The Stranger's Shadow Page 19

  “Have you read today’s Royal Voice?” Sir Juffin Hully fired the question at me as I crossed the threshold.

  “Certainly not. Don’t you know how I read the papers? I have my own method. First, the paper has to lie around for a while on my desk—I’d say no fewer than half a dozen days. It’s always good if it has been trampled on a bit. This increases the information density. It’s also a good thing if they’ve tried to throw it away a few times, and I heroically rescued it from the hands of a trembling janitor. Only after every point in this ritual has been observed do I get down to reading it. By then the news has lost its relevance. It has become history, one might say. Thus, instead of trivial rubbish intended for mass consumption, I read a virtual chronicle of bygone days. What do you think of my method?”

  “I approve,” Juffin said. “I like everything you do without exception. Observing you is like watching cartoons. Nevertheless, you should acquaint yourself with the contents of today’s issue without delay. Congratulations, Lord Fanghaxra. Your heroic people won the war against the whatchamacallits . . . you know . . . Oh, a hole in the heavens above me!”—Juffin jabbed at the paper—“the Manooks! Those fellows really went overboard with their gift for you, didn’t they, Max?”

  “For me? As far as I remember, His Majesty King Gurig VIII was the only one who stood to gain anything from this war. Let him be the one to rejoice,” I said with a yawn. Then I grew indignant. “Wait a minute. Why do I have to get that kind of news from a newspaper? I’m their sovereign. Where is the official delegation of my loyal subjects? They’re supposed to appear before my stern but benevolent gaze to boast of their achievements and congratulate me with the victory. No?”

  “I think he’s caught on,” Juffin said, laughing. “Don’t worry, Scourge of the Steppes. A delegation of your subjects is already on the way. The publisher of the Royal Voice has a good friend in the suite of the Dark Sack. And both of them, in contrast to your brave nomads, have a command of Silent Speech. This means that Sir Rogro receives information from the Barren Lands even before His Majesty Gurig does. Then again, that’s his job, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I said uncertainly, “and he’s good at it. So these brave lads are coming here any day now? And I’ll have to sit through a formal reception on the occasion of victory and all that jazz? Bummer.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid you won’t be able to get away with a casual half-hour chat this time around,” Juffin said. “You’ll get over it, though. It won’t be today, nor even tomorrow, so you can forget about it for the time being.”

  He rolled up the newspaper, then placed it carefully on the floor and stomped on it a few times. Then he handed me the desecrated publication, straightened out the folds of his silver looxi in a stately manner, and headed for the door.

  “Judging by the dreamy expression on your face, you are making your way to the Street of Old Coins,” I said.

  “What superhuman perspicacity,” the boss said. “‘Judging by the expression on your face,’ he says. I go there every evening, and you know it. Good night, Max.”

  “Good it will be,” I said in a conciliatory tone and sat down in the now unoccupied armchair. I unrolled the flattened newspaper. Juffin had really gone overboard with the stomping.

  The night was suspiciously uneventful. All signs pointed to something nasty that was about to happen—something like, say, a dress rehearsal for the End of the World.

  We had basically been twiddling our thumbs since spring. I couldn’t remember when the Secret Investigative Force had been spared unpleasantness for such a long stretch. All my colleagues had managed to finagle dozen-day vacations for themselves, hightail it somewhere, and return here. Now they were already getting cabin fever again. All of them but Juffin and me. The boss continued acquainting himself with the cinematographic arts of my homeland, and I held down the fort in our office at the House by the Bridge. In fact, this suited me to a T. There’s something soothing about reporting daily for work. At that time, for better or for worse, it replaced the hard ground that I could hardly remember ever having under my feet.

  The morning brought no alarming news, however. The same could be said of the following day and night. The lull continued for a few more days, until the arrival of my subjects.

