High-Level Talks

Chapter 2

Scenery began to stream vertically past the windows. The aircraft was making its descent. There wasn’t so much as the faintest shudder.

At that very moment, a mechanical voice that sounded perfectly human was heard to say, “We’ve spotted a flying object leaving the ground. It’s confirmed as a missile. And it’s closing on us.”

To that, the duke appended, “If we shift the gravity field, the missile’s course will be altered. Have no fear.”

The android soldiers and doctors were implanted with Noble psyches, so they feared naught save sunlight and stakes. The duke’s remark must’ve been directed toward D and Shyna.

“Ain’t he the considerate one,” the hoarse voice replied snidely.

“This isn’t good,” D said in return.

“What isn’t?”

“It’s changing direction.”

Just then, the duke was heard closer at hand saying, “Damnation.”

D looked out the window. To the northeast, black smoke and flames rose. Both were climbing toward the heavens.

“The missile got caught in our gravity field and fell in the village of Orret. Change of plans—we’ll go there to offer medical assistance. After we’ve landed, you’re still not to leave this ship.”

The gravity propulsion system made the ship fly by creating a gravitational field in the direction they wanted to go. By shifting the gravity field, they could fly in any direction, so virtually any desired course change was possible. It would be a simple matter for the craft to go from flying horizontally to a vertical climb without ever turning. However, anything making contact with its exterior would bounce off, assailed by the gravitational shift, and fly off in another direction. That was what D meant when he said, “It’s changing direction.”

As soon as the aircraft touched down, it transformed into a swift surface vehicle. The ship’s body contracted to the size of a small truck, speeding along with its tightly packed occupants.

There was a plain nearby with a view of a forest.

“No rebel forces around?” the hoarse voice inquired. “Well, after a screw-up like this, I don’t suppose they’d follow up with another attack right away. Blew the freaking people they’re supposed to be protecting to bits. Another fiasco like this and they’ll lose popular support. And making such a rank amateur mistake ain’t inspiring me with much confidence in this great leader they’re supposed to have.”

“Perhaps they weren’t trained very well,” Shyna suggested.

“Whoever gave somebody like that a surface-to-air missile ain’t been trained very well. Could be they hate the Nobility so bad they’ll fire another one in for good measure! Best stay on our toes.”

In about ten minutes’ time, they reached the village of Orret. Apparently the missile had been the compact type fired from a portable launcher, so the damage wasn’t as bad as a proton missile or a plasma warhead would’ve been, but a crater fifty yards in diameter spread from where it’d struck on the southern edge of the village, with much of the neighboring forest uprooted and the remaining trees engulfed in flames. The houses nearest the blast had been vaporized, a number of others were partially or completely destroyed, and villagers who’d rushed there to help could only stand there dumbfounded, powerless to do anything.

The first one out of the vehicle was a gigantic figure whose exact nature was unclear. On his back, he carried a metal case taken from the vehicle, which was almost two feet long, a foot high, and eight inches thick. Picking his way through burning branches and pillars, he came to the edge of the black crater, looked around, and then pointed straight ahead with his right hand.

The purpose of the case finally became evident. A small sphere rose from it, arcing over to where he’d pointed—a spot about twenty yards from the edge of the crater. It appeared to be propelled by magnetic force. The surprising part came next. The sphere split in two. A moment later, an aid station complete with medical equipment and dozens of beds suddenly took shape. And then a second sphere split over the spot. The hitherto-exposed aid station was shielded by a ceiling and semi-cylindrical walls.

“The hospital is ready,” the duke informed the hoary-headed mayor who’d come over. “Bear the wounded over there. If less than an hour has elapsed, we can even bring your dead back to life.”

Android doctors and nurses were already headed toward the aid station.

“My liege, we thank you for your assistance. But what’s the meaning of all this?”

“A bomb intended for my person fell here by mistake.”

“Why, that’s—” the mayor began before words failed him, his wrinkled face twisting with bewilderment.

“How many dead?”

“We’re not entirely certain yet—but from a quick look around, the blast took out one, two, three . . . eight houses . . . I suppose about thirty people died.”

