Deathstalker d-1 Read online

  "If this is some kind of joke, I don't find it in the least bit funny."

  "No joke, Owen. I'm canceling our contract. The escape clause is a bit of a bastard, but that's life for you. Or rather, death. Don't struggle and I'll make it quick."

  "Whatever they're paying, I'll double it."

  "You can't buy yourself out of trouble this time, dear. Now stand still and let me do what I have to. At least have the decency to die with dignity."

  Owen realized he'd ended up back by the burning bed and winced away from the leaping flames. He drew himself up to his full height and glared at his mistress. His nakedness rather distracted from the effect. "Cathy, you don't really think you can beat me in a fight, do you? I am the Deathstalker, after all."

  "And I was trained in the House of Joy. They teach us all kinds of things there. You'd be surprised. We're both a little out of shape, but you've really let yourself go, Owen. If the knife doesn't get you, me gun will, once it's recharged. Say goodbye, dear. It's been fun; let's not spoil it."

  She lunged forward gracefully while she was still talking, the long knife reaching for his heart. Owen side-stepped at the last moment, and the edge of the knife grated across his ribs as Cathy sailed past him. She recovered her balance in a moment and turned to face him again. Owen noted disgustedly that she wasn't even breathing hard. The long cut burned across his ribs, and he could feel blood coursing down his side. Much as he hated to admit it, Cathy clearly was in much better shape than he.

  The thought sparked a sudden anger in him, and as she came forward again, Owen fell easily into the defensive stance he should have been using all along. His weapon master had spent enough time hammering it into him. Cathy lunged again, and he stepped gracefully aside, seized her arm in one simple movement and twisted it up behind her back. Her own speed and impetus slammed the hold into place, and she gasped in pain as he applied a steady pressure. Her fingers opened reluctantly, releasing the knife. It fell to the floor, but Cathy kicked it out of reach before Owen could even think about going after it. And then she twisted strangely, pulled free of his grasp and sent Owen flying before he knew what was happening. He scrambled hurriedly to his feet, looking about him for the knife. Cathy pirouetted once, her long leg flying up, and her foot hit Owen expertly just above the ear. He managed to roll with some of the blow, but he still hit the floor hard again, his head ringing.

  Great, thought Owen, as he struggled to get his feet under him. All the assassins that could have come after me, and I had to get a double-jointed contortionist kick-boxer. Well, when in doubt, improvise. And if that fails, cheat.

  Cathy came at him again, moving almost too fast for the eye to follow. Owen grabbed his clothes from the chair they'd been laid out on and threw them into Cathy's face. For a second she was blind and off balance, and that was all it took for Owen to snatch up the knife and thrust it between her ribs. For a long moment they remained as they were, Cathy on her feet, him on one knee, both breathing hard. Blood poured from Cathy's heaving side. The clothes fell away from her face. She gripped his shoulders fiercely, as though to hold herself up, but all her strength went out of her, and she sank to the floor, still holding onto him. He eased her down and sat with her, holding her tenderly in his arms. She coughed painfully, and blood ran from her mouth. "Damn," she said thickly. "You've killed me, Owen."

  "Yes, I think I have. Why, Cathy? Why did you do it?"

  "You've been outlawed. The news came through while I was getting your drink. All your titles, lands, properties, and monies have been seized. It's death to shelter or aid you. Anyone who brings your head, preferably unattached to the body, to the Imperial Court on Golgotha will be rewarded with the Lordship of Virimonde and half your monies. Somebody really wants you dead, Owen."

  She cleared her throat and spat, and there was more blood. Owen held her tightly. Outlawed? He tried to make sense of it and couldn't. In the space of a few moments, his whole world had gone mad. Cathy coughed painfully and gritted her teeth against the blood. Her hands tightened on his arms, and he held her until the spasm passed. He didn't know what else to do.

  "Something else you should know, Owen." Her voice was low and blurred now, and he had to concentrate to make it out. "I'm a spy. From the Imperial Court. They planted me on you, all those years ago. I've been feeding them information ever since."