  Lady Xeilax’s call reached me at sunrise. I had just managed to doze off in my armchair, but her Silent Speech jolted me awake. Until then, not one of the sisters had sent me a call, although Tekki had been boasting for a long time about how easy it had been to teach the girls this skill. They were already quite uninhibited around me these days. Life in the Capital of the Unified Kingdom and regular contact with the dubious characters from the Secret Investigative Force would probably put anyone at ease.

  Excuse me for disturbing you at this hour, but a delegation of your subjects headed by my uncle—Barxa Bachoy—has just arrived at the Furry House, she said.

  Fine, I said. I’m glad they’ve come. Please help them settle in. I’ll be there in the evening.

  Again, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but these people have come to tell you about their victory, Xeilax objected. It has long been our custom for the commander who won the war to greet his king with the Victory Dance. And Barxa Bachoy has already begun his dance. You know, Sir Max, the dance has many complex moves, and uncle Barxa, unfortunately, is getting on in years. I doubt he’ll last till evening.

  But can’t he just retire to a room to rest and begin toe-tapping again toward evening?

  The Victory Dance cannot be interrupted once it has begun. Uncle Barxa could fall under an eternal curse!

  Got it. I’m on my way. Thanks for the heads-up, Xeilax. And you were so good to send me a call. I’m really very grateful.

  I took a hefty swig of Elixir of Kaxar—without that wondrous concoction I would have perished long ago—and sent a call to Kofa. He was the only person I could disturb at that hour without terrible pangs of conscience.

  Could you take over here? I said.

  Has something finally happened? He was excited.

  Yes, but not to us. Just to me. The time has come for me to fulfill my duties as sovereign.

  Poor kid, Sir Kofa said with honest sympathy.

  At that moment I felt just as sorry for myself.

  I parked the amobiler a block away from the Furry House. It was impossible to get any nearer—a herd of menkals was ambling about, blocking the road. Their antlers were bedecked with a record number of trinkets. I assumed they must have been trophies of war.

  Several dozen nomads awaited me in my house. Since the time I had taught them to tie their headscarves like pirate bandannas instead of babushkas, the Xenxa warriors had acquired some sense of style. Now all I had to do was teach them to stop dragging around their enormous sacks everywhere they went. Well, and their knee-length bellbottoms didn’t quite fit the image of fierce nomad warriors who reigned supreme on the field of battle. The hems of their trousers could be let out to, say, calf length so they could get used to the change gradually.

  My plans for government reform were not exactly what you would call ambitious.

  At one time I had announced to my subjects that I would always confer with them sitting on the threshold of the reception hall. I said the sovereign occupied the space between his people and the heavens to separate and protect one from the other—I was on a roll when I came up with that one.

  Now I had to follow protocol. I sat down cross-legged on the threshold. A bearded giant, the ferocious commander Barxa Bachoy, made a beeline for me with a mincing ballet step not at all in keeping with his demeanor. From time to time he executed a dexterous little leap that ended in a somersault. I was astonished at the ease with which such a hulk of a fellow could defy gravity. In fact, it was beyond belief.

  When he was very near, he carried out such an intricate sequence of flips that I began wondering whether my eyes had deceived me. After this, however, Barxa Bachoy ceased challenging the laws of nature with his acrobatics and stood rooted to
the spot in a reverential pose.

  “We have been victorious, O Fanghaxra!” he said, raising his hairy, muscular arms to the sky. “We smeared the Manooks and captured Esra, their leader. Along with him we captured his brothers, sons, daughters, servants, and menkals.”

  “His menkals, too?” I said.

  It was the first time I had encountered such an attitude toward enemy steeds.

  “Yes, the menkals, too,” my “general” insisted. “We banned the Manooks from pitching their tents by the holy springs of your lands, we banned them from raising their prayers to your heavens, we ordered them and their children to remove their hats, we received one thousand sacks of tribute from the Manooks, and we told these poor people to remain at home, awaiting your commands in fear.”

  “In fear—right-o,” I said, trying to stay serious.

