LUMAR

<!LUMAR. PART 4. ASHES TO ASHES.>

<!Her Majesty Chief Bodyguard dies after two bizarre assassination attempts.>

Lumar is a city of channels and bridges. Dozens of channels and waterways are criss-crossing the city in all directions, making it look like a honeycomb of tiny islands. The whole mess seems to be held together by hundreds of bridges like a patchwork quilt sawn from a multitude of odd pieces, all different in sizes and shapes.

This morning a flat skiff under a small square sail was gliding along high banks of a narrow channel toward the center of the city. Birna and ten junior warrioresses from her unit were going to the palace for today's guard duty.

This early in the morning there was no traffic except a small burial hearse with a casket on its deck coming toward them in the distance, while going in the opposite direction toward the ocean. Another fallen Lumara was being taken to Volcano Island. A hearse like this was the most common thing to see on any of Lumar channels any time of day. With Amazonian wars consuming a generation after generation, a rare Lumara has ever lived to see her 35^th birthday.

Birna was sitting in a low chair under the mast deep in her thoughts. The things were getting complicated at the palace. Nothing serious, just complicated. The Queen didn't like her. Especially after that jungle expedition. OK, she flew of the handle and killed that bitch Lida. She shouldn't have done it, but that's what the slut was asking for all along. With Lida they were long-time enemies. She probably suspected something and was picking fights. Too smart for her own good. She had to go anyway, sooner or later. Now the Queen was getting smart on Birna. Oh, to hell with it! Screw Her Royal Majesty! One of these days she was going to screw her royal.

Birna smiled at the pun and looked at the passing hearse. Wha-a-at the hell!!! She jumped to her feet looking uncomprehendingly at the black box on its deck. The heavy lid of the coffin was being slowly pushed open from inside until it came to rest upright on its hinges. First one, then another white hands appeared and grabbed the black rims. A blonde head followed and finally a slender woman's figure, all wrapped in white burial gauze, rose from inside and stood glaring at the occupants of the skiff.

Two young guards standing at the starboard were gawking at the apparition in a wide-eyed and open-mouthed astonishment. Mitra (it was she, of course) waived friendly to the teens, adding to their confusion. They were standing in the line of attack, blocking her view of Birna. Sorry, guys! Nothing personal! Anyway, they were nobodies, just a couple of Birna's flunkies. She dipped the left hand into the folds of her gauze, produced a handful of throwing knives, and in a quick succession threw two, one after another. True to her aim, she hit both girls straight in the hearts, taking their lives instantly. In perfect though unintended unison, they stood on tiptoes, arched in pain and thrusting out their pierced bosoms, then slowly pivoted on buckling, corkscrewing legs, making a complete about turn, and slid backwards over the skiff's low rail into murky water with hardly a splash. The channel closed over two pairs of spread, outstretched legs with a sound of smacking lips, and the girls were gone without a trace as if never existed. Wow! Mitra was momentarily mesmerized by the weird show, while her right hand, moving almost by itself, took another knife, swung heftily and threw it into the bare chest of Birna, who was standing now completely exposed no more then twelve yards away.

Well, Birna wasn't the youngest Her Majesty chief bodyguard in the history of Lumar just for her big blue eyes. With a gracious half-turn she sidestepped the flipping weapon just far enough for it to miss her by an inch and strike the mast behind her instead. Moving lightning-fast, she took the knife by its jutting handle between her thumb and index finger, plucked from the wood and with a whiplash movement of her hips and lower torso sent it back to its owner. The throw from chest level was technically very difficult, but Birna performed with her usual expertise and hit her target bull-eye. The blade entered Mitra' chest right between two big dark circles of her nipples clearly silhouetted through a semi-transparent gauze.

It's not going right! It's not going right! The phrase was spinning over and over in Mitra's head, as she couldn't take her eyes away from a toothy smile pasted on Birna's perfect face. She grabbed the handle, protruding from her chest, with her right hand as if trying to keep herself upright by holding at it. Gulping for air, she was slowly sinking back down into the open mouth of the coffin. Her left hand groped behind for something to hold to, caught the open lid and pulled it from its precariously balanced position. And finally, as Mitra's body gave up the struggle and slid down, the lid rolled over under its own weight and dropped back in place with heavy and satisfied "thump".

Bye, bye, Mitra! So thoughtful of you to bring your own box along! Now you are all tidy and cozy. Say hello to your sis! Birna couldn't help gloating. Oh boy, what a clown! Both sisters are. Were. Past tense for both of them now, good riddance. At least, one problem less.

Preoccupied by a bizarre assault, the passengers of the skiff failed to notice that several figures with bows appeared on the bridge, under which the boat was currently floating. Definitely Lumaras by their white, well-proportioned bodies and blonde hair, the women overhead were wearing golden beaked masks hiding the upper part of their faces and making them look eerily like some predatory birds. Birna saw the danger too late, only when the first arrow painfully pricked her in the chest. She looked up, stumbled a couple of paces forward, receiving another arrow with each step, and flinging up her arms fell backwards to the deck. For thirty seconds more the figures on the bridge continued to pump arrows into their victims below and then disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. When the skiff came out on the other side, it was a ship of the dead. All Lumaras were sprawled on the deck, motionless, each having exactly three arrows through her heart with feathers of three different colors: green, red and white-

We'll probably never know who were those mysterious masked ladies on the bridge. Lumar folklore has a story of a secret society of assassins who are using bird masks and three arrows with colored feathers as their trademarks. And that some prominent and well-known Lumaras, including (in whisper) even royalty, use sometimes their services in delicate situations. But these are just rumors and fairy tales. And there is always a possibility of copycats. And, then again, did anyone really see those masked figures on that bridge that morning? Now, about the bizarre assassination attempt. Mitra took the death of her older sister Lida really hard, and decided that she liked Birna dead much better than alive. So, she hired a Lumar undertaker to bring a casket with a presumably dead body down to Volcano Island along a certain channel at a certain hour on a certain morning. She figured that was the best way to get close to Birna and catch her by surprise. The plan backfired grossly, and Mitra herself eventually used the services she paid for. The undertaker was completely ignorant of the plot. After her client so suddenly jumped out and then fell back into the coffin, the hearse turned at the first intersection and wove its way for a while through the maze of channels until the Lumara was satisfied that she wasn't followed. Cautiously she opened the casket, made sure that "the dead" was really dead now, pulled the knife from Mitra's body, tidied up her burial gauze and (hell, the ritual was already paid for!) continued toward Kamalata Bay. And Mitra's gauze, knives and very dead self went down the Chimney. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust-