#327: Untold Tales of the Parodyverse: On Affairs of State and the State of Affairs Go straight to Part One: On the Morning After the Night Before Go straight to Part Two: On Traitors Go straight to Part Three: On the Parting of Beloved Tent Sisters Go straight to Part Four: On Kerry and Mircandalee Go straight to Part Five: On the Proceedings of the Grand Court Go straight to Part Six: On Unauthorised Intruders Go straight to Part Seven: On Further Proceedings of the Great Court and the Trial of the Pigeonmen Previously: UT #325: On the Return of the Juniors (and On the Return of Caph) UT #326: On Things (and People) That Go Bump In The Night Characters in this story outlines in the Cast List Situation overview in A Caph Recap Glossary of Caphan terms in The Caph Lexicon Previous chapters at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom. Descriptions of our regular cast at Who's Who in the Parodyverse. Locations explained in Where's Where in the Parodyverse. On the Morning After the Night Before The Juniors and their friends assembled slowly in the morning, several of them moving quite delicately and wincing at loud noises. “You’d think that a people who can party that well would have perfected hangover cures,” complained Kid Produce, holding a frozen cabbage to his forehead. “That stuff they make with those berries kind of creeps up on you,” admitted Falconne. “Pass the fridge produce, KP.” Kit Kipling was freshly shaved and in his official Captain Courageous costume. “This is going to be a fascinating event,” he told them. “The Great Court is almost medieval in its structure. Kiivan’s not an absolute monarch because he’s bound by a huge body of law and tradition, but he’s the final arbiter of the cases brought before him today, and he has very wide-ranging powers of justice.” “So he can, say, confiscate pleasure slaves off people?” Ham-Boy checked nervously. He was staying close to Glory this morning as if he required a comfort blanket. “I’m sure Kiivan can sort everything out,” the mutt of might assured him. “Although it would certainly expedite things if you consented to breed with those young ladies as they desire.” Hacker Nine had programmed his data-padd to translate Glory’s paw movement and bark sequences to voice transmission, so the dog’s advice was broadcast to the rest of the Juniors. Kerry began choking on her breakfast muffin and Danny had to deny her windpipe being blocked. “Did you just say that some Caphan girls want to breed with HB?” Fashion Accessory demanded incredulously. “This is all a big misunderstanding,” Ham-Boy blushed. “All I wanted was a cup of coffee.” “Yon Caphan girls art most hospitable,” Harlagaz approved. “And very imaginative,” he added honestly. “Hold it,” Glitch interrupted. “Ham-Boy, according to the Caphan ownership database you’re currently the master of Zeela, Doolia, Aatis, Jemiira, Hooli, Fantiis, and Sooon.” “And all I got was this lousy t-shirt,” Kid Produce complained. “You do know you don’t have to buy them to sleep with them?” FA checked. “It’s all down to hospitality. Caphans are very free about these things.” She unconsciously touched the new earrings she was wearing this morning and looked away. “Apparently.” “I’m sure Visionary will be able to sort out any problems,” Glory assured HB. “After all, he knows what it is like to suddenly own a number of pleasure slaves.” “And look how well he handled that,” Kerry snorted. “Which one of yours are you gonna knock up, HB?” “I don’t think it’s actually legal for a US citizen to own slaves any more,” Kit considered. “I think it’s a federal offence under one of the Constitutional amendments.” “And you don’t have the possibly-fake defence, Ham-Boy,” Danny added. “You’re going to the Big House.” “I didn’t do anything!” the world’s meatiest hero protested. “That wert thy first mistake right there,” advised Harlagaz. “I thought Ham-Boy was supposed to be the neoNats?” objected Falconne. “Now he’s the neoVizh?” “Now you take that back,” Samantha Bonnington objected. “NeoVizh?” Kerry frowned. HB’s cowl began to smoulder. “The girls won’t lose any value if Ham-Boy mates with them before selling them on,” Glitch pointed out. “In fact it would considerably enhance their status in this culture.” “If it helps, HB, you could always share them out,” Hacker Nine offered generously. “We’re your friends, and we’re right there for you.” Ham-Boy reached for another of Kid Produce’s frozen vegetables. Koodi had managed to convince Slavemistress Juura that there was a better chance of getting fresh produce in the great marketplace than in one of the ad-hoc trading camps that had strung up around the capital. Supplies were very disrupted by the troubles and a lot of extra mouths required feeding, so food was short. So it was that Koodi was allowed to hitch a lift on the back of the covered wagon taking recharged magazines to her Master’s soldiers standing guard in the city. It was difficult but not impossible to slip Vespiir into the back of the wagon before they set off. The ride into Alacaphia was slow. Warlord Vaahir’s men had set up checkpoints at the gates, but they were more concerned with what was going out than what was coming in. There were still traitors and war criminals loose within the capital. Nobody thought twice about a couple of drudges in the back of a cart so long as Vespiir kept her face covered. Once through the gates, Vespiir slipped away into one of the alleys. Koodi called her thanks to the eunuch driving the wagon and jumped down after her. The two girls met up again in one of the sheltered courtyards that had not been damaged too badly in the recent fighting. “You’re in the city, now,” Koodi said to the ownerless outcast. “What will you do now? It’s even more dangerous for an evok-hai here, easier to come to a sorry end than in the wilderness.” “All evok-hai come to bad ends, sooner or later,” Vespiir said. “It’s just a matter of how soon. But I have to get to the Emir. You have to help me.” Koodi shook her head, trembling. “I can’t do that. I’ve got to go find fruit and vegetables for my Master. Somehow. Besides, you said… you said that if I helped you then my life would be destroyed.” “But if you do not help me then Prince Kiivan’s life will be destroyed,” Vespiir replied. “Maybe all of Caph. I have seen it.” “The Emir?” Koodi’s eyes were wide. “He is in danger?” “Unless I can get to him in time. For that I need you.” Suddenly the seeress looked uncertain. “At least… I think all this is right. The visions aren’t always that clear, and this one is so complex. I see… all kinds of things I don’t understand. A great ship of iron bigger than a city, bigger than those warships that appeared over Caph. And a complete… void, waiting to devour us all. And… so many bad things, Koodi. So many.” “I don’t want to die,” the drudge admitted. “But Kiivan is the future of Caph.” “I see the future,” Vespiir confessed. “It is my great sin. I see Caph’s future with him and without him, and I see a future where Caph is not even here.” She blinked away the tormenting images. “If I have to die, I would rather die securing Kiivan for Caph.” Koodi tried not to shake. “Then so do I,” she agreed. “Hold, slave!” called out a rough-looking man in dirty leathers. He held a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. “Who are you, and of what House and Master?” Miiri turned from the ruins of the House of Raael and regarded the intruder living in its wreckage. “I am Miiri,” she replied, “and I own myself.” “Outcast!” proclaimed the man. Suddenly there were others there, two, three more scum living rough in the gutters of the city. “This girl is ownerless and unprotected.” “I own myself,” Miiri told them. She slipped a couple of blue-steel daggers from her chainmail mesh. “I protect myself.” The raiders weren’t listening. They were trying to manoeuvre around her. “Is there a problem?” asked Visionary, appearing from behind a half-demolished tower wall. The robbers took in Visionary’s yellow coat of office and paused. But the Great Lord was unarmed. “This is the father of my children,” Miiri explained to the raiders. “He is the Lord Visionary, of Earth.” “Lord… Lord Viisionary…” the rough looking man mouthed, his eyes suddenly wide. He began to sweat. “Yes,” agreed Vizh. “That’s me. Is there a problem?” “Er, no,” stammered the raider. “No problem at all. Sir. Master. My Lord. None at all.” “We wus just going,” promised another. “Now,” added the third, before they all fled. Vizh watched them scramble away. His face was puzzled. “What was all that about?” he wondered. “Your fame precedes you,” Miiri chuckled, sheathing her daggers again. “And now I have a happy final memory of this place.” On Traitors Kriije’s chains were heavy and her wounds hurt when she moved where the blood had stuck to her dressings; but she struggled to her feet when the cell door opened, ready for the worst. It was the worst. Ohanna of Raael stood there before her. “So you’ve finally had sex with Kiivan,” Kriije surmised, reading the younger woman’s body language. “About time.” “I have questions,” Ohanna replied. “And then I must decide what to do with you.” “You must decide?” Kriije raised one eyebrow. “Not the Emir of All Caph, my lawful Master by right of conquest?” Ohanna tossed a chit at the leman’s feet. “Kiivan sold you to me this morning,” she answered. “Your new value is one shekl.” Kriije blanched. “I… I am an experienced, talented leman, accredited by the guild, versed in the ways of many cultures and…” Then she caught herself. “One shekl. About my meat value when my corpse is sold to feed the glarns.” “About that,” agreed Ohanna. “The sentence for traitors is death.” “Prince Aarmus was a traitor,” Kriije objected. “And he has died.” “You were his leman, versed in all his councils. You helped him do the things he did.” Kriije nodded. “I was his slave. I did my duty. A slave obeys her Master in all things.” A sly smile spread over Kriije’s face. “You always had problems with that part, didn’t you, Ohanna?” “And yet I am beloved of the Emir of Caph, and you lie rotting in a traitor’s cell for selling your world to foreign raiders.” The leman had to acknowledge that. “You win,” she admitted. “I tried to kill you and couldn’t. I tried to support my master to victory and failed.” She looked over at the de-facto Queen of Caph. “So what is my end to be? Must I beg for a quick, clean death? Or do you intend to put me to torture and shame first no matter what I do?” “As I said, I have questions,” Ohanna repeated. “Only then will I choose what becomes of you.” Kriije nodded and gestured round the cell. “I’d offer you a seat, but they seem to have neglected to provide me with such hospitality.” “You read me very efficiently when I came in here, Kriije,” Ohanna went on, “I hope you recognise that I have been trained too. However good you are at dissembling for a Master I will know if you lie to me. And if my powers of observation fail me there are technical gadgets provided for me by the human Hacker Nine that will warn me when you deceive.” “I understand. The truth then. Why not?” “Have you ever killed?” “Yes. I have the blood of seventeen people on my hands. Four I killed in combat, protecting my Master from assassins. Three more were women who challenged me in the Harem. We met in duel with daggers.” “And the rest?” “On five occasions my Master, Lord Aarmus, had me pass as a pleasure slave to bring a knife to some rival whose elimination he desired. Twice I was sent to strike in secret from hiding, using alien weapons that kill from afar. Twice more when I accompanied alien mercenary units to carry out my Master’s will and was called upon to end a life. The last occasion was when I… gave mercy to a slave who had displeased my Master and who was in very great pain.” “And torture? Who have you tortured?” “I have given discipline, of course, to Prince Aarmus’ chattels when it was his will. I am not versed in the torturer’s arts, though. I gain information in other ways.” “What crimes have you committed for your Master, then, other than the murders you have confessed?” Kriije took a deep breath. “I did the duties of a leman. Sometimes that means bribery, espionage, sabotage, coercion. But you have Prince Aarmus’ records by now, you and your clever Earth allies. You will know what I have done.” “I’ve seen your files, yes,” agreed Ohanna. “And the ones they have about you at the Leman’s Guild. You’re very talented. What a shame you wasted it all by betraying Caph.” Kriije closed her eyes. Her wounds were sapping her strength now. She was surprised they’d even bothered to stitch her up, unless they wanted to keep her alive to punish her worse. “Aarmus was many things, and traitor amongst them,” she admitted, “and maybe he was unworthy of the service I did him. But he was my Master, my only chance to make something of myself. I rose from drudgery to become his greatest servant. If I’d been born of a noble sire I’d have been his most favoured slave. I tried so hard. So hard.” “You have many redeeming qualities,” agreed Ohanna. “But you betrayed Caph. You could have saved the world. One quick motion with your houri dagger and Prince Aarmus, oppressor of our people, would have been dead.” “That’s easy for you to say!” Kriije blurted. “You were lucky. Yes, you were, even though your House was slaughtered. You were found and nurtured by the Hooded Hood. You became the childhood companion-in-exile of the Hope of Caph. Fabled in legend. Trained on a dozen glittering alien worlds. You were never chained in the dark, starved and beaten, forced to serve up slices of your soul day after day to a Master who never truly appreciated you. You never had to compromise. My life has been nothing but.” “You hate me,” Ohanna recognised. “Of course I do! You’re everything I want to be!” There was a long silence, then Kriije slid to the ground. “Now you truly have beaten me,” she said. The first tears she’d wept since she entered the Leman’s Guild as a callow child trickled down her face. The lash and the flame had not broken Kriije of Aarixus, but the truth had. “Here’s your punishment,” Ohanna said at last. “You’ll be exiled. You can never return to Caph again.” “Sold offworld?” Kriije asked. “I won’t die?” Then her face fell again. “The Lovetoads,” she realised. “How poetic, yes.” “I said exiled, not sold,” Ohanna replied. “You’re far too dangerous to belong to another Master. I’m sending you to Earth.” “Earth? But they hate me there. I was with Aarmus when he tried to lead an armada to raid it.” “But to Earth you shall go. With my sister. And there you shall serve.” “Serve how? Serve whom?” Ohanna squatted down beside the fallen leman. “When Vaahir made his errors he was sentenced to a far-off world full of need, to care for those who could not care for themselves,” she revealed. “It was a wise sentence. Look at what Lord Vaahir has become now.” Kriije tried not to shiver. “My value is now one shekl,” she said. “Then you must add to that value for yourself,” Ohanna replied, “And you must find things about yourself that you can value.” “Exile,” Kriije whispered, clutching her arms around herself where her chest wounds were aching. “On Earth.” But there was the faintest unfamiliar note in her voice. Hope. On the Parting of Beloved Tent-Sisters “Well,” grinned Philaana, looking around, “Who’d ever have thought that our travails would bring us all here?” She and the other lost Caphans were sat in the pillowed-and-carpeted luxury of the Emir’s harem, bathing and grooming themselves for the grand court. The sun shone through the opened balcony windows making the tiny fountains in the centre of the room sparkle as they flowed. All of Alcaphia was arrayed beyond the roofs of the imperial palace. “Certainly not me,” confessed Kaara of Jaaxa. “When I was captured, when I was sold offworld, I thought everything was lost. I looked only to die.” “We all saw only fear and misery and death,” agreed Deeela. “And yet here we are, where every woman of Caph would kill to be, in the harem-chamber of the Emir. And three of us bear his seed.” Sayaana lowered her hand over her swelling belly. “It’s like a fairy tale,” she admitted with a sigh. “I wish our mother Illia had lived to know of this.” “It’s an improvement over the slave pens of Luutan,” contributed Luuma, “and over the luxurious cages of the Lovetoad. But sometimes I will miss the simple tents we shared on the shores of Lemuria, where we span and wove and sang together. And I will miss my tent-sisters.” “Don’t be sad,” Odoona begged. “We’ll stay in touch. Lord Visionary has promised to get Lord Al B. to set something up. And if we need to… well some of us know of the writing now, do we not?” “I know we’ll speak occasionally, and maybe even meet sometimes,” her sister Noona responded, “but we will never be together again like this, will we? We cannot be, because life pulls us in different ways.” “It is the way of the world,” Losiira said, stroking Noona’s head on her lap. “Calls of motherhood, of duty, of destiny, of love will have their way with us. Nothing is forever, no fellowship, no relationship. All is shifting as the sands. But as long as we remember in our hearts we will always be tent-sisters.” “What will become of us, though?” worried Sayaana. “Our lives have changed so much from what we expected. My sisters and I looked to be owned by Lord Laarmis. Now two of us are chattels of the Emir and the third turns to distant Earth and the calling of the bard. Miiri was the property of Lord Aarmus but gifted Lord Visionary with her children and now she owns herself. And little Kaara looks to surpass all of us in story and song if her Lord Vaahir pays the Shoggoth’s price for her.” Kaara blushed. “Lord Vaahir has given me to believe that he still wishes to own me,” she admitted. “So you described,” giggled Philaana. “A pleasure slave cannot help but be encouraged by such fervent convincing. And so many times.” “I will miss the men of Earth,” Luuma mused. “Untutored but vigorous. So grateful and so surprised,.” “Lord Joshua,” Deela smiled. Everyone giggled. “At least Odoona is returning back there,” Noona noted slyly. “Perhaps she hopes for another taste of Earthman? Who had you in mind, little sister?” Odoona poked her tongue at her sibling. “It is almost time for the court,” noted Losiira, hearing the gong, “and Philaana, Sayaana, Noona, Luuma and I are high women of this House now, so we must go and welcome the guests. Is everybody nearly ready?” Miiri had to grin at the familiar question. “We’re all gorgeous, Losiira. We won’t shame Kiivan or you. But before we go, let’s just take a moment. As Noona says, this is the last time we will ever sit together as true tent-sisters, before we go to our new roles, to different adventures. Let us remember each other and our fellowship, which has endured pain and sorrow and uncertainty to this happy hour, and store that in our souls forever.” Nine Caphans, no longer exiled, sat together basking under the morning sun of Caph, in the palace of the Emir, famed in song and story; and they were content. On Mircandalee and Kerry Mircandalee Tremensalor stood on a balcony of one of the palace’s guest suites and looked out over the city. Away across the courtyard she could see the nine Caphans she’d ferried from Earth preparing for the day’s events. Somebody jangled the chain of tiny symbols on the other side of the curtain of crystals that passed as a doorway here on Caph. It was the equivalent of ringing to doorbell. “Mircandalee? You in there?” “Kerry. Come on in.” The Dramaatis moved from the window. “I was just admiring this wonderful planet.” She wrinkled her nose up in a cute little grin. “Every planet’s wonderful now I’m not an Avawarrior comfort woman,” she admitted. “Yeah, I can imagine,” Kerry Shepherdson agreed, moving into the room. “I was nearly there myself, if you remember.” The young actress and the probability arsonist had met under very difficult circumstances on the torture deck of the Bloody Genocide. “If not for Danny…” “Ah, Mister Danny Lyle,” smiled Mircandalee. “It was nice to meet him properly on the journey here. And for him to be not dead, which rather surprised me.” “Long story,” Kerry glossed, “but the short version is he decided he’d prefer to come back for a booty call.” “So I heard last night,” Mircandalee confessed. “These Caphans don’t seem to worry about personal privacy much. In fact I think the acoustics are designed to amplify that kind of thing.” “So how about you? These Caphs are pretty interested in hot offworld chicks, it seems.” The Dramaatis shook her head. “It’s still too soon,” she answered. “I was captive of the Avawarriors for nearly six months. It’ll be a while and a very special person before I want to take someone else to bed with me. Someone as special to me as Danny is to you. Then I’ll make some noise.” Kerry suddenly looked a little alarmed. “The, um the echoes? Did Visionary…?” “Your – brother is it? – is in the even-more-luxury suites in the other wing,” the Dramaatis assured her. “But really, I think he deserves to know that you’ve found the man of your heart.” “Yeah. That’s on my to-do list. You know Vizh has a history of coronaries, don’t you?” “You can’t still be sneaking about with Danny when you’re both forty.” “Maybe Vizh will be dead by then,” Kerry considered. “Enough people want to kill him.” She paused. “Besides, it’s not like we’re that close any more. He’s moved on. He’s got Miiri and Magweed and Griffin and Hallie and all that. He doesn’t need me being a drag at the party.” “Stop that!” said Mircandalee sharply. “Of course he needs you, and he wants you.” She tossed a glossy brochure over at her visitor. “Look at that.” The colourful cover proclaimed Mircandalee Tremensalor’s Interplantary Vaudeville and Light Opera Company, coming soon to a Planet Near You! “It’s great,” agreed Kerry. “I’m really happy you were able to salvage that old warship and turn it into something useful. You’ve got it decked out really nice, too, kind of like an old Earth cinema or something…” “It is nice,” the Dramaatis agreed. “It’s wonderful, everything I ever dreamed of owning and running. People are coming from all over the quadrant to join the company and we’ve bookings from Prospectis to J’Rondrus to Skelvis to the Reticulum Matrix – helped quite a bit by a command performance to the Emir of All Caph. We’re even doing a short season at Yo-Planet. But do you know the first thing that comes into my head every time I think about it?” “What?” “I want to tell my family. My troupe. I want to share the good news with them.” Mircandalee’s face fell. “But I have no family left. All my troupe were killed by the Avawarriors. I’m all that remains of our whole company. Just me.” “I’m sorry, Mircandalee,” said Kerry. “I don’t know what else to say. I could get Vizh to talk to you, or maybe Miiri. Or I could fetch Glory for you to hug.” The Dramaatis shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ve dedicated the bar to Ringmaster Fendergard. He’d have loved that. And some of the business in act two, that’s straight from Vanselam and Andalar, as a tribute to them. That company, my family, will never be forgotten, not while my show’s amongst the stars. But I still miss them. I wish they were still with me, to share my good fortune. That’s what I’m saying.” “So you’re saying that I should value Feebo…” “I’m saying that you do value Visionary. That you love him and need him, as he does you. You’re just unsure now that things have changed. You need reassurance that he still cares about you, and being you you have no idea how to ask for it.” “Hey!” objected Kerry. “Showfolk!” Mircandallee called, holding up her hands in surrender. “We’re allowed to say the stuff other people can’t. The Fool’s ancient privilege. And I’m telling you, you need to talk with your big brother. You’ll both be happier for it.” “Me and Vizh, talk?” Kerry snorted. “We only ever really connect when one of us has screwed up to epic levels or the world’s about to end. Or both.” “Be careful what you wish for,” Mircandalee said superstitiously. On the Proceedings of the Grand Court The eyes of Caph were on Prince Kiivan when he mounted the restored Throne of Caliphs to begin the Grand Court. Many of those eyes widened in surprise when Lady Ohanna sat right next to him; not at his feet, but beside him as an equal. “Yep, the new days start here,” Glitch approved. The Caliphate Courtroom had been hastily refurbished after the recent troubles. New drapes covered old scorch marks on the high circular room. The ornate glass dome had not yet been replaced, so the hemispherical cupola was open to the sky. But the Caphans who attended more than made up for the simplicity of the setting. Three hundred or more nobles of Caph, each attended by two or three slaves, crowded into the chamber, arrayed in their finest attire; glittering gems and rare furs and exotic feathers abounded. The room was heady with rich perfumes and rare body oils. “This Grand Court is now in session,” called