13.2

In Castle Blackpool, Dirk stared at his seneschal in disbelief. Cai was white as a sheet. A tense silence hung between them.

Cai stammered, "The kolnas were only minted yesterday. I saw them minted. The Lyrian gold was pure. You saw the new coinage in the treasury last night. The guards said no one else entered between the time we left and this morning, when I found...this."

Dirk picked up another of the coins on his writing table, and snapped it in half incredulously. The coin's gold foil wrapper crumpled in his fingers, revealing a chocolate medallion inside it. "How much of it was replaced with this rubbish?"

"Twenty-five million kolnas," Cai whispered. "Everything we had minted with the gold from the arcanium sale to date. It's all..."

"Candy?"

"Yes, my lord. But the bottom face of the coin has changed. It's no longer a picture of Castle Blackpool. There is no die in the mint for that new image."

"No. I would expect not," Dirk said bitterly. The chocolate coins bore the image of the waved-bladder dagger with the words, "In Zyr we trust." There was no question who was responsible. Astaroth had just cost him the greatest fortune Karteia had ever possessed.

"What do you want to do about paying the troops? Their quarterly wages are due this week. We have no reserves. This was everything we had."

"I suppose they'll simply have to wait for their wages then. Are the magical trade gates in Geshna still operating?" Dirk asked, referring to the portals Zyrdicia had created to shuttle arcanium, gold, and other goods to and from Lyr.

"No. No arcanium has left. No food or other goods have come in from Lyr. The gates are inoperative. Which presents another problem. There were riots yesterday in Geshna. The market is empty of goods. Without the foreign food supply this winter..."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted the unhappy conversation. "Come!" Dirk ordered glumly, wondering what new horror the morning could bring.

A messenger entered and bowed politely, "Prince Geoffrey sends word of strange goings on in Castle Tronin, my lord."

"Oh, what now?'

"Little creatures, Lord Blackpool. Little purple things. About as big as your thumbnail. Every night they nibble away at the castle walls. Nothing will stop them. The outer wall is almost useless. A single blow from a battering ram could bring it down. They've started on the inner walls now. Part of the castle collapsed already. Prince Geoffrey asks for guidance on what he should do, my lord."

"I will send Vector to him at once," Dirk said quietly. He had no faith that anything Vector would do could save the castle. Hell was tormenting him. Without the castle, his troops would be undefended. Not that he had the funds to pay them any longer. Unless, of course, they liked chocolate. He had twenty-five million pieces of that to offer them. Perhaps that would prevent them all from starving this winter, too.

The real message relayed by the messenger was the one from Astaroth, and its meaning was not lost on the prince. So be it, he thought darkly. Whatever conquest of Camarand would cost, he was beyond caring. When the messenger had gone, the dazed prince asked Cai, "How many times have you been to Lyr?"

"Several, my lord," Cai answered in a polite understatement. Dozens would have been more accurate.

"Good. I may have need of a guide," the prince said quietly, taking hold of Cai's' forearm with one hand, and the monocle with the other. Through Astaroth's magic, they materialized on the steps of the Old Temple in Lyr a moment later. Though it had been morning in Karteia, it appeared to be evening in Lyr.

The black stone edifice seemed strangely sinister in the dark, though the streets were well-lit with an eclectic combination of magical and natural fire. Dirk's eyes moved across the alien, urban landscape slowly. He recognized the gargoyle-covered Old Temple from its description in the biography. Her dagger symbol was everywhere - hanging from window sills, fluttering on banners, carved into the masonry at odd intervals. Countless statues of her as both an adult and a child adorned the building's entrance and the square outside.

"If we are here to find Zyrdicia, the Red Zone is this way," Cai directed. He had an excellent sense of direction. He had wandered the streets with Portia fairly often prior to her departure.

As they passed through the gate in the wall that separated the Old City from the Red Zone, Dirk's gaze fell upon the shields and skulls decorating the wall. Zyrdicia had not exaggerated. These were the remains of hundreds of southern knights from a bygone age. In the shield designs, he recognized the emblems of scores of well-known Camarandian families. He liked the sight of it.

It looked as though several cities must have somehow grown together over time. The Old City Wall was now nothing more than a geographic boundary separating distinct districts within greater Lyr. As they reached the top of a large hill en route to their destination, they had an excellent view of the surrounding area. The city seemed to go on forever. The dense urban settlement stretched to the horizon in three directions, its sparkling lights twinkling in the darkness. Dirk stopped, looking around for a moment in all directions.

Cai pointed toward the only spot of darkness visible in the landscape. "The ocean. They haven't figured out how to construct dwellings upon it or it too would be built up."

