Columbo Queen
"Bastards!" The scream echoed off the walls of my pit, the climax of a week's worth of pent-up anger. I'd held the Fury in check far too long -- so long, in fact, that it had cost Obed his life. If only I'd stayed with him a little longer, I thought; but there'd be time enough for guilt later. Right now, I had vengeance to enact. My grip on my borrowed human shape grew tenuous, but I retained enough presence of mind not to shape-shift in front of my enemies. I'd made a promise to Analendra; and, if anything, Obed's death made me even more determined to keep it. This charade had to count for something.
I just had to figure out a way to act despite my restrictions, and that meant keeping the other two talking while I worked on it. I ground my teeth until my jaw ached, but at least that took some of the focus off my leg. "You didn't have to kill Obed. You already had him in your power."
Nerian only shrugged. "You forced us into it, Analendra. Whatever that was you gave him, it counteracted the will-purge. I tried to give him another dose, but he vomited it up. So, you see, I had no choice in the matter."
"Sure, just like you had no choice about trying to kill me -- how many times has it been?"
"Twice, but it's funny you should mention that," the Count smiled. "We don't really have to kill you this time, if you're willing to cooperate. Minesa?"
He deferred to the Forstener, who lifted a vial of muddy liquid for my inspection. She shook it gently, then wrapped it in a handkerchief and tossed into the pit.
"Nice aim," I grunted; the bundle had landed right on my chest. "What is it?"
"Will-purge, the drug I gave Obed." Minesa slipped an arm around Nerian's waist and smiled up at him. "Swallow that, and we'll help you out of the pit. We'll even find a healer to fix your leg."
"Die now or live as a slave, is that it?" I unwrapped the vial and held it to the light, briefly tempted to give in to her suggestion. After all, no drug could harm a Fury. The problem was that I had to pretend I was human.
"It's not so bad," Nerian offered. "You'd only have to take a few doses, in the beginning, just long enough for us to re-train you. Then you'd be your old self again, more or less. And of course you'd have a new royal consort and Prime Minister."
"How convenient for you," I grimaced, then shifted my gaze from the vial to the faces looming above me. "Of course, Nerian, you realize that there's every chance Minesa has already used this will-purge ... on you."
I'd meant the question to provoke his paranoia, but Nerian burst out laughing. "My dear Analendra," he chuckled, tightening his grip on his lover's waist, "Of course she has! I'm hers, body and soul."
For a long moment I could only gape. Of all the moments in all my adventures in R2, this was the most surreal. After long seconds of silence I managed to gasp, "And this doesn't bother you?"
Nerian shrugged again, while Minesa twined a lock of his hair around her finger. "How could it?"
"You see," Minesa purred, "he's none the worse for the wear, is he? In fact, I think he's actually aroused by the thought of my control. You might be, too, your majesty. I could even make sure you felt that way, if that was what you wanted."
I pointedly ignored the suggestion. "I still don't get it. Why give me this offer now, only after trying to kill me twice? You could have drugged me any time during the last week, and I'd never have known a thing."
Minesa frowned, completely missing the double entendre. "Unfortunately, my dear Queen, you left us with no other option. It takes five days to prepare ten ounces of will-purge, and we had no advance notice of your arrival. The drug just wasn't ready before now. And besides -- " here she winked at her lover, "Nerian really wanted to kill you. He gets his own way so seldom these days, I decided to indulge him for once. Of course, after two failed assassination attempts, we knew you would become too suspicious for us to try again. Naturally, we could kill you now, but I did have the foresight to make a second dose of will-purge; so we offer you the chance to live instead."
I paid only half a mind to her answer, being concerned with a more pressing question: how could I bring Nerian to trial if he'd been nothing more than a puppet of this woman? I had to prove his guilt or innocence beyond doubt. "So," I tried, "are you saying that all these attempts to steal my throne are Minesa's doing; and, Nerian, you were just along for the ride?"
That, at least, wounded the Count's pride. "Certainly not!" he flared. "I was first in line for the throne before I ever brought Minesa to Red Crag. You really don't think Lanadae and Kiros died natural deaths, do you? I'd have claimed the throne of Paraiyana with or without her help."
"It would just have taken a bit longer," Minesa purred, apparently unconcerned by her lover's attitude. And why should she be? She could change it any time she liked.
As for me, I felt much better now. Even my leg seemed to hurt less. "Well," I sighed, "I'm glad that's cleared up. I'd have hated to put an innocent man on trial." I raised my arms high and to the sides and intoned, as grandly as I could, "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" And with that, I took to the air.
R2 natives might fear the supernatural, but magic was an accepted human practice; so prefacing my flight with an "incantation" made it technically legal. The only shock, as far as Nerian and Minesa were concerned, came from the fact that the Queen of Paraiyana wasn't supposed to have such abilities.
"Magic!" Nerian shrieked as I cannoned out of the hole. "You'll have to abdicate now! You know the rules!"
"You're babbling, Nerian," I told him. Then, because I'd left the sword in the pit, I grabbed the Count by his outstretched, pointing finger and pulled hard. He was too stunned to resist, and tipped easily into the pit. I heard a crunch as he landed.
Minesa was quicker on the draw, pulling a bag of dust from her robe and flinging it into my face. I coughed and fanned it aside with one hand, then decked her with a roundhouse punch to the chin. Let my future viewers wonder what she'd thrown at me; I'd had enough of orb-style political correctness. Besides, it didn't really matter, as long as I didn't give the woman a chance to ask, "Why aren't you dead?"
Still floating since I couldn't put any weight on the broken leg, I pushed the unconscious Minesa into the pit on top of Nerian. A muffled shout assured me that he's survived the fall. Well then, I thought, I've done my job. In a moment I'd begin tracking down the dancers; but Analendra wouldn't need a memory orb of that.
"Westin," I announced to the sorcerer who'd be taking down this story, "the recording ends here." Then I healed my broken leg.