“Give the local magistrates a precise figure for the number of dead and the total damage before the day is out. And tell them this: I want the families of those who can’t be resuscitated to be amply compensated.”

The mayor bowed deeply. Behind him, villagers were visible. They were all staring. Though their eyes seemed to stab at the Nobleman, when they met the duke’s eyes, their gazes quickly lost their strength. With one notable exception.

A young farmer’s wife with her singed hair tied back. Her rustic countenance was smeared with blood and grease. She stepped forward. Her arms were raised, as if in offering. And what she proffered the duke was the headless body of an infant. Though it had no more blood to shed, the plump little body was still poised as if he were chasing chickens around in the yard.

“You’re a Noble, ain’t you?” the farmer’s wife said, shoving her burden against the duke’s chest. “Yeah, I thought as much. Well, if you are, then you oughta be able to make us like you. Bring my baby boy back to life. Please, bring him back to me. Do like your kind always does and drink his blood to make him one of you. It shouldn’t matter that he don’t have a head. I’m begging you! Bring my boy back to life. He’s only two and a half. I don’t care if he comes looking to drink my blood when he’s a Noble, just put him back the way he was.”

“He has no head, you say?” the duke inquired. “If we had it, we might manage something.”

“How’s that?” the woman said, tears streaming from her eyes. “What did you say? If you had the head—?”

Suddenly the duke cupped his right hand to his ear and turned his gaze to the emergency aid station. Then looking back at the farmer’s wife and her decapitated son, he said, “It seems a head landed over there. Check and see if it’s your child’s.”

The farmer’s wife froze, then after a short time, slowly turned her eyes toward where the aid station had sprung from the sphere.

A “doctor” was waving his right hand around. It was clear that a small lump swayed at the end of the hair he held it by.

“Check and see,” the duke repeated. His words were for the benefit of the farmer’s wife. Of that there could be no mistake.

The mother screamed. Her howl of madness actually made the duke furrow his brow. Even after she raised the corpse she carried high over her head, he still didn’t understand what had happened.

She swung her arms down again, but before she could release her burden, someone gently took hold of both it and her. Maddened eyes wet with tears caught sight of Shyna.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the farmer’s wife asked, her mouth flapping angrily. “You’re one of them, ain’t you? Stay out of this!”

“I have a heart, just like the rest of you. That’s why I stopped you. You mustn’t do this.”

“Ain’t he the one who said he’d put my boy’s head back on?”

No one tried to stop the sobbing mother. Her actions were sanctioned by an authority far higher than their feudal lord.

“That bastard over there’s got my boy’s head and he’s swinging it all over the place. And this one’s got the nerve to tell me to go check it out. I have to go see if that’s my son’s head, he tells me. If it’s his, they’ll put it back on, he says. If you’ve got a heart just like us, you know how I feel. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

The farmer’s wife hugged her burden close. Tears fell like rain on the burnt, blistered remains. Holding it close, she squatted down and began to wail like a beast.

“What are you crying about?” the duke finally inquired. “If we reattach his head, we can bring him back to life. It’s as simple as that. Shyna, is that not what the woman wanted?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does she weep so? Why did she try to dash her child against the ground? I find her behavior incomprehensible.”

Shyna said nothing.

Two women who looked to be about the same age as the farmer’s wife hurried over to her and gently helped her to her feet.

At that point, the duke said to her, “The responsibility for your child’s death lies with the traitors who fired a missile at my person. I promise you they will be caught, and then drawn and quartered before your very eyes. Just wait and see.”

All who heard this looked down at the ground and sighed deeply.

Tearing free of the other two women, the farmer’s wife turned to face the Nobleman. Though her features were streaked with tears, sanity had returned to them.

“My lord, you’re wrong. You always think you’re doing what’s best for us, and this time’s no different. Hell, I know that. I’m sure there ain’t another lord in the world as good as you. But you’re dead wrong.”

