"Progress report," Aahz grunted. I shrugged and reached for a reed pen. As soon as I signed it, Aahz took it back and stuck it in the Crocofile.
"Where's the food?" he demanded. "Hey, honey, come on with the snacks! I have to get my strength back!"
"Honey?" A face showed around the doorjamb. Instead of the gray visage we expected, it was covered in purple fur. "Sorry, what? I say, Aahz, are you up to having visitors?"
"Chumley!" I exclaimed, coming to offer him a hand. He engulfed me in one of his usual Trollish embraces.
"Good to see you, Skeeve, but mum please on the C-word, eh? The walls, as they say, have ears. I go by Wat-Is-Et here."
"Wat-Is-Et?" I asked.
"My name," Chumley said.
"I get it, but what is your name?" I asked.
"It is what it is."
"I thought you said 'what is it?' " "No, Wat-Is-Et."
"I'm still trying to figure out what it is." "It's very simple." "Then what is it?"
"Now you have it," Chumley said, with a smile. "What?"
"Hold it, hold it!" Aahz said, holding up his hands to stop us. "We haven't got time for 'Who's On First.' I'll explain it to the kid later." I closed my open mouth. "Take a load off! How are you doing? It's been a while. We've been expecting you to drop by."
"Oh, yes." Chumley looked a little uncomfortable. "It hasn't been too easy to get away, what with the way things have been going in the royal court. Suspicion and intrigue have been rife, what?"
Aahz eyed him. "And you're right in the middle of it?"
"Trying not to be, old thing, trying not to be! But it is difficult. The walls have ears, as they say, and even a simple gesture is enough for some of our neighbors to read. They are adept at putting volumes of meaning into a single expression."
"I've noticed," I said. "Some of those glyphs are as long as a book."
"When your means of writing is a chisel and a block, you compress as much as you can into every stroke," Chumley said. "It is a marvelous time saver, but also fraught with difficulty if you get even a syllable wrong, as I have found to my dismay."
"I won't ask what you're doing," I said. "I mean, it's none of my business. But I have to say I'm curious how you got involved in the court here."
"For once," Chumley said, "my erudition won out over my more obvious attributes."
"Huh?"
"How'd you get to be a linen-wearing bureaucrat?" Aahz asked.
Chumley sat back on the guest bench, which creaked under his weight, and threw off the curtaining headdress. "Ah, well, it started as an accident, I am afraid. The previous Pharaoh, Geezer the Ninth, had a wise man who actually went to university with me. While studying in the university library some years ago, we rekindled our friendship. Naten-Idjut was a fine fellow. We had mutual interests in the study of geology and mineral rights, but we came upon one another in the ancient lore section. Scads of old scrolls and ostraca, marvelous sources of both rumor and information.
"Naten-Idjut fell ill before he could return home. He needed to convey to his employer some important information. Leaving him in hospital, I went to Aegis as his locum and found myself as a visiting fireman, so to speak. To my surprise, I also spotted a problem that my old friend had not observed, having to do
with food supply and sanitation, and was called a wise man for my pains by none less than the Pharaoh Geezer himself. Ever since then, he and then his daughter, when he finally succumbed to old age, have called upon me when they needed outside perspective, what?"
"What?" I asked. "What perspective?"
"Whatever they require," Chumley said. "I must say, it is nice to have a job in which one can use one's own manner of speech. Big Crunch's monosyllabic verbalizations are hard on the throat."
"I think the kid wants to know, what perspective are they looking for this time?" Aahz asked.
"Ah," Chumley said. "Forgive me. Well, you saw part of it some days ago when you met her esteemed majesty.
The Pharaoh Suzal feels that she has incurred the wrath of the ancient ones. For months now, she has suffered severe attacks of food poisoning. Even though tasters sample all her food with no signs of distress, when she eats of almost any dish, she has a bad reaction."
"Could it be some form of magikal attack?" I asked.
"I am studying all the signs," Chumley said. "More importantly, I am running chemical analyses on the foodstuffs in question to see whether we are dealing with food-borne parasites or pathogens targeted at the genetic level before I investigate magikal sources of interference. Science will reveal the truth." One of his many college degrees was in chemistry, as I recalled finding that out when a letter came from his alumni association looking for donations. Chumley had been embarrassed and ate the letter to keep anyone else from reading it. "If it does not prove to have a scientific answer, I may call in you two as consultants on the magikal side."
"I'd be honored," I said. "What do they think of her here in Aegis?"
Chumley's mouth curved in an avuncular smile. "She is a fine monarch, in the mode if not the mold of her father. She is much beloved. Her servants adore her, as do her people. I would be surprised as well as troubled if this were indeed some attempt to remove her from the throne. My spies have not indicated any usurpers threatening. Nor have any of the neighboring nations shown an interest in taking over Aegis. As you have seen, there's little arable land, and little useful mineral wealth at hand, apart from first-rate building stone. So far, I am at a loss."
"You have spies?" I asked, astonished. Chumley had always seemed to be the most straightforward person I knew.
"It's a jackal-eat-jackal world, old chap," he said. "You never know when a problem will turn up unexpectedly. Best to have all the warning one can."
"So," a voice said, from approximately my waist level, "you know our esteemed wise man."
I jumped at the sound. Gurn leered up at us. I wondered how much he had heard.
"Yeah," Aahz said, casually. "Turns out that his mama used to koochie dance at the bar my father owned. Shove off, pal. Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to interrupt other people's conversations? Ugly like yours is a major short-circuit."
To my surprise, Gurn looked hurt. It occurred to me that maybe he couldn't help looking like an annoying know-it-all. It might be a function of his misshapen face.
"How long have you been in Queen Suzal's employ?" I asked politely. Gurn regarded me with deep suspicion.
"My life is hers," he said.
I was touched. Gurn was a complicated guy, in everything except his devotion to his queen. I could respect that.
"We'll do everything we can to make this the best pyramid ever," I said. "Won't we, Aahz?"
Aahz regarded the interloper with distaste. "Yes. Of course."
"Do not make empty promises, Klahd," Gurn snapped, the soft moment ended.
"I don't make empty promises," I said, liking him less with every syllable. "If there's anything I can do, I'll do it."
"The word of Klahds has no weight here."
I felt my temper rising. "How about stones? If you want to step outside, I can drop one on you."
"Like you did to your so-called partner yesterday?" Gurn leered from me to Aahz. "The earthquake was a nice touch, distracting all of us from the attempt upon your friend's life. Very subtle! And will your next attempt be directly underneath her majesty's nose?"
All four of us stopped for a moment to contemplate that very pretty nose. Chumley sighed, breaking the spell. I growled down at Gurn.
"How do I know it wasn't you trying to mess things up?" I snapped.
"How dare you?" Gurn squealed. "I am the queen's trusted advisor!"
"I took a flight with you last week, remember? I can tell you like Diksen's pyramid better, and so does she. Maybe you want to convince the queen that she should try again to get in on it."