16 Interlude 2 – Hess – Iteration 143 (1/2)
Hess paced while Elza read the document. They were inside their private sanctum, the central chamber of their palace. Outside, bells called out the hour. Elza's eyes rose from the parchment.
”They want to surrender,” she said. ”Sidon is sailing at us with an army, but his administrators write to request our aid.”
”It's a hedging tactic,” Hess said. ”Their King is away, the people are restless, and we keep winning battles. So far, at least . . . .”
Elza compressed her lips. ”You want to introduce liquid fire.”
”King Sidon has a superior navy.”
”Using a weapon like that undermines the principles of our Empire. How can we preach humanitarianism while introducing this world to chemical weapons?”
Hess crossed his arms. ”It was never going to be perfect.”
”The Empire might fall short of its ideals, but we don't. You agreed that we would walk away before we violated the rules. No technological breakthroughs allowed. Sorry.” Elza crossed the room to wrap her arms around him. This world saw her in a body most kindly described as mature, while he was perpetually stuck in the final days of puberty. He sometimes suspected the Creator had a sense of humor. The age difference bothered Elza more than him. She always worried when his form was more attractive than hers.
”Then we'll have to move our ships into the harbor and prepare for a siege. King Sidon can't beat us on land and we can't match his fleet.” Hess planted a kiss on Elza's nose. ”I ever tell you I have a thing for bossy noblewomen?”
”I smell mead. Did you open a fresh jug while I was meeting with the federal reserve chairmen?”
”I thought you might need a drink after manipulating the currency.”
”Math doesn't give me headaches.”
”It doesn't cause me pain, Elza. I just don't think those types of studies are something an Observer needs to know.”
”I thought you were an Emperor.”
”That's more of a hobby,” Hess said.
”You couldn't do this without me. Conducting wars and giving speeches are very nice, but this Empire keeps running out of money. Your welfare state doesn't have the resources to fight wars. Fortunately, our trading partners are as bad at math as you are. Reserve banking and derivative options have turned this world upside down.”
Hess poured two goblets of mead. ”You know what else I can't do myself?”
Elza took a sip. ”So help me if you say this decrepit body is your favorite.”
The mead stung his mouth. ”Wow. This is strong.”
”Do you remember Iteration twenty-six?” Elza swirled the contents of her cup and took a gulp. ”You were such a beer snob.”
Beer? What is Beer? Hess sent a query into the abyss of his memory, seeking for beer and Iteration twenty-six. He took another drink, feeling the liquid burn like fire down his throat. ”This is my favorite body of yours,” he said.
Elza rolled her eyes. ”You say that about every body I wear.”
”I mean it every time.”
”You may love me every time, Hess, but not my body. I have been morbidly obese, disturbingly frail, cross-eyed, and now elderly.”
”In their time, they were all my favorite.”
”You just like to humor me. To be honest, it gets tiring.”
The returning recollection bubbled up from the endless eternity of his memory. Hess recalled dragging Elza to the local brewery of every town they traveled through. They wore matching middle-aged, dark-skinned bodies in that world. Elza had rolled her eyes every time he asked the locals where the town brewer lived. An associated recollection burst into his primary memory, of Iteration ninety-five, when Elza produced the most vitriolic substance ever called a wine. She had been a breathtakingly beautiful blonde in that life, drawing the eyes of every man who passed.