Read Swans Over the Moon for Free Online Page B

juggled pins, even the flaming
explosions of fire-eaters filled the air. The carnival ruckus
echoed off the chamber walls at an almost intolerable volume. The
Judicar became dizzy with sensory overload. He spun to avoid the
bumps and jostling of the dancing press, inadvertently joining the
dance himself while trying to pass through it, caught up in the
churn.
    Heterodymus was doubly vexed by the movement
and soon fell to one knee, overcome by a wave of nausea.
    The Judicar briefly spotted his servant just
as Dexter, quickly followed by Sinistrum, disappeared beneath the
whirlpool of bodies. He pushed toward the twin, indiscriminately
groping arms, clothing, and clumps of hair in a desperate attempt
to reach his adviser. He slipped in a pool of some liquid and
immediately plunged to the room's dark marble where he slid amongst
a thick puddled mixture of beer, blood, wine, and other,
less-identifiable fluids. He tried to claw his way back up again,
but the seeming hundreds of boots and sandals refused to let him
stand. He looked up into a sea of legs that threatened to trample
him like a vineyard grape into the slurry beneath. His breathing
quickened as his fingers, arms, and legs were stepped on, sometimes
intentionally stomped on. He suffered a battery of kicks,
accidental and otherwise, to the ribs, face, and groin. Panic
buzzed behind his eyes, a beehive of “Get out!” resonating in his
skull. He went numb, his vision temporarily blacking out as he made
one last attempt to stand. He succeeded in getting to all fours,
but was almost immediately thrust flat to his belly again, with
several feet to the back and neck.
    A gong sounded – in his head? Or was it
really the sound of a gong somewhere beyond the din of the deadly
crowd? His ears had become unreliable because of the ringing that
stung his drums.
    Instantly, the noise subsided, like a
candle-flame doused by an ocean wave. The voices grew somber,
hushed, then completely silent. The revelers left the throne room
without a word, leaving footprints behind in a layer of mixed
alcohol and bodily fluid as the only evidence of their passing. The
Judicar was surprised to find Heterodymus, whom he thought
incapacitated, or worse, and helped the counselor to his feet. He
leaned heavily on the twin, head still reeling. His knees nearly
buckled as the doors once again opened in response to Lady Euler's
hand clapping. Her face continued to show a stern, unemotional
resolve.
    The Procellarian pair braced themselves for
another onslaught, but were surprised when only a handful of
figures emerged from the side doors, all, save one, with black
stockings pulled over their heads to obfuscate their identities.
The masked ones were the behavioral opposite of the crowd that had
just left. They carried themselves with a grim air of
circumspection and dignity. The Judicar recognized, with an audible
shock, the lone un-masked member of the party – his own Deputy of
Commerce. He was bound in iron manacles and leg chains. Two of the
five hooded figures handled him roughly, pushing him to his knees
on the slick floor, which caused him to tear leg muscles as he
slipped in the muck. The deputy was terrified, eyes large with fear
and body pained from the lashing he had received earlier, as
evinced by the bloody stripes that showed beneath his tattered
clothing.
    “My liege!” the quaking deputy said in a
trembling, pleading voice.
    “Vadrich?” the Judicar asked with concern
more than reassurance. Then, turning to his daughter, he said “What
is this?”
    “The prisoner will answer. Speak well,
mongrel!”
    The shaking deputy spoke in muted tones,
deathly afraid to say the wrong words in the wrong manner.
    “My liege, most high Judicar, after your
departure for this place I was accosted in the basements of the
ministry while searching for a set of records regarding our trading
relationship with Marius C, the prince your daughter was to marry .
. .” He stopped in mid-sentence, caught in