When Dennis' torso was free again to expand and twist without the armor's constriction, memory of the battle he'd fought began to blur away. It was as if he'd dreamed it, the acid and the vision of Chester flailing in the blue-white grip of a thunderbolt...
"What good would that do, Chester?" Dennis whispered. "Her knowing and me knowing... There's nothing we could do to change the others' minds."
"Lift your foot," said the robot, "that I may take off your boots, Dennis."
"We'll go back to the city," the youth said in a reverie. His mind was melding what had happened yesterday and today with what would happen tomorrow. "We'll see. And if Rakastava returns—"
"As Rakastava will return, Dennis; depend on it."
"—then they'll all see."
CHAPTER 49
Dennis sat at the end of a table adjacent to the one now reserved for Gannon, Conall—and Aria.
The trophies, their manes knotted together, rested on the board before the King's Champion. The jaws of the head severed the day before were open. The tongue had lolled out and was beginning to shrivel. A faint odor of decay permeated the air near Gannon.
"Say," said the middle-aged man next to Dennis on the bench. "You're the boy who herds the cows, aren't you?"
Dennis looked at him. "I herd the cows, yes," he said softly. "What is it that you do?"
The man's hair swept back like the waves of a calm, gray sea. His moustache and beard were full and perfectly kept. "Why," he said, tapping his breastplate, "I'm Dalquin. I'm a member of the King's Guard."
The breastplate was silver, delicately etched with scenes of hunting. Dennis couldn't recognize many of the animals being pursued through the stylized forest, nor were the shapes of the trees familiar to him.
The silver was soft and thin enough to pierce with a dinner fork. It flexed slightly where it attempted to confine Dalquin's paunch.
"Yes," Dennis said. "But what do you do?"
Before the non-plussed citizen could find an answer, Gannon stood up at the royal table. Rakastava's heads wobbled as Gannon lifted them as high as his arm could reach, buoyed by the cheering room.
Dennis looked from the champion to Aria, seated at Gannon's left side as though she were already his queen. She met Dennis' eyes briefly, then stared at her folded hands instead.
Gannon let the heads drop with a thump. King Conall jumped a little. He wore a smile that became a little doubtful whenever his control slipped.
"I have defeated the monster again," Gannon cried, pausing for the enthusiastic response from citizens whose hearts turned cold at the very thought of following the steps down into the dank, deadly cavern beneath the city.
"When the monster realized that I was getting the better of him again," the champion continued with a meaningful glance at Aria, "he tried to slip past and take the princess instead of facing me. I forestalled him—but it was a near thing."
Aria's fingers were interlaced in her lap. The tips squeezed white dimples on the backs of the opposite hand. In all the great hall, only she and Gannon understood the threat—
And Dennis, watching them and toying with the pommel of his sword.
"If the monster dares return—" Gannon continued; but his voice broke and his face went sallow as the lights dimmed.
The champion sat down as suddenly as if he'd been hamstrung. Everyone watched the center of the hall.
Everyone except Aria and Dennis.
"Little men, little men," Rakastava thundered. "Do you think you've cause to cheer?"
Nothing but echoes answered the creature.
Dennis raised his eyes from Aria's perfect beauty. Both of Rakastava's injured necks had shriveled away to stubs that wobbled when the creature's body moved. The right forelimb extended slowly, shooting out its glittering claws as if for the citizens to admire them.
Rakastava's body was an orange blaze. The eyes in its remaining head were pits down to the red heart of anger.
"Mark the Princess Aria well tonight," said the glowing image. "For tomorrow morning she must come to me, and you will never see her again... or her champion."
The hot orange light beating from Rakastava's image was brighter than the normal lighting that returned as the creature faded back into the air.
Citizens got up from their benches and began to mill and stretch. Dalquin walked over to Gannon and clapped the champion on the shoulder, blustering words of congratulation and certainty.
At least Dalquin could be sure that he wouldn't be facing Rakastava alone in the morning.
Well, Gannon wouldn't be facing the monster alone either; but Gannon couldn't be sure of that or of anything except his own fear.
"Chester," the youth said to the robot curled at his feet, "I think it's time for us—"