Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [159]
" . . . can't imagine what it's about," a male tenor was exclaiming. "Unless it's my investiture as Squire of Honor to the Ducal Manicure coming through at last . . ."
"Gracious knows it's about time my appointment as Second Honorary Tonsorial Artist in Attendance on the Ducal Moustache was confirmed," a fruity baritone averred. "But what a curious hour for the ceremony . . ."
"Since his Grace has no moustache, you may be waiting quite a while, Fauntley," an acid voice suggested. "But—hark—they're coming . . ."
"Sst! Are you all right?" Lorenzo's call hissed from above. Lafayette craned upward, could see nothing but the dark bulk of the overhanging cornice.
From inside sounded a flourish of trumpets. There was a spatter of polite handclapping, followed by a sonorous announcement in an incomprehensible nasal. Then Duke Rodolpho's reedy voice spoke up faintly: " . . . gathered here . . . this auspicious occasion . . . pleasure and honor to present . . . a few words . . . careful attention . . ."
More polite applause, then a sudden hush.
"I'll not mince words," Goruble's voice rang out. "A state of dire emergency exists. Prompt measures are called for . . ." As the voice droned on, the rope to which O'Leary clung began to shake. Seconds later, Lorenzo appeared, descending rapidly.
"Slow down!" Lafayette hissed, as a pair of sharp-cornered boots slammed against his clavicles.
"Hssst, Lafayette! Where are you?"
"You're standing on me, you idiot!" Lafayette managed between teeth clenched in agony. "Get off!"
"Get off?" Lorenzo hissed back. "Onto what?"
"I don't care what! Just do it—before I lose my grip and we both go down!"
There were huffings and puffings from above. One foot lifted from O'Leary's pained flesh, then the other.
"All right—I'm clinging like a human fly to a crack you couldn't hide a dime in," Lorenzo whispered shakily. "Now what?"
"Shut up and listen!"
" . . . for this reason, I have decided to honor the lady in question by making her my bride," Goruble was announcing in unctuous tones. "You have been chosen to witness this felicitous event as an indication of my high esteem for your loyalty, to say nothing of your keen judgment, which tells you when to join in the spirit of the occasion." He paused ominously. "Now, is there anyone present who knows of any reason why I should not be instantly joined in holy matrimony to the Lady Andragorre?"
"Why, the dirty, double-crossing rat!" Lafayette burst out.
"Why, you dirty, double-crossing rat!" an angry shout sounded from within—in the unmistakable tones of Duke Rodolpho. "This wasn't part of our agreement, you slimy little upstart!"
"Seize the traitor!" Goruble bellowed.
"What's happening?" Lorenzo whispered as bedlam broke out within.
"Krupkin plans to marry Lady Andragorre, the swindler! Rodolpho is objecting, and Krupkin's objecting to his objecting!"
The babble from within had risen to a clamor reminiscent of a traffic jam. Goruble's shouted orders mingled with screams, curses, Rodolpho's bellows of outrage. There was a scrape and a crunch, and Lorenzo was jostling Lafayette on his fragile perch.
"Out of the way," he yelled. "Just wait until I get my hands on that kidnapping, confidence-betraying, bride-stealing son of a rachitic fry cook!"
"Hey," Lafayette yelled as his fellow eavesdropper thrust against him, nearly dislodging him from his grip. "Hold on!"
"I'll hold on—onto his neck, the lousy little claim-jumper!" Lorenzo's swinging boot contacted glass; it burst in with an explosive crash. An instant later the enraged Lorenzo