"Does it have an end?" the prince wondered, stunned by the size of the metropolis.

"Theoretically. The city-state covers a territory roughly comparable to all of Baaldorf. There is hardly a vacant lot left. And it keeps growing, swallowing up more territory. Neighborhoods within it function almost as separate cities unto themselves. It's quite amazing. The population is probably in the millions. No one knows for sure how many people really live here. So many people arrive every day, it's impossible to tell."

"And there is no king?"

"The Council sort of functions like a schizophrenic one, I suppose. Money is the only law that reigns supreme here. The Old City is the spiritual and academic center. The Red Zone is the entertainment center. The Merchant District by the harbor is the financial center. The fragmentation is deliberate. Zyrdicia's idea, apparently. It somehow works for her. It all used to be in the Old City."

"And their military?"

"No one can give me a straight answer about it. They have a navy, but it sounds like it functions mostly to assist smugglers and facilitate pirate bribes. As for ground troops, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't have any. They conquered or bought out their neighbors decades ago. There is a sizable force of city guards, but they seem rather vulnerable to foreign invasion."

"Interesting," Dirk mused thoughtfully.

They stopped outside the pandemonium of the Cauldron and stared at the line snaking a full city block along the exterior of the building. They went to the main entrance only to find their way blocked by several enormous door guards. "The end of the line is down there, friends!" one pointed.

"I think not," the prince smiled arrogantly. "I'm here to see Zyrdicia."

The ox of a man looked directly in the prince's eyes and laughed out loud. "You, and the rest of her admirers too," he gestured to the line. "You've got a good chance of a sighting tonight, buddy. Rumor has it she's back in town for the holiday. It's way too early for Her Grace to show up yet, man. Now get in line like everybody else."

Cai stepped forward shaking his head urgently when he saw his lord's hand fly to his sword. That would probably only get them locked up somewhere and they would never find her. Cai knew about the magical lightning-producing devices with which these men were undoubtedly armed, and he feared them. He said politely, "Actually, Portia is a close friend. You have seen me here with her often enough lately. I need to talk to her."

The bouncer stared hard at him. His eyes registered vague recognition. "If you are lying, she's likely to have someone take you out back and drop pieces of you into the canal. Knowing Portia, you can guess what pieces she'll probably start with." He yelled, "Hey, Bob! Tell the little fireball she's got a 'friend' out here says he needs to talk to her."

"Portia's not here yet. Tell 'em to come back later!"

They stepped away from the entrance for a moment. "Where else would Zyrdicia be?" Dirk growled to Cai.

"She will be here, my lord. It's like a nightly ritual when she's here, I'm told."

A tall, heavily muscled man with a shaved head walked up to the entrance then. He and the guard each balled their fists and clicked their knuckles together, smiling. "Hiya, Kaz!" the bouncer said as he stepped aside to let the man pass.

Dirk recognized the man as Zyrdicia's slave master. "You!"

Kaz turned around, surprised. "Do I know you?"

"Says he needs to see Her Grace," the guard smiled and winked.

"I wish I had a plat for every time a man wanted to 'see' her," Kaz laughed.

Dirk, very angry by this point, snapped, "You were in my kingdom a few months ago picking up some slaves she arranged to auction for me. Very special slaves, prisoners taken when I conquered their homeland."

"Nice try!" Kaz' rolled his eyes and shook his head, not even bothering to look at the man addressing him. The whole city knew he had auctioned Crusader progeny and that Zyrdicia was behind it. "Fucking tourists!" he muttered as he walked inside.

The bouncer stared at the furious stranger and shrugged, entertained by the exchange. The man pointed toward the end of the line, now blocks away, and smiled. Dirk and Cai reluctantly made their way to join the teeming mass of bodies cued up for admission to the heavily guarded venue. Aparans this most assuredly was not.

"No need to go to the back of the line, gentleman," a female voice called. A young, blonde woman standing near the front of the line beckoned. She smiled warmly.

The friend standing next to her chirped, "You two can cut in with us, if you want to. The door guys are assholes."

Dirk and Cai glanced at each other. This would probably save them several hours. The flirtatious expressions the young women wore left no question of their intentions. Both men were taken aback by the forwardness, but it was preferable to going to the end of the cue.

"OHMYGOD! Look who's here!" Charles high-pitched lisp was unmistakable.

Dirk turned around, relieved to see a familiar face in the crowd. "Finally. Take me to Zyrdicia at once!"

"What is it about her?" one of the young women in line muttered angrily. "Every guy in the city is obsessed by her. I just don't get it."

Charles head bobbed from side to side as he jeered, "No, honey, and you never will." He then looked at the prince curiously. "What do I get if I take you to her?"

"To live."

"Oh, please. You're in my town now, princey. Well, 'Dicia's town, really. Anyway, if I yell, cute men will come running to my rescue. I'll get a thrill out of it."

"Take me to her now, you brainless buffoon!"

Charles looked at Cai and asked, "Is he always like this?"

Cai ignored the question. Of course he was always like this.

"If I do, then you have to let me fix your hair. It's been driving me nuts since I first saw you. The angle is all wrong. I can't let you run around the city looking like that. Bangs are sooooo over."

Dirk touched his hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Absolutely not."

Charles put his hands on his hips and cocked his head. "Even 'Dicia thinks your hair is lame!"

One of the women standing in line piped up, "I like his hair!"

"Shut up, tramp!" Charles scolded, snapping his fingers loudly in her face. She jumped back at the loud noise.

"I do not have time for your inane games. Take me to your mistress this minute!" Dirk commanded irritably.

Just before Charles could reply, a voice boomed, "Extra! Extra! The Lyrian Liar's exclusive interview with Her Grace! Hot off the press! Talked about for days! Only we have it!" People from the line gradually trickled in the direction of the vendor.

"Dennis, baby! Get me one!" Charles yelled. He already knew a lot about what she had said, but she had teased her friends by keeping some of the details secret until the paper came out. Everyone was eager to see the final copy. A moment later someone tossed him a copy of the tabloid from across the sidewalk. He pulled out the glossy insert containing the interview, dropping the rest on the ground.

He shrieked in delight when he saw the cover. "Oh! Heeheeehee! I can't believe she let them use this picture! This is hysterical!"

Dirk stared at him in outrage. Her hairdresser held the magazine up for the prince to see. "And you are afraid I won't make your hair look good. I'm an artist. Look at her!"

Despite his usual restraint on emotions, Dirk's jaw dropped at the image. It was more lifelike than any painting he had ever seen. It was as though she had been frozen upon the page. She knelt with her back to the viewer. Her shoulders were turned at a three-quarter angle, and she looked back over one shoulder with a seductive sneer. Her purple eyes glowed brightly. A long swath of matching, purple velvet was draped strategically around her otherwise naked body. It swirled around her hips then up the front of her torso, where she held it-barely-- with one hand. The pose was calculated to emphasize the pattern of scarification on her back. Indeed, the wings seemed stunningly real in the image. Her hair was fastened atop her head in two bundles shaped like small horns, as she had worn it once in Aparans. She looked like some sort of succubus. In bold type, cover read, "Fallen Angel: the City's Favorite Diva Talks about Life, Love and Lust a Century after Azriok."

Charles giggled when he saw the prince's expression. "Awesome hair, no?"

"I don't think anyone looking at the picture will be noticing her hair," Cai muttered.

"Has she gone quite mad?" Dirk wondered in disbelief. The thought of all of these people seeing her like that infuriated him inexplicably.

"Hello?! She's always been nuts," Charles laughed. He flipped to the interview and scanned it quickly. He looked up suddenly and yelled to his friends standing on the other side of the sidewalk and pointed at Dirk, "Hey! Page 3 - this is the guy she was talking about! I swear! This is him!"

"Charles, for real?" one of them yelled back. Every face in the crowd suddenly turned to stare at the prince. Somewhere in the dark, a bright light flashed.

Charles nodded emphatically. "No shit! It's him!"

"Are you really the boy-toy 'Dicia is talking about?" the stranger called. The young man did not wait for a reply. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head in the manner Charles and Anthony frequently did. "Oh, damn, girlfriend does have good taste."

Charles beamed, "C'mon, princey. You can read what she has to say about you and your breakup while I fix your hair."

"Breakup?"

Charles shook his head, "Oh, honey, I guess you and Geoff really are related. Don't you know that you she dumped you?" Charles wondered whether Dirk was too stunned by the news to have noticed the insult to his intelligence. He failed to understand the prince was, in fact, busy envisioning the other man's death. "I'm guessing you must have come all the way here to beg for forgiveness and apologize for being such an asshole, right?" Charles continued.

"How dare you!" Dirk whispered in a deadly tone, reaching for his dagger. He could take no more.

"Oh, don't get all pissy. You need me. I'm the one who talked her into going back to you after she left you the first time. I was hoping it would last a while. You all were cute together. You messed it up, with a little help from her ex." Charles looked hard at Dirk then realized, "Damn, and you have no clue, do you?"