Guildmistress Keroon of the Leman’s Guild. She held the Sceptre of Korrvis high above her head then hammered it to the ground with all her strength. The Courtroom fell silent. And then there was a shout. “I do not recognise this pretender to the throne!” thundered Prince Laartoon of Laatros. “Kiivan was a child, not even three when he fled from the Pigeonmen. He likely died a sad miserable death in some dark alley within hours of the coup. This is an alien impostor seeking to rule over us! I challenge him for the right to be Emir!” “So do I!” shouted Troovis of Troovis. “And I!” added Chaliis of Chaliim. After all, if the throne was open to the taking by simply gutting a boy-king… Kiivan glanced at Ohanna, and she ticked something off on a list. “These are serious charges,” the Emir noted. “And serious challenges, of course. The scholars have examined my claims, tested my lineage by science and mysticism, and have pronounced themselves satisfied. But if you are not, then by all means let us test this by the ancient ways.” Troovis allowed a small smile to cross his oiled bearded face. “Yes.” Kiivan gestured. “My champion stands forth,” he said as Harlagaz Donarson stepped before the court. “Which of you will face him first?” Gaz cracked his knuckles and smiled encouragingly. “I hast not battled with a foe for nigh on a day now,” he confided. “I wast beginning to get rusty.” “Nobody fights anybody!” Lindy Wilson objected. “Not till I get to place some bets.” Troovis looked at the Ausgardian warrior and a horrible look of realisation crossed his face. His green skin turned puce. “Him? But… he is an offworlder.” “He’s an honorary Caphan,” Ohanna assured the challenger. “It’s in the records.” “Now,” added Hacker Nine under his breath. Harlagaz gestured with his fingertips for his attackers to begin. “Thou canst all come at once if it helpeth,” he offered generously. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to examine the evidence of the scholars and seers again?” offered Kiivan. “That… might be helpful,” agreed Troovis. “Yes.” “So you withdraw your challenge?” Ohanna persisted. “Nay!” objected Gaz. “Yes,” agreed Troovis quickly. This was but the first gambit. The others joined in a chorus of assent. “Then we can get on with the next business,” Kiivan noted with satisfaction. “Lady Keroon?” “He really did get trained by the Hooded Hood, didn’t he?” whispered Kerry. The ambassadors and envoys from a hundred foreign worlds filled the court. Many were familiar to Visionary and the Juniors from the Parody War. A few looked strange even to their eyes, although Glitch could identify more. “So he’s really composed of nothing but gas,” Kerry marvelled at the Torkh diplomat. “Flammable gas?” Danny laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Try not to detonate the diplomats, Firecracker,” he urged. “Remember what your big brother said.” “He also said I wasn’t supposed to kiss boys,” the probability arsonist shot back, “but I didn’t hear any objections from you last night as we worked down pretty much the whole list of things I’m not supposed to do with them.” “Pretty much?” Danny raised an eyebrow. “What did we miss out?” “I didn’t borrow money from you and I didn’t set fire to your body hair. Yet.” The diplomats weren’t all of senior rank. Caph IX was a fairly minor world, after all, and the aftermath of the Parody War had kept many senior politicians very busy addressing issues of compensation and territory. Visionary was surprised to spot Herbert P. Garrick in the receiving line, along with a well-dressed middle-aged man he didn’t recognise. “What are you doing here?” the possibly-fake man asked Bad News Herb, the President’s Special Advisor on Metahuman Affairs. “More importantly, how are you here?” “A very expensive contract with Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises,” spat Garrick. “Including some substantial zoning leeway about keeping proton accelerators in a built up hemisphere.” He gestured to the man next to him. “This is Chauncy DeVeux, of the Diplomatic Corps. He’s the Secretary of State’s choice for ambassador to Caph.” DeVeux looked at Visionary as if he was some new and repugnant social disease. “Yes. So I would very much appreciate it if you were to absent yourself from future meetings with the Emir. We do not want him getting mixed messages from Earth. Or confused information.” He looked the possibly-fake man up and down. “Or just confused.” Vizh looked at Garrick. “Wow. Looks like you’re going to have to really work for your title as biggest %$£*&% in government!” But just then there was a disturbance at the front of the queue as Kit Kipling cut into the line, apologising politely to the J’Rondri ambassador but firmly stepping up to address Prince Kiivan. “Sorry to butt in, your eminence, but there’s something I’ve got to say at this point,” Captain Courageous called out. Denial watched him carefully. “Say it,” urged the Emir of All Caph, halting with a gesture the guards sent by Guildmistrees Keroon. Kip swallowed hard. “Well… I’m ordered by my government – by someone in my government – to try and use our friendship to set up an exclusive trade agreement between Caph and the United Kingdom. I’m supposed to convince you because I helped liberate Caph a little bit. But that’s not what I want to say.” Ohanna leaned forward, reading the conflicting emotions coursing through the young hero. “My country’s not like that,” Kip argued. “Not really. We have our idiots and our bastards, if you’ll pardon the word, like everybody else. But we’re not like that. We’re not about pretending to be your friend to get money from you then setting up a spy ring to get an advantage. Or we shouldn’t be. We’re loyal to our friends even as we stand up to our enemies. Everyone should be.” “They should,” barked Glory, her tail wagging. “What is that young idiot doing?” Garrick exploded. “We're supposed to set up an exclusive US/Caph trade agreement! He’s wrecking everything!” “He’s representing Earth,” Visionary answered. “I’m thinking of grading him quite highly.” “Stop him!” DeVeux commanded. “Stop him now!” “I’m supposed to absent myself from future meetings with the Emir,” Vizh pointed out. “He mustn’t get mixed messages, you see.” “So I just wanted to say,” Kip concluded, “don’t judge my country just by the actions of a few idiots in office. Trade with us if you want and we’ll try and keep it fair. Or don’t, and that’s okay too. And if there’s any problem, tell me. Because I’m supposed to be a hero and it’s my job to make my land the best it can be and that’ exactly what I am going to do.” “If he was any squarer he’d be a cube,” noted Samantha Bonnington. “Yeah, but he does it well,” admitted Ham-Boy. “Your eminence!” burst out Chauncy DeVeux, “I must protest. This young man does not speak for Earth! I do!” Kiivan’s eyes turned to the advancing diplomat. Garrick trailed forward behind DeVeux. “You speak for Earth?” the Emir checked. “My credentials,” DeVeux said, handing a packet to Lady Keroon. Ohanna gestured for them to be passed to her. “These are credentials from the American Secretary of State,” she noted. “Isn’t Earth comprised of rather more than one political division?” “But ours is the pre-eminent one, my lady,” DeVeux assured her. “I can promise that…” “We already have a recognised diplomat from Earth,” Kiivan interrupted. “One that has our utmost confidence. A man of galactic stature, known to every ambassador here. A valued councillor, mentor to some of our closets friends. Step forward, Lord Visionary.” “Er, what?” Vizh stammered. “Wait…!” “It’s the yellow coat,” Miiri whispered in his ear as she pushed him forward. “Gets them every time.” “So the problem is, Ham-Boy didn’t realise he was accepting ownership of the girls. He doesn’t believe in owning slaves,” Glory explained, her whines and movements translated via Hacker Nine’s comm-pad. “There’s nothing wrong with the girls, and they have not transgressed in any way. He just can’t keep them.” “My flat’s really small,” Fred Harris contributed. “But we do not want these girls to suffer because they were accidentally given to the wrong Master,” Glory explained. “That would not be fair either.” Visionary was scowling at the Juniors. “I distinctly told them not to own anyone,” he growled. “You also told them never to get into any trouble or cause any damage,” growled back Herbert Garrick. “Good job there.” “There’s a perfect comeback to that,” Vizh answered. “Give me an hour or two and I’ll think of it.” Kiivan regarded Ham-Boy, Glory, and the worried Caphan girls, then shot a glance at Ohanna. “Why not?” she asked him. “When you sell them on they’ll have increased in value immensely. “Ham-Boy, I am declaring your slaves kolith m’lan, conscripted to the harem of the Emir. Lady Losiira will establish a fair price for them.” “A price you’ll be donating to the Caphan Foundation on Earth,” Ohanna told Fred Harris. “That’s… fine,” agreed Ham-Boy. He turned to the suddenly jubilant slaves. “Look, I’m sorry it didn’t quite work out between us…” “There is no need to apologise, Master,” Zeela told him with a graceful, spectacular bow. “We were hurt and unhappy to think you did not desire us, but then Mistress Beliinda of Wilson explained to us that you did not prefer the company of girls. Now we understand. This is the best possible outcome for all of us.” “Did not prefer…” Ham-Boy stammered. He turned to Falconne. “Lindy…!” “Next time we come to Caph we bring a video camera,” muttered Kid Produce. On Unauthorised Intruders “How did we get this far?” Koodi gasped, trembling. She looked along the ornate hall with its elegant draped walls and carpeted floor and ceiling and back at the outcast slave who’d led her there. “The palace was damaged in the fighting,” Vespiir explained. “There are great rents in the outer wall and unsafe rooms where the fires burned. We slipped in through them.” “There is also a Great Court going on. Almost all the Great Houses of Caph are here today. Security should be absolute. Two useless slaves shouldn’t be able to just walk in to the House of the Emir.” “All the security’s concentrated on the Court where the action is,” Vespiir suggested evasively. Koodi stared at the evok-hai. “What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded. “Are you doing something to get us in?” “I’m using my sight, yes,” admitted the seeress. “I know when guards will be moving about, when they go to check other things. And… I’ve seen us get this far before. I know the route and the timings.” “You’ve seen this? Me and you, breaking into the Emir’s palace?” Vespiir nodded. “Once you agreed to come with me, this was always going to happen.” Koodi trembled more. “What next, then? What happens next?” “There’s lots of possibilities,” the seeress answered. “We need to be going this way. They’ve got the treasures of Caph stored in a vault until the Tower of Wonders can be rebuilt. I’ve dreamed the combination.” “Vespiir,” Koodi persisted, “what happens to us?” “My dreams aren’t clear on that. Like I said, there are all kinds of possibilities depending on what happens.” “What possibilities? Tell me, Vespiir. I’m risking everything to help you here because you said we can save the Emir, save Caph.” “Might save the Emir and Caph. I said might,” the seeress admitted. “It’s one future. The others… are not so good.” “How do you mean?” Vespiir closed her eyes but that didn’t stop her sight. “Well, in some of the dreams we get caught. Most of the dreams. And then we get questioned, and punished. And eventually we die.” Koodi didn’t like the way Vespiir said ‘eventually’. “What do we do now, then?” the drudge fretted. “Couldn’t we just find a master and explain everything to him?” “They wouldn’t listen to us,” Vespiir answered. “You’re a lowly uglydrudge and I’m cast out for blasphemy, and we’re acting on visions I’m not supposed to have. They’d flay you and burn me, and that’s if they chose to be kind.” “Then what are we doing here? The guards on that treasure vault won’t just wander off so we can slip through. They’ll be top eunuchs, well trained and ruthless. We don’t stand a chance.” Vespiir took another turn and came up against a solid door. That was unusual in a culture that preferred bead curtains or heavy drapes. “That’s why we need another outcast to help us,” she said. “Someone who can get us into impossible places. Someone who knows the palace and knows how to evade guards.” She coded a number into the pass-pad and opened the locked room. “Hello?” she called. “Kriije?” Prince Aarmus’ former leman shifted uncomfortably in her bonds. “Is this a trap?” she demanded bluntly, “Some further cunning scheme of Ohanna’s because she’s not humiliated me enough?” “I don’t know the Lady Ohanna,” Vespiir promised. “But I’ve seen you in my visions. In strange places, amongst the stars.” Kriije wasn’t impressed. “Show me your face,” she demanded of the seeress. “Unveil.” Vespiir blushed and closed her eyes, then let the cloth that covered her outcast brand drop away. Kriije reached out and touched the sticky scabs. “Not make-up,” she admitted. “You really were seared. That’s a long way to go for a masquerade.” “She’s telling the truth,” Koodi ventured. “At least I believe she is.” “And if a minor drudge from a minor house believes her then she must be right,” snorted Kriije. “I still don’t understand all this vision nonsense. I certainly don’t see where I come into it.” “I can see something,” Vespiir tried to explain. “Something huge and terrible. Something hungry, and oh so ancient. And it’s reaching for Caph.” “Your visions are out of date,” Kriije snapped. “That was Galactivac, the Living Death that Sucks. He’s a vast cosmic predator that drains the life force from planets, and that was him in the sky when the Parody Master attacked yesterday. That’s what your nightmare was about.” “That… that seems right,” agreed Vespiir. “But not yesterday, or that yesterday months back when we jumped in time as the bards are telling it. It’s a dream of the future.” Koodi looked about nervously as if a planet-devouring monster was about to spring out on them. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Kriije told the seeress. “If you somehow got to Prince Kiivan with rubbish like that he’d be quite right to have you flayed to death.” “I know,” agreed Vespiir. “I can’t see clearly enough. That thing you called Galactivac, he’s too big, too terrible. And there’s more, just beyond my focus. Treachery and terrible things. Betrayal and blood and loss. Kiivan mad. Kiivan dead. But it’s just out of sight. Before I can advise the Prince I have to see clearly.” “Perhaps you should try and sleep?” Koodi suggested. “Lady Kriije has a mattress of sorts…” “I need the Xindii Vision Stones,” Vespiir said determinedly. “Only the sacred stones can magnify my sight. That’s why we came to this part of the palace, where the treasures of Caph are stored for now. And that’s why we need you, Kriije, to help us get to them.” “You want to steal the sacred treasures of Caph?” demanded Kriije. “And you want me to help you?” “Yes please,” said Koodi, humbly. “It would save a world,” added Vespiir. “Possibly.” “It would get us all crucified,” responded Kriije. She reflected on this bizarre proposition. “But it would also put Ohanna’s perfect little nose out of joint, guardian of the treasures as she thinks she is.” “So you will aid us?” Koodi asked. Kriije finally smiled. “Let’s do it. What have I to lose?” “What did you think you were accomplishing?” demanded Jaal, Captain of the Eunuch Guard, as he stamped his foot down on Kriije’s wounds. “How did you come to be here, in the very vault of the Emir’s treasures? How did you neutralise the sentries outside? How did you bypass the lock-codes? Confess!” “You’re killing her!” shrieked Koodi as the guardsman ground his heel over Kriije’s stitches. A eunuch slapped the drudge hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor. “Yes, I’m killing her,” the Guard Captain agreed savagely. “For these crimes you are all going to die.” “We had to be here…” Vespiir gasped as they dragged her away from the Xindii Vision Stones and kicked the legs from under her. “We had to try…” Jaal slashed his crop across her face to silence her. She curled into a ball to try and protect herself but he followed through with lash after merciless lash. “Why are you here?” he shouted, frothing at the mouth. “Why here? Why now?” “We were looking for the bathroom,” spat Kriije, blood spilling from her lips, just before the eunuchs beat her to unconsciousness. On Further Proceedings of the Great Court and the Trial of the Pigeonmen The mood of the gathering changed as if a cloud had passed over the hot Caphan