Part 27 (1/2)
”What, you knew her in Neraunce, then?”
”Neraunce?”
”Well, that's where she's spent the last two years, although she is of course Strellian by birth. Her history is quite astonis.h.i.+ng, you know. You must entreat her to relate the whole of it when you meet.”
”The Regarded Madam liGrozorf is Strellian by birth?” Nevenskoi was confused.
”Who?” Miltzin frowned, then his face cleared. ”But you imagined I was speaking of little Ibbie liGrozorf?”
”Sire, mindful of your warm friends.h.i.+p with the lady, I naturally a.s.sumed-”
”Hah! But what a notion! Oh, not that the liGrozorf isn't a pretty, sweet little creature, really quite dear. But she is only a young girl, scarcely more than a child, and of mediocre intelligence at that. Perhaps my head was turned briefly, but the recent arrival of the Countess Larishka has opened my eyes to higher possibilities.”
”Countess Larishka?”
”Indeed. A woman, my friend. Do you appreciate the significance? No green girl, but a woman woman-mature in judgment, sophisticated, fascinating, a citizen of the world. And intellectual, don't you know, outstandingly brilliant, in fact. You cannot imagine the delight I find in conversing with a female quite on my own level. Her learning, Nevenskoi! The depth and breadth of her knowledge would astound you! The acuity of her perceptions, the delicacy of her sensibilities, the scope of her vision! She has taught me what it is to meet a woman upon a higher plane, a mental and spiritual plane, if you will. It is there alone that meaningful union is possible. It exists solely in the marriage of true minds. Pretty faces and supple bodies are nothing. It's only the mind that matters, my friend-the mind is everything!”
”Quite.”
”Her mind is like a great and glorious banquet-” mind is like a great and glorious banquet-”
Nevenskoi's eyes jumped involuntarily to the platter on the desk. One of the pigeons remained untouched, its skin gorgeously golden. He swallowed.
Eateateateateateat- ”Its bounty never exhausted or depleted,” Miltzin concluded. ”Already her wisdom has nourished me, and I hope to see your own understanding similarly enriched.”
”Enriched? Sire?” Nevenskoi channeled his attention.
”Here. Look at this.” Miltzin's forefinger tapped one of the charts on the desk. ”Feast your eyes. You have never beheld the like.”
Nevenskoi advanced a couple of paces to examine the designated parchment. He saw interlocking circles, dotted lines describing complex arches, signs, symbols, constellations, projected planetary paths, intersections and vortices, divisions and conjunctions.
”It is an astrological propheticus,” he said.
”It is the past, present, and future, set forth in terms clear and comprehensible to the educated eye. This is a scientific fact that has been scientifically proved. It is all here, Nevenskoi! Everything we could ever need to know, all secrets of the universe revealed to those who read the language of the stars! The Countess Larishka has cast this propheticus with her own hand. Magnificent, is it not?”
”Most impressive, Sire.”
”Words are inadequate. She has created this, it is the product of that superb mind. She is going to teach me to read the charts. Only imagine!”
”Very fine, Majesty.”
”Oh, Nevenskoi, when I think of the years I've squandered, I could weep. When I consider the wasted endeavors, the misguided efforts-and all the time the truth was plain before me, had I but lifted my eyes to the stars! But now I know, thanks to her, and it is not too late to change direction. Nor is it too late for you, my friend, for I mean to share the new treasures, they are meant for all! Come, look here, right here at this stellar vortex-” Miltzin's plump finger jabbed a diagram.
”I see it, Sire.” Nevenskoi suppressed a sigh.
”It is only now achieving existence, and its significance is-” The king broke off with a gasp. His hands clenched, and he doubled, then dropped to his knees. A soprano squeal tore from him.
”Majesty, what is it?” cried Nevenskoi.
Miltzin IX toppled to the carpeted floor, where he lay writhing. His knees were drawn up, both arms locked around his middle, face violently contorted.
For a moment Nevenskoi stood staring, then ran to the bellpull and yanked it.
”I've summoned a.s.sistance, Sire.” He was not certain that the other heard him. Kneeling at his monarch's side, he promised, ”Help is on the way.”
A sweating royal hand shot out to grasp the adept's wrist.
”Magic,” whispered the agonized king. A spasm shook him. ”Help me, man. Your magic.”
His particular species of magic had nothing whatever to do with healing. He was utterly unqualified to deal with the king's dyspepsia, or indeed with bodily ills of any sort but one. He had a recipe for a poultice handed down from Grandmother Neeper, known to relieve the itch of certain genital rashes, and that was the full extent of his medical expertise, but there was no point in disillusioning his patron.
”Tut, Sire.” Nevenskoi attempted an easy smile. ”A touch of indigestion-”
”Poison,” gasped the king.
”Impossible.” But was it really? A glance down into the stricken man's greenish countenance failed to rea.s.sure him. Miltzin IX's lips were lightly coated with bile-colored froth. His facial muscles were twitching, and his limbs were jerking. He did look as if he might have been poisoned; in fact, he looked moribund. And if he should actually die? The dire prospect flashed across Nevenskoi's imagination. His royal patron, protector, and supporter gone. An unsympathetic successor to the throne; expulsion from the Waterwitch Palace, loss of position, prestige, stipend, loss of his incomparable workroom...disaster.
”Majesty!” exclaimed Nevenskoi. ”You must live!”
Miltzin IX turned his head away and vomited. His ejecta were streaked with blood.
Where were the servants?
”Help!” The former Nitz Neeper screamed at the top of his lungs.
What? What? asked Masterfire. asked Masterfire.
Trouble, Nevenskoi responded in his thoughts.
I will eat all trouble, eat.
You cannot.
I can eat anything. Let me show you. Badmeat gone, trouble gone. Let me.
Let him. Nevenskoi wavered, tempted. Trouble gone. Eateateat. A good solution. Nevenskoi wavered, tempted. Trouble gone. Eateateat. A good solution.
A discreet tap intruded upon his inner debate.
”Come!” he shouted.
The study door opened. A deferential head poked in.
”Fetch a physician! Quickly!” Nevenskoi commanded, and the head withdrew.
Alone again with the suffering king, and now Mad Miltzin was convulsing, blood-flecked foam spraying from his mouth and nose.