Dirk glared at him viciously. It was true. He did not have a clue. He hated the sensation that the entire world knew more about the situation than he did, and it was his situation.

Charles sighed and thought, Straight men are so dense. It's no wonder women always complain about them. "Look, you can't see her right this minute anyway. She's off at with Magnus at the premier of her new opera and won't hit the Cauldron until later."

"Opera?"

"Um...like a play, but people sing instead of talk, and it takes longer. Anthony and I can't stand it but she loves it. She discovered it when she was off-world. The composer is a superstar here now. He just wrote a long thing about her and Azriok. The Wing Cycle, I think, or something like that. Tonight is the first public performance."

Cai's brow furrowed, thinking. "Wait! I think Portia mentioned this. Is this the composer who writes about great mythological battles, who Zyrdicia hauled back from the underworld because she was so enraptured by his music?"

"Uh-huh. Wagner. She's done that with a few people. She goes there and collects artists whose stuff she likes and puts them to work here, writing new stuff about her. A few other Council people in Lyr do the same thing - it's all the rage here. All the undead running around the city make Lyr interesting. A little weird sometimes though. All I can say is I can't wait for Madonna to die and end up here. Anyway, 'Dicia was kind of bummed that there was no culture in your world worth taking. She thinks you are the only likeable thing about Aparans, princey."

"Then show me where this performance is taking place so that I can speak with her!"

"You can't get into the premier without a personal invitation from the composer. He's a mean, old vampire - totally unfriendly. It's not like you have anywhere else to go. We get to hang out for a few hours!" Charles tilted his face to the side, regarding the prince's head. "I don't want to cut much. I just have to fix the angles. You really should let it grow anyway. You would look better with long hair. While I fix it, I'll let you in on what's been going on. Then I'll get you in the Cauldron. Without me, you'll never even get in. It's not like you have the right kind of money to pay to get in. But I have a nightly guest list, you know. So it's really not a problem. See?"

"It seems I have no choice," Dirk said bitterly. This was shaping up to be the worst night in recent memory. He wondered whether he were in fact in Hell. It would be a fitting abode for her.

"Do you ever smile?" Charles asked merrily as he led Dirk and Cai through the Red Zone streets to his private studio. There was no sign outside. It looked like a residence.

"Not when I am being tormented, you fool."

"What if girlfriend's doing the tormenting?"

Dirk ignored him. This entire situation was intolerable. He was beginning to question whether she was worth it. No one could be worth this. His only consolation was his certainty that conquest of Aparans lay on the other side. He could endure almost anything for that.

Inside, Charles tossed the magazine on the counter in front of him and began gathering implements, humming. Dirk reached for the magazine and stared at the image of her, cursing her silently for making him suffer through this city and its unbearable denizens. He turned to the interview idly. Charles returned before he could begin reading.

He stared at the prince's face in the enormous mirror.

"What?!" Dirk demanded irritably.

"I'm thinking. I have to visualize." He snapped his fingers suddenly, then immediately began work. He explained, "Princey, you have to understand that there are times you can't fuck with 'Dicia. There are times even Magnus knows not to push her buttons, and he does it more than most people."

Dirk stared at him in confusion. He had no idea what Charles was saying; the sexual references to her in the sentence infuriated him.

Charles picked up on the miscommunication by reading the prince's facial expression. "Oh, man. It's just like talking to Geoffrey. OK, let me slow down. What I meant was there are times you cannot play games with her - you can't tease her, fight with her or even joke around with her. You understand?"

"No."

"Um, like, there are times when she's kind of only half in this world and half on her own private planet. And then there are times when she's totally on her own private planet, and no one else has a spaceship. All her friends know when she's there, and we all know better than to mess with her then. You must not have figured it out, 'cuz you caught her in a twilight-zone moment like that."

"The night she left?"

"Uh-huh. She had just been visited by some friend of the ex-from-Hell. Baffle. Bubble. Something like that. I forget the name. He's like commander in chief of an army of dead people and demons. Azriok sent him to cause trouble."

Dirk resisted the urge to smack Charles. It was almost as frustrating as listening to King Baaldorf's daughter, Princess Ariel. The babble factor was maddening. The oaf used a hundred words where ten would do, and managed to omit any useful data in the process. "He attacked her?"

"Sort of. It's like he got inside her head. He did to her what she does to other people. He turned her brain inside out with mind magic or something. Poor thing. She was really upset."

"The blood..."

"I heard that was to purge, kind of to make herself feel better. I don't think it worked. Anyway, she had just been through hell. She didn't need shit from you too."

"I had no idea," Dirk responded indifferently.

