Free The Cutting Edge by Dave Duncan Page A

the saloons. He rarely used his power, they whispered, but there was no doubt that he was a great sorcerer.
    The throne belonged to Queen Inosolan. Her father Holindarn had been king before her, and she was descended from the legendary Warlock Inisso, founder of the dynasty. The present king had been merely a stableboy in the palace-that was why he hated to use the title. He also denied being a sorcerer, but everyone knew . . .
    That much was generally accepted, but thereafter the tales Efflio heard whispered in the dark and beery saloons were wildly divergent, all of them able to raise the few remaining hairs on his scalp. Transformations, disappearances, reappearances ... The king was even identified with the mysterious faun sorcerer who had appeared in Hub many years ago and cured the imperor's sickness, thus ending the Ythbane regency. The bizarre end of the notorious Thane Kalkor was mentioned, the death of the wicked Warlock Zinixo, and Queen Inosolan's dramatic return from exile ... Efflio listened and shivered and bought more ale to keep the tales coming. There were some talented raconteurs among the imps of Krasnegar.
    But he was a good man, the king, they would conclude at last. He was much admired for his hard work and his honesty, and for the sake of his beloved queen. The whole town worshipped the queen and wished her well. And if anyone had a problem, he knew he had only to buttonhole the king on the street, and help would be forthcoming. A good man. A good queen.
    A fine little town, Efflio concluded reluctantly. Apart from its Evil-begotten hills, of course.
    But he vowed to stay well away from the royal family.
    The royal family turned out to have other ideas. On Sea Beauty's third morning in port, young Princess Kadie came strutting up the plank with her taciturn brother in tow. This time she was dressed more appropriately, in a fine fur-trimmed cloak and a sable hat too large for her. The weather was turning chilly. The skies lowered, and the wind smelled of snow.
    She marched over to the captain and curtseyed, almost losing her borrowed hat in the process.
    He bowed apprehensively. "Good morning, Captain."
    "Good morning, your Highness."
    "Gath has a letter for you."
    The boy was also better dressed than before, in long pants and a shirt without rips in it. He wore no coat or hat, though, and his shirt was inside out. He solemnly handed Efflio an envelope.
    "Bow, dummy!" the princess said.
    The boy's fair face reddened all the way to the roots of his spiky hair. He snatched back the envelope, bowed, and then thrust it at the captain again.
    "Idiot!" his sister muttered.
    The envelope contained an invitation to dine at the palace, inscribed in the queen's own hand.
    Efflio gulped. This he did not want. "I shall write a reply, if you would be so kind as to wait?"
    "That won't be necessary," Princess Kadie declared airily. "I'll tell her you got it. I bid you farewell, then, Captain, until the shadows lengthen and the humble plowman wends homeward. "
    "No!" Efflio said hastily. "I can't come!"
    The child drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't much. Her green eyes flashed. "You dare refuse a royal summons, Captain?"
    Efflio gritted his teeth, aware that the first mate and the coxswain were listening and smirking. He resisted a suicidal craving to take a rope's end to a certain royal backside.
    "I shall explain in my reply to her Majesty that my health prevents me from climbing hills, your Highness."
    The girl pouted, obviously at a loss. There was a pause, and Efflio was just about to head to his cabin when the boy spoke up for the first time.
    "Mommy really does want to meet you, sir. I'm sure she will send a carriage. " His face was full of earnest appeal.
    Efflio could find no answer to that, except to accept.
    Only twice in his life had the captain ever ridden in a carriage. He had never once visited a palace, and castles were places to shun. Even if the king of this land dressed like a peasant