After staring at the woman’s back for a while as she walked away, the duke turned to the mayor, who stood beside him, and said, “They’re all leaving. Even the wounded are leaving the aid station. Mister Mayor, long have I had these thoughts. Which of us is mistaken? Is it my actions that are wrong, or the woman’s words?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” the mayor of the village replied, and though the old man kept his head bowed, the duke didn’t even notice.

“That’s what you always say. Every single time, without fail. Is that easy for you?”

The mayor made no reply.

“Very well,” the duke said with a nod, not seeming bothered by it. “We shall leave you the aid station and its equipment. The doctors and nurses have work to do elsewhere, though. The sick or gravely wounded can come here later. The automated equipment will take care of them.”

“Many thanks,” the mayor said, taking the duke’s hand firmly with both of his own. That was the best thing to do.

“Send me all your nonmedical concerns at a later date.” And having said that, the duke turned to the doctors and nurses who’d come out of the aid station, gave a toss of his chin, and said, “We’re off.”

He walked at the fore of the group as they headed toward the vehicle. Though the duke’s back was straight, it looked like it would buckle under the slightest load.

“Now there’s something,” the hoarse voice said, drawing a look from Shyna. “It ain’t often you find a man who understands humans so little. Yeah, a real sight for sore eyes.”

“All Nobles are like that,” D replied.

Shyna grew even more confused. “Humans and Nobility—at what point do they intersect?” she asked.

“Maybe in a million years, maybe not,” the hoarse voice responded in vain, and D started to walk away.

II

The rest of the duke’s tour went according to plan. There were no further attacks by the rebels. Perhaps that was due to the tragic consequences of their first attempt.

In every village an instant hospital and a place for filing grievances were erected, with android doctors and treatment equipment in the former, and the duke himself serving in the latter.

“He’s an odd one, ain’t he?” the hoarse voice would say from time to time.

At present, they were in the aircraft as it made its way back to the castle.

“Nobody could possibly have enough time to listen to every little complaint from the folks in their domain, or usually have any interest in ’em in the first place. Normally, that’s the kind of thing androids would get stuck with. But he meets ’em head-on. Hmm, that might be the secret to how he keeps ’em from fleeing his domain.”

Since the heyday of the Nobility, serfs fleeing a domain had been a common occurrence, but when every attempt ended in failure, the number of attempts tended to peter out. That was because fleeing serfs would be pursued and captured, after which they faced a cruel and unusual punishment. For example, they would be skewered from anus to mouth and left lining both sides of the highway or standing in the village square. And they weren’t allowed to die quickly. The Nobility impaled them in a way that was both the most painful and allowed the victim to survive the longest time. These highways lined with convulsing, screaming people were known as “staked roads,” and every Frontier sector had dozens of them.

Even though their numbers dwindled, the bids for freedom never ceased entirely. The outer limits of the Frontier sectors were surrounded by haunted seas and steep mountain chains where even the Nobility and their monsters hesitated to set foot. No one was ever known to have crossed them, so passage to the outside world was impossible. Until a decade ago. And it was all thanks to a dozen groups united under a single leader. Granted, the Nobility’s power was at its nadir, but the humans had still managed to fight off their pursuers with what little knowledge and the few weapons they possessed, then cross over mountains infested with demons and monsters to make good their escape. And then they’d come back.

About five years ago, the resistance had boiled over in every sector of the Frontier. At that time, as a result of careful study of their activities, it was determined that this was the result of the efforts of a single leader, or else a group of leaders. The Nobles realized the rebels who’d disappeared beyond the blustery snow and ice of the mountain chains had come back again. Though the Nobility were said to be nearly extinct, their power remained overwhelming at present, and after consecutive rebellions met with heavy casualties and the “staked roads” were reinstituted, rebel activities were snuffed out. But the probing eyes of the Nobility were never able to locate their leader, and even now guerrillas who’d trained under him continued an unending chain of sporadic acts of rebellion.

The fact that this northern Frontier sector alone had essentially zero incidence of people fleeing from the domain was cause for suspicion and envy in Nobles administering the neighboring territories.

