Spell of Intrigue | Page 3

and raised them to his forehead, crossed his eyes, and pinched gingerly in the midst of the glob of wax coagulating above his eyebrows. He was rewarded by a quick sizzle that faded off into a gurgling hiss. "You missed one," the Lion said.
"It's your own damn fault," said his adversary. "Chalk it up as a lesson in humility. Who the hell ever accomplished anything with one of those big grandstanding moves in the first place?"
"I'll have you know I once ambushed a bear. "
"By falling off a lighting fixture? And which scar did that one leave you with, hmm?"
The Lion snorted. "Shut up and help me off the floor. My back's killing me. And toss me one of those towels." A moment's leverage, suitably applied, resulted in the Lion becoming vertical once again. He draped the towel over his naked chest and led the way to the sideboard. "I've got half a mind to join you," he said after a moment, easing the words out around a large chunk of roast beef. "I've missed the last two Knittings, and the one before that must have been, oh, twenty, twenty-five years ago."
"Sure," Max said, "go ahead, come. Forget all that stuff you were telling me last week about how you're the only responsible force holding this city together and getting the warehouses rebuilt on schedule, not to mention the good government seminar you're putting your old friend Kaar through. Let Roosing Oolvaya sink back into the river - who needs it anyway?"
The Lion glared at him, an effect somewhat spoiled by the protruding cud of half-chewed meat in one cheek. "It's my kids," he said, "I should never have had kids in the first place. That was the beginning of the end. They warp your whole sensibility. You should have some."
"You forget," said Max, "I do have some. I have yours. Don't think I don't regret it, either."
The Lion resumed chewing, a look of satisfaction on his face. He might have been the one who'd ended up flat on his back on the floor, but that didn't mean he was the one who'd lost. "So, you think you can teach my son something?"
"He's got two arms and a brain, and at least a full complement of normal senses," Max said cautiously. "I don't see why not. Should be able to put a little maturity on him, at any rate, if he doesn't get carved up first."
A rather feral grin curled the left side of the Lion's mouth. He ran the towel over his forehead, catching the sheen of water draining down past his headband from his long black hair. "You studied with no master you'll lay name to, you fight in a mad hodgepodge without recognizable style, no part of the room is safe from you, either, and on top of that you know the value of life - by damn, I like that in a man! Are you sure you're not my son?"
Max raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Lion. True, they were about the same height, and they both had straightish black hair, although Max's ran more toward the wavy and the Lion's was running significantly toward gray, but Max had a lighter, more lithe build than the Lion's heavy-boned, mass-of-the-earth eastern-plains solidity. Max was also fully at home with the company of a highly functioning mind. The Lion, Max had discovered, had a brain with which no one could find fault, but was reticent to the point of pulling teeth about actually using it, rather than the largest convenient sword or the nearest wieldable chair. Beyond temperament, there was also the issue of age to consider. "It would seem unlikely," Max said. "Then again, who can say? If you can provide a reasonable inheritance, though, you're welcome to adopt me."
"How did you pick up that nickname anyway, the 'Vaguely Disreputable'?" The Lion had retrieved his sword and was idly using it to cut a thin slice of corned beef from the other large hunk on the serving platter. Suddenly he whirled, flinging the slice of meat off the end of the blade toward Max's eyes and launching the rest of his body after it. Max immediately fell backward and tucked into a roll. He'd been preparing himself for something of the sort, having found that the Lion enjoyed trying to lull his opponent off guard before flailing out in some unexpected attack. The corned beef flew over Max's body and hit the wall behind him but the Lion's sword, following it, slashed down instead.
Max stopped his back somersault perched on his shoulders and reversed direction with a sharpness that implied he'd had this move in mind from the start, springing forward first to a firm-footed crouch, then to a clinch directly up against the charging Lion's