We talked for a few minutes more, and then he got up to go. He reassured me that my mother and our servants would be safe enough, inshallah. We had two dozen armed guards. Of course, they hadn’t prevented someone from entering the grounds and torching the west wing. Collusion, espionage, arson, attempted murder — it had been a long while since Papa’s enemies had so noisily expressed their displeasure.
After Kmuzu left, I got bored very quickly. I turned on the holoset fixed to the furniture across from my bed. It wasn’t a very good unit and the projection coordinates were off by a considerable margin. The vertical variable needed adjusting; the actors in some contemporary Central European drama struggled along knee-deep in the dresser. The elaborate production was subtitled, but unfortunately the captions were lost, out of sight with the actors’ legs in my sock drawer. Whenever there was a close-up, I’d see the person only from the top of his head to the bottom of his nose.
I didn’t think I’d care, because at home I don’t watch much holo. In the hospital, however, where the order of the day was boredom, I found myself turning it on again and again all day long. I browsed through a hundred channels from around the world, and I never found anything worth watching. That might have been due to my semi-stoned state and my lack of concentration; or it might have been the fault of the little amputated figures wading around on the dresser, speaking a dozen different languages.
So I bailed out of the Thuringian tragedy and told the holoset to turn itself off. Then I got out of bed mi mm «• my robe. That was kind of uncomfortable because of my burns and also because of the white gunk; I hated the way it felt, stuck to my hospital gown. I stuck my feet to the green paper slippers the hospital provided, and headed for the door.
An orderly, was coming in just as I was going out, carrying a tray with my lunch. I was pretty hungry and my mouth began to water, even before I found out what was on the plates. I decided to stay in the room until after I ate. “What do we have?” I asked.
The orderly set it down on my tray table. “You got tasty fried liver,” he said. His tone let me know it wasn’t my thing to look forward to.
“I’ll eat it later.” I left my room and walked slowly down the corridor. I spoke my name to the elevator, and in a few seconds the car arrived. I didn’t know how much freedom of movement I had.
When the elevator asked me what floor I wanted, I asked for Friedlander Bey’s room number. “VIP Suite One,” it told me.
“What floor is that on?” I asked. “Twenty.” That was as high as you could go. This hospital was one of only three in the city with VIP suites. It was the same hospital where I’d had my brainwork done, less than a year before. I liked having a private room, but I didn’t really need a suite. I didn’t really feel like entertaining.
“Do you wish the twentieth floor?” the elevator asked.
“You bet.”
“Do you wish the twentieth floor?” “Yes,” I said. It was a stupid elevator. I stood hunched over while it traveled slowly from the fifteenth floor to the twentieth. I was looking for a posture that didn’t feel sticky and squishy, and I wasn’t having any luck. I was also starting to get very sick of the white gunk’s intense peppermint smell.
I got off on Twenty, and the first thing I saw was a beefy, thick-necked woman in a white uniform sitting in the middle of a circular nurse’s station. There was a muscular man nearby too, dressed in a Eur-Am style security guard outfit. He had a huge seizure cannon bolstered on his hip, and he looked at me as if he were deciding whether or not to let me live.
“You’re a patient in this hospital,” said the nurse. Well, she was at least as bright as the elevator.
“Room 1540,” I said.
“This is the twentieth floor. What are you doing here?”
“I want to visit Friedlander Bey.”
“Just a moment.” She frowned and consulted her computer terminal. From her tone of voice, it was obvious she didn’t think anyone as scruffy as me could possibly be on her list of approved visitors. “Your name?”
“Marid Audran.”
“Well, here you are.” She glanced up at me. I thought maybe when she found my name on the list, she’d show a little grudging respect. No such luck. “Zain, show Mr. Audran to Suite One,” she told the guard.
Zain nodded. “Right this way, sir,” he said. I followed him down a lushly carpeted hallway, turned into a cross corridor, and stopped outside the door to Suite One.
I wasn’t surprised to see one of the Stones standing sentry duty. “Habib?” I said. I thought I saw his expression flicker just a bit. I pushed by him, half-expecting him to reach out his brawny arm to stop me, but he let me pass. I think both Stones accepted me now as Friedlander Bey’s deputy.
Inside the suite, the lights were turned off and the shades drawn on the windows. There were flowers everywhere, jammed into vases and growing from elaborate pots. The sweet fragrance was almost sickening; if it had been my room, I would have told a nurse to give some of the flowers to other sick people in the hospital.
Papa lay motionless in his bed. He didn’t look well. I knew he’d been burned as badly as I’d been, and his face and arms had been smeared with the same white gunk. His hair was neatly combed, but he hadn’t been shaved in a few days, probably because his skin was still too painful. He was awake, but his eyelids drooped. The Sonneine was knocking him out; he didn’t have my tolerance.
There was a second room adjoining, and I could see Youssef, Papa’s butler, and Tariq, his valet, sitting at a table playing cards. They started to get up, but I signaled that they should go on with their game. I sat in a chair beside Papa’s bed. “How do you feel, O Shaykh?” I said.
He opened his eyes, but I could see that it was difficult for him to stay awake. “I am being well cared for, my nephew,” he said.
That wasn’t what I’d asked, but I let it pass. “I pray every hour for your return to health.”
He attempted a weak smile. “It is good that you pray.” He paused to take a deep breath. “You risked your life to save me.”
I spread my hands. “I did what I had to.”
“And you suffered pain and injury on my account.”
“It is of small consequence. The important thing is that you are alive.”
“I owe you a great debt,” said the old man wearily.
I shook my head. “It was only what Allah decreed. I was but His servant.”
He frowned. Despite the Sonneine, he was still in discomfort. “When I am well, and we are both again at home, you must allow me to find a gift equal to your deed.”
Oh no, I thought, not another gift from Papa. “In the meantime,” I said, “how may I serve you?”
“Tell me: How did the fire start?”
“It was clumsily done, O Shaykh,” I said. “Immediately after we escaped, Kmuzu found matches and half-burnt rags soaked in some flammable fluid.”
Papa’s expression was grim, almost murderous. “I feared as much. Do you have any other clues? Whom do you suspect, O my nephew?”
“I know nothing more, but I will investigate the matter tirelessly when I leave the hospital.”
He seemed satisfied for the moment. “You must promise me one thing,” he said.
“What do you wish, O Shaykh?”
“When you learn the identity of the arsonist, he must die. We cannot appear weak to our enemies.”
Somehow I just knew he was going to say that. I was going to have to get a little pocket notebook just to keep track of everybody I was supposed to murder for him. “Yes,” I said, “he will die.” I didn’t promise that I, personally, would kill the son of a bitch. I mean, everybody dies. I thought I might turn the matter over to the Stones That Speak. They were like pet leopards; you had to take them off their leashes now and then and let them run around to catch their own meal.