sun. Before there had been a wild optimism, as if everyone present knew they were at the dawn of a new age. Now faces became bleaker, colder. Old hatreds bubbled up. Thonnagarian survivors were brought into the court in chains. Some of the Caphans spat on them. “Here are the aliens who enslaved our planet,” announced Lord Vaahir, plas-gar in hand. “A thousand or more others are in our cells, or held privately by Houses across the world.” Kiivan’s body language altered. The experienced Caphans recognised an icy rage within their young ruler. Ohanna’s hand closed over his. The Emir rose. “You came to our world claiming friendship. You accepted the hospitality of our tents. Then you turned on us, betraying that trust. You murdered my entire family and sought to kill me. You raided and ravaged my world. You enslaved free men and misused their chattels.” There were perhaps sixty ragged captured Pigeonmen present. The Pigeonwomen had been left in the cells, the Caphan assumption being that they would share the fate of their male owners. Kiivan gestured to the ledger that Guildmistress Keroon was opening. “This is just an initial tally of the harm you have caused. Thousands killed in your initial assault and the terrorist incidents that you provoked to prepare for it. Tens of thousands killed in Prince Aarmus’ purges and property grabs. Billions of shekli of material losses, land and homes and goods. Accounts of torture and rape and murder. And this is just one night’s work, gathering this material. How much more will there be when the tale is fully told?” The Thonnagarians stood as tall as their shackles allowed and refused to flinch. A Pigeonwarrior faces death without showing fear. “Will any of you speak?” demanded Prince Kiivan, almost shouting. “Can any of you think of anything to say that can mitigate anything that you have done to my world? Well?” There was a stirring in the crowd and Shazana Pel stepped forward. “I’ll speak for them,” she said. “You?” Ohanna wondered. “After what they did to you?” “Who else could speak for them?” asked Pel. “Who speaks for their victims?” snorted Prince Lartoon. Kiivan gestured him to silence. “Shazana Pel has earned the right to speak in this court, through her bravery and her blood. If she has anything to say, anything at all, we owe it to her to listen. I owe it.” Pel walked amongst the prisoners. “These few,” she said, gesturing to Aroth Kor and the youngsters about him, “are sworn to me. Whatever happens to them is my responsibility.” Kiivan looked puzzled. “Thonnagarians have their customs too,” Lord Vaahir explained. “Different codes of honour to ours, perhaps, but they have them. These men are pledged to Pel, in the same way that I am pledged to you. In fact I think their pledge is more binding, because they serve not by choice but by life oath.” “Since when?” demanded Ohanna. “Since yesterday,” replied Shazana Pel. “When I was made leader of the Thonnagarian people.” That got a reaction amongst the chained captives, ranging from wonder to dismay, and in the Caliphate Court. Guildmistress Keroon slammed the Sceptre of Korrvis for order. “Way to spice up the courtroom drama,” approved Glitch. “So I’ll speak for these soldiers, and any others who will follow me,” Pel went on. “I do not beg for mercy. That is not our way. These warriors saw what they needed, and in their weakness and fear they tried to take it. They are shamed by their attempt and shamed by their failure. But not all of them are cowards, not all are fools, and not all are without honour.” It was a tense moment. Serooq the High Priest gestured for a serving slave to bring round drinks to the nobles ringing the captured Thonnagarians. Oloora nodded obediently and carried out his instructions. Kiivan frowned. “Where’s this going, Shazana Pel?” “You said you owe me. Caph owes me. So I’m calling in the debt.” She gestured to the prisoners. “Sort out the ones that have committed atrocities. The murderers, the thieves, the rapists. Take them and torture them to death and good riddance to them. But the ones who only followed from loyalty, who did no more than a soldier must and strove to retain their honour, those you give to me.” There was an angry murmur round the court. “Give them to me,” Pel said. “I will take them far from here, never to return.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And I will make them a people again,” she surrendered. “Master, these aliens have done us much harm and grief,” urged Guildmistress Keroon. “Our people cry out for revenge.” “The voices of the dead cry out for revenge,” added Serooq, High Priest of Raathi. “They will not be stilled until blood appeases them.” “Then it will be my blood,” answered Pel fiercely. “Shed in combat, before any harm befalls these people. My people.” “Okay, this is getting out of hand,” worried Ham-Boy. Zeela waved at him. “Where were you, priest, when Kiivan was surrounded by enemies in his own throne room?” demanded Pel. “Where were any of you? I fought to save him from being slaughtered like an animal. I bore him safe to those who could raise him to avenge his race.” “Many have striven for the liberation of Caph,” said Vaahir, “but none more than this woman here. This hero.” He took a goblet from Oloora and drained it in one. “I’m not an orator, so I’ll be plain,” declared the pigeonwoman. “Six of these warriors are bound to me. The rest can choose, save those who are criminals not soldiers. Those that cleave to me are under my protection. I demand these prisoners be released to my custody as restitution for Caph’s debt to me.” There were cries of dismay from the crowd. Things were turning ugly. “Do something,” Miiri told Vizh. “You’re the diplomat.” “Um…” replied the possibly fake man. “And I suppose you want the return of your weaponry and z-alloy too?” snorted Serooq. “And a luxury cruiser to take you to the next planet you’ll conquer?” Pel’s hands closed to fists and she stepped towards the priest. “Hey there,” Vizh called out. “Hi. I’ve got a suggestion. A deal. If I can suggest it.” Kiivan raised his hand for silence. “Let Lord Visionary speak.” The room went still, except for Chauncy DeVeux having an apoplexy in the background. “Okay,” Vizh said, gesturing for the Juniors to join him. “My students here helped save your world too, right? So they’re owed a pretty big reward as well?” “I’m thinking diamonds,” Fashion Accessory confided. “They are a girl’s best friend.” “A dog is a man’s best friend,” noted Glory. “I am Dominic’s best friend.” “I’m not sure we should accept material gifts for doing the right thing,” worried Captain Courageous. “Gaz was accepting enough gifts last night,” snorted Kid Produce. “Twould have been inhospitable not to,” argued the demihemigod. Danny eyed Vizh’s face. “Don’t be counting on retiring from the reward money,” he guessed. “Here it comes.” Vizh swallowed hard. A helpful slave-girl handed him a flagon and he gulped down a mouthful to stop his throat feeling so dry. “Well, my suggestion is that the Juniors’ portion should be all the stuff you’ve captured from the Thonnagarians. Uniforms, weapons, battle standards, personal possessions, that kind of thing. Definitely the z-alloy.” “Weapons?” Kerry Shepherdson perked up. “Really?” “And then the Juniors are going to trade it all to Pel,” said Vizh, determinedly. Miiri surreptitiously doused the smouldering edges of his yellow coat. “Why would we do that?” demanded Falconne. “Because that will pay for the hire of Pel and her mercenaries,” Visionary replied. “You can’t bring an alien army back to Earth with you!” objected Garrick. “Or is this when you finally make your move for world-domination, just like I’ve always expected?” Kerry looked hopeful again. “Is it?” “Pel won’t come to Earth,” Vizh pressed on. “She and her soldiers will go with Vaahir.” “Back to Plxtragar,” the Warlord of Caph suddenly understood. “A world which has no defenders and stands prey to raiders and pirates and any that would ravage her.” “There are already treaties in place regarding the disposition of Plxtragar,” argued the Shee-Yar ambassador. “None that Plxtragar have signed,” ventured a humble frightened-looking purple-skinned man in slightly ragged robes. “Um, I’m representing Plxtragar here. If that’s alright with everybody.” “Yedo speaks for Plxtragar,” agreed Lord Vaahir. “If Plxtragar asks