World of Mazes

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

" So good to see you," Alberto Silvain said, rising from his desk in the cramped office. He extended a hand in friendship toward Lan. Lan refused it. Silvain smiled even more broadly and turned to Krek. " Will you accept my hand?"

" Only as part of dinner," said the spider. " As a rule I am not overly fond of flesh. In your case, I make an exception."

Silvain laughed delightedly.

" Such wit, even in the face of death. I admire that. Yes, I understand why Claybore worries so about the likes of you." He joked and bandied words with them, but all the while Lan Martak felt the cold, calculating stare he' d come to expect from one of Claybore' s ablest, most cunning subordinates. Silvain was no one' s fool. He hadn' t been placed in charge of all the grey- clad soldiers on this world because of his white smile.

" Why has Claybore rushed off to another world, leaving you behind? Is the cause here so hopeless?" asked Lan.

" Attack, never rely on defense. Yes, I like you more and more, Martak."

" He left you to fight a rear- guard action."

" Nothing of the sort, as you probably already know. This world is pleasantly under control. It no longer requires Claybore' s personal attention. I rule in his place."

" This must come as a shock to the Lord of the Twistings," said Krek. " From the intensity of his campaign speeches, he believes he governs this world."

" The Lord is an annoyance we accept, nothing more," said Silvain, his mood darkening to match his swarthy complexion. " He is a fool to be tolerated- for the moment."

" Does he know how you feel?"

" Martak, how the Lord of the Twistings feels is of no real concern. As long as he has his pretty mazes to play with, he is content. The day- to- day rule in Dicca and elsewhere is in the control of my officers. Any decision that is made, we make. Is that clear?"

" What does he have that Claybore wants?" asked Lan.

" Borgo, were they spying when I contacted Claybore?"

" I do not know, Commandant. The fluttercraft patrol spotted them, then alerted me. I captured them near your window."

Silvain turned back to Lan.

" So, you overheard as I spoke with him. Then it' s no secret that Claybore seeks out still more of his body elsewhere." Alberto Silvain studied Lan for a moment, then added, " The body on this miserable mud ball is of little value."

" That' s why he entrusts you with recovering it?" asked Lan. He felt the soldiers behind him stiffen. One tiny flick on the trigger of their death tubes and he' d be smoking ruin. Still, his position was hopeless unless someone made a mistake. Better to try now than wait for Silvain to be surrounded by hundreds of his grey- clad soldiers.

" Claybore warned me that you have a sharp tongue. And a sharp wit. You shall not anger me so easily. In fact, you shall not anger me at all. Borgo, take them out and kill them both. I want evidence brought back to me that my orders have been successfully: executed."

" At once, Commandant!"

Lan tensed to make an escape. A dive through the window seemed almost suicidal. Any other course definitely had death marked on it. But before he got his legs gathered under him for the attempt, a peremptory shout echoed in the tiny room.

" Halt! The Lord of the Twistings demands their miserable presence immediately."

A mechanical dressed in a pale green tunic and nothing else pushed its way past Silvain' s guards. Lan saw Borgo turn to face the newcomer. Lan kicked out, his boot connecting with the man' s elbow just as he raised the death tube in the mechanical' s direction. The virulent beam tenaciously gnawed its way through plaster, support columns, and part of the bookcase as it fired harmlessly.

" Silvain, put a leash on your man," came the mechanical' s harsh command.

" Borgo, never mind," said Silvain with great reluctance. " You will get your chance later."

For the span of a dozen heartbeats, no one moved. The mechanical eventually faced down Borgo, who slung his tube back onto the carrying ring and shoved his way out of the room.

Only then did Lan breathe any easier.

" Both of them. The human and the spider. Bring them at once to the Lord' s audience chamber. He expects them to be in good operating condition." The mechanical pivoted and walked away on well- oiled bearings.

" You take orders from a pile of iron now?" Lan asked lightly. He still probed for the point where he gained advantage over Silvain. He didn' t find it.

" Take them to the Lord' s audience chamber," Silvain said, disgust dripping from his every word. " I' ll join you there shortly. I must report."

He turned back to the small box on the table. Lan " felt" the identical sensation he associated with a cenotaph opening. The inside of the box glowed a faint blue. As he and Krek were taken out, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a fleshless skull he remembered all too well. Alberto Silvain had contacted Claybore once more.

" So big. This one' s so big. I can hardly touch his body. Look." The Lord of the Twistings jumped as high as he could. His fingers stopped just short of Krek' s abdomen.

Krek shifted uneasily, weight rocking from side to side. He wasn' t used to anyone trying to touch him.

The Lord cavorted about, doing his somersaults and scramblings on the glassy, slick inlaid tile floor. He rolled to a sitting position and smiled ingenuously at his captives.

" You look so upset. Don' t be. I' m very nice. I' m very nice to everyone. Ask all my friends."

