17
The Once-and-Future Emperor
We ate, but for our cellmates we also concealed nuts and fruit in our pockets. When the guards took us back to our cell, we took the approved wooden pitcher and the water with us.
Mawgri and Luvark ate the nuts and fruit and drank the water that we brought. They were very hungry indeed because they had spent the time of the interview taking turns trying to wriggle loose the window’s middle bar and had made progress. We told them what had been discussed in the interview.
Mawgri said, “This has possibilities. Kra wants both of you alive. Do you think you could play the amenable ambassador, Malcolm?”
“Haven’t I been doing that anyway?”
“King Golmon, could you play the deposed and now deranged old ruler?”
“I could.”
“If so, you two might be out of here in a matter of days.”
I said, “But what about you and Luvark?”
“Kra wants us for ransom for money to fund the new empire. However, he wouldn’t trust us outside this cell.”
“What will you do?”
“We will continue working the bar free, and once you two are out of here, we’ll plan a breakout. It’ll actually be easier for just the two of us. If we can subdue two guards, we can disguise ourselves in their armor.”
“But if you escape, we want to go with you.”
“You will. Once you are out, you must locate arbezes for us and warm clothing. If possible, get weapons for yourselves. When the day of the escape is set, we will let you know. Then you must have the animals and clothing ready.”
King Golmon and I played our parts.
My role was relatively easy because I had already been acting as ambassador for many days. After three further theatrical days of musing, listening diplomatically, speaking tactfully, and retiring to deliberate, I agreed with Kra to conduct myself neutrally and as a reward was given a room in an upper floor of the dungeon. A servant came in to trim my hair. Other servants set up a bath with warm water, so I bathed for the first time in many days. My ambassadorial uniform was washed and dried and pressed, but other clothes were given me: a powder blue bodysuit of smur and a shiny mauve toga with a simple silver clasp. My old boots were cleaned and polished, but I was also given a new set of black boots.
This room also had a small window overlooking the meadow where the planes had landed, on which was the encampment of the Radimeen soldiers and the training field for the new recruits, Garfark’s men. Now I could watch at leisure while the newer, smaller imperial army trained. I thought the Radimeen with their gray uniforms over their black-and-white scales were crisp and orderly, sharp and efficient. They all seemed to be dedicated to their mission. Garfark’s men, on the other hand, were blue-and-brown (for the most part) ramblers in appetite, ferocity, and insouciance; sometimes they challenged the limits of their training, but other times they slouched around as if indifferent or even amused at their strutting drill masters. The military culture of the Radimeen clashed with the barbarian thugs of Myunk. I wondered where the loyalties of each inclined. Would those wild warriors follow the arrogant, pretentious Kra?
My room had—besides a bed, a chest, and a dressing table—a writing and dining table with four chairs. I was given writing paper and quill pens, so I began a journal in English. I gained another item for my library; Kra gave me a copy of his book My Struggle to Lead the World to Greatness. It was written in Putkeen, of course, but I was becoming better at both the written and spoken language. I was also given The International Putkeen Dictionary to aid my study.
I ate breakfast and dinner alone in my room, but lunch I ate in a dining hall with Kra and some of his officers. Those lunches were noisy affairs. Although, Kra himself was disciplined in his habits: he ate and drank just enough to nourish himself and did not partake in any merrymaking. He had me sit next to him before the courses were served and tell about my home star system, the inhabited planets (Earth and Mars) and moons (Luna, although others were being terra-formed). His officers, however, imbibed in alcoholic beverages, and ate great quantities of meat and carbohydrates. Garfark and his chiefs outdid them. By the end of the meal, they were talking up the women servants and telling crude jokes and laughing raucously.
At that point, Kra and I would leave and take a postprandial stroll outside the walls of the fort, during which we would talk more of our two star systems and the possibility of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. Kra often embarked upon a ponderous recitation of what his plans for the planet had been and might still be. (I was reminded of Napoleon on St. Helena, Hitler in his bunker, and Wendy Ngolo in her red Martian mountain cavern.) Whenever we passed any of his or Garfark’s troops, they fell to their knees and touched the ground with their foreheads. (Of course, these walks gave me an opportunity to observe the forces and the placement of weapons and ammunition.)
I have to admit that Kra was a compelling personality. He had a quick intelligence and a grasp of both details and the larger picture. However, he had an enormous ego; if he had been born further back in a simpler time, he might have indeed ruled the planet. The opening passage of his book translates as follows:
[I was born to privilege, and at an early age, I knew I was destined for great things. However, no matter one’s birthright, life is a struggle. I learned to struggle against any temptation that distracted me from my goal. I learned that I above all others was gifted with focused strength of will and a superior intelligence. I knew that I was meant to lead multitudes into a greater future.]
I asked him why he had risked war against two of the planet’s greatest powers.
“I had no choice. I knew that their technology was beginning to outstrip mine. That’s why I had to try and stifle Mawgri. I gambled that I might through surprise and overwhelming numbers take an initial advantage that would limit their ability to respond. Besides, my own population was beginning to be restless, and I thought a war against outside enemies would unite them and my allies behind me. It did . . . until we began to lose.”