it I will bring Pel and those that serve her to protect it – not to rule it – as I was once tasked to do.” “Hold it,” objected Falconne. “My treasure gets given to the bad guys to go and live in a mudhole I’ve never even heard of?” “Sucks to be you,” noted Hacker Nine. “I’ve been to Plxtragar. I’ve seen how bad things are there. It needs champions.” He pointed to the Thonnagarian prisoners. “And those guys, they need to achieve something. Something they can be proud of, so they can hold their heads up again. It’s a smart solution.” “But… Vizh thought of it,” objected FA. “Well, that’s my suggestion,” the possibly-fake Earth ambassador offered. “It doesn’t involve anybody fighting to the death or getting tortured, but I think it might work.” Pel stared at Visionary as if seeing him for the first time. “You place a lot of trust in me,” she stated. “I have a friend who thinks that if you trust people to be better, sometimes they become better,” Vizh noted. “Mind you, he also thinks that bunnies are the answer to all problems in the galaxy.” Kiivan moved forward, and by some trick of state he was somehow able to draw all the attention back to himself. “We have the petition of Lady Pel, and the petition of Lord Visionary on behalf of the Junior Lair Legion.” “Did we take a vote?” demanded Falconne, just before Glitch muffled her. “I guess we can get rich another day,” sighed Ham-Boy. “Art we allowed to raid yon Thighmaster’s nation?” proposed Harlagaz. “He needs must have many cattle.” “Pel excepts from her petition those of the Thonnagarians who have committed vile offences,” the Emir continued. “So now the question before us is whether to grant these requests.” “It wasn’t a request,” muttered Pel. Vaahir laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. Kiivan looked to Ohanna. The survivor of the House of Raael rose to join him and again took his hand. “Eighteen thousand and more of the enemies that destroyed my House lie dead in the streets and deserts,” Ohanna said quietly. “Many more traitor Caphans rot with them. I am content with that blood.” She said no more and only sipped at her wine. Miiri made a deep and perfect bow. “This is a new day for Caph, your excellence,” she spoke up. “A new age. Does it have to start with vengeance and death?” “Yes,” shouted Prince Lartoon. Kiivan closed his eyes, struggling with conflicting emotions. “Dude, you’ve gotta know when to let the old stuff go,” Hacker Nine advised him. “That’s one of the differences between science heroes and science villains.” “It may be a political mistake,” admitted Kit, “but it is the right thing to do.” “Your choices now define your rule to come,” shrugged Danny. “There’s ways you can work any decision you make now to your advantage.” “Ask yourself what He-Man would do,” Glitch advised. “Maybe you could free half of them and give us half the treasure?” offered Lindy Wilson. “You are going to owe me one spectacular birthday present after this, fake-o,” Kerry warned Vizh. “Make it my reward also, my Prince” Vaahir added his voice to the rest. “I owe Plxtrazar and I owe Pel. And this arrangement frees me for… another quest.” His eyes found Kaara’s. “The fate of Plxtrazar cannot be determined in a backward court on a minor planet!” objected the Shee-Yar ambassador. “Oh yeah?” snickered Kid Produce. “Watch.” “Are you disrespecting my big brother, feather-head?” Kerry flared at the diplomat. “Are you?” “Kare, chill. Burning feathers smell awful,” FA calmed her friend. “You can’t set fire to the Shee-Yar ambassador!” objected Chauncy DeVeux. Danny snorted. “You really don’t know Kes.” “But we’re hoping you will soon,” deadpanned Mircandalee Tremensalor. And Prince Kiivan burst out laughing. “What?” worried Vizh. The Emir of All Caph wiped tears from his eyes. “Of all the endings to our tragedy I never expected farce,” he admitted. “But we are in danger of becoming one, are we not, in our obsessive quest for revenge? In danger of becoming a badly written ballad, with trite stupid characters playing out their written roles?” “Improv is good,” suggested Mircandalee hopefully. “And cartoons,” added Glitch happily. “What means this?” demanding Serooq, baffled at the alien humour. “Your excellency, why do you laugh in the face of such evil, when all decent men call for bloody vengeance?” “What better time to laugh?” barked Glory. Kiivan quieted the Court with a gesture. He pondered for a moment, then turned to speak. “It is a new age, as Mistress Miiri says, and we’ll not have the tale blotted with unnecessary blood. Pel shall have her request, and Visionary and Vaahir too. Plxtrazar shall have her Pigeon-guard, if that world wants them, and Caph will be well rid of them.” He caught the high priest’s eyes as the old man was about to object. “And that is the end of it. I have made my choice.” There was a moment when everything seemed in flux; then the evil mood seemed to pass from the Court of the Emir. People relaxed. “Thank you,” said Shazana Pel, for perhaps the first time in her life. “Next business?” Kiivan asked the Leman’s Guildmistress. Keroon hastily checked her papers. “No great petitions remain for this session,” she announced. The sun was low in the sky by now, and even the Caphan women were flagging from their perfect poise. “But I am advised that there is one matter of capital discipline. Three slaves were found in the chamber where the treasures of Caph are being housed, having disabled guards and security systems both. One drudge of the House of Jathaar, one branded evok-hai… and the traitor Kriije!” Ohanna’s face coloured with fury. “Bring them here,” she demanded harshly. The three captives were dragged forward by burly eunuchs. Koodi was weeping brokenly. Kriije was barely conscious after her beating by the watch-eunuchs. Vespiir seemed hardly to know where she was. “Always something new in the Caphan court,” noted Danny Lyle. “They should put this stuff on live TV.” “What is this?” asked Prince Kiivan, looking down at the sorry prisoners. “What are you attempting now, Kriije?” Vespiir looked up, as if the Emir’s voice had drawn her back to the world. “Darkness is coming!” she warned. “Hear now the word of the future. The devourer had returned, and even now his hunger waxes for the souls of Caph!” “Blasphemy!” shouted Serooq, High Priest of Raathi. “She speaks with the tongue of a devil!” “He comes!” insisted Vespiir, shivering violently. “The Living Death That Sucks!” Then the skies went dark as a massive vacuum-ship filled the heavens, as large as Caph itself. Galactivac the Devourer had returned from stasis; and he hungered. “Well crap,” said Kid Produce. In our concluding chapter: Vespiir’s dreams come true. There’s treason and poison and blood in the Caphan court. Young heroes from alien worlds must try what their mentors never managed, to battle the Living Death That Sucks. Caph’s new age looks as if it will die a-borning in Untold Tales of the Parodyverse #328: On the Unwelcome Attentions of the Living Death That Sucks. Everything must go. Cast List: High Caphans of Rank: Prince Kiivan, Emir of All Caph, is the rightful heir to the Caliphate and liberator of his homeworld. He escaped when Caph was invaded by Thonnagarians, trained in different times and places, and returned just over an Earth year later having grown to adulthood to save his people. Ohanna of Raael is Kiivan’s constant companion, and as the Caphans would put it “his heart’s desire and best beloved”. She is younger sister to the exiled Caphan Miiri, and arguably the most extensively offworld-trained woman of Caph. Although Caphans have no such custom she is now Kiivan’s fiancée. Vaahir of Viigo is Caph’s greatest warlord, Prince Kiivan’s mentor and right-hand man in retaking Caph. Vaahir’s passion for the Lady Kaara of Jaaxa is celebrated in song and story. Serooq, High Priest of Raathi is one of the religious leaders of Caph, keepers of tradition and morality. Now that the Thonnagarian invasion is over he has been able to come out of hiding to lead the Caphan people in right ways. Prince Laartroon of Laartros was offworld at the time of the Thonnagarian takeover and therefore avoided the worst excesses of the occupation. He has returned now to reclaim his estates and stake his position in the new hierarchy of Caph. Lord Troovis of Troovis survived the reign of Prince Aarmis by being