Part 35 (1/2)

'Shoot the king?' Santa fell back in alarm. 'What are you saying? You can't shoot merry old Father Christmas. Think of all the dear little boys and girls.'

'I hate kids,' said Anna, pointing her pistol at the king.

'No, no, no.' The alarm the king fell back in, became absolute horror. 'Kobold, do something.'

'What, like offering to be shot first?'

'That might help.'

'Would it?' Arthur asked Cornelius.

'Not much. But I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll have Anna shoot you and the king, and I'll take care of the paperwork myself.'

'No,' said the king. 'No, no, no. Stop all this at once. I have no wish to be shot. Tell me what it is you want. A train set, is it? Or a radio-controlled car? You just tell Father Christmas and he'll see what he can do.'

'I want you to cease interfering with mankind. I want you to leave us to run things our way. No more tampering. No more control. It has to stop. Right here. Right now.'

'I don't understand.' The king plucked at his beard.

'Are you suggesting that I should stop ruling the world?'

'That is correct.'

'Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I cannot be hearing this. Someone tell me I'm not hearing this.'

'You're not hearing this,' said Arthur Kobold.

'Bless you, Arthur. The voice of reason. I must be having a bad dream. Plump up my pillows and wake me with a cup of tea at noon.

The king closed his eyes.

'Can I have a piece of your cake?' Cornelius asked. The king opened his eyes. 'He's still here.

Arthur, do something. He's having my cake now.'

'Leave the king's cake alone,' said Arthur.

Cornelius pushed a large piece into his mouth. 'Hey, Tuppe,' he called, 'come and have a piece of Santa's cake.'

'It will end in tears,' said Tuppe, waddling over.

'Shoes!' shrieked the king.

'Now listen,' said Cornelius. 'The way I see it, you have two options.' Arthur hid his face. 'The first is, that you surrender to me now. Abdicate and cease all further interference with the world above.

Should you choose this option, then I will do everything in my power to see that no-one from the world above interferes with you.

'The second.' As the king was quite speechless, Cornelius went straight on to the second. 'The second is that you refuse this. In which case, I will stand aside and let Hugo Rune march in here with the army behind him, take the throne from you by force and probably kill you into the bargain. Me, I'm easy.

But I'd be interested to learn your pref-erence.

'Hugo?' spluttered the king. 'Hugo? Army? Force? Kill? What? What? What?'

'There's been a bit of a situation,' said Arthur Kobold. 'Apparently Hugo Rune has kidnapped the Queen and is planning to blame it on us and lead an army down here to wipe us all out. That's why Murphy's here, you see. Sort of.'

The king groaned and buried his face in his hands.

'I'm sure this must be very distressing for you,' said Cornelius. 'And I'm sure you'd like some timeto think about it.'

'I would,' mumbled the king.

'But regrettably you can't have any. So what's it going to be? The first option, or the second option?'

'I think it will probably have to be the second option,' said the voice of Hugo Rune.

29.

Father Christmas suddenly found his throne pulled from under him, and himself sprawling in a most unregal manner on the flagstone floor.

The throne then rose into the air, moved back a few feet and settled down. And Hugo Rune material-ized upon it. He was smoking a green cigar.

'It is I, Rune,' said Rune. 'None other. So mote it be.'

'Get off my throne.' The king thrashed about on the floor. 'Help me up, Kobold. Help me up.'

Arthur Kobold hastened to oblige. 'Get off the king's throne, you blackguard,' he said.

Hugo Rune ignored the both of them. He took out his pocket watch, flipped open the golden cover and perused the hour. 'We have some time left to pa.s.s before the overthrow of this evil em-pire,' he declared. 'Now, how best might we pa.s.s it? I know, don't tell me, you would like me to entertain you with fascinating episodes from my life.'

'I wouldn't,' said Tuppe. Rune threw him the merest of withering glances. 'That would be nice,' said the small fellow, hanging onto his mouth.

'I recall a time in Brunei.' Rune settled back in the king's throne and puffed at his cigar. Arthur struggled to right the king, but wasn't making much of a job out of it. 'The sultan had taken on my services as financial adviser. He wasn't the sultan then, of course, he was a rickshaw repair man, called Kwa-Ling, that's Mandarin for Colin. Now, I 'say that he took on my services, this is not strictly true.

For he did not know it then, nor has he ever known it.'

Cornelius was fascinated. Not by the tale. But by the man.

'Allow me to set the scene,' said Hugo Rune. 'A bar, roofed in bamboo and walled in native silks. It overlooks the South China Sea. I am seated therein, looking much as you see me today. Distinguished.

Stately. In repose. The year is 1923.'

'Stop,' cried the king. 'Just you stop. Kobold, get me up.

'I'm doing my best, sire.'

'Silence.' Rune stretched out his right hand and plucked at something in the air. A table materialized.

It was a pedestal table. And this time it was not covered by a silken cloth. On top of the table was displayed a perfect representation of the great hall and all who sat, stood, or had fallen over and were being helped back up, in it.