McKenzie swept out past a surprised Narra and Danandra, headed straight out the door, and then realised that he had no idea where he was, really. He turned left along the corridor and started walking.
The argument with Sharinta had stung him, not because she was right (even though she was), but because it had driven home his own helplessness. McKenzie was seldom helpless, and so he really, really, hated it.
The phone buzzed in his pocket. McKenzie opened the next door. It was a cleaner's cupboard, currently uninhabited save for some spiders and brooms, so he dug out the phone and answered it.
"Hi, Magic Tower Cleaning PLC, no job too large or small," he said, in the best approximation of 'not furious' he could manage.
"McKenzie?" It was Christine.
"Christine. Hi," McKenzie said. "How's earth?"
"Same as usual," Christine told him. "So you beat the trolls?"
"Yeah, the troll pirate castle thing worked out OK," McKenzie answered. "Kinda low on ammo now, though."
"Jimmy wanted to know if you used the grenade."
"Not yet," McKenzie said.
"You stormed a castle full of, like, trolls and didn't use the grenade?" Christine said, clearly surprised.
"I'm saving it for a rainy day," McKenzie told her. "Anyway, there were civilians all about the place."
"Which segues totally neatly into my next question: did you rescue the circus girl?" Christine asked.
"I said 'circus performer', not circus girl. I specifically did not mention her gender," McKenzie said.
"So: did you rescue the hot circus girl?" Christine followed up her original question.
McKenzie sighed. "I never passed comment on her physical attractiveness, neither. But yeah, I rescued the hot circus girl. Also, turns out she's Empress of Everywhere, in hiding, so now I'm her bodyguard."
"And this is bad news? You sound kinda bummed," Christine ventured. "Oh, sorry, is this another bad time? You're not fighting off assassins, are you?"
"No, nothin's kicking off right now," McKenzie answered, sinking down against a wall. "Just had a bit of a fight with Sharinta, is all."
"Is that the pirate queen you're dating?" Christine asked.
"I already told you we're not dating, but no, this is someone else. Did Jimmy tell you about the coven?" McKenzie asked.
"Check," Christine said. "So is Sharinta the troll, the elf or the insanely hot but annoying one. Wait, I think I've just answered my own question, right?"
"Sharinta is the insanely hot but annoying one," McKenzie confirmed.
"OK, but is she like just absolutely annoying according to a scientific annoyingness scale, or is this just a personality conflict? You know I love you to bits, Crowbar, but sometimes you're not like the easiest guy to get along with. You can be a little, y'know, facetious. And sometimes it is way obvious that you're from the dark ages in terms of how you relate to women," Christine told him. "Not that that can't apply to any guy sometimes."
"A few things, Christine. One, I thought we agreed not to call me Crowbar. Two, I am not from the dark ages, I am from the mid-1600s - which is well after the enlightenment, I am a renaissance man, thank you very much - and three, way to take my side, thanks for that," McKenzie huffed.
"Honey, I'm just trying to be a friend, and friends are honest with each other. Anyway, I have super-exciting news for you! You're going to love this."
"Man U have been relegated?" McKenzie asked brightly.
"Well I don't know what that means," Christine replied in the straightforward tone she always used to admit to ignorance of something - McKenzie had found it endearing once, and, he was surprised to learn, still did a little bit. "However, you are totally coming home!"
"I am? Great! How?" McKenzie asked.
"Well, it's all thanks to, according to The Slipstress, the latest round of international muscle-flexing in South Asia. What it's got to do with personal fitness training I don't know, but the Republic of Indradesh is testing a nuclear warhead in eight days time. The Fader thinks-" Christine started to explain.
"Please, Christine, can we not do the made-up names?" McKenzie interrupted.
"Okay, fine. Jimmy thinks he can, y'know, borrow the blast and use it to force open an, um, great dimensional tramway. Or something." Christine said.
McKenzie just managed to stop himself laughing.
"Christine, you're a treasure. Did Jimmy use the term trans-dimensional gateway at all during this apparently hurried explanation?"
"That was totally it! And people say you're all brawn and no brains," Christine said.
"Charming. Eight days, huh?" McKenzie asked.
"Sunday the 28th July, 2013, thirty seven minutes past twelve in the afternoon if the Indradeshis keep to their timetable. They hopefully will, it's timed to coincide with the exact 100th anniversary of the signing of their constitution, or charter, or declaration of independence. Some big document for them, anyway."
"Hell of a fireworks show," McKenzie said. "I thought Jimmy needed a transmitter at my end as well as a receiver at his end?"
