and so—”
“No more use?” Jack of Diamonds said in disbelief. “But I’ve always been useful to you, Your Imperial Viciousness! I can and always will be! I’ll—” Without a twitch of exertion, Redd sealed his lips with glue. “Who wants to kill him?” she asked. The Cat raised his paw. Siren and Alistaire raised their hands. “Mmmmm mmm mmm,” protested Jack.
Arch was breathing as heavily as an overworked spirit-dane, the glint of hatred in his eye directed at Jack. Redd noticed this and said, “In view of his recent demotion, it seems appropriate to let my friend Arch have the honors.”
In desperation, Jack started to run, but Redd conjured a thick black rose vine that tripped him and bound his wrists and ankles.
An assortment of weapons appeared before Arch: AD52, scorpspitter, Hand of Tyman, whipsnake grenade, basket of mushrooms. Arch recognized a deadly fungus when he saw it. He could sate Jack’s appetite once and for all. He took a mushroom from the basket and stood for a time over the squirming Wonderlander.
“Any last words?”
“Mmm!” Jack begged, eyes wide. “Mmmmmmm!” Arch knelt down and pressed the mushroom against his mouth. “Good. Because I didn’t want to hear them anyway.”
The roots of the fungus forced Jack’s lips open. Fed by his saliva, they worked their way down his throat and strangled his heart. Arch stood and wiped his hands. A mushroom cap poked out of Jack of Diamonds’ mouth: his heart had stopped beating. “And now,” Redd said, “for war.”
CHAPTER 43
A LYSS HAD taken up position in the crystal chamber, standing on the viewing platform halfway to the floor and facing the pulsating glow of the Heart Crystal, reaching toward it every so often for a fresh surge of imaginative energy. Behind her, Bibwit sat at a control desk. By means of viewing screens and speakers and talk-back controls embedded in the desktop, he was able to monitor enemy progress, troop movement, and communications among Doppel and Gänger, the Ten Card lieutenants and chessmen. “The demarcation barrier!” the tutor called. “Yes,” Alyss said, because she had already viewed it—a large segment of the barrier had been knocked out of commission, and Redd’s mercenaries were pouring into Outerwilderbeastia. Redd was attacking with her usual intelligence, sending Glass Eyes at card soldiers and chessmen in a kamikaze-like first wave and immediately following it with a massive battering by orb cannons and cannonball spiders. Then came the tribes: the Astacans with their stick-legs and ability to negotiate steep, rocky ground as easily as the billy goats of Earth; the Awr with their gossamer shots and their scutes—the hard, bony backsides impervious to blades and razors and crystal shot, under which their heads and limbs would retract whenever necessary; and the nineteen other tribes, each with unique
“No more use?” Jack of Diamonds said in disbelief. “But I’ve always been useful to you, Your Imperial Viciousness! I can and always will be! I’ll—” Without a twitch of exertion, Redd sealed his lips with glue. “Who wants to kill him?” she asked. The Cat raised his paw. Siren and Alistaire raised their hands. “Mmmmm mmm mmm,” protested Jack.
Arch was breathing as heavily as an overworked spirit-dane, the glint of hatred in his eye directed at Jack. Redd noticed this and said, “In view of his recent demotion, it seems appropriate to let my friend Arch have the honors.”
In desperation, Jack started to run, but Redd conjured a thick black rose vine that tripped him and bound his wrists and ankles.
An assortment of weapons appeared before Arch: AD52, scorpspitter, Hand of Tyman, whipsnake grenade, basket of mushrooms. Arch recognized a deadly fungus when he saw it. He could sate Jack’s appetite once and for all. He took a mushroom from the basket and stood for a time over the squirming Wonderlander.
“Any last words?”
“Mmm!” Jack begged, eyes wide. “Mmmmmmm!” Arch knelt down and pressed the mushroom against his mouth. “Good. Because I didn’t want to hear them anyway.”
The roots of the fungus forced Jack’s lips open. Fed by his saliva, they worked their way down his throat and strangled his heart. Arch stood and wiped his hands. A mushroom cap poked out of Jack of Diamonds’ mouth: his heart had stopped beating. “And now,” Redd said, “for war.”
CHAPTER 43
A LYSS HAD taken up position in the crystal chamber, standing on the viewing platform halfway to the floor and facing the pulsating glow of the Heart Crystal, reaching toward it every so often for a fresh surge of imaginative energy. Behind her, Bibwit sat at a control desk. By means of viewing screens and speakers and talk-back controls embedded in the desktop, he was able to monitor enemy progress, troop movement, and communications among Doppel and Gänger, the Ten Card lieutenants and chessmen. “The demarcation barrier!” the tutor called. “Yes,” Alyss said, because she had already viewed it—a large segment of the barrier had been knocked out of commission, and Redd’s mercenaries were pouring into Outerwilderbeastia. Redd was attacking with her usual intelligence, sending Glass Eyes at card soldiers and chessmen in a kamikaze-like first wave and immediately following it with a massive battering by orb cannons and cannonball spiders. Then came the tribes: the Astacans with their stick-legs and ability to negotiate steep, rocky ground as easily as the billy goats of Earth; the Awr with their gossamer shots and their scutes—the hard, bony backsides impervious to blades and razors and crystal shot, under which their heads and limbs would retract whenever necessary; and the nineteen other tribes, each with unique