itself at Redd, who did not seem in the least put out as—
Fwummp!
Her scepter protruded from the Glass Eye’s chest. The assassin staggered, sparks sprayed from its wound. Mr. Van de Skülle stepped forward and put an end to it with a well-placed lash of his whip. Pulling the scepter out of the Glass Eye, he wiped it clean and presented it to Redd, and she held its spear-like butt-end to Arch’s throat.
“Tell me, Archy. Why would I be ambushed by a Glass Eye programed to recognize you as its master?”
With an amused expression, Arch pushed the scepter from his jugular. “I gave orders for it to be done, Redd.”
“You—?”
“Call it a test. To confirm what I suspected. You’re without imagination.”
“And you’ll be without a head!”
She swung her scepter at him, but Arch ducked.
The Cat, Sacrenoir, Ripkins, Blister—everyone was stilled by uncertainty.
“My thinking,” Arch said, thrusting his knobkerrie vertically in front of him as— klungk! —Redd’s scepter clashed against it, “was that if you had imagination, you would have conjured something to do away with that Glass Eye. But instead, you defended yourself as any one of us would have done. And—”
“Shut up!”
“—now you’re swinging your ugly stick at me like an uncontrollable shrew instead of imagining me—”
“Shut up!”
She ran at him, her scepter a deadly javelin. Arch held his knobkerrie at both ends to deflect the attack, leaving himself vulnerable, and Redd kicked him in the chest, slamming him backward. Before he recovered his balance, she charged him again, but this time he managed to swing first. Knobkerrie smashed against scepter. Redd lost a handle on her weapon, retreated a short distance to readjust.
“You’ve relied too much on your imaginative powers,” Arch smirked. “Your everyday combat skills have suffered, Rose, if you’ll allow me to say so.”
He snatched a second knobkerrie from the sash of an Astacan warrior and, one in each hand, twirled them baton-like as he advanced, driving Redd back on her heels and raising his voice to address the surrounding army.
“I have asked myself why Boarderland’s tribal leaders would unite against me when, as king, I only ever strived for lasting peace among them!”
Redd tripped over a tree root and fell, hard. The Cat made a move to jump at Arch, but a stand of Doomsines—the king’s own tribe—stepped forward to defend him. Mr. Van de Skülle took hold of his whip, Alistaire Poole his scalpel. Ripkins flexed his fingerprints. Siren Hecht loosened her jaw, threatening a scream, and Blister tucked his long gloves in a pocket, leaving his hands bare.
“I’ve since learned the reason for the mutiny!” Arch said to the tribes, foisting his knobkerries down at Redd who, flat on her back, spun her scepter parallel to her body and knocked them away, somersaulted backward and regained her feet. “The late Jack of Diamonds claimed I kept you at odds to maintain control over you! But Jack was in Redd Heart’s service! He would have said anything to get you to join together under Redd’s command!”
“But he knew things that convinced us,” Myrval, leader of the Gnobi tribe, said. “Things he could only have known if—”
Arch felt how unused to physical exertion Redd was; her scepter was colliding against his knobkerrie with less and less force, her sallies slackening in pace. “Redd used her imagination to discover whatever she needed to convince you!” he said. “But where is that imagination now? Why is Redd Heart brawling with me like a common do-badder? And why are we retreating ?”
“No one’s retreating!” Redd shouted, and went at him with renewed vigor.
Fwack! Fwack fwack! Fwack!
“I’ll tell you why!” Arch said, countering Her Imperial Viciousness’s lunges with several of his own. “Because Redd Heart has lost her imagination and is afraid of Queen Alyss!”
“Lie!”
Fwack! Fwack fwack!
“My tribal brothers,”
Fwummp!
Her scepter protruded from the Glass Eye’s chest. The assassin staggered, sparks sprayed from its wound. Mr. Van de Skülle stepped forward and put an end to it with a well-placed lash of his whip. Pulling the scepter out of the Glass Eye, he wiped it clean and presented it to Redd, and she held its spear-like butt-end to Arch’s throat.
“Tell me, Archy. Why would I be ambushed by a Glass Eye programed to recognize you as its master?”
With an amused expression, Arch pushed the scepter from his jugular. “I gave orders for it to be done, Redd.”
“You—?”
“Call it a test. To confirm what I suspected. You’re without imagination.”
“And you’ll be without a head!”
She swung her scepter at him, but Arch ducked.
The Cat, Sacrenoir, Ripkins, Blister—everyone was stilled by uncertainty.
“My thinking,” Arch said, thrusting his knobkerrie vertically in front of him as— klungk! —Redd’s scepter clashed against it, “was that if you had imagination, you would have conjured something to do away with that Glass Eye. But instead, you defended yourself as any one of us would have done. And—”
“Shut up!”
“—now you’re swinging your ugly stick at me like an uncontrollable shrew instead of imagining me—”
“Shut up!”
She ran at him, her scepter a deadly javelin. Arch held his knobkerrie at both ends to deflect the attack, leaving himself vulnerable, and Redd kicked him in the chest, slamming him backward. Before he recovered his balance, she charged him again, but this time he managed to swing first. Knobkerrie smashed against scepter. Redd lost a handle on her weapon, retreated a short distance to readjust.
“You’ve relied too much on your imaginative powers,” Arch smirked. “Your everyday combat skills have suffered, Rose, if you’ll allow me to say so.”
He snatched a second knobkerrie from the sash of an Astacan warrior and, one in each hand, twirled them baton-like as he advanced, driving Redd back on her heels and raising his voice to address the surrounding army.
“I have asked myself why Boarderland’s tribal leaders would unite against me when, as king, I only ever strived for lasting peace among them!”
Redd tripped over a tree root and fell, hard. The Cat made a move to jump at Arch, but a stand of Doomsines—the king’s own tribe—stepped forward to defend him. Mr. Van de Skülle took hold of his whip, Alistaire Poole his scalpel. Ripkins flexed his fingerprints. Siren Hecht loosened her jaw, threatening a scream, and Blister tucked his long gloves in a pocket, leaving his hands bare.
“I’ve since learned the reason for the mutiny!” Arch said to the tribes, foisting his knobkerries down at Redd who, flat on her back, spun her scepter parallel to her body and knocked them away, somersaulted backward and regained her feet. “The late Jack of Diamonds claimed I kept you at odds to maintain control over you! But Jack was in Redd Heart’s service! He would have said anything to get you to join together under Redd’s command!”
“But he knew things that convinced us,” Myrval, leader of the Gnobi tribe, said. “Things he could only have known if—”
Arch felt how unused to physical exertion Redd was; her scepter was colliding against his knobkerrie with less and less force, her sallies slackening in pace. “Redd used her imagination to discover whatever she needed to convince you!” he said. “But where is that imagination now? Why is Redd Heart brawling with me like a common do-badder? And why are we retreating ?”
“No one’s retreating!” Redd shouted, and went at him with renewed vigor.
Fwack! Fwack fwack! Fwack!
“I’ll tell you why!” Arch said, countering Her Imperial Viciousness’s lunges with several of his own. “Because Redd Heart has lost her imagination and is afraid of Queen Alyss!”
“Lie!”
Fwack! Fwack fwack!
“My tribal brothers,”
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