Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [116]
"Ah, ah, Rudy," O'Leary objected. "Cajolery, not force, remember?"
"But force is so much quicker."
"Do you want a whipped slave, sullenly doing your bidding—or a willing petite amie, charmed into your web by your munificence and consideration?"
"Hmmm. The slave approach is probably the more practical, now you mention it."
"Nonsense, Rudy. You want this lovely little piece of ripe fruit to drop into your hand, right? So instead of having a bunch of sweaty soldiers on lathered horses haul her back to you kicking and scratching, you need an envoy who can convey your wishes with the delicacy appropriate to so tender a mission." Lafayette hiccupped and upended the bottle over his glass.
"Egad, son, you're right, as usual." Rodolpho frowned thoughtfully. "But who among this collection of cretins and dullards who surround me can I entrust with the task?"
"You need a man of proven ability, ingenuity, and courage. Somebody who won't sell the horse and auction off the autograph on your letter as soon as he's out of sight of the castle walls. A gentleman-adventurer, resourceful, intrepid, dedicated—"
"What letter?"
"The one you're going to write, to tell her how you've been worshipping her from afar," O'Leary said. He shook the empty bottle and tossed it over his shoulder.
"A capital notion!" Rodolpho exclaimed, and banged the tray again, upsetting the glasses. "But—but what will I say?" He gnawed the outer corner of his left ring finger. "Candidly, my boy—"
"Just call me Lafayette, Rudy."
"I thought it was Lancelot," the duke said. "But never mind. Candidly, as I say, I've never been much of a one for writing flowery language—"
"Where did you get that idea?"
"Why, you suggested it."
"I didn't mean that, I meant the idea my name was Lancelot."
"Lancelot—what about it?" Rodolpho looked blank, then brightened. "Of course!" he exclaimed, expelling a scrap of fingernail from the tip of his tongue. "Just the man for it! You're ingenious, intrepid, and have a sound head on your shoulders. Do you drink?" he asked in an abruptly challenging tone.
"Not when the bottle's empty."
"Excellent. Never trust a man who can't handle his liquor. By the way, the bottle's empty." Rodolpho rose and made his way across the room, bucking powerful crosswinds, opened a cabinet, extracted a fresh fifth, and navigated back to his chair.
"Now, as I was saying: go to this person, Lancelot, pour out your heart to her, explain that it's woman's highest duty to fetch and carry for her lord and master, and that while you can offer her only the miserable life of a serf, she can draw comfort from the fact that she won't live forever."
"That's certainly a persuasive approach," Lafayette said, wrestling the cork from the bottle. "But I had a funny idea it was you that wanted the girl." He frowned, straining to focus his eyes. "Or am I confused?"
"By gad, Lancelot, you're right. I am the one who wants her." The duke shot Lafayette a hostile look. "I must say it's cheeky of you to attempt to try to come between us. The minx is mad about me, but being a trifle shy, I'm thinking of sending a trusted emissary to drag her back billing and cooing. I mean coax her back kicking and screaming."
"A capital idea," Lafayette agreed, pouring a stream of brandy between the two glasses. "Who do you have in mind?"
"Well—how about Groanwelt?"
"Positively not. No diplomatesse, if you know what I mean."
"Lancelot! I've a splendid notion. Why don't you go?"
"Not a chance, Rudy," Lafayette said. "You're just trying to distract me from my real mission."
"What mission?"
"To get you to send me after the Lady Andragorre."
"Out of the question! You presume too far!" Rodolpho grabbed the bottle and splashed brandy across the glasses.
"What about a compromise?" Lafayette suggested with a crafty look.
"What do you have in mind?"
"I'll deliver your letter to the