Myth-Told Tales

"Need spare," Chumley announced, reaching for another chair. "Seventen, not easy!" He rolled the chair at the two guards, but they dove for opposite walls. The chair smashed into the wall. "Darn!

"Those are for people awaiting audience," the Tue-Khan said, agog.

"Oh, you don't need those," Cordu said. "I have something better. Bring it in!"

The chef du protocol who led Cordu's entourage raised a hand, and the huge double doors were flung open. Though they were two spear-lengths wide from lintel to lintel, it was still barely enough room for the huge Nobish beasts of burden, who were led in by a couple of ostlers. A dozen Vol Grun guards sprang to help untie the enormous parcels strapped to their backs. These were a pair of twelve-foot padded sofas that resembled giant cockroaches that had been upholstered in green and gold brocade, with piping around every fat, overstuffed cushion and a wealth of tassels at each end. They were arranged to flank a triangular end table possessed of a stunning orange-varnished finish, and overlooked by a skinny brass standard lamp with a marabou-fringed shade in brilliant pink. Tananda had spotted this furniture arrangement as they had passed a flea market on the way out of Vol Grun's capital city. The owner, who had inherited it from his rich aunt, had been on his way to deposit it in the dump. They were so ugly that the moths wouldn't touch them. She had bargained with him, and for less than a gold piece, the duke's party found itself in possession of an experiment in extreme distaste. Cordu's men placed the four pieces facing the throne, about five yards away, and lit the lamp.

"I thought you would be pleased," Cordu said, flinging himself full length upon the left-hand sofa. "I knew that my moving in here would probably strain the facilities, so I brought my own seats. Like them?"

The Tue-Khana looked as though she might faint, but the Tue-Khan smiled weakly.

"They ... will take a little getting used to."

Clearly he was not yet outraged enough to take action. Chumley signaled to Krans to start the next onslaught.

The grinning Imp made a beeline for the king's personal wine rack, under the guard of a butler and sommelier. The two Nobs tried in vain to protect it from him, but he levitated them out of his way.

"Hey, Cordu!" he shouted, holding up a bottle. "Chateau Punding '04. What do you think of this swill?"

"Only the '03 was any good," Cordu replied. "Pour it out!"

"Right-o!" The Imp sent the bottle sailing into the air. The cork seemed to pop, and a cascade of purple liquid glugged down onto the priceless hand-knotted carpet. The two servants ran to intercept it and stop the flow. Krans made the bottle dance around the room just out of their reach. When the last dregs had poured out, he let it drop and chose another.

"How about this one?"

Cordu waved a dismissive hand.

"Vinegar! Get rid of it!"

"His Excellency's favorite!" the butler cried, racing to stop him. Krans lofted up out of his reach. The butler jumped for him, his belly jiggling.

"Aha!" Krans cried, drawing a ceramic jug to him with a wisp of magik. "Finiffian brandy!"

"Ill take some of that," Cordu said. Krans threw him a priceless balloon glass. Cordu caught it just before it hit the ground. The sommelier fainted dead away.

Birkley the Centaur, a good-looking male with a long blond mane and beard, galloped around the room, picking up women and heaving them onto his back.

"May I have this one, Cordu?" he asked. "Or perhaps this one?"

"Take them all!" the heir called back. The ladies screamed and beat at him, but he grabbed their wrists, laughing.

Instead of ordering them rescued, the Tue-Khan stood gawking. Chumley thought he ought to cause a little more havoc. He started toward the wall full of tapestries, roaring.

"I do not like your color scheme!" he bellowed. He yanked the colorful hangings down. They fell on his head. He tore his way out through a seam, and lurched out of them, toward a wall full of gleaming glass vases and sculptures. The Tue-Khana followed him, pleading.

"Not my granny's crystal, please!"

At the last moment, Chumley veered off, and headed toward a suit of armor on a stand. He kicked and tore at it until the pieces were scattered all over the costly rug.

"Not fit me!" he shouted. "Discriminatory against Trolls!"

"What is all this?"

Chumley tossed aside the helmet at the sound of the outraged voice. At last, Renimbi had appeared.

Premier Number One Daughter stood in the archway, a look of absolute horror on her face. Horror changed to fury as she scanned the room and spotted Cordu on the ugly couch, drinking. Larica stood by him, head proudly erect, with an expression on her face that boded ill for her husband once the two of them would be alone.

She turned to her father. "What is he doing here?"

"Moving in, it would seem," the Tue-Khan said.

"And you let him!"

"I don't seem to have had a choice, my dear. He ... he brought all of his friends. And some furniture."