Part 39 (1/2)
”And yet our Masterfire is is extraordinary,” Miltzin mused. ”How might his talents best impress and educate my subjects? Ah, I've a thought. The Zoketsa sings Queen Phantina again tomorrow evening. You recall the famous Mad Scene, in which Phantina sets torch to the palace? Only think what it would be to see vast torrents of green flame engulfing all the stage! Yes! That's how it should be, and the verisimilitude will inspire the diva to scale new artistic heights. Ah, she will be so happy!” extraordinary,” Miltzin mused. ”How might his talents best impress and educate my subjects? Ah, I've a thought. The Zoketsa sings Queen Phantina again tomorrow evening. You recall the famous Mad Scene, in which Phantina sets torch to the palace? Only think what it would be to see vast torrents of green flame engulfing all the stage! Yes! That's how it should be, and the verisimilitude will inspire the diva to scale new artistic heights. Ah, she will be so happy!”
”Let me a.s.sure myself that I understand Your Majesty. You wish to use Masterfire as a theatrical property?”
”The spectacle will be magnificent.”
”I see.” Frivolous, trivial, insulting. Frivolous, trivial, insulting. An angry retort rose to Nevenskoi's lips, and he suppressed it with the self-control born of practice. He filled his mouth with an anchovy barquette, the better to obstruct the escape of rash words, and while he chewed, he considered. A night at the opera for Masterfire. An absurd indignity on the face of it, and yet undoubtedly a step up from the king's chafing dish. The Toltz Opera House, at least, was public and urban. Masterfire would be seen.... An angry retort rose to Nevenskoi's lips, and he suppressed it with the self-control born of practice. He filled his mouth with an anchovy barquette, the better to obstruct the escape of rash words, and while he chewed, he considered. A night at the opera for Masterfire. An absurd indignity on the face of it, and yet undoubtedly a step up from the king's chafing dish. The Toltz Opera House, at least, was public and urban. Masterfire would be seen.... Vast torrents of green flame engulfing all the stage.... Vast torrents of green flame engulfing all the stage.... Mad Miltzin was right, the spectacle would overwhelm the audience. Masterfire's fame would spread, along with the fame of his creator. Great things might eventually come of it. It was, at least, a start. Mad Miltzin was right, the spectacle would overwhelm the audience. Masterfire's fame would spread, along with the fame of his creator. Great things might eventually come of it. It was, at least, a start.
His spirits rose. The anchovy barquette, he noticed, was delightfully piquant.
Now we are happy again. Masterfire flowed like water over the study walls. Masterfire flowed like water over the study walls.
”An inspired suggestion, Majesty,” Nevenskoi murmured suavely.
”Yes, my friend, I am inspired, for I am touched by the fire of the Zoketsa's genius. She and I are psychically linked. I have never known such intense closeness with a woman, it is a marriage of souls.” Lost in golden dreams, Miltzin took an allumette garnished with truffles and crayfish tails, ate it, and broke from his trance to observe, ”Gad, but that new sous-chef is a wonder! In his own way he possesses a kind of genius that rivals the Zoketsa's own. Or yours, for that matter.”
”It is true, Sire,” Nevenskoi conceded without reservation. The cook in question, hired weeks earlier to fill the vacancy left by the flight of the king's poisoner, had lost no time in establis.h.i.+ng indispensability. He was an artist almost glaringly marked for greatness.
”Such talent and diligence merit reward. The fellow must receive a royal commendation. What's his name again?”
”Majesty, I've no idea.”
”Oh, vexation.” Miltzin yanked a bellpull.
Moments later a footman answered the summons. The servant took one look at the study walls swimming in green flame and flinched.
”That new sous-chef, hired a few weeks ago-d'you know his name?” the king demanded, cheerfully blind to the other's distress.
”Sire, I do.” The footman took a breath and reclaimed his professional impa.s.sivity. ”The cook in question, a native of Your Majesty's city of Flenkutz, is named Giggy Neeper.”
Cousin Giggy. Always liked to putter with pastry and pates, even as a boy. Hadn't seen his kinsman Nitz in fifteen years, but surely would not have forgotten. Cousin Giggy-here in the Waterwitch Palace.
Nevenskoi's intestines writhed, and a pang of exquisite agony shot through him.
THE GREAT VINE LOWERED LUZELLE to the ground and released her so gently and smoothly that she staggered a little but never lost her footing. The next moment Girays was set down beside her. The vines withdrew, retracting into the jungle. The arms of the forest stilled themselves. to the ground and released her so gently and smoothly that she staggered a little but never lost her footing. The next moment Girays was set down beside her. The vines withdrew, retracting into the jungle. The arms of the forest stilled themselves.
She caught her breath and surveyed her surroundings. Behind her the green wild terminated abruptly. Before her rose small wooden shacks bordering scraggly vegetable gardens, a cl.u.s.ter of small market stalls, and a public prayer hut. Beyond them loomed the high and handsome white architecture of Jumo Towne, arch-windowed and adorned in fanciful Aennorvi style with wrought-iron grillwork and rooftop gardens. Her eyes widened, for the spectacle of that pristine, thoroughly westernized city set in the midst of the jungle was startling despite the many descriptions of this place she had read or heard. The descriptions had not prepared her for the almost unsettling contrast between sophistication and surrounding untamed nature, between upstart civilization and the ancient savagery poised to obliterate it. Jumo Towne, for all its elegance or because of it, appeared distinctly precarious.
