thrust through the bars. Avior had never seen junk like that on a biped. His eyes fixed unerringly on her.

“Lady want fukfuk?” he said eagerly.

His smell was rank, but it was rank male. She was suddenly certain that Scheddi would make the twins look like celibates.

“You need fukfuk, Scheddi always ready.”

“Talk properly, lout!” Sterope barked. She positioned the baby at her other teat and adjusted it to suck.

The satyr pouted, then said primly, “If my lady wishes discourse on philosophy or the literary arts, then I regret to confess that I am unable to oblige. When it comes to copulation, though, I am in my métier and can keep going indefinitely.” He showed his teeth again. “Come on in for a free sample.”

“What do you think, Avior?” Botein asked, looking doubtful. “We’d have to ask him, but I’m sure Daddy will let you borrow Scheddi if you fancy his type of service.”

“I service very well,” Scheddi said. “One hour? Two? Just set my timer.”

“And how would I explain him to Rigel?”

“You could tell him you tired of the Nusakan and traded them for Scheddi at the market in Canopus. I’ll have to remove them anyway, because Scheddi will get possessive. Let’s go and see what Daddy says. Let him out, Sterope.”

The nanny hesitated. “You promise to behave this time, buck?”

Scheddi’s elfin ears drooped in submission. “Yes, Mommy. Lady says stop, I stop.”

There was no key in sight, but the gate opened at Sterope’s touch. Scheddi emerged and went straight for Avior. He was not quite as tall as she, but his ears and the enormous horns made him much taller overall. Moreover, a Nusakan would have very little over him when it came to Hunk of the Year. He slid one arm around her and leered. At close quarters his smell made her eyes water, but it was not repellent. Far from it, in fact. He sensed her interest. Golden eyes gleaming, he licked his lips, and then his nose, with an enormous pink tongue.

“Fukfuk soon?” he whispered.

“Don’t you have to put some clothes on?”

“No. Fukfuk soon?” Scheddi was nothing if not single-minded, and a moon-cloth wrap would not hide much of his grotesque anatomy anyway.

“Let’s see what the prince says.” Avior had no doubt that Vildiar would agree to the arrangement. This whole thing had been set up in advance. The Family had analyzed Avior well enough to know that a satyr would be the perfect bribe. How fortunate that they happened to have one available!

Botein led the way back to the portal. Scheddi’s one-arm hug grew so tight that Avior was almost lifted off her feet. His large, rough hand had closed on her breast. She tried to pull his arm away and nothing happened. It felt like a steel girder.

“Let me go!”

“Why? You not care for Scheddi?”

“I haven’t decided.”

He clearly did not believe her. His grip grew tighter.

This time the portal led them to fresh air, very fresh. Freezing, in fact, for Avior lacked the starfolk’s preference for low temperatures. The room was large and bare, more of a gym than anything else. Unglazed windows looked out on towering ice-clad mountains, range after range below a wintery-pale sky. About fifty starlings, from toddlers to Izar-type pre-adolescents, were exercising, playing games, shouting, and laughing, just like earthling children.

Four or five adult starfolk were supervising, and one of them was Prince Vildiar, recognizable by his startling height. The fact that Botein had known exactly where to find him merely confirmed Avior’s suspicion that her afternoon had been scripted in advance. She recalled Tyl mentioning a Family crèche at somewhere called Unukalhai. Now all she needed was some way to get word to Rigel that the outlaw might be hiding at Unukalhai. But Vildiar was planning to use her against Rigel, and perhaps against the queen to whom she had sworn loyalty. She resented the assumption that her allegiance was so fragile.

But she could not deny that the bribe was tempting.

Vildiar was supervising a bare-knuckle fight. Two imps much younger than Izar were slugging away at each other with more ferocity than science. The ring was exactly that: a circle painted on the floor, with the spectators standing around the edge, ready to push the contenders back in if they put a foot over the mark. The smaller boy was obviously getting the worst of it, and the spectators were jeering at him.

Vildiar frowned at the new arrivals, especially at Scheddi. He pointed a long arm at the door.

“You! Go and stand over there, facing the wall.”

Scheddi reluctantly released Avior and stalked away. Even a satyr could not defy Vildiar Naos.

Vildiar turned back to the fight. The bigger boy had managed to make his opponent’s nose bleed. “Oh, good one, Pherkad! Don’t stop now! Keep after him. Hit! Hit! Hit!” The smaller boy was obviously hurting, and now had to endure a renewed assault.