“Even if they could allay suspicions, they wouldn’t do the same,” said Shyna. “Medical services and hearing of grievances are the purview of the magistrates. No Noble save Duke Van Doren goes out personally to see them.”

“Hmm. So he wants to score points with ’em. But they call Van Doren ‘the Tiger,’ don’t they? The stories that reached our ears had him as being so cruel that whenever anyone displeased him, even a Greater Nobleman on the Privy Council, he’d have them torn apart just as he would a human being. When did he change?”

“That was after the coming of Lady Sirene.”

Once she’d said that, Shyna was called by the Tiger, who was still seated in the cockpit. “Be mindful of what you say,” he told her.

That was enough to silence Shyna.

On their return to the castle, D was immediately invited to the duke’s chambers.

“We’ve received word that the ruin survey team of humans from the Archeology Bureau departed the Capital today. They shall arrive in two days’ time.”

“I’m surprised you let ’em come,” said the hoarse voice.

“Well, the applications had been coming for some time. I don’t think the ruins of particular value, and they’ve promised not to stray from the area I’ve designated.”

“And you trust humans?”

The duke was confused. The voice had changed. But he gave his answer soon enough, saying, “This issue isn’t as overreaching as all that. They simply want to dig some holes. Something of that scale matters little to me.”

“Let them come once, and they’ll come again.”

“And I shall deal with that when the time comes.”

“Just when did you come to decide it matters so little to you?”

The softly spoken query gave the duke pause.

“That’s a good question.”

“Was it about the time Sirene started being disappointed in you?”

The duke let a wry grin creep to his lips.

“I should expect no less from a Noble Hunter of such repute. Would you make a stake of your words and drive them through my heart?” With a low chuckle, he continued, “She may well have thought so. She seriously believed herself to serve a role as an intermediary between us and the people of my domain. And I let her. There’s no point in getting angry with a woman over her little dreams. D, she was disappointed in the humans, too!”

Moonbeams streaming through the skylight gave a white glow to the chamber’s two occupants. One cast no shadow on the floor, while the other had one but faintly.

“What I can offer at her passing is a multitude of acts of charity for the people of my domain. Those were most certainly in response to her requests. Ah, yes, you might say this upcoming survey was another of her accomplishments.”

“I thought you were an odd Noble, but I think I’ll take that back,” D said, his voice hoarse again. “You’re a Noble right down to the marrow of your bones. I can see why Sirene would go and hire us. Seems the bandits will be on top of you soon, too. Get rid of ’em in short order so we can finish our job.”

“It’ll be over soon. Don’t be impatient.”

“Good enough, then.”

And leaving him with those hoarse words, D exited the room.

Shyna was standing against the wall in a long corridor. Moonbeams falling from the high windows gave her a stark glow as if she were picked out by a spotlight.

Saying nothing, D walked right past her. He had no interest in her except as his guide.

“What did his grace have to say?” Shyna called out to him.

The moonlight trembled. A clearly defined shadow fell at her feet. The shadow of an android.

D halted.

“Does it interest you?”

Shyna didn’t know what to say.

“Seems like you’ve been infected with a heap of human emotion, too,” the hoarse voice continued. “Just like the duke. Compassion doesn’t suit the Nobility.”

“If his grace should perish, we shall be destroyed as well.”

“The rest of you will live. Even without the Nobility, you could use the infinite energy of the castle. After the humans and Nobles are gone, it might be your kind that rules the world.”

“We would never wish for such a thing,” Shyna replied with a faint shake of her head. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me? I wish to take a walk in the garden.”

Something astonishing happened. D gave his consent.

The stands of trees sent a verdant perfume to the very edge of the stone-paved path, and the nocturnal flowers had all opened their buds. The flower of choice in the Nobility’s gardens was the rose, of course, and the duke’s garden was no exception. Modified to be nocturnally blooming, they were commonly known as “night roses.” Glowing in white, red, blue, and even the black of night, they lay waiting for the man and woman who came.

“The place’s been well cared for. He doesn’t really seem like the type,” the hoarse voice remarked.

“A century ago, the castle had no plant life other than the odd stand of trees. It was the Lady Sirene who put greenery and flowers everywhere.”

“Who takes care of it all?”

“We ladies-in-waiting and the gardeners see to it.”

“The gardeners alone aren’t enough?”

“I’m not entirely certain about that.”

When they came to an illuminated fountain where the water spread in silken fans, Shyna halted.

They were right below a cherry tree that towered at the southern end of the castle. From the first floor all the way to the top of the castle there was row upon row of windows, and on the highest level—the seventh—a light burned in one.

“That is his grace’s room.” Bowing to D, Shyna then looked up and said, “Listen, if you will.”

It had already reached D’s ears. A melody strummed on strings. The jewel-like sounds the player’s fingers produced slipped out the window and scattered in the wind, with no more than mere scraps reaching those on the ground, yet his audience of two stood listening as if turned to stone.

“Such a sad sound,” Shyna said, seeming to gnaw at the words.

“Is it the duke?”

“Yes. He plays quite well.”

“Has he always?”

“No, just since a century ago.”

“That again?” D said, a flame dancing in his eyes.

How had the woman who’d come a century ago managed to change the Nobleman?

“Lady Sirene has passed away, hasn’t she?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s why.”

Shyna didn’t actually say who the melody was intended for, and D preserved the silence. For they and the moonlight were attending the smallest of funerals.

D’s right hand flashed out. Suddenly, an iron arrow appeared in his fist.

“Stay here,” he said.

D started walking in the direction the arrow had come. It was a stand of trees off the path. As soon as he reached it, a second shot whistled through the air. With a mellifluous sound, D used the arrow in his grip to deflect the other.

Black raiment sailed through the moonlight. Dodging a third shot in midair, D swung around his right hand at the same time. A hundred feet to the northeast, there was a cry of surprise and the sound of air escaping someone’s lungs. As soon as the Hunter came back to earth, he raced forward, the wind swirling in his wake.

Two figures stood on the grass surrounded by trees and roses. As D came through the trees, the one on the left collapsed into a tangle of shadows. A black arrow had pierced the figure’s throat.

“You must forgive us for the rude manner in which we’ve summoned you,” said the remaining shadowy figure.

“One’s dead already,” D replied. His hands had naturally drifted down by his sides. It was almost as if he hadn’t just slain one of his attackers. If you were to close your eyes, you could feel the darkness spreading from his location. “Let’s have your name,” he said.

“Gilshark. I lead the rebel army.”

“Around noon today, thirty or so villagers were injured instead of a Noble. An infant lost his head.”

“That went against my orders,” Gilshark replied. “The man with the missile launcher got impatient. But I bear responsibility for leaving him with the missiles. And someday I’ll pay for it.”

“And you’ve got another dead here.”

“He was the one who fired the missile. And he was here at his own request. He knew what the price would be to see what you could do up close.”

“Dying by my hand doesn’t repay anything. It’s the duke who footed the bill for your stupidity.”

“You have my sincerest apologies. I intend to do all that we can for that village and the bereaved families.”

“There’s no point in apologizing to me. Whether it’s true or not, you should resign as their leader. You’re not cut out for it.”

“I’m grooming a replacement. I’m sure they’ll all have forgotten what I even looked like soon enough.”

There was a stark flash over his head. D had drawn and struck in a single motion, his sword arcing the shortest possible distance to come down at the head of the shadowy figure.

The stark streak was repelled by a pale blue light.

III

“Sorry, but I can’t die just yet,” Gilshark said, rubbing the back of his head. He had a force field up.

There was a faint sound.

“No, it can’t be—?!” the shadowy figure exclaimed as he leaped, coming back to earth a good ten feet away. Out in the moonlight.

His head was wrapped in yellow cloth, his face was stern, with heavy eyebrows and thin lips, and his narrow eyes were invested with a fierce will. His clothes consisted of a wrinkled coat and trousers—and somewhere under them he must’ve concealed the force field projector.

“Hear that? My force field’s screaming. If I don’t turn up the juice, you’ll cut right through it. And it’s already set high enough to make heavy machine gun fire bounce off it. You really are as special as we thought, aren’t you?”

