Part 11 (1/2)
The internal uproar recommenced, infusing his voice with anguish both dramatically appropriate and perfectly genuine, as he replied, ”Dead, Sire. Carried off by pestilence, famine, or misadventure. So many dead!”
”What, all all of them?” of them?”
”Alas, Sire, your servant is alone in the world.”
”Well, that is remarkable. Almost unbelievable, in fact.”
Miltzin didn't believe him. An iron fist gripped his innards and twisted. A gasp escaped Nevenskoi. He doubled, and his hands clamped on the arms of his chair. An empty bowl sat on the table before him. Not an hour earlier the bowl had brimmed with chili-oil eels and spiced devilswimmers. He should have left both alone. An iron fist gripped his innards and twisted. A gasp escaped Nevenskoi. He doubled, and his hands clamped on the arms of his chair. An empty bowl sat on the table before him. Not an hour earlier the bowl had brimmed with chili-oil eels and spiced devilswimmers. He should have left both alone.
”What's the matter with you? Come, what is it, man?” demanded the king.
”Nothing, Sire. A momentary weakness,” the stricken savant managed to answer through clenched teeth. ”The recollection of the lost loved ones never fails to affect me.”
”Well-er-yes. You foreigners are emotional, aren't you? Come, what will cheer you? I know. We shall seek out a few of those survivors from Chtarnavaikul, and even if they aren't your own blood, at least they'll be-”
A pang of exquisite agony tore through Nevenskoi's middle, and he could not for the life of him contain a muted moan.
Ouch! Masterfire crackled and flickered in sympathetic unrest. Masterfire crackled and flickered in sympathetic unrest. What? What? What? What?
Nothing, my beauty, Nevenskoi answered in silence. Foolish human concerns, nothing to trouble you. Foolish human concerns, nothing to trouble you.
I can help, for I am strong, I am brave, I am big, big, BIG! So saying, Masterfire arose. So saying, Masterfire arose.
A twisting column of green flame reared itself from the pit-of-elements, thrusting powerfully for the ceiling. The crackle of the little blaze deepened to the purr of a great predator, opalescent green smoke billowed, while tentacular offshoots branching from the fiery pillar snaked experimentally in all directions.
”What is our friend doing?” Mad Miltzin's eyes expanded in childlike wonder.
Exactly. What are you doing? What are you doing? Nevenskoi telepathed from a mind filled with alarmed confusion. Nevenskoi telepathed from a mind filled with alarmed confusion.
I am big, I am strong, I am great, I am grand, I am MASTERFIRE, I am big, bigger, BIGGEST- No. Resume your former size.
NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo-!
I do not permit you to enlarge.
Big! Strong! Hungry! Eat! I am huge, I am wonderful, I am fine and lovely, I am the winner, I am everywhere, I am MASTERFIRE!
Nevenskoi felt the savage power within himself and it was glorious, triumphant, insatiable. He was huge, he was wonderful, he was master and destroyer, emperor and hungry G.o.d, hungry, and it was goodgoodgood, and he was magnificently BIG- But there was pain there inside him, ravening alongside delight, and the pain weakened his will, yet anch.o.r.ed his awareness to reality.
No. He could hardly form the denial, even within the sanctuary of his own mind. The effort required to produce that mental syllable was inordinate. And seemingly wasted, for Masterfire ignored it. He could hardly form the denial, even within the sanctuary of his own mind. The effort required to produce that mental syllable was inordinate. And seemingly wasted, for Masterfire ignored it.
I will make it right, I will eat this wet meat-stuff that makes badness. He is gone, EatEatEat, he is gone for good, eat.
”Splendid sight,” admired His Majesty. ”Our clever green friend seems so animated, so filled with enthusiasm.”
His control had lapsed badly, to potentially disastrous effect, but the fear sweeping through him somehow focused Nevenskoi's intellect and his strength, superseding physical pain. He was master, he would rule. He must. He took a deep, calming breath and mutely exerted his concentrated force.
Subside. Resume your original size.
He expected instant obedience, but Masterfire resisted yet.
Big! Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!
Small. Now. Obey.
No fun.
Shooting reluctant sparks, the great blaze grudgingly subsided, dwindling and shrinking in upon itself, relinquis.h.i.+ng tentacles and radiant streamers, height and whirling breadth, until it crouched once again within the confines of the pit-of-elements, for all the world like a disgruntled green hearth fire.
Another day, my treasure, and you will once again stand tall, Nevenskoi vowed.
The promise seemed to produce the desired effect, for the voice from the pit resumed its accustomed tone of contentment.
EatEatEatEatEatEatEatEatEat.
The savant breathed a sigh of profound relief. His creation and his internal organs were both submissive, for the moment. He would see that they stayed that way.
”Now, what was that little effusion all about?” inquired the king.
”A simple excess of inflammable enthusiasm, Sire,” Nevenskoi explained. ”No doubt stimulated by the honor of Your Majesty's presence.” Determined to seize control before Mad Miltzin's capricious fancy wandered off again down undesirable paths, he added casually, ”I have been meaning to ask, if I may, for the latest news of the Grand Ellipse racers.”
”And well you may ask, my dear fellow! Ha, but what a surprise!” Miltzin's eyes lit up. ”Which of them d'you suppose is leading the whole pack? Wouldn't you have placed your money on that Grewzian war hero fellow? If so, you'd lose your last copper! Believe it or not, there's a woman out in front. By all accounts, the Szarish scarecrow with the outlandish carriage has drawn so far ahead that the chances of overtaking her are near zero. Now that's what the mastery of technology can do! Of course,” he mused, ”the newspaper reports are always days behind foreign events. And in the interim I suppose there's no telling what may have happened, is there?”
DO SOMETHING. DO SOMETHING. But what? Hop across the room to the Overgeneral Brugloist's table, plop down on my knees, and beg his a.s.sistance? Weep buckets? Would it work, or would I just be thrown out of the restaurant?
Quick, before he gets away!
Even as she exhorted herself, Luzelle saw the Overgeneral Brugloist rise from his chair. His subordinates stood, and then they were all moving smartly toward the exit.
Jumping from her own chair, she scurried in pursuit, but had not advanced more than a few paces before an urgent Lanthian voice halted her.
”Madam-if you please-madam!”
She turned back reluctantly to discover a waiter holding her valise.
”I believe Madam has overlooked-”
”Oh. Thank you!” Extracting a couple of coins from the store of Lanthian currency furnished by the ministry, she tipped the waiter, took her bag, and hurried in the wake of the retreating overgeneral.
Brugloist and his officers had already exited the restaurant. Emerging into the foyer, Luzelle spotted her quarry leaving the hotel by way of the front door. She ran after him, straight out onto the spotless Prendivet moorings, and saw the overgeneral entering the sleek little vessel that his dignity required to carry him back to the Grewzian headquarters, all of a two minutes' walk distant.
”Overgeneral!” Luzelle let fly a shout. ”Overgeneral Brugloist! Please, sir, one moment of your time!”
Certain that he'd heard her, she made for the boat at a quick trot. Long before she reached it, a couple of grey-clad soldiers intercepted her, materializing out of nowhere to block her path.
”Stay back,” one of them commanded in Grewzian.
”I must with the Overgeneral Brugloist make to speak,” she appealed in her own lame version of the same tongue.
”Not permitted.”