Part 48 (2/2)
”Master Neeper, I have summoned you to my presence in order to commend the excellence of your work,” the king announced. ”I have been most favorably impressed-indeed, I've been delighted-by your manifestations of skill, imagination, and virtuosity. Your ganzel puffs are the lightest in the world. Your truffled tartlets beggar description.”
”I am greatly honored, Sire.” A flush of pleasure suffused the sous-chef's face.
”Truly, my dear fellow, you are an artist marked for greatness in your chosen field. It gives me pleasure to surround myself with men of talent, I revel in the juxtaposition of masterly minds. Thus I'm doubly pleased to present you to a fellow admirer of your work, the ingenious adept Nevenskoi, creator of this gorgeous fiery stunner here, whose presence I think you haven't overlooked. Nevenskoi can't resist your brandied dormice. Eh, Nevenskoi?”
The adept inclined his head in wordless a.s.sent.
”I am most grateful, Majesty. Your praise overwhelms me,” Giggy declared with becoming modesty. He turned to Nevenskoi. ”And I thank you, too, sir. Maybe it would interest you to know that the brandied dormice recipe is a refinement of a dish that my grandmother used to prepare for special family gatherings. I can still remember sitting at her big polished table as a boy, feasting on her soused dormice. Everyone loved them, and I had one cousin in particular who used to gobble them by the handful-” He stopped. He stared. His eyes rounded and his voice rose an incredulous octave. ”Nitz? Nitz Neeper, is it you you?”
”I do not understand you.” Nevenskoi's Rhazaullean accent was more than ordinarily p.r.o.nounced. Behind the facade of polite incomprehension his heart hammered and his guts twisted.
Badness? asked Masterfire. asked Masterfire.
”It is is you!” Giggy decided. ”I can hardly believe it! Nitz, we all thought you were dead!” you!” Giggy decided. ”I can hardly believe it! Nitz, we all thought you were dead!”
”You jest, Master Neeper?” Nevenskoi frowned, mildly puzzled. Out of the corner of his eye he noted the king observing the scene with interest, and his alarm approached panic.
Whatwhatwhat? Masterfire demanded. Masterfire demanded.
”Wait until Dosie and Jilfur hear that you're alive! They'll be absolutely bowled over! They speak of you often, you know. Why in the world haven't you been in touch all these years?”
”And what is all this, my dear fellow?” inquired the king. ”You and my Nevenskoi know each other?”
”Know each other! Sire, this is my dear cousin Nitz Neeper, missing these fifteen years. It's like a miracle, finding him here like this!”
”Majesty-” Attempting a faintly bemused smile, Nevenskoi produced a pained facial contortion. ”This kitchen person makes a joke or else a mistake. I have never seen him before in my life, nor have I encountered any member of his family.”
”Nitz, how can you say that?” Giggy Neeper reproached. ”What's the matter with you? You can't have forgotten your own kin!”
”Master Neeper, I believe you commit an honest error,” Nevenskoi returned generously. ”This I can understand. Perhaps I bear some resemblance to this long-lost cousin of yours. Such things happen. But please understand, we have never met before this day.”
”Nitz, that's plain ridiculous. Do you think your own first cousin won't know you, just because you've gone and colored your hair? I don't remember you ever having that much hair, though. Oh, I see. It's a wig.”
”You are very much mistaken. You-”
”Gad, is is it a wig?” demanded the king. He stared. ”He's right, isn't he? I never noticed that!” it a wig?” demanded the king. He stared. ”He's right, isn't he? I never noticed that!”
”No, Sire, this is a great misunderstanding-”
”Give it a tug, then. A good, firm tug.”
”Majesty, I take exception. This is most demeaning, most distasteful-”
”Give it a tug, Nevenskoi, or I'll call in one of the footmen to do it for you.”
”That will not be necessary.” Nevenskoi's innards were up in rebellion. Ignoring the internal tumult, he drew a deep breath and met his sovereign's eyes squarely. ”I confess it is true, Sire. I wear a wig. A small vanity, harmless and quite meaningless. I hope you will not think too ill of your servant.”