  “You have brought us luck and victory, sire,” said Barxa Bachoy.

  “And you have brought me luck and victory. Good job.” My speech-making skills were wanting, but I gave it my best shot.

  “What should we do now, sire? Command us.”

  My general spoke with such fervor that I grew ashamed of my own frivolous indifference to the matter. Should I die, for Pete’s sake, and be born again a new man?

  “Now you must rest,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else. “You have traveled a long road and are weary, so you must sleep a good sleep. I haven’t had much sleep myself, as a matter of fact. I suggest we continue our discussion in the evening. In my palace you will find plenty of chambers and servants, and you will all be very comfortable. If you should need something, don’t hesitate to ask. You are my honored guests.”

  Then I had a brilliant idea. Arriving at one of the local taverns with these handsome lads in tow—what a spectacle that would be!

  “I hereby invite you to dine with me,” I said.

  “What an honor, sire,” Barxa Bachoy said, breathless with awe. “Never before has a king of the Xenxa shared a meal with his subjects. Heretofore, even the royal family was only permitted to observe this marvelous event while seated on the threshold.”

  “That may be, but you deserve this honor,” I said. “I’ll fetch you at sundown and we’ll set out together. For now, take your rest.”

  When I had finished my royal duties, I hightailed it home, to the little bedroom above the Armstrong & Ella. I hoped that any further call of royal duty could wait until noon, at least.

  Strange as it may seem, wait it did. I didn’t get a single call demanding that I dash off somewhere on the double. When I woke up, I felt wonderful, as though I had managed to come by a brand-new body.

  “I’ve already read the morning papers. Looks like a whirlwind of social activity has commenced for you,” said Tekki.

  She had guessed that I was awake and was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. In the bright light of the noonday sun, her silhouette looked almost transparent. Still groggy from sleep, I almost doubted her reality and felt a jolt of alarm. If there was anything I feared, it was that I would one day discover she was only a clump of preternatural, silvery mist like her ghostly siblings.

  But Tekki was real. In the flesh. I had been seeing things.

  “I’m still hoping that my social life won’t be too frenzied,” I said, smiling, and embraced my beautiful mirage. “But tonight I plan to treat my subjects to dinner. I just haven’t decided which little tavern is fated to endure our intrusion. Maybe you can suggest a place? Do you have any sworn enemies among your fellow tavern keepers, honey?”

  “I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemies. The main thing is not to bring them here.”

  “Magicians forbid. Did you think I’d drag my vassals to a two-bit dive where you can’t even get a morsel of food? These fellows are ignorant barbarians, of course, but they’re still decent family men and not some worthless boozers.”

  I could have continued my tirade for another hour or two, but I was forced to shut up. In a most pleasant way, I might add.

  Still, half an hour later I was already sitting in Juffin’s office. I was scheduled to pay a visit to His Majesty Gurig VIII to receive further instructions for the nomads, and the boss had agreed to accompany me. So sweet of him. Let’s just say that even though I had managed to travel unaccompanied through the Corridor between Worlds and wander around the Dark Side, that still didn’t mean I was ready to venture into Rulx Castle all alone. It would be easier to die, as our idiosyncratic Arvaroxian friends were wont to say.

  “All right, let’s get going,” Juffin said, stuffing a pile of self-inscribing tablets into his desk drawer. “If I don’t escape this scribbling duty soon, I’m going to mutiny and join some conspiracy or other.”

  “And that will be the beginning of the end of the Unified Kingdom,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  When we went outside, Juffin headed toward my amobiler but then seemed to change his mind.

  “The castle is a stone’s throw away, and it would be a shame not to stroll along the Royal Bridge on a day like this. The weather is perfect.”

  “But why is the king expecting us in Rulx Castle?” I said. “The king is usually in his summer residence at this time of year.”

