down at Rigel’s bracelet. “Truly? The
real
Saiph?”
“Truly. And it’s not just your scars. I’m also a little doubtful about your sons story. How many did you say you have?”
The Minotaur sighed. “None. I was simplifying. I’ve taken out a couple of the weedy elves in my time, so Muphrid promised me that if I won a third time, he’d put me out to stud with the minoheifers. Not that I believe him, really. I justdidn’t want to worry you. You’ll fight better if you have a good positive attitude.”
Rigel grinned. Elnath flicked his ears, which might be the bull equivalent.
“Do draws count?” Rigel asked. “Look, I’ll leave it up to you. I won’t even use the cloak. I swear I won’t seriously injure you as long as you just play with me, faking charges and so on. When you want to die, try to kill me for real. Saiph will see you out.”
The Minotaur’s bovine mouth opened in an enormous yawn, and his massive human arms stretched up into the air. “That’s great news, though. Saiph! They must be really scared of me to send in Saiph! Come to think of it, it’s been quite a while since they sent up their last hero. I’ll get my name on Saiph?
Stars!
Thanks, Rigel Halfling. May the best being win.” He held out a hand twice the size of Rigel’s.
Rigel clasped it, forewarned by a slight quiver from his bracelet. He watched as the great muscle bulged in that furry forearm. Fortunately Rigel’s sword hand was now clad in a steel gauntlet, so his knuckles didn’t crumble under the pressure. The monster released him with a grunt, then chuckled. “Even if it isn’t the genuine Saiph, it’s a good one.”
Rigel grinned. “So are you, Elnath Minotaur. Nice try.” And no hard feelings, thanks to the amulet.
“Good luck, Halfling Rigel. If you do get that assassin job, kill lots of stinky elves for me.” With that, the Minotaur flowed away into the brush, vanishing with amazing agility for such a massive being.
Chapter 11
R igel rose, wondering if he still had time for breakfast, but before he reached the grandstand, the portal opened to admit a string of starfolk guests, including some new faces. Green-haired Muphrid had a simpering Nashira on his arm, although she was not the partner he’d carried off from the banquet the previous evening, and Alniyat had dropped Gacrux in favor of the one called Icalurus. Behind the adults came the imps, twittering like overexcited birds, and Senator, now dressed in khakis and a bush hat, looking like a clean-shaven Ernest Hemingway on safari. More servants arrived with refreshments.
Rigel stood on the grass below the stand, feeling like a gladiator in a Hollywood toga turkey. Muphrid sat front and center, of course, in the emperor’s place. There had been no mention of a thumbs-up signal to spare the Minotaur’s life if he fought well.
“There it is!”
At the imp’s squeal, all eyes turned to the arch at the top of the slope, where the Minotaur now stood in silhouette with a hand on either pillar, like Samson, looking even bigger than he really was, which was plenty big. Was thiscontest being staged to test Rigel’s nerve, as both he and the Minotaur had assumed? Or was it to test whether Rigel’s amulet was the genuine Saiph? The match might not be the sure thing he had been told to expect.
“Oh… Halfling…,” said Muphrid. “You’ll need this.” He bent to fumble at his feet, and came up holding a roll of scarlet cloth, which he tossed down. “Stars be with you. Give us a good fight, not too quick.”
Rigel bowed, spreading his arms in starfolk fashion, then turned and trotted up the slope. The bundle was tied around with a red ribbon in a rather complicated knot, which he suspected might be designed to make sure he didn’t unroll the pain-dispensing cloak while he was still close to the spectators. He left it tied, and when he was about three quarters of the way to the Minotaur, he stopped and put his hands on his hips.
“Hey, pot
real
Saiph?”
“Truly. And it’s not just your scars. I’m also a little doubtful about your sons story. How many did you say you have?”
The Minotaur sighed. “None. I was simplifying. I’ve taken out a couple of the weedy elves in my time, so Muphrid promised me that if I won a third time, he’d put me out to stud with the minoheifers. Not that I believe him, really. I justdidn’t want to worry you. You’ll fight better if you have a good positive attitude.”
Rigel grinned. Elnath flicked his ears, which might be the bull equivalent.
“Do draws count?” Rigel asked. “Look, I’ll leave it up to you. I won’t even use the cloak. I swear I won’t seriously injure you as long as you just play with me, faking charges and so on. When you want to die, try to kill me for real. Saiph will see you out.”
The Minotaur’s bovine mouth opened in an enormous yawn, and his massive human arms stretched up into the air. “That’s great news, though. Saiph! They must be really scared of me to send in Saiph! Come to think of it, it’s been quite a while since they sent up their last hero. I’ll get my name on Saiph?
Stars!
Thanks, Rigel Halfling. May the best being win.” He held out a hand twice the size of Rigel’s.
Rigel clasped it, forewarned by a slight quiver from his bracelet. He watched as the great muscle bulged in that furry forearm. Fortunately Rigel’s sword hand was now clad in a steel gauntlet, so his knuckles didn’t crumble under the pressure. The monster released him with a grunt, then chuckled. “Even if it isn’t the genuine Saiph, it’s a good one.”
Rigel grinned. “So are you, Elnath Minotaur. Nice try.” And no hard feelings, thanks to the amulet.
“Good luck, Halfling Rigel. If you do get that assassin job, kill lots of stinky elves for me.” With that, the Minotaur flowed away into the brush, vanishing with amazing agility for such a massive being.
Chapter 11
R igel rose, wondering if he still had time for breakfast, but before he reached the grandstand, the portal opened to admit a string of starfolk guests, including some new faces. Green-haired Muphrid had a simpering Nashira on his arm, although she was not the partner he’d carried off from the banquet the previous evening, and Alniyat had dropped Gacrux in favor of the one called Icalurus. Behind the adults came the imps, twittering like overexcited birds, and Senator, now dressed in khakis and a bush hat, looking like a clean-shaven Ernest Hemingway on safari. More servants arrived with refreshments.
Rigel stood on the grass below the stand, feeling like a gladiator in a Hollywood toga turkey. Muphrid sat front and center, of course, in the emperor’s place. There had been no mention of a thumbs-up signal to spare the Minotaur’s life if he fought well.
“There it is!”
At the imp’s squeal, all eyes turned to the arch at the top of the slope, where the Minotaur now stood in silhouette with a hand on either pillar, like Samson, looking even bigger than he really was, which was plenty big. Was thiscontest being staged to test Rigel’s nerve, as both he and the Minotaur had assumed? Or was it to test whether Rigel’s amulet was the genuine Saiph? The match might not be the sure thing he had been told to expect.
“Oh… Halfling…,” said Muphrid. “You’ll need this.” He bent to fumble at his feet, and came up holding a roll of scarlet cloth, which he tossed down. “Stars be with you. Give us a good fight, not too quick.”
Rigel bowed, spreading his arms in starfolk fashion, then turned and trotted up the slope. The bundle was tied around with a red ribbon in a rather complicated knot, which he suspected might be designed to make sure he didn’t unroll the pain-dispensing cloak while he was still close to the spectators. He left it tied, and when he was about three quarters of the way to the Minotaur, he stopped and put his hands on his hips.
“Hey, pot
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