”And what of your name, man? Is that likewise a small vanity?”
”Never, Sire. I am born of an ancient and n.o.ble Rhazaullean line.”
”Oh, come off it, Nitz,” Giggy Neeper advised. ”You ought to be ashamed, spinning such tales. Your father was Klisp Neeper, shopkeeper of Flenkutz, and a very good man too. What do you think he'd say if he could hear you now?”
”My family's estate stood above the village of Chtarnavaikul, as Your Majesty already knows.” Nevenskoi's eyes watered with desperate sincerity. ”Then came the deadly mudslide-”
”You and your whoppers.” Giggy Neeper shook his head. ”I'd almost forgotten those incredible lies, but now it all comes back to me. All right, Nitz. If we've never met before, then how is it I know about that scar on your right wrist? You were about seventeen years old, and you were fooling around at Granny's hearth-you had some wild notion that you could make the fire do some sort of trick, I forget what, and it didn't work anyway-you only managed to give yourself a beauty of a burn, which left the scar. What about it?”
”Yes, what about it?” echoed the king. ”Is your wrist really scarred, Nevenskoi? Push back your sleeve, let's have a look.”
”Majesty, this is absurd.”
”You refuse?” Miltzin IX's smile vanished.
”Sire, what signifies a scar? It means nothing and proves nothing. I-I do not deserve this.” Not after all my hard work Not after all my hard work, he wanted to say. Not after I've come so far and accomplished so much. I am creator of Masterfire, a great marvel. What does it matter where I came from, or who my father was, why should anyone care? Not after I've come so far and accomplished so much. I am creator of Masterfire, a great marvel. What does it matter where I came from, or who my father was, why should anyone care? All of this and more he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat, the familiar nervous pangs lanced his belly, and he clutched his middle with a gasp. All of this and more he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat, the familiar nervous pangs lanced his belly, and he clutched his middle with a gasp.
Omand to force himself to pause, to order his thoughts and collect his faculties, before addressing Masterfire again. Stop. Stop.
EAT! The green flame sent excited experimental tentacles snaking toward the bookcases. The green flame sent excited experimental tentacles snaking toward the bookcases. DANCE! BIG! EAT! DANCE! BIG! EAT!
Stop. Pain and alarm still rocked his concentration, and Nevenskoi forcibly suppressed both. Pain and alarm still rocked his concentration, and Nevenskoi forcibly suppressed both. Stop. Now. Obey. Stop. Now. Obey.
DANCEDANCEDANCE! I am Masterfire, and I am feeling FINE! I am glorious, I am gorgeous, I am me. The musical scores littering the desktop went up in flames.
Stop. Consume nothing more. Dwindle. Small. Small.
Don't wanna. A stack of unopened correspondence vanished. A stack of unopened correspondence vanished.
Stop that. Soon I will be angry. Obey. Now.
Nevenskoi strained his will to the uttermost, and his creation, struck by the desperate force of the a.s.sault, submitted without further resistance. In an instant Masterfire shrank, great ma.s.s dwindling to a fist-sized ball of flame. Nevenskoi's shoulders sagged and a long sigh gusted from the depths of his lungs. After a moment he ventured a glance at the king.
Miltzin IX stood poised for flight. His face was white and the palm of his right hand was red. He was staring at Masterfire, his expression shocked as he observed, ”She attacked me.”
”An overspill of youthful high spirits, Majesty,” Nevenskoi soothed. ”Unsuitable perhaps, but essentially innocent.”
”She would have killed me. I was unprepared for the violence, the treachery.”
”Sire, there was no malice in this. It was an accident. Masterfire is like a child, unruly and impetuous at times, but-”
”A child full of cunning and duplicity,” the king interrupted. ”And where did she learn them, I wonder? Who was her master? It is not a difficult puzzle. Who is the habitual liar, the cheat, the impostor? Push back your sleeve, Nevenskoi, or whatever your name is. I want to see your wrist.”
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