The Empress of Beasts, page 52
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
“Mix water with grape juice, half of each. I would not wager on that, Fetohep. But I would bet on war in Izril within—four years?”
She glanced sideways at Fetohep, and now her smile was slightly challenging. The [King] paused. It was his turn to sit back and regard her.
“The Antinium are restless. And yet, I think they fear a third war. A fair bet. However—would you care to wager as to the instigator within that span?”
The Quarass blinked. She looked upwards, calculating, and then flicked her fingers dismissively.
“Antinium led the attack within four years. No, make it six. The Drakes will refrain from doing so unless the balance of the Walled Cities changes. They have lost their great [General], the Tidebreaker. They will hold back.”
Fetohep chuckled, a hollow echo.
“You underestimate their pride, Quarass. It will be Drakes who attack—the Antinium’s Grand Queen is too aware of the risks to attack herself and risk utter destruction. She will attempt to keep expanding until the Antinium are forced to war. That is my belief.”
“You are welcome to it, then. A bet?”
He nodded.
“Let us strike one. The Antinium be attacked within six years by the Drakes or some other side, or war shall not break out. If they attack—four hundred pounds of gold?”
He looked at the Quarass. Trey choked on his drink. Fetohep stared at him as the attendant, silently laughing, flew to fetch Trey a cloth. The Quarass stared at Trey and then shook her head.
“Germina lacks that in its treasury, Fetohep. Nor do I know whether my nation will stockpile gold in the future.”
“I would accept assassinations in kind, I suppose. Your kingdom will continue to produce them?”
“No child assassins.”
“Ah. Even so.”
“Mm. Four hundred pounds of Khelt’s gold against sixteen assassinations of Germina’s highest-leveled [Assassins]? Level 30 at minimum.”
“Done.”
Fetohep nodded, his eyes flashing, and the Quarass smiled. They didn’t shake hands, only sat back confidently. Trey, wiping his mouth and nose, looked at Fetohep.
“I shall enjoy collecting another bet, Quarass. Your predecessor lost twice, as I recall. A losing streak across two incarnations.”
He laughed, and the sound echoed in the banquet hall. The Quarass gave Fetohep a thin-lipped smile.
“I am not as foolish as that incarnation of myself, Fetohep.”
He waved a hand, his humor subsiding.
“Clearly not, Quarass. I ask that you pardon the insult. And I shall look forwards to the future with interest. It is good that Germina and Khelt remain so close; this luxury is a rare pleasure. If fates allow, let us converse with more regularity so long as you live in this current incarnation.”
He looked at her, and the Quarass inclined her head.
“If it is possible, I should be delighted. And I look forwards to collecting Khelt’s gold.”
Fetohep laughed again, but quieter. They didn’t speak of the bet any further. Trey glanced at the [King]. He seemed confident of winning, but what if the Quarass…Trey recalled their conversation.
Oh. If she dies, he’ll just collect it from the next one. Trey stared at the two talking lightly. There was an affinity there. And somehow, in their relationship, the Quarass was both younger and older. And it had illuminated something for Trey as well.
The way Fetohep spoke of the world, and his gestures of opulence. It wasn’t for opulence’s sake. Trey hesitated, but Fetohep had clearly written him off and aside from a few asides, he’d begun speaking only with the Quarass. It was a polite snub, but it told Trey he’d made a mistake. So he hesitated—and spoke up.
“Your Eternal Majesty? May I make a request?”
Both rulers broke off. King Fetohep glanced at Trey and the Quarass looked up warily. Trey ducked his head slightly as the undead [King] looked at him.
“I have said you are my guest. If you wish it, speak to your attendant and it will be done.”
“I understand that, Your Majesty. But I would like to change my um, dinner.”
The Quarass froze. In his seat, Fetohep sat up slightly.
“You have already given your request once. Naturally, my [Chefs] will accommodate your every desire. However, have you a reason for your change of heart?”
Trey nodded, feeling his skin prickling. Fetohep was watching him. Testing him, the Quarass has said. Judging his worth. Well—he spoke, his voice only quavering a bit.