  "Hush, love. Don't tire yourself. I know. I've always known. It doesn't matter."

  Cathy looked at him. "You knew? And you never said anything?"

  "What was there to say? My AI broke your cover right after you moved in with me. He's good at things like that. I never did anything about it because it was easier to have a spy I knew about, and could keep an eye on, than have to identify and deal with whoever replaced you. And besides, I was fond of you."

  "I was fond of you," said Cathy quietly. "I never did have a head for business."

  She leaned forward till her head was resting on his shoulder, shuddered slightly, and stopped breathing. Owen held her in his arms as the life went out of her, and then sat quietly with her, rocking her gently like a sleeping child. After a while he let go and laid her out on the floor. She seemed somehow smaller and more fragile now. He looked down at himself and grimaced at her blood and his on his skin. He picked up his shift from the floor and mopped at himself with it. He started to put it on, and then let it drop to the floor again. Nothing seemed to matter much now. The crackling of the flames from his burning bed caught his attention, and he thought vaguely that he should call someone to do something about it. He activated his comm implant, removed the Do Not Disturb and accessed his home's AI.

  "Ozymandius…"

  "Shut up and listen," said his AI. "You're in a lot of trouble, Owen. You've been outlawed, and there's a hell of a price on your head."

  "I know."

  "So does your head of security. He's on his way to you right now, with as many guards as he could muster, with the explicit intention of separating your head from your shoulders. You never did pay him enough. You've got to get out of there, now."

  "Cathy just tried to murder me. I had to kill her."

  "I'm sorry, Owen, but we don't have time for this. Everyone in the Standing is probably heading for you with murder on their mind. You don't have any friends here anymore. Use the hidden exit, make your way through the secret passages and get to your private flyer. By the time you've done that, I should have a clearer picture of what's going on, and just possibly I'll have worked out what you should do next."

  Owen padded over to the bedroom door, opened it slightly and peered out into the corridor. There was no one there, but he thought he could hear someone in the distance, drawing closer. He shut the door and locked it, and then walked back to pick up his clothes. He dressed quickly, ignoring the blood on his shirt and skin. Whatever happened, he was damned if he was going to face it naked.

  "Oz, why have I been outlawed? It doesn't make sense. I left the court and came here precisely because I wanted to avoid getting involved in the kind of intrigues that get you outlawed. I'm no danger to anyone. I just wanted to be left alone to get on with my histories."

  "The court didn't give any specific reason, but then, it doesn't have to. The word of the Empress is law. I suppose, as a Deathstalker, your name could be useful to any number of factions, in and out of the court. As I understand it, the Empress took a personal interest in you. And you know what that usually means…"

  "Yeah. The last time she took a personal interest in someone, his remains ended up being sent to seventeen different planets simultaneously, as an example not to make waves. All right, I'm dressed. Open the stairway."

  The holo of the original Deathstalker swung sideways, revealing a narrow passageway. A light appeared deep in the tunnel. Like all good castles, the Deathstalker Standing had several secret doors and hidden runnels. Partly out of tradition, but mostly because the Deathstalkers had always felt it a good idea to have an ace or two hidden up their sleeves. Even Owen's head of secur
ity didn't know about these tunnels. Owen pulled on his best cloak and buckled on his sword, picked up Cathy's disrupter, and plunged into the narrow opening. The holo swung shut behind him.

  He was still having trouble believing this was all really happening. One minute life was good and full and everything made sense, and the next up was down, in was out, and people he'd known for years were trying to kill him. The last time he'd felt like this was when they'd brought him the news that his father was dead. Cut down in the street as an enemy of the Empire. No one ever said why, or what he'd done, and it wasn't safe to ask. Owen hadn't really been surprised. His father had been plotting and intriguing with this faction or that all of Owen's life. A man should always concentrate on what he's best at, was all his father ever had to say on the subject.

