"Furthermore, he was more than a mere swasher. Acquiring ambitions political, he sought alliance with some of our disaffected magnates and led an agitation against my master's greatest enterprise: his heaven-soaring tower. This rascal had fautors in unexpected places."
"Couldn't you just order him killed on general principles?"
"Nay, not under the charter which the rebellious commons extorted from Roshetsin the Fifteenth. Furthermore, the dastard had protectors amongst the magnates. Twere well for you to be erelong on your way home, lest Khostavorn's secret supporters send hired bravos to slay you in revenge."
"Why didn't you hire some bravos of your own to do him in?"
"We did, to no avail. Khostavorn was the deadliest swordsman in the realm, and the members of his band were not far behind him. It amazes me that you could dompt him; belike we might employ you in our army as an instructor in bladesmanship."
"Thank you, but I hope to keep my present job. My victory was mostly luck." Privately, Mjipa thought that if a tyro like himself could spit the deadliest swordsman in Kalwm, the local standard of swordplay could not be very high.
In fact, the minister's tale sounded thin to Mjipa. The full story of alliances and enmities among the powers of this kingdom, he suspected, was much more complex than appeared on the surface. Could it be, for instance, that the local garrison was controlled by one of those 'disaffected magnates' of whom Chanapar had spoken? That might explain Khostavorn's long immunity. But Mjipa had neither the leisure nor the will to investigate these mysteries. If he were ever appointed Terran representative to Kalwm, that would be time enough for snooping.
"Phaighost only knows," continued the Phathvum, "what might have befallen had you not brought the wretch to a timely cease. The kingdom is not ungrateful, sirrah. Do but name a reasonable reward, and it shall be yours."
After a moment, Mjipa said: "I thank Your Altitude. I should like, first, the return of my bond money; and second, another audience with His Awesomeness. Kindly tell him that I was so fascinated by his account of his ancestry that I yearn for more of the same."
The minister gave Mjipa a sharp look. "That is curious. Of the other visitors whom my lord hath regaled with accounts of's forebears, all professed themselves satisfied with a single discourse. But it shall be as you list."
An hour later, Mjipa found himself closeted with Vuzhov the Visionary again, listening with an affectation of intense interest to the king's ancestral anecdotes: "... and this is Vuzhov the Seventeenth. Finding the routine of ruling irksome, he sought the advice of a holy man, Sailuts the Selfless, on how to gain eternal fame by some great quest or feat of heroism.
"Sailuts inhaled his magical smokes and went into a trance. When he recovered, he told Vuzhov that his spirit, ranging far and wide, had discovered in the land of Garam, on the shores of the Maraghé Sea, a smith who knew the secret of making helmets of invisibility. If my ancestor would sail thither to procure such a helm, Sailuts said, he would give great satisfaction.
"So Vuzhov set sail, and coasted the shores of Peihné, and ascended the river Konela to the Maraghé. But whilst his ship was searching the shores of this sea for the dwelling of the marvelous smith, the king was snatched from's deck by a saferir, which as you doubtless know is the large cousin of the 'avval, and devoured in one great gulp.
"Terrified, the survivors of the crew turned about, sailed back down the Konela, and returned to Kalwm. When some of Vuzhov's loyal supporters taxed Sailuts the Selfless with having sent their Heshvavu to an untimely death by a false rede, the holy man, no whit abashed, replied that his prophecy had proven true to the letter. For Vuzhov had indubitably given satisfaction to the saferir, to whom he furnished an ample repast."
The king cleared his throat. "We fear our old voice grows weary, and the hour of dinner draws nigh. Will today's recital suffice, Master Mjipa?"
"Of a surety, Your Awesomeness," replied Mjipa. "I am inexpressibly grateful that you have afforded me so much of your priceless time to expound these fascinating tales."
"Ainkhist would like them for his book, I ween," said the king with a nasty little chuckle, "but he shan't have them. Well, this hath been a pleasure. Your Khaldoni hath vastly improved since last we met."
Mjipa shrugged. "I strive for excellence, sire."
"Good! When our tower reaches Heaven and we take our rightful place amongst the gods, we shall ordain a system of rewards for worthy mortals like your good self."
"One small matter, sire!"
"Aye?"
"I beg permission to visit the unfortunate, deluded Doctor Isayin in his cell. At Novorecife, they wish to know the wrong side of public issues as well as the right; and they count upon me to report them at my return thither. Perhaps I might even convert him to Your Awesomeness's correct views."
"That were a virtuous deed," said Vuzhov.
"Suppose I did; would it mitigate his penalty?"
The Heshvavu pursed his lips. At last he said: "To some degree. We might ordain that his death be made quick and painless, e'en though it would thwart the hopes of the vulgar for a gory spectacle."
"Could you direct the Phathvum to give me a pass?"
"Aye. Uzhegh!" The king spoke to his secretary. "Indite us a note to Chanapar, bespeaking him to issue Master Mjipa a pass to Isayin's cell."
As he left the palace with the pass in his wallet, Mjipa encountered Minyev on the steps. The factotum sprang up, saying: "My lord, Mistress Dyckman sent me forth to find you this morn, saying that I, knowing this city, could better do it than she. Like Hwrar pursued about the maze by the demon-kargán, I traced you to the local magistrate's chamber and thence hither, where they told me you were closeted with the great ones. I've waited, uncertain whether I should see you next in one piece. Do your wounds pain?"
"Not much," said Mjipa. He started back for the inn.
When he arrived, Minyev trotting to keep up with the consul's long strides, Mjipa found an agitated Irants awaiting him. "Sir!" said the taverner. "A new matter hath us wimpled. Know ye a wight clept Kuimaj, from Mutabwk?"
"No; I never heard of him. Why?"
"He claims to know you. Says he hath come as a herald from the Heshvavu Ainkhist himself, with a missive to Mistress Dyckman. But she refuses to hear it and hath bolted herself in her chamber. Now this one stands without the door, praying audience. I like not to pitch a gentleman, which I take this fellow to be, out on's arse without due consideration. Canst untangle this coil, sir?"
"Let's see him." Mjipa mounted the stairs to Alicia's room. Before it stood a Krishnan, a Mutabwcian by the cut of his kilt and the pattern of his body paint. In a loud, peremptory voice, this person was reading from a scroll.
"Pardon me," said Mjipa, approaching, "but I am with the lady to whom you are trying to speak. What's your business?"
The Krishnan looked angrily at Mjipa. "Know, O Terran, that a herald of His Awesomeness, the mighty Heshvavu of Mutabwk, is not to be entreated in such scurvy fashion. After all, I am who I am!"
"What scurvy fashion?"
"Why, Mistress Dyckman renies to hear the message I bear from my mighty master."
"We'll come to that. Meanwhile you may read me your message."
"Aye," said Irants, crowding up behind Mjipa. "He speaks sooth, Master Kuimaj, and is moreover a personage in high favor at the court of Kalwm. We'll not longer suffer you to roil the tranquility of our hostelry."
Kuimaj looked from Mjipa to Irants to Minyev. Outnumbered, he grumbled: "Where, then, would ye fain have this royal missive read?"