“If you have no business with me, we’ll do this another time,” D said, his blade already back in its sheath.

“Oh, so you read me right?” Gilshark replied, eyes sparkling. “I’d planned on seeing what you could do before making you an offer, but now I really, really need you to say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Huh?” Gilshark said, furrowing his brow as he watched D squeeze his left hand into a fist. For the man had heard a hoarse voice. “I understand you’re here for Van Doren. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re running around with him. He hire you or something?”

“Nope,” D replied in his own voice.

“Good. I don’t know your circumstances, but you’re going to get rid of him at some point, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Really? Well, that’s a big help—at least, that’s what I’d usually tell you, but could I get you to walk away from this one?”

“Oh my,” said the hoarse voice.

“Why?” asked D.

“Don’t ask. Please, just do it.”

“No,” D said, his reply as short and sweet as always. “Once I’ve slain the duke, I leave and that’s the end of this.”

“If you win, that’s it for you. Therein lies my problem. If we don’t finish him ourselves, we’ll never get the people behind us.” His face was stern, his lips pressed together tightly.

“In that case, go ahead of me. When I hired on, it was to take care of the duke after he was done getting rid of all of you.”

“Is that a fact?” Gilshark said, his face going slack. “That’s a big help.” He let out a sigh. Even shielded by an invisible wall, he’d felt as if the brawny arms of tension had him in their crushing grip. “Then I’ll be going. When we attack him, stick by his side. We won’t be in touch.”

D’s left hand rose from the wrist up. It was unclear whether that was supposed to be a wave good bye or a bow.

Just as Gilshark turned around, giants in silvery white landed all around him. A rumble went through the ground, and the pavement buckled. Ten feet tall, they were covered in armor. On their hips they wore longswords, while their hands gripped spears. Both weapons were of extraordinary size.

This was one of the things Nobles liked—giant soldiers. Beneath the armor were artificial life-forms or androids, generally seventy percent being the former and the remaining thirty the latter.

In the face of four spearheads, the leader of the rebel army looked like a scared little rabbit.

“Well, now, is he gonna show us what he can do?” the hoarse voice said with apparent relish. “What’ll the rebels do if they lose their boss here? Or could it be—”

Gilshark raised his hands. It was a sign of surrender.

It was as the giant directly in front of him stepped off to one side to steer the intruder toward the castle that the resistance came. Gilshark grabbed the head of the giant’s spear and shoved it off to the right. It moved easily enough.

Undoubtedly the man had taken into account the time it took the spear to become a particle cannon. Crimson particles of light struck his target. Which happened to be the giant to Gilshark’s right.

Before his foe’s form could be enveloped by crimson flames, Gilshark jerked free the spear he still held. The giant’s arms were still attached to it. Blue fluid gushed from the wounds on the giant’s shoulders, spattering the cobblestones. The giant was an artificial life-form.

Beams of blistering heat took Gilshark from the left and the rear. A crimson hemisphere formed, the path melted, and the grass started to disappear. Even the giant before him vanished into it.

Suddenly, the sphere had bounced back. From within it, a black sphere appeared. The instant it came into contact with the two giant soldiers, their bodies quickly twisted and were compacted. It wasn’t all that different from the way fish might be crushed by the pressure at the bottom of the sea.

“They’re crumpling up,” the hoarse voice murmured beyond what remained of the blazing hemisphere. “It’s a gravity-based force field. Your sword would be reduced to atoms the instant it touched it. The rebel army is just full of surprises.”

By the time it’d finished saying that, there was no trace left of the two giants.

“I’m off, I guess. I’ll be seeing you after we’ve gotten rid of the duke,” said the man. “Try not to get caught in the crossfire.”

Turning once again, Gilshark ran down the path across the grass.

“Humans got some scary characters, too. You’ve gotta be more than human to use the Nobility’s weapons that well—hey?!” the hoarse voice said, its tone becoming suspicious. “What are you thinking about?”

There was no answer from D, of course, but instead Shyna and some guards raced over. A particularly stout giant looked at D, then twisted his lips into a wry grin.