  “Our king is simply capricious, like anyone with a bit of life in him. And this summer the king is really living it up. He announced that the interiors of Anmokari Castle were in dire need of a makeover. Moreover, he has had sudden urges on a daily basis to admire the panorama of the Left Bank as seen from the window of King Mynin’s study on the top floor of Rulx Castle. In short, Gurig has flatly refused to move to his summer residence, and I support him in this decision. If you consistently follow convention, you risk losing your wits.”

  “Yes, you do,” I said, like one who knows.

  Once inside the castle, we were surrounded by ancient walls steeped in the alarming scent of forgotten mysteries. Stern bearded sentries threw garments woven from a sort of metallic netting over our shoulders. These symbolized our helplessness before the might of this hallowed place. Then we were seated on palanquins—the means of transport that royal etiquette decreed for the express “comfort” of every visitor to the castle, but which defied common sense, as far as I was concerned. After this, we were borne away to the Minor Royal Reception Hall.

  His Majesty Gurig VIII was off on his break, officially mandated by royal protocol. We had to wait for him almost ten minutes. The king was in such a splendid mood that I couldn’t help but envy him. It seemed that he considered the modest victory of my touching subjects over their neighboring tribe to be a historic occasion of major importance.

  “Everything is simply marvelous. We’ve been very lucky with these nomads of yours, Sir Max,” said the king, indicating that we should sit down in some comfy armchairs by the window. “I must admit I didn’t expect them to conquer the Manooks so easily. Apart from them, the Xenxa had never had any serious rivals. The Chancellory of Concerns of Worldly Affairs claims that your subjects and the Manooks are the only sizable tribes inhabiting the Barren Lands. Other peoples number only four or five dozen men, women, and children. It is hardly likely that they will unite against a common enemy, and if they do it will be too late. By that time the Barren Lands will already have become our territory. Here, take this,” he said, holding out to me a pile of papers. “These are instructions for your general. He’s done us proud, this Sir Barxa Bachoy. I have half a mind to keep such a commander for myself.”

  “He’s already working for you as it is,” I said.

  “You are very right, Max. Now let them know that they must subjugate all the Barren Lands. They should be able to do so in a trice. That bunch of papers I gave you contains a detailed map of the Barren Lands. Indicated on it are arable land, water supplies, and populated (in a manner of speaking) areas. I found an erudite courtier familiar with the cartography of the Xenxa to make it, so your subjects won’t have any problems. Sir Mulex swears up and down that this is so, in any case. Give your people one year to com
plete the task. My advisers assure me that even half a year would suffice, but why burden the people unnecessarily? One year will suit me just fine.”

  “Matters of state should not be rushed. Otherwise they don’t carry enough weight,” I piped up.

  “You are absolutely right, Sir Max,” said Gurig. “I always said you would make an excellent monarch. Well, shall we consider the matter decided? I hope you’ll agree to drink something in my company, gentlemen?”

  “Have no fear,” Juffin said. “This, dare I say, colleague of yours can drink a sea of kamra at one sitting. Especially when he is a guest at someone’s table.”

  “A very admirable quality,” the king said earnestly.

  “Pardon me, Your Majesty,” I said. “One more matter, to conclude our discussion. My subjects are asking me what they should do with the conquered Manooks. It’s all the same to me, but . . .”

  “Me too. They may eat them, if that would be your pleasure.”

  “I don’t think that would really be our pleasure,” I said, distraught.

  “If your people do not wish to eat their captives, let them bring their king here to the Capital,” Gurig said. “He must swear eternal fealty to you, according to the customs of the steppe tribes. Then let the people live as they see fit. The main thing is that they don’t interfere in our efforts to subjugate the Barren Lands. Now I propose that we change the topic. Sir Hully, you promised last spring to tell me the story of the Lonely Shadows, and I still haven’t heard it. Perhaps now is the time?”

  For the next hour I enjoyed life to the hilt. I guzzled the royal kamra and listened raptly to the story of my own adventures. The king gazed at Juffin like a child listening to a fairy tale at its grandmother’s knee.