Dancing With Bears - Michael Swanwick [129]
“You know everything—and nothing. Why bring up this useless fact?”
“Because there is a rider on the road.”
“Oh?”
“Traveling fast.”
Koschei stood and fixed his keen eyes on the woman leaning low over her steed. Her hair flew out behind her as if her head were on fire. The horse was gasping and overheated. “You should be happy, demon.”
The metal gargoyle did not look up. “How so?”
“That woman is killing the poor beast with overexertion. Another dumb animal dead, and a soul on its way to Hell for her wicked deed. Surely that elates you.”
“You know nothing of Hell. Is your klashny loaded?”
“It is. Why do you ask?”
“Because the rider is none other than General Magdalena Zvyozdny-Gorodoka. In the temporary web of alliances that we have woven, she is our common enemy. The only possible destination she can have is the pump house entrance to the Beklemshev Tower tunnel. The only possible reason for her to enter the Kremlin is to see the Duke of Muscovy.”
“So?”
“If she speaks to the duke, he will tell her of all our plans. Inevitably, she will demand to know how they can be thwarted. No one else could possibly answer such a question. Yet for the Duke of Muscovy, extraordinary feats of analysis are possible. I am instructing my brothers to hurry to his side and kill him first.”
“That is hardly necessary,” Koschei said, rising from his chair.
He raised his klashny and took careful aim.
The first shot sent up sparks by the horse’s front hooves. A little too forward and several feet too low, then. The second shot disappeared into the night. Probably too high. But the third shot took the horse right in the chest. It stumbled and fell, sending the general flying.
Koschei waited until she stopped rolling, and then placed eight shots in her unmoving body.
The Pearls Beyond Price were finally, completely ready. Their clothes and jewelry were perfect from tiaras to slippers, and their hair and makeup were works of art. They looked each other over minutely and were pleased with what they saw.
Then they had their escorts assemble before them.
Enkidu saluted. “We got the six carriages lined up outside. Decorated with swags of flowers, the way you said. Plus the horses’ manes are all plaited and their hooves gilded too.”
“It wasn’t easy painting them hooves either,” Atlas said. “They didn’t much care for it.”
Making a dismissive gesture, Russalka said, “We’ve changed our minds. We only need three coaches. That way there will be one of us at each window to wave to our adoring subjects-to-be, whichever side of the street they happen to be standing on. You may send the others away.”
“Are you planning on going out dressed like that?” Nymphodora asked.
Enkidu looked down at his navy blue uniform. Behind him, the other Neanderthals stood fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot like so many schoolboys. “Well, yeah, kinda.” His voice fell. “Ain’t we?”
Speaking one after the other, Eulogia, Euphrosyne, and Olympias said:
“No. You most definitely are not.”
“You must change into the new livery we had made up for you.”
“Those lovely mauve-and-chartreuse outfits.”
Gargantua looked stricken. “The poofty little hats, too?”
“They’re called berets,” Aetheria said. “Yes, of course you do. It would hardly be a proper ensemble without them. They’re in that chest over there. Now—chop-chop!—strip down and get dressed.”
Blushing, Magog said, “You mean… get naked… right in front of you ladies?”
“Of course. We have to make certain you put the clothes on correctly.”
“Don’t worry,” Nymphodora said, “you won’t be revealing anything we haven’t seen before. In our imaginations, anyway.”
None of the Pearls smiled, exactly. But their eyes all glittered.
The two underlords entered the Terem Palace by way of the long underground passage that led from Chortenko’s mansion. They had re-configured their bodies, reverting to four legs, as though they were still cyberwolves. When they slunk into the Duke of Muscovy’s chamber, the last remnants of the Royal Guard raised