alternately stupid, subservient, absent, and stupid. He sees a future for himself in politics. Prince Aarmus of Aarixus was a traitor to his people, aligning himself with the conquering Thonnagarians and serving as their puppet Emir. He was previously Miiri’s first owner when she left her mother’s house, and it was he who sold her offworld to the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad. Aarmus died in a combat challenge from Prince Kiivan over the ownership of Ohanna and of Caph. His property is forfeit to his slayer. Lord Chaalis of Chaalim is not part of Serooq's conspiracy. He's just an opportunist who wants to be taken seriously; but he doesn't want to get smitten for it. The Lost Flowers of Caph: Nine Caphan pleasure slaves sold offworld to the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad and liberated by the Lair legion during the Transworlds challenge, now finally returned to the world of their birth. The nine are: Deeela, a daughter of Chieftain Ytirar by Iliia the Fair, She and her triplet siblings are sometimes called the Lost Jewels of the House of Kelinda after their abduction by raiders on the occasion of their vina drea (ceremony of bonding) to Laamis of Laamis. Deeela dreams of becoming a bard like her tent-sister Losiira. Sayaana, also one of three daughters born to the Chieftain Ytirar out of Illia the Fair. She is the best weaver and needlewoman of the group, and most accomplished at performing kelanath-sto. Philaana, younger sister to Sayaana and Deeela. She bears a child of Prince Kiivan, Emir of All Caph. Noona of Portaa, the older of two sisters sold offworld to the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad from the marketplace of Luutan. She is Losiira’s lover. Miiri of Earth, daughter of Prince Kiivas out of Ekooria of Damaar, is the most liberated of the Caphan exiles. When she was no longer owned by Visionary (a fiction anyway for the comfort of the rescued slaves) she returned to him as a lover and bore him twin children, Magweed (Naari) and Griffin. Miiri no longer wishes to be owned by anyone save herself. Odoona of Portaa, Noona’s younger sister, a romantic dreamer; she has an unspoken crush on Lord Visionary. Losiira of the Nine Songs is the oldest of the nine Caphan exiles, and the only one accredited by the bardic college. She had now been accredited as a slave-mistress and house mother, and has been awarded the rank of mistress of the House of the Emir. She also carries a child of Prince Kiivan. Luuma Swiftheels, famed for her athletic prowess, also carries a child of Prince Kiivan. Kaara of Jaaxa, last daughter of a murdered House, was ravaged and sold into slavery. The youth who strove to own her was Vaahir of Viigo, and his exploits to escape and save her are chronicled in the Tenth Caphan Saga in Untold Tales #202-212. Other High-Status Slaves Guildmistress Keroon of the Leman's Guild is one of the most powerful slaves on Caph, heading the order which trains and accredits women of the leman class. In the absence of an appointed Vizier it is her role to manage the proceedings of the Caliphate Court, of whom collectively she is the chattel. Zeela, Doolia, Aatis, Jemiira, Hooli, Fantiis, and Sooon, seven slaves given in tribute to the Earth-hero Ham-Boy by Amaal of Ammalin, now brought into the House of kiivan. Common Caphans Koodi of Jathaar is a drudge, one of the menial class of slaves who form the majority of Caph’s population. Her master is Lord Khuufal and she lived most of her young life in domestic service in the deserts of Urendiir. When her Master joined Vaahir’s rebellion Koodi came to Alcaphia as a runner bringing arms and supplies to the warriors. While camped outside the city Koodi encountered the outcast seeress Vespiir and made a fateful decision that she knew would destroy her life. Vespiir is an outcast slave, masterless and unprotected, for the crime of being a seeress. Only males may possess the gift of Raathi, and so Vespiir is evok-hai, fair game for any who would harm or kill her. She bears the Outcast Brand on her forehead, proclaiming her shame to all who see her. Oloora of Kiivan is a drudge in the Emir’s palace, an innocent pawn in most holy Serooq’s plots against those who advise Prince Kiivan. Kriije of Raael, formerly of Aarixus, is a Caphan leman – personal assistant and bodyslave – who clawed her way to the top of her profession in service to the traitorous would-be Emir Aarmus of Aarixus. Trained in espionage, assassination, and manipulation Kriije supported her Master’s domination attempts but was badly wounded in combat with Ohanna of Raael. With Aarmus’ fall Kriije became the property of his slayer, Prince Kiivan, who in turn sold her to his lover Ohanna for virtually nothing. Kriije is to be exiled to Earth. Jaal of Kiivan is acting Captain of the Guard at Kiivan's Alphacaphia palace. He is a career eunuch. Heroes From Earth: Visionary, possibly-fake man and headmaster of the Junior Lair Legion training programme, was formerly the accidental owner of nine Caphan slave girls, including Miiri who later mothered his twin children. His yellow coat is often mistaken on Caph for the saffron mantle of a powerful lord. Glory, the pooch of power, is a superpowered and highly intelligent border collie who works with the metahuman agent Mr Epitome. She is also the Junior Lair Legion’s teaching assistant. Danny Lyle (Denial) is a rebel without a cause, dating Kerry Shepherdson. He is also the son of the Hooded Hood and madame Symmetry, the Shaper of Worlds. Kerry Shepherdson probability-twisting pyromaniac, is the former ward and current adopted little sister of Visionary. Ham-Boy (Fred Harris) is an alumni of the Junior Lair Legion. The world’s meatiest hero has the ability to create and control raw meat products. Fashion Accessory (Samantha Bonnington) is a fabric-manipulating teen catwalk model, all-round valley girl, and member of the Junior Lair Legion. Her best friend is Kerry Shepherdson. Glitch is a female Autobot from a distant galaxy, sent to monitor and protect life on Earth. She’s just discovering a fetish for human boys. Harlagaz Donarson is the son of Donar, Ausgardian hemigod of thunder. He’s also a member of the Junior Lair Legion. Falconne (Belinda “Lindy” Wilson) is younger sister of the missing-in-action legionnaire Falcon and has inherited his combat flight suit. Captain Courageous (Kip Kipling) is a young British agent of Project: Pendragon, gifted with enhanced physical abilities and cursed with an absolute sense of morality. Kid Produce (Jasper Stevens) was a member of the JBH (Justa Bunch of Heroes) until tragedy struck and the love of his life Jackie Rabbit was taken from him. Now he is a morose, brooding loner who retains the ability to generate any kind of enhanced fruit or vegetable from his magic apron. Hacker Nine (Zachary Zelnitz) is an anarchist computer whiz from the distant dimension of Technopolis. He recently served an apprenticeship with the Hooded hood that almost led him to betray his friends to destruction. Other Offworlders Shazana Pel is an outcast Thonnagarian warrior who stood against her own people as an ally of Kiivan and Vaahir. Her grandmother, Pigeonwarrior leader. Her grandmother Ancient Shadara, last of the Great Eyrie, whom Pel slew in battle has proclaimed her next leader of the Pigeonrace. Mircandalee Tremensalor is of the alien race the Dramaatis, the last survivor of her troupe after the Parody War. She now owns and runs the former avawarrior training ship as a star-spanning vaudeville theatre. Herbert P. Garrick, “Bed News Herb”, is the President’s Special Advisor on Metahuman Affairs. He’s not a fan of the Lair Legion, and he's not had good experiences with Caphans so far. Chauncy Sidney Lancelot DeVeux is the US State Department's nominated Ambassador to Caph. He's from the Boston DeVeuxs. Aroth Kor is a grizzled veteran Pigeonwarrior sergeant now sworn to the service of Shazana Pel. Yedo of Plxtragar is the purple-skinned ad-hoc ambassador of the ravaged pirate-raided world of Plxtragar to which Vaahir was formerly assigned as guardian. Thighmaster is the villainous ruler of the tiny Earth nation of Barovia. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2008 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2008 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