"He mentioned that, and apparently he can manage it once. Residual thingummyjigs in the space-time knitting still linking you to earth, he says," Christine said. "So it's a one-shot deal. We'll send you through an asbestos suit, so you won't even get burned. I know you wouldn't anyway but according to Jimmy it's not going to be pleasant."
"You've made my day, Christine," McKenzie said, smiling.
"Cool! I wanted to be the one to tell you, it being my fault you're there, kinda." Christine said.
"Not your fault in the fucking slightest, Christine," McKenzie told her. "I know exactly whose fault this is."
"Hmm. Either way, I'm so not happy about it. Jimmy says he'll email you the details."
"I'll check my inbox obsessively," McKenzie told her.
"You do that. So, how insanely hot is Sharinta, exactly?" Christine asked. "Just minorly eccentric insane, or locked-up-in-a-padded-room insane? Have you got a picture?"
"Not yet, no," McKenzie said. "What's your email?"
"I'm sparkleunicorn123 ," Christine said.
"Of course you are," McKenzie said with a smile. "Here's everything I've snapped since I got here." He put the phone on speaker and attached his recent shots to an email. "You should get it in a few moments."
"Wow cool!" Christine said. "Pictures from another planet! I can't believe it's possible."
"Christine, you routinely move around trucks and statues by doing nothing more than thinking about it, and you've already had a brief, albeit unintelligible, phone conversation with someone from the planet in question. I'm amazed anything stretches the limits of your incredulity at this point," McKenzie told her.
Christine paused for a moment, which was almost unheard of in conversations with her.
"Well, it's just that your life always seems to have more going on in it than anyone else's," she said, in confessional tones.
"Trust me, I've been bored for decades at a time in the past. The mid-1700s were particularly stultifying. I ended up joining the navy just for something to do," McKenzie told her.
"Yeah, McKenzie, but you lived through all that history, then while the team was together it was always you doing the incredibly dangerous things, or getting into the worst scrapes, and now you've gone visiting another planet," Christine told him. "Sometimes I-"
"Don't say it," McKenzie interrupted. "Seriously, don't say it. Right now, for example, I'd trade it all in for a nice cup of tea and a sit down in front of the telly - and it's not as if you didn't have your fair share of mad stuff."
"Yeah, I know," Christine said. Something bleeped. "Dammit! Low battery. I'm on my cell. I'm supposed to be staking out this gang of guys trying to steal the plans for the next generation of supercomputers, anyway. I think there's a death ray involved, too, somewhere."
"And you say you don't have an exciting life," McKenzie smiled.
"I don't call sitting in the back of a van watching a garage door for eight hours exciting. I might just break in and arrest them all," Christine said.
"Yeah, fuck it, it's what I'd do," McKenzie said. "Only swap out 'punch really hard' for 'arrest'."
"I know!" Christine said, and laughed. "Which is why I won't do it."
"You're smarter than you, um, you're a smart girl," McKenzie said.
"Hmm. Nice recovery," Christine told him. "Ooh, email. Wow! Who's the hippy chick in the green and brown outfit? I'm loving that look."
"Empress Anaharra of Virry-something, formerly the circus girl," McKenzie said.
"Tell her I'm totally stealing those leggings and boots if we ever meet. I'm not sure about the cloak. I could never rock the cloak look in that colour, but the leggings and boots combo is awesome. You've taken a lot of pictures of pretty girls, do you know that? Are there actually any other guys where you are?" Christine asked.
"Yeah, there are. I'll try and get you some pics of the other half of the population," McKenzie smiled.
"Awesomes. So hang in there. Psyonara out."
"I simply cannot believe you're ending a telephone conversation like that," McKenzie told her.
"Ha! The other thing about you is you are just so British," Christine laughed.
"Well, I've been doing it a long time. Good luck with the death ray computer thieves thing," McKenzie said.
"Good luck with the imperial bodyguard thing," Christine reciprocated. "Don't forget to tell Queen Anna Hah Rah that I was digging her look, and maybe think about why you're angry with Sharinta and is it really worth the bad feeling. Later!"
"Laters, Christine," McKenzie grinned, and hung up.
- o O o -
Chocolate, it seemed, was a universal constant, and expensive chocolate in faffy boxes even more so. McKenzie left the Tower, and had little problem in locating a market stall that was selling them. He successfully negotiated the purchase of several boxes thereof, and then headed out to the docks.
The Huntress was already 90% loaded with cargo - ships didn't make a profit by sitting around empty, accruing mooring fees. Jahistra was delighted - by her reserved standards - to see him.