Avior was furious. Did they think she enjoyed watching children being hurt? She had her faults, but she never descended to that. Or was there a double bluff involved? If Vildiar was hoping to persuade her that he was a kind, loving, law-abiding father, then he would never let himself be seen tormenting baby halflings, would he? Unless he wanted her to think that he hadn’t planned this meeting. She didn’t believe that.

“Fight back, Wazn!” the prince shouted. The smaller boy’s eyes were now so full of tears that he was having trouble even seeing Pherkad, let alone defending himself against his opponent’s fusillade of punches. Soon his lip was bleeding, too. Eventually Vildiar seemed to decide that he had been punished enough, and he called a halt. Gasping and puffing, the combatants stopped fighting.

“Pherkad won,” the referee announced. “So Wazn gets a free punch. Hands behind your back, Pherkad. Wazn? Are you brave enough to hurt him now?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Not too scared of him now that he’s beaten you?”

Wazn shook his head.

“Then go ahead.”

Revealing bloody teeth in a smile, the smaller boy hauled back and smashed his fist into Pherkad’s nose as hard as he could. Blood spurted and the victim reeled back with a cry. Everyone else cheered. Vildiar laughed and said well done, then sent them all off to the swimming hole.

He turned to look down at Avior. She bowed, not too low. She was afraid that he might try to embrace her, but he didn’t. She sensed a calculating, predatory mind behind the opalescent eyes.

“Daughter!”

“Your Highness.”

He shook his head as if he could read her thoughts. “The boys all have healing amulets. They’ll be good as new by bedtime.”

She hadn’t thought of that.

Vildiar pressed his advantage. “I am truly sorry about what happened to you. Had we been able to find your mother, we would have rescued her and brought her to the Starlands, to bear her child in peace. The woman who was supposed to keep track of her was severely punished.”

After being transformed from being the two boys in Botein’s version? And if they
had
found her mother? Would Avior have grown up here at Unukalhai, learning to box, learning to be an assassin? She had no answer to that, either. Silence was the best defense.

It didn’t faze the giant elf, though. He seemed amused. “Whatever I can do to make redress, you have only to ask.” Fairy godfather, three wishes.

She pulled off her head cloth. “Can you heal my ears?” Rigel had suggested that it might be possible, but he had never followed through.

Vildiar frowned and took a closer look, right then left.

“Yes. I’ll send you some ointment. One application will be enough, but they’ll need a year or so to grow back fully. What else?”

Despite herself, Avior glanced across to where Scheddi was obediently staring at the wall, hiding his grotesque genitalia from the children.

“Scheddi?” Botein suggested.

“Certainly. If you want that satyr, Avior, I’ll gladly give him to you.”

She gathered her courage to talk back. “That’s very kind of Your Highness, but may I ask what my side of the bargain will be?”

“Nothing at all!” he said at once. “I know Halfling Rigel has set you up with a studio, so I assume that’s what you want. He may have asked you to do something for him. I don’t know whether he has or not. I don’t want to know either way, and I won’t stop you doing it, whatever it is. The ointment is a free gift and the same for that animated dildo over there. And anything else you may think of later.” He smiled. “All free, no strings attached. It’s not nearly enough to make amends.”

Damn him, he had charm when he wanted!

Scheddi greeted his new owner with a predictable, “Go fukfuk now?,” squeezing her in another one-armed hug all the way back to the air car barn. The chariot was very crowded with three in it, even without any airspace between Avior’s back and the satyr’s hairy chest. She was glad that he needed one arm to hold them both in, or else he probably would have had her wrap off before the brief flight ended.

But they weren’t back at Kraz. Not in Sherwood Forest, either. The chariot stood in front of a shabby cottage in a little clearing surrounded by giant beech trees. On the other side was an overgrown swimming hole that might have come from a Monet painting. Scheddi jumped down and lifted Avior out of the car. Instead of setting her down, he just cradled her in his arms. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away. Not yet!

“This is home?”

Botein jumped down also. “No. This is the Hermitage. I told you I’d need to remove the two Nusakan. You don’t want to have to groom the unicorns yourself, do you? Scheddi won’t do that sort of work.”

“Not my purpose in life,” Scheddi said, very nearly managing to steal a kiss when she looked up at him.
Oh, that tongue!

“And I can’t carry unicorns in my chariot,” Botein finished triumphantly, “but we can drive them here through the portal.” And she looked at Scheddi.