“I hate to trouble your [Chefs], your Eternal Majesty. But I feel as though I’ve offended your hospitality. If I only visit Khelt once, I should order a meal properly, shouldn’t I?”
“Hm. If that is your belief, go on. Speak.”
Fetohep gestured at the young woman, who appeared and bowed, smiling expectantly at Trey. He took a deep breath. Fetohep was watching him, as was the Quarass. He’d only get one shot. So this time Trey was ready. He opened his mouth and let fly all his fantasies from home. All the things that Flos’ [Chefs] had tried to make, but failed for lack of ingredients or simply the exorbitance of the dish.
“I’d like a slice of the shepherd’s pie, but also a bubble and squeak. That’s a dish where you add in onions, mashed potato, and mix it up with vegetables like cabbage, carrots, peas, and so on with some bacon, fry it all in oil, then make a pancake of it and brown it. I’ll have a fried egg on top, and to drink I’d like some proper tea, made with the best tea leaves—strong, with no sugar—and for dessert, a treacle tart, which is a pie made with syrup and lemon and bread crumbs into a pie base. Top it with whipped cream—um, whipped heavy cream that’s sugary. Also, also—can I have a little bit of breaded fish? Fried? You put the fish in a batter, and then you fry it in oil. Please?”
It was only three dishes, but it came out like a torrent of words. The young woman blinked, and then began trying to memorize Trey’s order, her eyes flicking left and right. Fetohep stared at Trey as he stopped at last, breathing slightly faster. Even the Quarass looked slightly impressed when he was done.
“This…”
The young woman’s hesitation was clear as she glanced at Fetohep. Even Trey was worried; he’d ordered a lot, let alone for a single meal! And it sounded complex, although he was pretty sure a good [Cook] could make it all; there had just been a lot of words and vague concepts. But Fetohep just raised a hand. He looked at Trey, and the Kheltian attendant.
And he smiled. Well, he was always smiling, but Trey sensed it was genuine this time.
“Let it be so.”
The young woman bowed, and hurried off with the older servant, and the Quarass looked at Trey. She nodded and something like a smile flickered over her lips. Now, when they all sat back, Fetohep included Trey into the conversation again.
“Your requests remind me much of Terandria, Trey Atwood. Although the dishes of sugar are similar to Baleros’ tastes. Do you hail then from a coastal nation? Perhaps—no, perhaps one of Izril’s islands?”
“Er, no, Your Majesty. I’m—”
Trey paused. And he looked at the Quarass and continued slowly.
“—From somewhere else. Not Reim either.”
He wanted to be helpful. The [King]’s eyes focused on his face like a laser beam.
“I see. That is interesting. Well then. At the very least, I can understand the cuisine you ordered. It is not the food of royalty, but it is a rarity in Chandrar, is it not?”
“I haven’t had any of it since I left home.”
Trey said that with feeling. Fetohep nodded, looking satisfied.
“Of course Reim lacks for fish as well as many varieties of vegetable. Chandrar suffers for want of water. Khelt does not, of course. You have witnessed the greenery of my land, Trey Atwood.”
“Yes, Your Majesty! If you don’t mind me asking you, how is it possible? Reim is so dry, and I saw a forest in Khelt.”
Trey gestured towards a window. The Quarass was smiling he saw out of the corner of his eye. Fetohep’s eyes brightened. He waved a hand, and on cue, another attendant materialized, with a cup of water. Which was good; the orange juice was so sweet! This one had ice cubes in it; Trey blinked as he drank.
“Even one new to Chandrar realizes that this continent is one of sand and dust. Whilst the coastal kingdoms thrive, all those that border Zeikhal, the great desert, are dry and devoid of water. Rain falls seldom so far inland; in Zeikhal, not at all.”
Zeikhal? Trey vaguely remembered the name. Takhatres and his tribe had crossed it to do battle with the Emperor of Sands. Apparently that was what was keeping his armies from attacking Reim even now. That and Takhatres. Trey worried about him some days. Fetohep went on.
“Even on the coasts, rain may sometimes desert a nation for long stretches. Chandrar is dry, where other continents are not. A phenomenon of the weather that no one, neither [King] nor [Mage] can change forever. Thus, rulers who may generate water are necessary for life to flourish.”
“As with the Siren of Savere.”
The Quarass murmured into one cup. She was chewing on her ice, Trey realized. It was so childish, but Fetohep didn’t seem to mind. He glared at the Quarass for entirely different reasons.
“Speak not of that lawless [Bandit] among our ranks, Quarass. She holds no station I acknowledge.”
She shrugged.
“The [Bandit Queen] is one of a newer breed, Fetohep. When the world had forgotten a [Bandit Lady] could exist, her breed returned with a vengeance. She is a new concept, yes. But an old one too. I have seen their kind rule many kingdoms in times past. The Siren may be a sign of their resurgence.”
Fetohep made a disgusted noise.
“Would that Flos Reimarch had done away with that wretched nation of Savere. That he destroyed and brought low so many nations and failed to do the same to Savere is another fault I hold against him. But she can summon water. That is her value, Trey Atwood. Mine lies in the control of undead.”
He gestured towards himself. Trey nodded.
“So how…?”
“Khelt has found many ways over its existence to generate enough water. Some are artifacts. Oasis Tears for instance, are gems which produce water in limited quantities. I have enough to create a few barrels of water each hour. But as you must surely know, Khelt requires rivers of water.”
Trey nodded. Reim needed it too; it was why Flos’ ability to summon rain with the [Edict of Bloom] had been so valuable. Trey hesitated.
“Do you use magic, then, Your Majesty?”
Fetohep made a chuckling sound.
“A common thought. Inexperienced rulers of Chandrar have tried the same and perished for their mistakes. It is true that [Hydromancers] are able to draw water out of the air, or create temporary liquids. But that takes from an already dry land and climate. Far better to have them remove salt from seawater. Thus, Khelt imports water when necessary. But the true secret to our water lies simply in storage. Every drop of rain, and the countless oceans we have imported over centuries lies below Khelt.”
“You mean—you store it all? Enough to water Khelt for an entire year?”
Fetohep nodded calmly.
“For an entire year, or a decade. Of course, Khelt pays lavishly for [Mages] to carry water from the sea and bring rains each year, but if need be, we will simply draw from the reservoirs without fear. My kingdom is built to last forever, Trey Atwood. The reservoirs below Khelt and its stockpiles alone will feed my people if every other nation succumbs to famine and drought. I have seen two such times before. The bounties of a single [King]’s edict are a paltry thing; Khelt prepares because I remember what generations forget. Disaster and fortune are cycles which come and go without end.”
He tapped his chest once more, shifting his robes. Trey looked at him.
“Your Majesty. May I ask how Khelt came to be?”
He expected Fetohep to give him a speech, but to his surprise, the Eternal King simply shook his head.
“You already know, Trey Atwood. Or you may guess. Like Germina, Khelt has found a way to endure. All that you see now is the product of my predecessors and I. You have seen them.”
“Where—”
Trey remembered. The gates. The statues lined up, one after another. Fetohep nodded.
“Eighteen of Khelt’s rulers have come before me. I am nineteenth. And we have weathered millennia, each of us ruling for centuries, or even a thousand years. We are still young compared to the Quarass of Germina. But it pleases me that you see Khelt’s worth.”
“I do, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Then you have seen Khelt’s wealth. Now see the skill of its people.”
And Trey looked up and smelled something wonderful wafting towards him. He turned—and eight attendants swept into the room, all at once. They brought all of the dishes Trey had asked for, and the Quarass’ meal. Trey gaped—it hadn’t been more than a second since he’d asked for his new order! Fetohep smiled.
“Ah. So we shall dine. Taste your food, Trey Atwood. Tell me if it is that which you desired.”
Trey’s first bite made him almost recoil in shock.
“Bloody hell—”
He looked up at Fetohep, tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again.
“It is. Thank you. How did—”
He stared at the bubble and squeak sitting next to a huge slice of shepherd’s pie. Next to it, true to every bit of his imagination was a treacle tart, complete with a blob of whipped cream. It could have come from a restaurant! But—Trey cut off a bit with a shaking fork—it was better than he’d ever tasted! But it tasted like—
“It tastes exactly like it’s from home? How did they do it?”
