Camelot in Orbit Arthur H. Landis

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1Hooli stood in the doorway, grinning.
I said, "You again?"
"Who else?"
I shrugged, nodded toward the wet spot on the dais. "He had no sense of humor."
"That was brilliant, Buby-the Ripper question."
"Your Grail would have done the trick."
"Possibly."
We walked down the spiral corridor toward the rec-room. I glanced obliquely down at
him, our Hooli, with his one bootie and his pompon. "A question, meatball?"
He snickered. "The answer's 'five,' bubble-brain. So says the Ripper file in your fat
head."
"Yeah." I said. "You get an 'A."
They were precisely where I'd left them, except they'd been joined by Rawl who held
his head and seemed not to know me. Blood had congealed from his ears and nostrils.
Hooli touched his shoulders, stared into his unfocused eyes; upon which Rawl looked up at
me and smiled. He said, "It seems we've won."
I smiled back; this, while I kneeled to take Murie in my arms, and just before our
weeping Caroween took Rawl in hers.
Hooli had but to crawl in and out of Murie's lap-and that was that! Indeed, the ensuing
wave of Pug-Boo "goodness" turned on full blast, revived four of the Dark One's
warrior-wizards, too, as well as a single Yorn named Olgit, who was ever after a leader of
his people-and young Lors Sernas. Sernas, by falling in a certain way, had stanched his
own blood's flow, thus saving his life 'til Hooli's "goodness" touched him.
The both of them had hardly rejoined us when Sernas' father and a half-hundred lords
and captains of Marack and Om came softly, silently, swords bared, through the now
opened doorway.
Joining us, they viewed the body of the monster with darkened brows, and waited....
Fel-Holdt saluted Hoggle with his sword!
We stood, hands clasped, the six of us, the sole survivors of the company. I said
softly, "Sirs, m'lords. The creature you called the Dark One is dead. Your world is free!"
For the next hour or so those were the only coherent words to be spoken by anyone;
such was the wave of euphoria that swept the corridors, the great plaza, and all the milling,
joyous throng of populace and warriors.
"The Dark One's dead! The Lord of Terror has been slain!"
According to Fel-Holdt, the force-field had disappeared approximately ten minutes
prior to my entry to the Dark One's chamber; apparently, to add to the needed concentration
of energy. There's no way to describe the ensuing bedlam, the riotous feasting, the
celebrating, wherein Marackians and Omnians, for one brief and shining moment, were
joined in Fregis' history. The feasting, the drawing up of plans, pacts, and, etc., went on for
days.
On the same afternoon of the following day, however, I rode with Rawl to the
scoutship to switch off its' "null," while Murie and Caroween had silken tents pitched for the
both of us on the green meadows outside the city. The air of late summer was sweet and
soft, and we wanted nothing else but quiet and a chance to be alone together. Hooli was
with Murie, but without the real Hooli, the host-occupant. So I kicked him out of the tent to be
placed in the care of certain Marackian guards.
Lors Sernas showed up to dine with us, bringing with him, of all things, the lovely
Buusti, Lord Haken's daughter. She seemed none the worse for having been ravaged by
our lecherous comrade. Indeed, Hoom-Tet, I'm sure, had in no way lost a son, but, rather,
had gained a daughter. Sernas had the good sense to say his "good nights" early, doing so
with a most gay and wicked light in his liquid eyes.
Later, when Rawl and Caroween, too, had gone, we reveled in the warmth of pillows,
furs, and each other. I marveled that not the slightest scar remained on Murie's gold-furred
thigh where the spear had pierced it. I marveled at many things! Later, too, small Ripple and
Capil peered briefly in through the tent's flap, blown open by the night wind. A soft breeze
raised her hair in gentle pats against her cheek where she slept against my shoulder.
I mentally sent out the code-word to the Deneb-3.
There was a delay of at least a minute, indicating that for them, too, the urgency was
gone. Kriloy's tone was mellow. "Well-well-well! Kyrie!" he said. "You know, we were
thinking of coming down to get you."
"Wrongo!" I exclaimed. I was still a little high from both Murie and a surfeit of sviss. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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