"I surmise by your clothes and the fact that you are carrying several boxes of chocolates that you have located your friends," she said, when they were in her quarters.
"Well, I've found the women I was travelling with, but I wouldn't rate them as friends. In order to do that I had to take on a side-job of the Archmage's that saw me dropped into a troll-infested pirate castle on some Godforsaken rock in the arsehole of nowhere with the thankless task of taking out a seriously nasty troll-slash-sorceress-slash-triple-hard-monster. Hard day's work, I can tell you. Rescued the woman who is apparently the Empress of Vyrinia, too. Nice girl," McKenzie explained. "I could be asked to leave town at any time, and I figured you'd be off soon an' all, so I wanted to drop these off as a thank you," he handed her one of the boxes.
"Thank you," Jahistra replied. "I particularly like the ones with cherries in. Now, sit down and confirm for me that you're saying the Pirate Lord Malice is dead and that Princess Anaharra of Vyrinia has been found."
McKenzie sat down and confirmed both items, with a quick description of the circumstances.
"Gods above, McKenzie, do you know what this means?" Jahistra asked him, amazed.
"Not a fucking clue dot com," McKenzie told her.
Jahistra didn't query the syntax. "If Malice is dead, the northern trade routes are open again. You have brought me more than chocolates, McKenzie," Jahistra scribbled down a few lines on a scrap of paper, got up and opened her cabin door. "'Vast loading at once," she instructed someone outside. "Unload everything and store it in Mr. Revis' warehouse - if he objects, remind him who is asking and that I am pulling in that favour. Send for Mr. Lartan - he is to purchase stocks of anything he can find from these items, in this order, and see that it is loaded at once. We leave within two hours. Send for Mrs Shapansa and tell her that in two hours time I will have valuable information for her - very valuable information - to be purchased on her usual terms. Go!" McKenzie heard a hurried 'yes ma'am' and then the pounding of running feet.
"Cornering a market, I take it?" McKenzie asked.
"And selling the information onwards. I stand to profit handsomely - I will see you have your share," Jahistra smiled.
"Keep it, or give it to orphans or something," McKenzie shrugged. "I don't need much money. I'd appreciate you keeping the second bit of news to yourself, though. I've been drafted in as the imperial arrow-stopper and I'd counted on at least a day of not having to keep an eye out for assassins."
"I shall. The commercial impact of that titbit is less easy to calculate, at any rate. I expect there'll be another war of succession," Jahistra told him.
"Well, my job is to keep her alive so she can retake the throne and hopefully stop that sort of thing," McKenzie said.
"Best of luck, then, Imperial Arrow Stopper. Care to celebrate your promotion and the excellent news you bring?" Jahistra offered.
McKenzie knew what she meant. "Aren't you about to be incredibly busy?"
"Yes," she said. "I am. That will start soon - so let's take our opportunity while we have it, shall we?"
McKenzie grinned - he could think of no reason to disagree.
"Wait, one thing. Could you find out from the guy on your crew who operates the big crossbow thing where he shot me?"
"Are you injured?" Jahistra asked.
"No, just curious."
"As it happens I have already spoken to him. He was surprised the shot sent you over the side of the Sky Reaper - he was fairly sure he missed," Jahistra told him.
"Did he bollocks," McKenzie replied. "He got me in the head. I was out like a light for ages after."
Jahistra shook her head. "Definitely not: he's a good shot with a keen eye, if he'd hit you in the head he would have remembered. He said he might have got your foot – chances are you tripped over the bolt and hit your head when you fell," the captain said. She smiled, stood up, and let her clothes fall to the floor. "Whether we missed or not, let me take this opportunity to make it up to you."
McKenzie grinned again.
- o O o -
One good thing about staying at The Tower - you would have to be eleven different kinds of drunk in order to not be able to find your way back. To navigate a path to it, you only had to look up now and again to make sure you were heading in the right direction.
There was no need to wait in the queue this time - his approach was noted and the gates were opened to admit him: either his name was now on The List or they simply wanted to keep all the statues in place.
The lift was unattended: McKenzie addressed the speaking tube. "Crazy trollslaying bloke to get back to his quarters."
There was muffled laughter. "Yes sir, step in sir."
"Thanks," McKenzie slammed the gates shut and up he went.
He could feel magic being held back as he knocked on the suite door.
"Who is it?" Danandra asked.
"Assassins Are Us, Ltd. Competitive rates to suit every budget," McKenzie answered.
The sense of magic faded and the door opened to reveal the elfmage's face, set in her default 'unimpressed' configuration. "If you'd stuck around instead of stropping off in a huff, you'd know the password, and I wouldn't have to leave you waiting in the corridor until the archmage says you can co- ooh, chocolate!"