  Only it turned out he wasn't as clever as he'd thought, and Owen became the Deathstalker when he was sixteen. He'd tried to mourn his father, but he'd hardly known the man. They never spent much time together. His father was always off on some new scheme, chasing money or influence or fame. He wasn't noticeably successful. Owen's mother died when he was still too young to remember her, so most of his life had been spent under the governship of a series of guardians, tutors, and friends of the Family. His only real friend, certainly the only one he ever trusted, was the Family AI, Ozymandius.

  He'd been very fond of Cathy, but he never trusted her. It surprised him that her death hurt him so much.

  All his father's warrior training and skill in politics hadn't been enough to save him, and Owen had drawn a lesson from that. He'd never been much interested in current politics, so he'd found it easy enough to turn away the various cabals that came sniffing around him once he inherited the title. He made it clear he was only interested in his histories and did his best to present an image of himself as dull, hopelessly studious, and completely self-involved. He dismissed his weapons master, turned his back on the court and its politics, and bought the Lordship of Virimonde, way out on the Rim, a carefully safe distance from the Empress and her people. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes his father made.

  Only somehow it had all gone wrong anyway.

  He kept turning it over and over in his mind as he quickly made his way down the passage. Lights turned themselves on before him and turned themselves off after him, so that he moved in a constant pool of light through the darkness. He couldn't have been outlawed for no reason. It had to be some kind of ghastly mistake. If he could just get in touch with the right people, find out what had gone wrong and explain everything, then maybe they'd put things right again, and he could have his life back. But to do that, he had to avoid his enemies and stay alive. Which was easier said than done. Maybe he'd be better off heading for the Standing's communications center. He could barricade himself in, call for help and hope he found a sympathetic ear. Anything was better than just running blindly.

  "Oz, what's the state of communications at the moment?"

  "Pretty bad. All the main comm channels have been jammed. Local channels are okay, but I don't know for how long. Either way, it's clear you're not going to be allowed to plead your case. The more I look into this, the more convinced I am this was all set up at the highest levels. Hold it; the local channels just went down. All of them. I can keep this private channel open for a while, but I can't guarantee how long. In fact, there's not much I can guarantee anymore, except that you have to keep moving. Your head of security has burst into your bedroom with his people. They're all armed, some with energy weapons. He's found Cathy's body. Now they're tearing the place apart, looking for a hidden exit. They're being very thorough, but they seem to have forgotten my sensors. The head of security is not pleased at your absence. People can probably hear him being not pleased some distance away."

  "You can tell me all this later," Owen cut in. "What are the chances of his finding the hidden exit?"

  "Not good. They're really not very bright, and I'm scrambling the sensor equipment they brought with them. I told you, you should have let me choose your security people. This bunch hasn't got a clue, and they're getting nowhere fast. I feel like shouting out 'Hot!' and 'Cold!' just to encourage them."

  "Don't you dare."

  "Spoilsport."

  Owen shook his head. "If I ever find out who programmed that sense of humor into you, I'll have him strung up by his giblets. Could we please concentrate on the matter in hand?"

  "Of course, Owen. Do you still have the Deathstalker ring?"

  "Of course I've still got it. It'd take half a tub of grease to get the damn thing off my finger. Why?"

  "I've just discovered a file hidden deep within my memories, designed only to reveal itself in the event of your being outlawed. Someone was thinking ahead, though his motives remain unclear at this time. Apparently the ring is very important. It's a key of some kind. According to the file, you're supposed to take it to Mistworld, where you will find help waiting for you."

  "Is that all?" said Owen, after a while.

  "I'm afraid so. However, I feel I should point out that if there's one hidden file in my memories, there may well be more with further information, presumably to be triggered by future events."

  "This has my father's fingerprints all over it," said Owen disgustedly. "Even after he's dead, he's still trying to run my life. Him and his bloody intrigues. Mistworld, for God's sake! The outlaw planet. Place is full of criminals and murderers, and the living conditions are barbaric. I wouldn't live there if you paid me. No, Oz; wherever I'm going, I'm not going there. I know what he wants. When he was killed, I was supposed to take his ring and swear vengeance, just like in all those operas he loved so much. Well, to hell with him. I wouldn't let him dictate my life while he was alive, and I'm not about to start now. If he wanted to risk being killed tor his squalid little political maneuverings, that was up to him, but I have better things to do with my life. And not being killed is right at the head of them."