Thus, I became his partner in conversation and part of his retinue. However, I knew he was too clever to trust me entirely. Every day during our walks, his minions searched my chambers for weapons or any other contraband that I might have concealed, but nothing incriminating was ever found.
King Golmon’s role was more difficult, but showing emotional intelligence and his own strength of will, he gave a convincing performance. First, he stopped eating with the others and would lie on his pallet moaning and crying, “Give me air! Air to breathe! Air to sneeze! Air to float me on my knees!” (We others would sneak him food to eat in the cell.) Then, when a guard was present, he would roll his eyes and ask, “Are you my younger father? Have you come to punish your old child for stealing nectar fruit from our neighbor’s orchard?” Or, he would beg, “Please, please, give me a paddle and a canoe, and I will paddle around the planet on the river of the world! I will bring you great treasures! Oh, please, give me a paddle!” The guards, by order of Kra, reported this strange behavior. Then Golmon waxed his paling coxcomb into rigid strands that stood up and stuck out at crazy angles.
As it happened, the green-and-red scaled guard Filk had been born in Polimeer and had as a young adult ventured out to see the world and become a soldier of fortune. King Golmon’s performances particularly bothered Filk, who had seen the king twenty years ago and remembered him when the king was in his prime and his boys were babies. He called Golmon “Father” and his eyes would tear during the humiliating scenes. One day when the king asked him, “Am I as pretty as your girlfriend? Could you love me?” Filk blurted, “I do love you, ‘Father,’ but it hurts to see you so.” Filk told his superior that the king should be removed from the cell, saying “It’s killing the old king to suffer so. His mind can’t take much more.”
Thus, a week after I had been in my new, comfortable quarters, Kra told me at lunch, “Malcolm, you will have a roommate from this day forward. King Golmon has snapped and his mind has flown away to other worlds. Unfortunately, space is limited in the keep, so I hope you don’t mind too much. He will be in your quarters. I think that little cell in the dungeon was too much for his nerves to take. I will send a woman to help you care for him.”
I replied, “It’s not a problem. I have grown fond of the old man and will consider it a privilege to help him regain some balance.” (I could not have hoped for any better situation; the king and I could connive together.)
That afternoon when I returned to my quarters, Golmon was sleeping in my bed. I let him sleep, which he did until supper was brought in by a female servant, his nurse. She tapped him until he awoke and said, “[Come, Sir, dinner has been brought to you.]”
Staying in manic character, he sat up on the bed and crowed, “Oh, goody! Is it cakes and cookies? Li-li-li-lalu, I want sweet things to chew!”
“[No, Sir, it is more nourishing. You must eat and regain your strength.]”
“Who is that?” He said, pointing at me. He got up and looked me up and down. “Why I believe the fellow is a tax collector or some other odious official.”
The nurse gave me a pitying look.
I said, “[Nurse, let us eat alone. I’ll make sure he eats something.]”
She bowed and left the room.
I stood and the king and I hugged each other as if we were old friends. He licked the top of my head several times. I said, “It’s good to see you, King.”
He said, “Likewise, Malcolm. Our drama is working quite well so far. Now let’s eat. I’m hungry for some really good food.”
We sat and ate gwarg steaks, wyrd salad, and a pie made of tak dough, miki nuts and nectar fruit—all seasoned with slavva. The meal satisfied both belly and palate. Finally, the king sat back, belched and sighed. The meal was finished; conversation could begin.
“Malcolm,” said the king, “I think we have an ally. Remember the guard from Polimeer? He is very sympathetic toward me. His name is Filk. He sneaked me extra food when he could. He said he is friends with the chef, who is from Sobimeer. I couldn’t act too rational around him, but he was curious about why Emperor Kra had brought troops with him and why I was a prisoner. So, Luvark told him about the war, how Sobimeer and Polimeer had both been attacked and how Golmon’s sons had had him kidnapped and taken far away. How Radimeer had lost the war and Emperor Kra had fled. The news seemed to disturb Filk, and he claimed the chef wouldn’t like it either.”
“How is the loosening of the bar going?”
“Well. The last time I touched it, it had a lot of play. Another couple days of work and they will have it out. How is it with you?”
“Kra enjoys my company because I listen to his harangues and ask him questions, open-ended questions that allow him to elaborate. Each day after lunch we take a walk outside the walls, so I know where the weapons and ammunition are kept. I also know where there are many arbezes. They are gathering hundreds for the army.”
“How about clothing?”
“Down the hall from this room is a large wardrobe closet. In it are many caftans made of kepoc wool.”
“They will do.”
In fact, Golmon had me fetch him one immediately. He wore it whenever he left the room, pulling the hood close around his face whenever anyone else approached him and croaking, “Is that you, master? Have I done something wrong again?”
He wandered all over the keep in his antic disposition. He sang but without words or sense. He recited children’s rimes, such as
“Grass is purple.
The sky is gray.
If I kiss you,
Do what I say.”
Some laughed at him, some were troubled, some snickered behind his back, some tried to soothe him, but eventually all came to accept the wacky king who traipsed about the fort in simple clothes.
End of Chapter 17
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