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
"You're welcome," McKenzie said, stepping inside. "Security round here is impossible to circumvent, I can tell. Are the others around?"
"Mm-hmm," Danandra said from around a mouthful of chocolate.
"Meaning...?"
"Her Majesty is in her room, asleep. Leni has gone to market to buy a cow," Danandra said.
"She's going to eat it, isn't she?" McKenzie said.
"Yes. Be glad she's doing it downtown and not bringing it in here. Sharinta is in her quarters," Danandra supplied.
"Okay. This box is for Anaharra. I will hear about it if you eat them."
"I would never do such a thing!" Danandra said, outraged.
"The way you're scoffing that box suggests you might," McKenzie told her. "Where's Sharinta's room?"
"Next door that way," Danandra pointed. "The password, if you want to come back in at any point, is 'bread roll'."
"Really? That's the lamest password ever," McKenzie told her, moving to the door. "From now on, I'm picking the passwords."
"It's not supposed to be something dramatic-sounding like 'dragonfire' or 'silverfish'. People guess those," Danandra argued.
"Yes, granted, but it's not supposed to be something that could come up in conversation with a random baker, either. I'm picking the next one," McKenzie said, opening the door and stepping out. "Enjoy your chocolates."
He walked along the corridor and tapped on Sharinta's door. There was no response.
"Sharinta? It's me. You in?" McKenzie asked.
After a few moments, the door opened a crack.
"What the fuck do you want?" Sharinta asked flatly.
"Come with a peace offering," McKenzie said, holding up his last box of chocolates. "Sorry I lost my shit. None of us are here because we wanna be."
"Apologising really isn't your strong suit, is it?" Sharinta replied, although there wasn't a great deal of heat in her tone and the suggestion of a smile.
"Out of practice. I don't do it very often," McKenzie said.
"It shows," Sharinta replied. She let the door open a bit more, revealing the fact that she was dressed only in a sheet, her hair was tousled, and she looked a bit flushed. She extended the hand that wasn't holding the sheet closed around her shoulders to accept the chocolates. "Thank you."
"No worries. Well, I'll leave you to it. Or him. Or her. Or them," he said.
"Her," Sharinta clarified. "And another her. You want to come in? The bed's fucking huge and its current occupants are almost as open-minded as I am. This is the kind of opportunity that seldom comes along for people who aren't me, so I strongly suggest you give it all due consideration."
McKenzie shook his head. "Not my thing," he smiled.
Sharinta gave a nanoscale shrug and a grin. "Unless I miss my guess, and I seldom do in these matters, you've just taken care of that particular detail anyway, haven't you?"
"How the hell did you know that?" McKenzie asked.
"It's what I do, McKenzie," she said. "Well, if you aren't coming in to play, I'll see you later. Bye-bye now." She closed the door.
Well, that was that fence mended. Even if he was staying out of Sharinta's bed, McKenzie hadn't exactly had an easy day - storming troll castles wasn't exactly low-impact exercise - so he decided to make for his own. He headed back to his room and, a few minutes thereafter, a deep and untroubled sleep.
- o O o -
McKenzie slept for a very long time, which was nice, but was woken by Leni hammering on his door, which wasn't.
"You're on duty in ten, soldier boy!" She bellowed, almost making the floor vibrate. "And your laundry's out here."
"Fuck a doodle bollocks," McKenzie said, blearily. He dragged on his shirt and trousers and ventured out of the door to retrieve his proper clothes.
"Sleep well?" Leni asked.
"Mmph," McKenzie said, picked up his pile of laundry from outside the door, and returned to his room. Ten minutes later, after a wash and changing back into proper clothes, he felt more human.
"So, sleep well?" Leni asked again. She had stationed herself by the door.
"Yeah," McKenzie confirmed.
"How come you didn't bring me any chocolates from the market?" She asked.
"Didn't shout at you, did I?" McKenzie shrugged.
"You didn't shout at Danandra either and she got a box," her tone turned somewhat sulky.
"Whatever," McKenzie retorted, in no mood for it. "Where's the principal?" McKenzie asked.
"The what again?" Leni queried.
"The principal - the person we're guarding," McKenzie said.
"In her room. She started making awake noises maybe half an hour ago."
"Any activity to report? Perimeter secure?"
"Um, no. What are you going on about?" Leni asked, confused.
"You've not done security work before, have you? Never mind. Go on, I'm on duty," McKenzie said, and Leni got up and left.
In truth, McKenzie hadn't done a great deal of security work either. For someone who needn't regard a hail of bullets as a life-ending problem, it was obviously an attractive career option, as it paid well. The downsides, though, were multitudinous: unsociable hours was one, but the main one for McKenzie had been the tedium. Bodyguard work involved long hours of waiting, long hours of planning routes and long hours of patient sweeping for bugs and bombs. When he'd finally taken two shots to the chest for his client, it'd come as a relief.
He'd picked up the basics, though, and in this particular setting he needn't worry about the electronic aspects.
McKenzie did everything he hadn't done yesterday - he locked the door and checked all the entrances and exits. The balcony was a possible entrance point for a determined assassin with climbing skills, but not a likely one. An attacker might try and blag their way in as a servant, but that wouldn't guarantee you a chance at the target. He thought it more likely that anyone trying to kill Anaharra would wait until she was out in the open.
"Have you lost something?" Narra's voice enquired, as he returned from a look around his own chambers.
"Blimey," McKenzie said, slightly surprised - he hadn't heard her emerge. "You move quietly."
"It's an elf thing," Narra said. "We all do. When's the last time you heard Lady Danandra enter or leave a room?"
"Can't remember, " McKenzie answered, "which probably proves your point. Sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you - and thank you very much for the chocolates. You?"
"Log-style," McKenzie told her. "I just came on duty, so you've got the pleasure of my company for the next six hours or so."
Narra smiled. "That makes me happy."
"Um, good," McKenzie said - he'd been completely unprepared for the smile. "Are you planning on going anywhere today?"
"No plans at all," Narra replied, still with the smile. "I'm all yours," she added, then laughed nervously.
"Well, let me know if you do-" There was a knock on the door. McKenzie eased the catch off his holster on his way to the door. "Hello," he said, standing between door and Empress.
"Her Wisdom to see Her Majesty," a gruff, male voice replied.
"Password please."
"Open the door," the male voice replied. "It doesn't do to keep Her Wisdom waiting."
"You got one last chance before I call the guard," McKenzie said, aware that besides raising a general ruckus, he had no idea how to summon the guard - but he was good at ruckuses. He waved Narra back to her chambers, who complied, slightly wide-eyed. Then he drew out the pistol and eased the safety off. "Password."
The man's voice sighed, and McKenzie knew that sigh. It was a military type of sigh, born of long service, when the sigher realises that, once again, there's been a wearisomely predictable fuck-up in the chain of communication between him, his superiors, and the guy about to unleash an unwelcome batch of friendly fire in his direction.
"Okay," McKenzie said pre-emptively. "If she's there, let her come to the door."
A moment passed. "Lord McKenzie." It was unmistakeably the archmage – McKenzie could feel her magic through the door. "If Her Majesty finds it convenient, I should like a few words with her. We have much to discuss."
McKenzie thought, gave his own snafu-sigh, and opened the door. It was indeed the Archmage, in similar clothes to their meeting yesterday, looking, if not pissed off, then open to the possibility of becoming pissed off in the near future. She was flanked by guards - lots of them.
"We've all got much to discuss. If I'm going to be in charge of Her Majesty's security detail, then we're going to have to work some procedures out, and I'll need more personnel. Lots more, in fact," McKenzie said.
"I am very glad that you have experience in this area," the Archmage said, raising an eyebrow coolly. "Let us address your second point: Sergeant Karazan - yourself and your squad are now under the command of Lord McKenzie, Lady Sh-"
"I think we'll leave that list with just me on it, thank you Your Wisdom, and if a squad is ten men, then I'll be asking Sergeant Karazan to pick out maybe three of his trusted mates from the NCOs mess and have them report to me ASAP with their squads too. Anyway, excuse me while I go through the sham of asking Her Imperial Majesty if it's convenient," McKenzie interrupted.
Karazan visibly winced as McKenzie interrupted, and a few of his men took an involuntary step back.
"Please come in, Your Wisdom," Narra said from behind McKenzie, cutting off any further persiflage.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." The Archmage inclined her head. McKenzie stepped aside.
A small retinue of assorted clerks and hangers-on followed the Archmage in. McKenzie shook his head as they all filed into Narra's quarters.
"Right. Let's everyone just wander in then, shall we? Sergeant, two men to guard the balcony in Her Majesty's chambers, please. Another two for that balcony, two more for the one in there, two inside this door and the last guy, and you, inside the door here. No-one, and I do mean no-one, gets in without I say they can. Understood?"
"Yes sir!" Karazan confirmed.
"Good. Then you and me'll have a little chat about how Her Majesty's security is going to be run," McKenzie said.