  "I'm sure your father only had your best interests at heart," said the AI.

  "You're only saying that because he had it programmed into you. He never understood me. Never even tried. He never understood that I never wanted to be a warrior."

  He hurried on for a while in silence. He had nothing left to say, and besides, he needed his breath for running. The tunnel was definitely heading downward, but after so many twists and turns, he'd quite lost track of his bearings. He'd never used the escape route before and wasn't that impressed by it now. It was cold and damp, the ceiling was uncomfortably low, and it smelt awful. He supposed he should have expected that. You could hardly send the cleaning staff into a secret tunnel every other week. He slowed to a fast walk and breathed deeply. He had to be getting near the exit now, and he didn't want to arrive there exhausted and out of breath. You never knew who might be waiting.

  "Oz, you still there?"

  "Of course, Owen. Where else would I be?"

  "Smartass. Look, none of this makes sense. Even if I have been outlawed, the court wouldn't just announce it to all and sundry. Even these days, under the Iron Bitch, outlawing a Lord is extremely bloody rare, and it's nearly always done in private. It wouldn't do for the lower orders to get a taste for killing nobility, would it? Might start giving them ideas. We're supposed to be special, far above them, untouched and untouchable by their petty little lives. You can't just outlaw a Lord. It just isn't done!"

  "It's certainly unusual," said the AI. "I can only assume the Empress really wants you dead. The reward on your head is unprecedentedly high. Hmmm. I wonder how much she'd give me for you?…"

  "Oz…"

  "Just a thought. Hold everything; new update. Someone is trying to break into my programming. Professionals, too. They're cutting through my outer defenses like they're not even there. They've got some really heavy codebreakers, Owen. We could be in real trouble."

  "Imperial?"

  "Has to be. But don't start panicking yet. I've been looking after you Deathstalkers for some time now, and I've learned a few tri
cks down the years. Including how to appear a lot dumber than I really am while carefully leading them away from my core identity. Right now, as far as they're concerned, I'm just a jumped-up number-cruncher with an AI overlay. And by the time they've figured out the truth, I plan to be long gone. So, my files are safe for the time being, but the sooner you can download me from the castle mainframe, the better."

  "Hold everything, Oz; what have they done to my credit rating?"

  "Owen, what they have done to your credit rating, I wouldn't do to a dead dog. You are now worth squat. They've wiped out every penny you had and seized all your properties and holdings, including several they weren't supposed to know about. Look, I told you most of this already; aren't you paying attention?"

  "Shut up, Oz, this is serious. Without a credit rating, I'm dead. Wherever I'm going, I'm going to need money. Let me think for a moment… The Family jewels! They've got to be worth a small fortune!"

  "Forget it, Owen. One, you don't have time to go back and get them; two, your head of security has people waiting for you there in case you're stupid enough to go after them; and three, the jewels are quite well known in their own right. You'd be identified the moment you tried to sell them."

  Owen scowled. "I hate it when you're right."

  He rounded a corner in the tunnel and stepped out into the caves below the Standing where he kept his private flyer. A disrupter beam blew away part of the wall where he'd been standing, sending stone fragments flying through the air. Owen threw himself back into the tunnel, swearing softly so as not to give away his position. He clutched tightly at Cathy's disrupter.

  "Why the hell didn't you warn me mere were people lying in wait for me?" he subvocalized fiercely.

  "Sorry, Owen. The codebreakers have shut down my sensor apparatus inside the Standing. I can no longer access any of the security systems. They're in deeper than I thought. They're getting close to the real me, Owen. There's still a lot I can try to hold them off, but I'm getting a really bad feeling about this. You have to download me soon, or risk losing me."