" What about Inyx?"

" Inyx? I don' t know her. No, I haven' t heard the name."

" You' re lying," said Lan, barely keeping his anger under control. The Lord took him for a fool by playing the fool. He' d seen this man' s campaign speech on the giant screen. There hadn' t been any trace of a buffoon then. Now he acted like a man missing the grey stuff between his ears. " You sent her into the Twistings."

" I did? Oh, perhaps I did. Was she the one who did so marvelously well in my tiny little mazes? The mazes in my playroom?" The Lord stared at Silvain.

" Yes, Lord, she is the one."

" Such a bright girl. So smart. She worked her way through my little maze in no time at all. That' s why I have a new maze. Do come and look at it."

Lan and Krek had no choice. The guards surrounding them made sure of that. Lan looked about in surprise when he entered the Lord' s " playroom." Head- tall mazes lined the walls. They reeked of magic, those transparent walled mazes. He reeled under the impact. Whatever spells had been used to form the mazes, they were potent ones.

" You have a little of the magic yourself, don' t you?" the Lord asked shrewdly. " Perhaps the girl had it, too. Perhaps that' s why she so easily escaped. But not even she could find her way out of this one. It' s special," he said in a low, confidential voice.

" Special in what way?" Lan asked.

" I' ll show you!" Like a small child with a new birthday toy, the Lord clapped his hands and bounced up and down excitedly. " You. Into the maze."

The soldier stared aghast when the Lord of the Twistings pointed at him. He pulled out his cylinder in a reflex action when several mechanicals moved in to seize him. The human fired twice and two of the mechs vaporized, leaving behind little more than rubble and the sharp tang of metallic gas. The others, however, closed from behind, grabbed the man' s arms, and hoisted him off his feet. Kicking and shouting curses, he was tossed onto the top of the transparent box.

Lan felt the magics begin their work. The man sank slowly through the top, seemed to fall into an infinite well. Diminishing in size until he appeared little more than six inches tall, the guard clung frantically to his death tube. When he smashed into the floor inside the maze, Lan began to understand the spells used. He might not counter them, but he knew how the Lord of the Twistings accomplished them.

" Yes," said the Lord, watching Lan rather than the man in the maze. " An interesting experiment, this one. Look, witness, learn!"

Inside the maze the guard fired his death tube in vain. The energies began to wane. Soon the cylinder hung useless in the guard' s hand. Then began the real torment. At every turn, the man screamed in silent agony. His flesh began boiling and blistering. His eyes exploded as if someone had stepped on them. He bent and twisted as bones broke. Lan felt his gorge rising as he saw the anguish the man underwent.

" Stop it," he said in a low voice. " Why are you doing this to him? He didn' t do a thing to you."

" Don' t you like it?" The Lord pouted. " And I worked so hard, I really did work hard, on this. Why, I' ve got the only plans for releasing someone from this maze. Do you want to know a secret?" The Lord bent closer in a conspiratorial fashion. " He' ll live forever. Yes, he' ll live forever unless I say the right words."

" Like that?" Lan fought to keep from vomiting. The man inside the maze underwent continual tortures no human should ever face.

" Like that. Forever. Only I can release him- in a very special way."

" Do it. Do it, damn you, do it!" Lan shouted.

" Beg some more. I like it. I really do like it."

Krek roared and surged to his full height. Mighty legs driving, he sent mechanicals and human guards scattering like so many toy soldiers. His serrated mandibles clacked ferociously as he attacked the side of the maze. But even his razor- sharp mandibles failed to scratch the surface of the maze.

" Oh, this is so much fun!" chortled the Lord. " So much fun. I do enjoy you both so. In fact, I enjoy you both so much, I' ll give you one wish."

" Release the guard," said Lan without hesitation.

" Done." The Lord of the Twistings closed his eyes, murmured a soft chant, then gazed into the maze. Lan recoiled when he saw twin beams of ruby light blaze forth from the man' s eyes. Claybore wasn' t the only one controlling that spell, it was now obvious. The dual beacons of death slid past the barrier, into the maze, and washed across the man' s minuscule form. He stiffened, tossed fleshless hands into the air, then sifted down into a pile of black ash.

" He' s free."

" I meant for you to release him."

" Oh, you don' t understand. There is no escaping this maze. Once inside, there' s no way out. Unless you have the plans." The Lord of the Twistings sniggered as if he' d told the most bawdy joke ever. He clutched the small blue book containing the plans to his chest as he rolled over and over on the floor.

" Is death so funny?" grumbled Krek.

" No, but you two are. You could have asked for your own freedom. Now you must stand trial. Yes, that' s it. You must stand trial!"

" Lord, this is a farce. Do away with them now," snapped Silvain. " Allow me to handle this."