Karazan - who was younger than his slightly grim, lined countenance and iron grey hair might suggest - proved to be an attentive listener and seemed to be a reliable man. McKenzie explained how he wanted things run, Karazan nodded, and confirmed that he knew three other sergeants he could trust.
"Good. The chambers each side of this one are empty - get them set up as barracks for two squads. The chamber across the way is our new ready room - there needs to be a squad in there at all times on call in case we get any intrusions in force. All clear? Cracking. On you go then."
It wasn't just Sergeant Karazan who was willing to follow his lead: the coven, after some initial grumpiness, seemed perfectly happy to have him in charge of security arrangements. Largely this was because they weren't expected to do very much - only Danandra, who appreciated things being run in an orderly fashion (and liked telling people what to do), was at all bothered about participating. There was a steady stream of people in and out of Her Majesty's guest quarters, but between McKenzie, Danandra, Karazan and the three other squads of guards he found, security was pretty tight.
It was tested on the third night.
- o O o -
"Her Majesty's attendance is not negotiable, Lord McKenzie," the archmage said. They were in Narra's quarters, which had turned into a sort of mini-court.
"No way," McKenzie said.
There was a question over a ball - the annual Archmagisterial Ball, to which many important people and representatives of foreign countries (not a few of them Imperial) had been invited.
"It is imperative that Her Majesty is introduced to these people, and that we announce that she is to press her rights to the throne. Imperative! The world is watching," the archmage said.
"Yeah, and lots of it is not so much watching as aiming, probably. Her Majesty's security detail has only been going for two days," McKenzie countered. "I don't know who's coming to this dance, who they're bringing. It's too risky."
"This is not a request, Lord McKenzie," the archmage said, with a sigh. "I am notifying you of what is happening. Tonight."
The argument had gone on for a bit longer, but the outcome didn't change: Cinderella was going to the ball, even if some of the guests might maybe want her dead.
McKenzie did what he could - the event was to be held in an absolutely gigantic room on the third floor which was practically as big as the main hall. This was just as well since half the planet seemed to be invited, and most of them were armed. It was, in short, a bodyguard's nightmare.
He stationed his men in their squads around the perimeter of the room, and was about to do the same with Leni and Sharinta when they arrived in the hall (Danandra and the other squad were still on duty in the imperial suite).
"Hey," he said, by way of greeting. "Can you two-"
"Yeah, no problem, we'll keep an eye out," Sharinta interrupted. She had, it seemed, independently invented the little black dress for tonight. Leni's concession to formality was to polish her armour.
"I was going to ask you to stick close to me and Her Majesty in case anything happened," McKenzie said.
"I expect you were," Sharinta said. "However I'll be too fucking busy having fun: very sorry."
McKenzie sighed. "Whatever. Don't get so hammered you can't fight, or do whatever it is you do in a fight, anyway. Hey, wait a sec: smile," he said, and took his phone out. Sharinta, true to form, grinned and pointed her cleavage at the lens. Leni frowned. McKenzie took a couple of photos, smiled, then turned and left, heading back to the imperial suite. He emailed them off to Christine while travelling up in the lift.
The guards saluted him in, after requesting the password of the day. Danandra was nowhere to be seen.
"Danandra? Your Majesty?" He asked.
"In here!" Came the reply from the elfmage, as her Majesty's door was nudged ajar. McKenzie walked in.
Danandra hadn't changed her mode of dress in the slightest, save that her boots were brightly polished, and her cloak was black velvet rather than the usual hard-wearing linen. In stark contrast to her usual policy of extreme hairstyle austerity, however, she had done something with her hair involving lots of pins so that it was piled atop her head in a cascade of bright red curls.
"Looking good, Danandra. Smile." McKenzie took out his phone.
Danandra's expression changed not at all. McKenzie snapped a picture anyway.
He couldn't see Narra for maids - they were clustered around her and a large mirror in the middle of the room.
"Sitrep?" McKenzie asked Danandra. She alone out of the coven didn't look at him askance when he aked questions like this: she appreciated efficiency and abbreviations.
"All the maids are cleared as per policy, they weren't carrying anything except pins, needles and scissors. No other visitors since you left. Hall filling up yet?" She asked.
"Yeah," McKenzie said. "Mostly with armed people I don't know or trust. This is a bad fucking idea."
"Hmm. In other news which falls under the heading of 'bad idea', her Majesty is nervous about seeing you. For some reason she appears to have fallen for you," Danandra said flatly.