But civilization and comfort would endure so long as the diamond mines continued to generate wealth. The huge profits from the mines, which had transformed an obscure Aennorvi colonial outpost into a city as luxurious as any to be found in the world, ensured protection and survival. So long as the great pits yielded bits of crystal, the theaters and casinos would flourish, the grand hotels would offer the finest cuisine, the shops would stock the costliest wares, the streets and mansions would s.h.i.+ne, and the jungle would be held at bay. But even the richest of mines were not inexhaustible, and the jungle knew how to wait.
Luzelle slanted a look at Girays. He seemed hardly aware of the white city ahead. His eyes anch.o.r.ed on the jungle. He looked as if he wanted to run back in, track down the tribal shamans, and milk them of magical secrets. She could understand that particular mental itch, which she shared, but it was not something she would have expected of M. the Marquis. Girays v'Alisante, however, was no longer recognizable as a hereditary seigneur, a formerly-Exalted, or even as a moderately respectable member of society. s.h.i.+rtless, ragged, filthy, unshorn, and unshaven, his chin black with disreputable stubble, M. the Marquis looked like a vagrant, or worse.
She herself was almost as bad, with her dirty sap-sticky clothing, her dirty curls and dirty face, but at least she was fully covered. No matter. Jumo Towne offered every conceivable amenity at a price, and she retained a full wallet. Within a matter of hours she and Girays would revert to their former selves, unless he had lost all his belongings, in which case his antiquated formerly-Exalted code would probably deny her permission to pay his bills.
”Girays.” She jogged his arm, and his dark eyes tore themselves from the forest. ”Have you still got your pa.s.sport and money?”
He slid a hand into a pocket, verified the contents, and nodded.
”Good. Let's go spend some, then.” She began to walk on into the city, and he fell into step beside her.
”On what?” he asked as they went.
”I want a bath, a long, perfumed bath. I want new clothes and travel gear. I want some decent food, preferably expensive. I want a plush plush hotel room, or better yet, a suite. I want-” hotel room, or better yet, a suite. I want-”
”I get your general drift, but may I offer a practical suggestion?”
”I'm not in the mood for practical suggestions.”
”This one is small and fairly painless. Before we do anything else, I propose that we find our way to the city hall before it closes for the day, and have our pa.s.sports stamped. Once that's accomplished, we can afford to relax a little. What do you think?”
We, he kept saying, as if he had forgotten that they were rivals. It would be so easy and natural to let herself forget as well. The so-easy-and-natural road to defeat, and she would not take that road. She would maintain her detachment, and she would leave him behind at the first opportunity.
”You're right, of course,” she murmured submissively, and he darted a sharp glance at her. ”We'd better get it done. I just hope it won't take long. Remember the underclerk in Xoxo?”
”Too well. 'Our Grewzian contender, the Overcommander Stornzof, will whip your Vonahrish backsides.'”
”Karsler.” Luzelle's forehead creased. ”What do you think has happened to him? If he was aboard the Water Sprite Water Sprite, he might still be trapped in the Ta'ahri Capillaries. The Blessed Tribesmen may have killed him, or he could starve in the jungle.”
”Possible, but I doubt it. Stornzof's a singular character of unusual abilities-”
”Oh, you admit it?”
”I admit it. He's likely to prevail on his own merits. But if you're worried, here's what we can do. Remember, the South Ygahro Territory's part of the Imperium now. When we get to the city hall, we can tell the Grewzian authorities what happened to the Water Sprite. Water Sprite. When they hear what the natives have been up to, they'll probably send troops to the rescue.” When they hear what the natives have been up to, they'll probably send troops to the rescue.”
”Seems like a terrible thing to do to the Blessed Tribesmen, after they helped us.”
”Yes, but it's not every stranded traveler who happens to know how to claim Ygahri hospitality. Those tribesmen are violent, they should be controlled.”
”But they're only acting in self-defense, aren't they?”
”The death of Jhiv-Huze-self-defense?”
”The tribesmen might maintain that Oonuvu acted in defense of his honor. Besides, they must regard all westerners as invaders, which we are, and naturally they defend their own homeland. Can you really blame them for that?”
”Yes, when they attack and murder harmless civilian travelers.”
”But are those civilian travelers really harmless? Only consider-”
They continued arguing the point as they advanced into Jumo Towne. Absorbed though she was in the debate, Luzelle did not fail to note the little native shacks and hovels that cluttered the outskirts of the city giving way to spotless white town houses lining wonderfully clean paved avenues. Everything was perfectly maintained, and no wonder. All around her she saw native menials gathering litter and animal droppings, raking gravel, scrubbing stucco, polis.h.i.+ng gla.s.s and bra.s.s. The lawns bordering the houses were beautifully groomed, and the remarkable gardens combined jungle vitality and tropical color with rigorous westernized order.
On they marched along streets filled with the smartest carriages drawn by horses that would have shone anywhere in the world, pausing once for Girays to ask a random pedestrian for directions to the city hall. The pedestrian averted his eyes, quickened his pace, and hurried by without reply. Probably he thought that the foreign scarecrow was trying to ask for money.
Luzelle felt her face go red. Both of them looked wretched, but Girays was conspicuously half naked. The guards at the entrance would never admit him to the city hall in such a state. When she spied a pushcart vendor of oddments at the side of the road, she halted to observe, ”Look, he's got a s.h.i.+rt for sale. Better take it.”
”It's purple, Luzelle.”
”I'd call it more of an aubergine.”
”It resembles a giant bruise.”
”It will keep you from being arrested for indecent exposure.”