“Stop that!”
No one was more surprised that Jan herself when she heard her voice ring out. An unsettling silence followed as the warlord slowly turned his head towards her. She heard Milo sigh, then say, “Please excuse my companion. Her manners leave much to be desired. Also, she knew the deceased on your left, er, intimately.”
The warlord turned his gaze to Milo. “A Minervan captor was on intimate terms with one of the rulers of the Lord Pangloth?” he asked, sounding mildly surprised. “How did that occur?”
“Well, it’s a long but rather interesting story …” began Milo.
Jan felt another rush of anger. They were still talking as if she wasn’t there, and though the warlord intimidated her, and she knew it would be wise to act with caution in his presence, she couldn’t help speaking out again: “Isn’t it enough that you’ve murdered all these people? Do you have to treat their remains with disrespect as well?”
Again the warlord’s head swivelled slowly in her direction. Another long silence, punctuated only by Milo’s barely audible mutter of, “Jesus. …” Then the warlord said to Jan, “Girl, for your impertinence I could order you to be taken from here and taken to a room where you would be tied to a wooden frame. Your skin would then be flayed from your body. Every inch of your skin. The operation would be performed with great finesse, your skin being removed in one complete piece. Your raw flesh would then be covered in salt and your skin replaced around your body and sewn up. You would then be brought back in here to me and, if I considered your apology to be suitably contrite, I would favour you with a quick death. One clap of my hands is all that it would take to initiate the procedure. …” He raised his hands, held them apart for several long moments, then let them fall back to his lap. “However, I will be merciful, for two reasons. One is that you are under Milo Haze’s protection and it would be inhospitable of me to put him in such an awkward position. The second is that you are ignorant of your proper place, as a woman, in my domain and were therefore unaware of the gravity of your offence against me.” He turned back to Milo. “Please continue with what you were about to say.”
As Milo quickly recounted the events surrounding Jan’s attempt to blow up the Lord Pangloth, her subsequent encounter with the Hazzini, and her resulting adoption by the Aristos, Jan waited for the frantic pounding of her heart to subside. She had no doubt that the warlord had been a hair’s breadth away from carrying out his threat.
When Milo finished, the warlord turned to her again and her flesh went cold under his relentless gaze. Whether there was now a touch of new respect for her in those expressionless eyes it was impossible to tell. He spoke, “You had the temerity to rebuke me for the execution of these people—your former enemies—and yet you were prepared to destroy the entire airship and everyone on it.”
She opened her mouth to reply then abruptly closed it.
“You may speak,” he told her.
Warily, she said, “I couldn’t do it when it came down to it. I couldn’t kill all those people in cold blood.”
“While I can, is what you are implying.” He shook his head. “You misjudge me. I am not a cruel man. But I had no choice but to eliminate the Lord Pangloth’s ruling class. There was no alternative. And I assure you that, on the whole, they died quickly and cleanly. As for this seemingly barbaric display—” he indicated the heads on either side of him—“it is simply the most effective way of showing representatives from the various factions of Lord Pangloth society that the old order has been irrevocably swept away and that even the idea of any further resistance to me is futility itself.”
He turned back to Milo. “Do you ever suspect that you might be going insane?”
Milo looked startled by the question. It was some moments before he answered, picking his words with obvious care. “Insane? Do I give you the impression I might be… ?”
“The question was directed more towards myself than you,” the warlord said. “There are times when I think I might be insane and I was wondering if it might be a side-effect of immortality. What is your opinion?”
“I haven’t noticed any signs of mental instability in myself,” said Milo slowly. “Nor do I see why immortality would lead to insanity, though perhaps when one has lived for thousands of years one might suffer from emotional strains of an unknown nature. Or perhaps one may become simply bored with life itself.”
“Boredom,” said the warlord thoughtfully. “Yes, I do get bored on occasion but it’s more my tendency towards solipsism that vaguely worries me. I imagine it’s to do with my rarefied way of life. I have been so long acting out the role of god in my kingdom here, with no equal whom I can confide in, that I am slowly coming to accept the role as reality. What do you think?”
Again Milo seemed to pick his words with care. “I suppose there is a danger of that. But the fact that you can be objective about it all shows that you haven’t succumbed to the delusion.”
“Not yet, anyway,” said the warlord with a slight smile. “And I must tell you, Mr Haze, that I am finding today’s encounter with you very diverting. And, no doubt, your presence is providing good mental therapy for me. It is also amusing to talk Americano again after so long. Do you know, I can remember when your language was called English.”
“So can I,” said Milo. “I can even remember England. In fact I paid a visit to London only a month before the disaster.”
“Ah, yes,” said the warlord, nodding. “That reactor. Chernobyl, it was called, wasn’t it?”
“No. That was the one in Russia. Years before. I can’t remember the name of the English one. The difference was that the Russian accident didn’t do too much damage to Russia thanks to the prevailing weather conditions. In England the weather conditions were the exact opposite and the crap came straight down all across Southern England.”
“Such a misfortune,” agreed the warlord. “But compared to the ravages of the blight today the destruction of one small country shrinks in importance.”
“The blight is just as bad in your part of the world?”
“Worse. Which is why the Sky Lords in the East are at war with each other, and why I am over here.”
“I had been wondering why you have made such a long journey,” said Milo.
“I had no choice. As you must be aware, the Perfumed Breeze’s laser defence system no longer functions. It broke down completely several years ago. And my rival Sky Lords in the East discovered this. It would have only been a matter of time before the Perfumed Breeze fell victim to a successful attack from another Sky Lord. So I decided to risk the long flight to another continent where the Perfumed Breeze’s vulnerability would be unknown. My plan was to attack the first Sky Lord I encountered and hope my samurai could overwhelm it before the defenders realized I had no laser protection.” He gave a shrug of his padded shoulders. “The plan worked. By the time the Pangloth’s warriors discovered they could fire shells with impunity into my airship it was too late. My men had reached the guns.”
“A close shave though,” said Milo.
“True, but I must admit I never doubted the outcome.” He smiled. “You see, further evidence of my growing self-delusion of omnipotence.”
“So what will you do now?”
“Establish my base on the Lord Pangloth. Most of the original inhabitants—those who have survived—will be transferred to the Perfumed Breeze where they will, of course, be under my strict but humane control. Then, with my fleet consisting of two ships, I shall take steps to enlarge it further until I control enough tribute areas to ensure the long-term survival of my people—and myself.”