“It seems we now face the possibility that you’re in league with the rebel army.” These words, dripping with malevolence and delight, came from General Kiniski.

After hearing what D had to say, the duke grunted and nodded his head. His form was more brimming with power than it’d been by midday.

“Does that story fit, General?”

“I think it’s been well fabricated,” the soldier said, still standing perfectly still at attention. “Even if everything we’ve heard up until now is correct, no one knows exactly what happened after he met with the rebel leader. If the rebel army’s hired him to assassinate you—”

He broke off there. Even the guards that’d accompanied him didn’t understand what had happened, but they instinctively reached for the swords on their hips.

A steely blade was pressed against the general’s throat.

“I’ve already taken that job. From a woman you know,” said D.

“It is as he says, Jelmin. Do you understand me?” the duke said, folding his hands together and looking at D. “From your track record, I know you’re not the kind of man to take two contracts on the same target. If the general has a flaw, it’s that he’s too devoted to duty. Please pardon him.”

“You clear on that?” the hoarse voice inquired.

The general nodded.

“Then it’s settled. Okay, back to your roosts, everyone,” the duke said with a wave of his right hand, and all save D did as he’d commanded. “And why do you not go?” the duke said, going over to a cabinet, taking out a golden cup and decanter, and pouring a drink on the spot. “Pardon me,” he remarked, downing it in a single swig. In less than three seconds he’d drained about half a quart from it.

“You call that drinking?”

“Oh, no one’s ever spoken to me like that,” the duke said with a grin as he fought back a belch.

“Everybody plays the good little kiss-ass and pretends to share your interests, right? Maybe they say it’s for your own good. Or maybe it isn’t your grace they protect—but their own necks.”

“Exactly,” the duke snorted. “But I think I will test whether you truly speak from the heart.”

He took the same cup and filled it well—actually, emptying the rest of the decanter’s contents into it—before offering it to D.

D took it without a word and brought it to his lips.

“Hey,” the hoarse voice groaned, but by that time the Hunter had already finished drinking it.

“My,” the Nobleman said, peering at the cup the Hunter had returned to him. “Most impressive. It seems I’ve found a pleasant drinking companion. Will you join me for another?”

“I believe I’ll pass,” D replied, and then he suddenly asked, “Have you hardened your defenses?”

“You mean because of that character who got in here earlier? All the force fields in my domain are down. And have been for the last century.”

Nothing from the Hunter.

Taking a fresh decanter from the shelf, the duke poured another drink.

“That was like living in a bird cage, and I never did care for it. And, to be honest, it was a relief to stop.”

“And what about the general?”

Kiniski must’ve been livid.

“I think he was basically of the same mind that I was. He agreed to it, grumbling some rationalization about how being shielded by invisible walls didn’t suit a military man. Before he became a general, he was quite the drinker, but since he started answering to me, he hasn’t had a drop. At least that is what he tells me, and I take him at his word.”

And then the Noble drained his cup.

D asked, “Do you want to be destroyed?”

Slowly lowering his cup, the duke said, “What?”

D didn’t reply.

“D, I don’t really understand this thing called life. Not even now, as I approach its end after more than ten millennia of living. We are immortal. So long as no one puts a stake through our hearts, we can live forever. But what is the point of that? D, I have never seen a Noble crying over life.”

He tilted the cup against his lips. When it came away again, he continued, “And yet, that farmer’s wife today blamed me for the death of her child, wailing about his head or some such business. Is a finite existence really so important? Surely you must know.”

“Did you ever ask Sirene?”

“Of course so. However—she only said she didn’t know. She told me that now she was just like me.”

“Did that make her happy?”

“I don’t know.”

The duke took another drink.

D quietly headed for the door. And the duke didn’t stop him.

Once he’d stepped out into the corridor, the hoarse voice said, “This clown—he’s worn a father’s face, right? All three of his sons have up and disappeared, haven’t they? That sort of piques my interest now.”

There was no reply. D walked on in silence, and didn’t stop until he was back at his own room.