Queen of Stars by Dave Duncan Page B

him. With a blast of rain and storm he burst into Izar’s bedroom and wrestled the door closed. Turais sleepily thumped his tail on the floor. Izar was curled up in a tiny ball at the far end of his bed, eyes wide with fright, keeping as far away as possible from Thabit, who was sitting on the chair, obviously having little success in calming the imp.
    “You weren’t there!” Izar cried. “The parrot started screaming and I used my signal ring and you didn’t come!”
    Rigel wiped rain off his face with an arm and picked his way through the inevitable clutter. “I’m here now. Go back to sleep or put your wrap on. What’s the trouble?” he asked Thabit. He could hear the parrot still squawking downstairs.
    Thabit rose and yawned. “She wants you,” he said. “Won’t respond to me.”
    Thabit was Tyl’s identical twin, and just as hairy. He had a towel wrapped around his loins, but that wasn’t enough; he knew better than to let Izar see him like that. The imp’s irrational dread of body hair dated from the childhood years he had spent with Hadar and his innumerable other half brothers. Male starborn were no hairier than their female counterparts, but tweenlings could take after their mothers’ male ancestors.
    Rigel cursed and descended the spiral staircase by balancing on his hands on the rails and sliding. He almost fell flat on his face when he reached what was officially his bedroom, although either Tyl or Thabit occupied it when he wasn’t there. This was the first night he hadn’t been and, of course, the first time Talitha had ever called for him.
    On a gold stand in the corner the mechanical parrot was shrieking his name and flapping polychrome wings. Anywhere else in the royal city of Canopus messages were carried by harpies, but even harpies could not fly to Vertigo Villa.
    “I’m here,” Rigel said.
    The parrot stopped flapping. “Where were you?” Its voice was that of Queen Talitha in a towering rage.
    Thabit and Izar had come hurrying down the stairs after him and would hear whatever he said. Even Turais was with them.
    “I was with a friend, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?”
    “You can guard my son as you swore you would!”
    Thabit laughed softly and threw himself backward, landing on the bed spread-eagled.
    “I’m all right, Mom,” Izar said in a voice of innocence, leering at Rigel. “And he doesn’t look as if he’s come to harm.” The imp clearly thought he could guess what Rigel had been doing with the friend, and was amused that his guard had been caught playing hookey. “’Cept for the blood on his back. And his lip’s all swollen.”
    “And the hickeys,” Thabit murmured, although Rigel knew there were none.
    “What’re hickeys?” Izar the Terrible asked loudly.
    “I’m at Fornacis,” the parrot snapped. “Come here at once.”
    “No!” Rigel protested. “You can’t trust—”
    The bird closed its jeweled eyes and tucked its cloisonné head under a silken wing as if going to sleep. Rigel glanced at Izar’s shock and Thabit’s frown.
    “Don’t go!” Izar squeaked. “We were betrayed there yesterday.”
    “Maybe,” Rigel conceded, wondering what Talitha was up to now. She was prone to making snap judgments, but a queen must be obeyed.
    “Don’t leave me!” Izar moved closer while keeping a wary eye on Thabit.
    “Get dressed!” Rigel snapped at Thabit. He would have ordered the twins to shave their chests if the Starlands possessed any grooming aids other than cutthroat razors and ordinary soap. Elves did not even need combs. “No, wait.”
    He must make his own snap judgment. One beer and one glass of champagne should not be enough to warp his judgment much. Yesterday a trap to dispose of him had been sprung in Fornacis; today there might be another complicated plot to separate him from Izar for good. Taking the imp along would be doing the unexpected, always a good idea. Besides, Saiph and Edasich were an unbeatable combination of