He was almost afraid as he stared at Fetohep. The [King] looked amused as the bowing attendants stepped back.
“My [Chefs] know the wishes of their diners through a Skill. It pleases me. They shall be rewarded for their efforts.”
Trey nodded, trying not to scarf down the familiar food. It was so nostalgic! Teres would be heartbroken she’d missed this. He wondered if he could save some for her. Across from him, the Quarass was eating more sedately, but with just as much clear enjoyment.
Even so, having Fetohep watching you eat was somewhat off-putting. The [King] seemed to realize this because now he picked up the cup he had set aside and lifted it. Trey wondered if it was empty, but he caught the sight of a ghostly liquid shifting around inside the cup. Fetohep noticed his stare.
“You dine with me, Trey Atwood, but the pleasures of food have long since been unavailable to me. I am content to sit and converse, but this discomforts the living, even among my subjects. So I shall join you in a repast.”
He lifted the cup to his…well, he didn’t really have lips. Nevertheless, Trey saw him inhale something which seemed as much gas as liquid. Like liquid nitrogen; Fetohep’s eyes flashed brighter for a moment as he lowered his cup.
“What is that, Your Majesty?”
The [King] glanced up.
“A draught of magic made liquid. It is known as Ghost’s Tears in some parts of the world. A drink [Mages] occasionally consume. Or my ilk. I seldom imbibe of it. But it is enjoyable.”
“I had no idea the um—I had no idea anything was edible, Your Majesty.”
“Few dishes are palatable to the undead. But such meals can be made. This drink is enough for me. Eat, and let us converse civilly.”
All three diners did just that. Trey felt like he’d passed the first test; he was able to eat and listen and talk to Fetohep and the Quarass. Indeed, he did more of the questioning; Fetohep was pleased to speak of his kingdom to Trey, who was fascinated by it.
“You can see the benefits of the undead. Food is no issue. Nor base crafts, such as bricklaying, or the maintenance of buildings, the necessity of transport. What occupies many citizens in another nation, such as Reim, is needless here. Thus, my people are free to live how they please.”
“Really? But can’t people do that in other nations, Your Majesty?”
Fetohep laughed silently and the Quarass chuckled. Trey flushed, but Fetohep raised a hand as one of the aforementioned people of Khelt, the young man, filled Fetohep’s cup. He was smiling too, but hiding it.
“You confuse the illusion of free will with the freedom I describe, Trey Atwood. Yes, people of other nations are ‘free’. Free, but constrained by the needs of the body, of monetary needs, the need for security. Shelter. Not so here. Each citizen of Khelt has the freedom to choose their destiny. They need not worry for food. If they are hungry, they will be fed. If they require shelter, it will be given.”
“What. Anywhere?”
Fetohep waved a hand lazily.
“They must find the will to stay in areas where food is freely given, but yes. No one in Khelt need work if they do not desire it. That is freedom, child. Whether it is to work or to rest idly; they may do so. Some live and die, content to eat and pursue baser desires. And after their death, they serve their home forever, guardians and laborers. Most, however, choose some occupation. Indeed, I encourage it.”
“And they work?”
Nods from around the room. The attendants looked at their [King] and he sat back.
“It gives them purpose and contentment. My fifteenth predecessor, King Thekheldan, observed that his subjects had grown apathetic and quarrelsome, driven to further and further excesses without need or drive. He was the third of Khelt’s rulers and Khelt very nearly fell from rot within. Ever since, Khelt’s people have worked and few take to pure indulgence. As so.”
He gestured at the young woman serving Trey. She was his age and smiled at him as she refilled his goblet. He blushed as Fetohep spoke.
“The seventeen I called for shall dance attendance upon every need you require, Trey Atwood. They shall serve as I have need of them. However, should I require the same service tomorrow, seventeen different citizens of Khelt shall fill the role. My people work less than the laborers of other nations. Unless they themselves demand it, four out of the seven days do they fulfill their duties. Three of the rest are given to their pleasures unadorned.”