"It hadn't escaped my notice," McKenzie said, recalling the smile and nervous laugh. There'd been a few other hints in the past couple of days, too. "I'm not planning on doing anything about it. Give it a few days and it won't be a problem anymore," he added, but didn't say that he planned to be on a different planet by then.
"No-one agrees that she won't take long to get over you more than I," Danandra told him in her usual acerbic manner, "but for the moment, please remember that she places a disproportionate value on your opinion when she asks you how she looks, which she shortly will when the minions here have finished fussing over her to their mutual, pointless satisfaction."
"You don't really like people that much, do you Danandra?" McKenzie asked.
Danandra shrugged. "No, but I suppose they have their uses."
The movements of the maid-minions appeared to be coming to some sort of rest state: a final few adjustments were made, and then they opened like an airlock.
"Lord McKenzie," Narra said, smiling a little nervously. "Does this look well?"
She looked stunning. The maid-minions had encased her in a beautiful dress of green silk, and had applied makeup. Although there wasn't a great deal they'd been able to do to her hair, the 'empress to be' look was nicely crowned by a tiara that was large enough to make the point without being tasteless.
"You look beautiful," McKenzie replied, honestly. "Vyrinia should count itself lucky."
Narra's smile lost its nervousness and broadened. McKenzie sighed inwardly, then took a photo.
"Thank you, my Lord," Narra said. "Will you be escorting me this evening?"
"Yes and no," McKenzie said, pocketing the phone just as there was a knock on the door. "That'll be General Marah, uniformed commander of all Melindron's armed forces, who, in a stroke of subtlety even I can read, will be on your arm this evening. Don't worry - I'll be behind you all night."
Narra's smile slipped, then returned in a more controlled fashion. "Very well," she said. "I have no fears for my safety with you around, Lord McKenzie - and you, Lady Danandra."
The general was admitted - he was surprisingly young, or at least young-looking - for his rank, although the guards treated him with a marked deference. Karazan had said that the general was 'alright', which was a ringing endorsement from the sergeant, who had no very high opinion of most officers.
They then all headed downstairs, to where the party was presumably underway. If McKenzie hadn't thought that Narra was enough of a target already, she was announced by a herald, so even assassins who hadn't done their homework would know exactly who to stab. McKenzie suppressed the urge to jump in front of her - Danandra had told him she was maintaining a magical shield, which would be proof against arrows and crossbow bolts at least until he could get to Narra. There was then a further brief speech, where Narra, unfalteringly, thanked Melindron for it's support and confirmed, in a few presumably earth shattering words of great import, that she would be travelling to the old imperial capital to assume the throne. McKenzie scanned the crowd throughout with a hard eye - he saw a few faces which looked less than pleased to have these rumours confirmed, but didn't see anyone, eg, drawing a bow, pulling back to throw a knife, etc. There was polite applause, some of it genuine.
Then it was the Archmage's turn to say, basically, 'I agree with this comment', only with more words and infinitely nested layers of meaning which would keep the assembled diplomats' language-processing centres working overtime until they dulled them with alcohol, a large supply of which had been thoughtfully provided. McKenzie would have availed himself of some if he hadn't been on duty.
That done, there was more polite applause, and the party resumed it's course.
Upon descending into the main swirl of guests, Narra was instantly the centre of attention and everyone wanted to speak to her. Such requests and attempts were mediated by an archmagisterial flunky who was good at that sort of thing, so she wasn't at any point surrounded by a circle of simultaneously talking heads.
McKenzie and Danandra kept a watchful eye out.
The boredom was alleviated by some sort of mid-range Melindronian noble who, in the midst of vigorously and enthusiastically agreeing with anything Narra said, glanced up at McKenzie and said: 'you fellow, fetch me a drink'.
Narra froze, and even Danandra hunched her shoulders in the expectation of an outburst. McKenzie smiled.
"I see what's happened here," McKenzie said, with a condescending smile. "You've made the basic error of mistaking a bodyguard for some sort of servant, and compounded it by being rude to boot, but don't worry: luckily I'm a reasonable man, so if you apologise I'll just laugh it off and I won't have to hit you over the head very hard. With your left leg."
The man froze, and then stammered out something incomprehensible. McKenzie chose to take it as an apology.
That was the only interesting thing that happened until someone shot him in the face.
He had some warning, if only a few milliseconds, when one of the security team raised the shout of 'arrow!'.
McKenzie was already in a high state of nervous alertness, so he moved immediately, shoving Narra none too gently to the floor and going down on one knee as he did so, hand reaching for his gun. He could hear Danandra muttering, and looked up to see where the assassin was just in time to get a crossbow bolt straight in the forehead.