" You would deprive me of my fun? Never!" The Lord kicked out and sprang to his feet, his hands never touching the floor. In spite of himself, Lan marvelled at the man' s agility. Still, what else did the Lord of the Twistings have to do day in and day out but practice his gymnastic tumbling?

" Lord," began Silvain.

" Silence! To the audience chamber. We shall hold the trial immediately."

Krek and Lan Martak stood off to one side, out of the way. The Lord of the Twistings dominated the proceedings, standing dressed in his regal uniform of state. He paced on an elevated stage where every angle was covered by one of the cameras.

" Record it all, yes, record, record, record!" the Lord said to his mechanicals. " If this proves as interesting as I think, it shall be used in the campaign. The electorate will love it. Yes, they' ll simply lap it up."

" Silvain," called out Lan. The commandant turned a sour expression toward him. " What' s going on?"

" He plays still another of his games," came the sullen answer. Alberto Silvain barely held his temper in check. " It matters little. You will be dead. The only question is when."

" On stage. All the jurors on stage." The Lord clapped his hands. For a moment, Lan didn' t understand. The creatures parading onto the stage weren' t human- or at least most of them weren' t. The mechanicals were decked out in black ribbons tied securely around their throats. The two humans had on little more. There was a third type that Lan identified- a combination of mechanical and human. One had a human torso with mechanical arms and legs, while another had the reverse. Somehow, seeing a metallic body with human arms unnerved Lan.

" Similar to the mechanical contrivance Claybore used to transport his skull from place to place," observed Krek.

Lan glanced at his friend. The spider sat unconcernedly amid the tangle of his eight legs. His head bobbed slightly from side to side, but other than this he displayed no outward emotion.

" They' re going to order us killed," he told Krek. " Doesn' t that worry you?"

" You are learning spells from the grimoire," answered the spider. " You will think of some way of disabling the mechanicals. We can deal with Silvain' s troops easily enough then."

" I' m pleased with your confidence in me." Lan frowned and began sorting through the spells he knew, trying to decide which was the most effective. But the harder he thought, the more difficult it became. The bizarre congregation on stage stood to one side, making shuffling motions and slapping one another on the back. The metallic clangs as one mech slapped another rang throughout the room and robbed Lan of the needed quiet to formulate his spells. He had no doubt that a master mage worked well in any environment.

He was far from being a journeyman, much less a master.

" Know all here that the Lord of the Twistings calls for justice!"

" Who cares about justice?" muttered Silvain. " I wanted an execution."

" The crime I spoke of earlier continues to run rampant. To show my desire for justice, I have assembled this panel of jurors to find the defendants guilty of their crimes."

" What crimes?" shouted Lan. " We' ve done nothing but oppose Claybore and his attempts to subjugate your world."

The Lord went on as if he hadn' t heard the outbreak. Lan had to admit that it might have been possible. The man worked himself up into a frenzy. When on stage, in front of the cameras recording this for the voters, the Lord became a different person. He had energy, verve, a drive that vanished when he was left to his own devices. Nothing of his sadism showed now. He was the consummate actor playing a lead role.

" Bring the prisoners forward so that all can look upon them and know their villainy."

Mechanicals prodded the pair on stage;

" How say the jury in this matter?" cried the Lord. " Are they guilty as charged?"

One of the hybrids moved forward. His mechanical arm toyed with the black ribbon around his throat as if this might become a noose at any moment.

" Guilty, Lord. Guilty on all charges."

The Lord of the Twistings turned and stared directly into the camera. His face became a stern father- figure mask. He shook his head sadly, as if what he had to do caused him great anguish.

" Guilty. I must sentence them to the maximum penalty allowed."

Lan started to protest, but Krek brushed a furred leg against his arm, silencing him. The man knew that speaking now solved nothing. This hadn' t been a trial in any sense. It was a public spectacle, nothing more. To speak up only gave the Lord further exposure.

" Death!" Alberto Silvain lithely jumped onto the stage, drawing forth his death tube. " Allow me to carry out your wise sentence immediately, Lord."

" Silence!" The command froze Silvain in his tracks. " Death is richly deserved for what these two have done. But the Lord of the Twistings is not merciful, will not allow simple death to end it all for them. I protect the people of Dicca, of the entire world! Their punishment must fit the crime."

Lan closed his eyes and swallowed hard. In his mind he heard the crowds cheering and chanting, " The Twistings! The Twistings!"

Only deathly silence filled the audience chamber.

" I sentence them to the: Twistings!" The last word hissed as the Lord said it.

" I protest, Lord," bellowed Silvain. " Death. Let me mete out your just punishment of death!"

" Touch that tube of yours and you shall join them, Commandant. You' d like that, wouldn' t you? Yes, you would. You could obey your master' s orders so much more easily that way."

Lan and Krek exchanged glances. Whatever Claybore wanted on this planet- whatever Silvain had been entrusted to recover- lay inside the Twistings.