Charles smirked and replied cattily, "Magnus figured it out the second she showed up here. He knew she was a mess right away."

"Magnus - her assassin acquaintance?" Dirk remembered him from the night she had been held captive in Castle Greystone.

Charles reached for a pile of magazines on the counter and shuffled through them until he found the one with Magnus on the cover. He handed it to the prince, "Assassin Guildmaster. See? He has nice hair. Cai knows him. A very good friend of hers. Better friend than usual, lately."

Dirk glanced at his seneschal. Cai shrugged, then looked at Charles. "Where is Portia tonight?"

"Working. That's all she does lately. 'Dicia goes postal and Portia holds things together. That's how things go around here."

"Will she be at the Cauldron later?"

"No doubt! It's a premier night so there will be an after-party, and it's a big holiday - plus the interview just came out. The whole city will be there. The place doesn't even open for another hour." Charles glanced down at the prince again, "Damn, you really should let your hair grow. It would make your face look less square."

Dirk's glare was scathing.

Charles imitated the glare mockingly. "That face just makes you look nasty. You should smile every once in a while. I saw you do it once or twice when she was talking to you. You have a nice smile. But the hair is a bigger issue. I'll do what I can for you. I wish I had magic to just make it grow. You know, Anthony has decided that leather collar thing you are wearing has to go too. This outfit of yours would look better without it. The Count Dracula thing with this big ol' collar though just doesn't work. We think you need to loose all the padding too. Makes you look like an evil Stay-Puff marshmallow man, you know? Or like one of those frogs that puff up when they get mad?" Charles paused only long enough to breathe before continuing another stream of babble, "I mean, what the hell is up with all this extra poof to the leather? Leather should be form-fitting, and sleek - Seriously, what would 'Dicia look like if it didn't cling to all the girly curves? Portia told me during the summer you were running around Tronin showing off all your muscles. If you have a nice body, you don't need to hide under all that extra bulk."

Dirk crossed his arms angrily, glowering at Charles in the mirror. "My clothes are warm," he said defensively. Cai coughed suddenly, excusing himself to go outside and get some fresh air.

"So's a naked body in bed next to you. Who fucking cares what the temperature is outside? The world is a fashion show. You score points by looking good. That's why 'Dicia always wins! Besides, don't you think all those sharp pokey-things in the leather are annoying to someone pressed up against you? How do you keep from her clothes snagging on them? Oh, yeah. I was in the middle of a story. Anyway, when 'Dicia came back, she totally flipped out. Magnus drugged her with a sleeping potion and locked her up in Philip's house for a few days."

Dirk struggled to keep all of the names straight. "Philip is her biographer?"

Cai returned, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. The fit of laughter was now under control. He really wished Portia had been present during Charles' tirade, though. No one at home would have ever dared say such things to his boss. He wanted to see Portia very badly, right now. He really had spent a lot of evenings here, he realized suddenly. It was starting to feel like a second home.

"Her biographer, my ass. This week he's more like her shrink!" Charles looked at Dirk and noticed the confusion. "Her therapist? Her, um,..." He thought, trying to find a way to describe it in terms the foreigner would understand. "Confessor? The person who she unloads her problems on and who helps her get through them. See?"

"More than you'll ever know."

"So, anyway, they locked her up to keep her from going to Hell to be with Azriok. And Philip talked to her and now she's better. She's really mad at Azriok for fucking with her head though."

"And is she angry at the people who drugged and imprisoned her?" Dirk asked hopefully.

"Magnus and Philip? No. She's a little sick of listening to Philip, but she isn't mad. She and Magnus are like-um, never mind. He and Philip kept her from doing something kind of stupid. Anyway, she got over it and now she's still weirder than I've ever known her to be. She was going off a few nights ago about wanting a baby. So that's basically everything that happened."

"Baby?"

"You know, little people that breeders spawn. Scream a lot and smell bad?"

"I understand, you imbecile! What does she want with one?"

"I don't know. She just wants to get pregnant to piss Azriok off I think. We figured out a way for her to do it if we go back to LA I get to go there to arrange it next week. I think we get to pick the daddy out of a catalog or something." Charles looked at the prince cattily then added, "I'll pick a boy with pretty hair, that's for damned sure."

Dirk weighed the information. He suspected that she had in fact lost her sanity, though given the environment she lived in, it was no wonder. Not that it affected his use for her at all. He only needed her long enough to finish off the South and be coronated king. The new maternal instinct was interesting, though, in light of his demonic visitor's message. He considered whether it might be a useful way to get what he wanted from her and began to formulate his plan to regain control of her. He skimmed the text of the interview, pausing only when it mentioned him.