THE MAGIC LABYRINTH

SECTION 11

The Final Duel: Burton vs. Bergerac

38

THE EVENTS IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE EXPLOSION IN THE boiler deck set off by Burton's group were swift, confusing, and blurred. For some time, Burton was either chasing or being chased, attacking or retreating. Mostly, he was retreating, since the enemy usually outnumbered them. By the time that Burton's group was forced into the great room of an armory, it was larger than when it had started. Though it had lost eight, it had picked up enough so that it now counted thirteen men and ten women. For all he knew, these were the only survivors of the Rex.

Neither side had any ammunition left for their firearms. From now on it would be cold steel only. The enemy withdrew to rest and to get their wind back. They also had to confer. The entrance to the armory was two and a half men wide, and storming it would be very difficult.

Burton looked over the array of arms and decided to discard his cutlass for an e'pee. This was a sword with a triangular edgeless blade three feet long. Its guard was bell-shaped; from the slightly curving handle protruded two wooden stops for better gripping. Burton tried the temper of the blade by placing its point against a beam of wood and bending it. The blade formed an arc to within a foot of the shell and sprang back to a straight line when the pressure was released.

The armory stank much of sweat and blood and not a little of urine and feces. It was also surprisingly hot. He removed his armor except for his helmet, and he urged the others to emulate him, though he wouldn't order them to do it.

"When we get to the deck, we won't have time to shuck off our iron," he said. "We'll have to dive into The River the moment we get to the open deck. It'll be much easier taking off the armor now than when you're in The River."

One of the women was the lovely Aphra Behn, no longer so lovely. Gunpowder smoke grimed her face; sweat and blood had made streaks and splashes on the blackened skin; her eyes were red with powder and fatigue; one eye was twitching. She said, "The boat must be sinking. If we don't get out soon, we'll drown."

Though she looked hysterical, her voice was calm enough, considering the circumstances.

"Yaas, I know," Burton drawled. He considered for a minute. They were on the B deck, and the A deck was probably filled with water by now. It wouldn't be long before this deck would be awash.

He strode to the hatch and stuck his head around its corner. The lights were still on in the corridor. There was no reason why they should go out since they were being fed from the batacitor. This would operate even if it was under water.

There was no one alive in the corridor. The enemy must be hiding in the rooms nearby, waiting until the Rexites tried to sally out.

"I'm Captain Gwalchgwy

No one answered. He shouted his request again, then stepped out into the passageway. If anyone was just inside the open doors near the armory, he couldn't see them.

Had they gone to the two ends of the corridor and were waiting around the corners, hoping to surprise them?

It was then that he saw water flowing toward him. It was only a film, but it would soon be swelling.

He called to the guards at the hatchway. "Tell the others to come on out! The Clemensites have left!"

He didn't have to explain to his people what had happened. They saw the water, too.

"Save himself who can," he said. "Get to the shore as best you may. I'll be joining you later."

He led them to the railing and said good-bye and good luck before they plunged in.

"Dick," Aphra said, "Why are you staying?"

"I'm looking for Alice."

"If the boat sinks suddenly, you'll be trapped in it."

"I know."

He didn't wait for her to jump in but began his search at once. He ran down the passageways calling out her name, stopping now and then to listen for her voice. Having covered this deck, he climbed the grand staircase to the grand salon. This occupied one-fourth of the stern area of the hurricane deck as did the grand salon of the Rex. But it was much larger. It was ablaze with ceiling and chandelier lights, even though blasts had blown many out or apart. Despite the damage from the explosions and the few mutilated corpses, it was very impressive.

He stepped inside and looked around. Alice was not here unless she was behind the immensely long bar or under or behind the smashed grand pianos or billiards tables. There seemed to be no reason for him to stay, but he was held for a few seconds by the grandeur of this room. Like its counterpart on the Rex, it had known many years of laughter, wit, humor, flirting, intrigue, gambling often playful but sometimes desperate, trysts of love and hate, music composed and played by some of Earth's masters, drama and comedy high and low on the stages. And now... It was a shameful loss, something to be very much regretted.

He started to cross the salon but stopped. A man had entered the great doorway of the other end. He paused when he saw Burton. Then, smiling, he walked jauntily toward him. He was an inch or two taller than Burton, greyhound-thin, and had extraordinarily long arms. His skin was blackened with smoke, his nose was very large, and his chin was weak. Despite this, his smile made him look almost handsome.

His glossy black ringleted hair fell to his shoulders. He wore only a black kilt and red riverdragon-leather calf-high boots, and his right hand gripped the hilt of an epe'e.

Burton had a swiftly passing dejd vu, a feeling that this meeting had happened a long time ago and under just such circumstances. He had encountered the man before and he had been hoping he would again. The long-healed wound in his thigh seemed to burn at the memory.

The man halted when he was twenty-five feet from Burton. He spoke loudly in Esperanto. It had a trace of French and a smidgeon of American English intonation.

"Ah, sinjoro, it's you! The very talented, perhaps endowed-with-genius swordsman with whom I crossed blades during the raid upon your vessel so many years ago! I introduced myself then as a gentleman should. You surlily refused to identify yourself. Or perhaps you failed to do so because you thought that I wouldn't recognize your name. Now..."

Burton advanced one step, his sword hanging almost straight down from his hand. He spoke in Parisian French circa A.D. 1650.

"Eh, monsieur. I was not sure when you made your introduction that you were truly whom you said you were. I thought that perhaps you might be an impostor. I admit now that you are indeed either the great monomachist Savinien de Cyrano II de Bergerac or someone who could be Castor to his Pollux and is his match in swordsmanship."

Burton hesitated. He might as well give his true name now. It was no longer necessary to use a pseudonym.

"Know, monsieur, that I am Captain Richard Francis Burton of the marines of the Rex Grandissimus. On Earth I was knighted by Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of the British Empire. This was not for making a fortune in commerce but as acknowledgment of my explorations in the far parts of the Earth and my many services to both my country and humanity. Nor was I unknown among the swordsmen of my time, which was the nineteenth century."

"Helas, you would not have been also known for being long-winded, would you?"

"No, nor for possessing a huge nose," Burton said.

The man's teeth shone whitely.

"Ah, yes, always the reference to the proboscis. Well, know, monsieur, though I was not honored by my sovereign, Louis XIII, I was dubbed a genius by a queen even greater than yours, by Mother Nature herself. I wrote some philosophical romances which I understand were being read centuries after I died. And, as you obviously are aware, I was not unknown among the great swordsmen of my time, which gave birth to the greatest swordsmen of any time."