It was a tiny one, but left a smear of something on his forehead before it tinkled to the floor: poison. McKenzie ignored the sting of pain, and picked out the guy who had fired it - a narrow-faced elf with nearly-white blond hair: he was a still, focused centre in a flurry of panicked, rushing people. The elf raised his other arm, McKenzie levelled the pistol, but Danandra had finished speaking: a gently glowing blue dome popped into existence around her, Narra and McKenzie. The crossbow bolt pinged off it, creating a series of bright blue ripples that would have been fascinating to watch under other circumstances.
The elf's expression betrayed no sense of disappointment or chagrin - he merely darted into the crowd and was effectively lost before the rest of the guards came running over.
"You okay?" McKenzie asked Narra. "You hit?"
"Yes, I'm unhurt, and no, I was not hit," she said.
"Thank fuck for that," McKenzie said. "Stay down for a moment."
"We are quite safe from arrows now," Danandra said.
"That was too easy," McKenzie said, glaring at the retreating, panicked people. The rest of the guards had run over. "Too easy by half."
"You worry too much," Danandra said. "It was a botched attempt, nothing more. Opportunism."
"Yeah, well, humour me. Keep that shield up for a bit," McKenzie replied.
Danandra kept the shield up for a minute more, while the guards formed a defensive circle. The archmage and her retinue, including Sharinta and Leni, walked up to wait beside it. McKenzie figured enough was enough, holstered the pistol, and nodded to Danandra. The shield popped out of existence and McKenzie helped Narra to her feet.
"Well," McKenzie said to her, "someone's taking you seriously, Your Majesty, that's for damn sure. Everybody careful not to touch either of the bolts, they're poisoned."
"Lord McKenzie, you've been hit!" Narra pointed out.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, I hadn't noticed until just this minute," McKenzie replied, but without any real sarcasm. The smear of poison on his forehead was stinging slightly.
Sharinta retrieved a discarded napkin from the mess on the floor - most people had dropped their drinks - and used it to pick up the bolt and sniff it: very carefully.
"Allbane," she said. "Very rare, very deadly and very, very expensive. Contact poison - the bolt doesn't even need to penetrate. Your immortality is about to be tested, McKenzie, this stuff could kill Leni in these quantities."
"Best stay back, Your Majesty," McKenzie said to Narra - perhaps unconsciously, she had not yet released his hand. She did so with only the greatest of reluctance.
"McKenzie..." she said, in a worried tone, looking anxious.
"Chill, I'll be fine, Your Majesty," McKenzie reassured her. "Sergeant Karazan - get the route back to the imperial quarters checked, her Majesty will want to get back there I reckon."
Narra agreed, and the Archmage nodded. Karazan saluted and started issuing orders.
"Don't suppose there's any chance you'll reconsider this mentalness in light of this, is there?" McKenzie asked the Archmage.
She shook her head. "What is necessary, Lord McKenzie, is necessary."
McKenzie sniffed. "Ooh, deep," he said sarcastically, and turned to Sharinta. "How do I get this stuff off me then?"
"No fuckin' idea," Sharinta said cheerfully. "Anyone who's ever got any on them before has always been dead by now. Do let me know what you come up with, though."
"Thanks shitloads for that, Sharinta - I'd be lost without your limitless wisdom, you know, not to mention the unstinting moral support and sympathy you constantly show me," McKenzie replied acidly.
"Oh, you're alive, aren't you?" Sharinta replied. "Stop fucking moaning."
"Stand still," The Archmage commanded, and pointed at McKenzie's forehead. There was a brief sensation of heat, the usual tingling, and a soft hissing noise followed by the odd sensation of something soft flapping against his skin. She pointed at the floor and repeated the procedure - there was a brief flash of steam from the two crossbow bolts, and then the steam turned into a cloud of iridescent green butterflies, which fluttered away. "Gone," she said.
Danandra reddened, visibly stopped herself from sighing, then executed a bow toward the Archmage, who inclined her head in return.
"Thanks," McKenzie said. "I take it that was difficult?"
"Some practitioners would say so," the Archmage said, with a slight shrug to indicate that she didn't number herself among this group.
Karazan reported that the route had been checked. McKenzie nodded. "Danandra, can you and Leni see Her Majesty back to her quarters?" Danandra nodded, and they left - Narra left reluctantly, he noted. The guards all followed.
"You do realise that this kinda thing is going to happen on a pretty regular basis until someone gets lucky and succeeds, don't you?" McKenzie asked the Archmage, after she had gone.
The Archmage nodded. "Come with me," she said. "We need to talk."
McKenzie sighed. "That sentence never ends well," he said.