“Are you going to hear out His Excellency?” said Maurice.
“Certainly not. And you can stick your manufacturing facilities where the sun don’t shine.”
“The sun don’t shine anywhere on Out,” said Maurice. “It’s all the rain. Can you be more specific? Oh, he’s gone.”
“That didn’t turn out so good,” said Rannie.
“I suppose you can have the robes back now,” said the Magus to Maurice. “Thank you for the use of them. It was worth a try.”
“I don’t think you understood,” said the vizier with a frown. “The investiture was official. You really are the new Emperor of Out, and as such, you have the official duties we agreed upon. The Blurgars need to be stopped. If you don’t help us, we will have to depose of you via the use of the official ear trimmers and mouth gougers.”
“I guess I haven’t got anything else in my agenda at the moment,” said the Magus. “Where do I start?”
Waterlogged
In which the emperor returns
L
ightning gashed the soaking buildings outside the window of the Emperor’s Palace master bedroom in Basilopolis, the capital city of Out. The rain roared down in torrents outside. Inside, a bucket collected a slow series of drips from the roof. A small camel lapped at it to prevent overflow, and the room was otherwise relatively dry.
“I’ve been reading up on this ‘Emperor of Out’ situation,” said the Magus, as he and Rannie sat in a luxurious twelve-poster bed, being waited on by large men with a distinctive lack of facial hair, and high voices. “Apparently, history decrees against murdering the emperors, them being sacred, ordained by the great Oilflig Phoist and all that.”
“Good news I think.” Rannie bit suspiciously into a chocolate-coated, deep-fried dodo burger on the breakfast tray.
“Not so good. Apparently, if they fell out of favour, you know, by voting for the Green Party or losing a war campaign, emperors would be replaced, and have their ears cut off. Ears are big on this planet.”
“I can see that,” said Rannie, regarding one of the servants spinning slowly in the breeze from the window.
“Their sacred animal is the water elephant... I say, have you tried these goldfinch pies? They are really good, apart from the feathers.”
“I’m not feeling that hungry,” said Rannie. “I’m still a bit embarrassed about the way we had to prove that we were an item, by shagging in front of the Council of Advisors.”
“It was interesting,” said the Magus, “but I can’t find anything about that particular requirement in their Objects of Emperorship. I suppose they seemed satisfied afterwards though.”
“Several were making notes, and one even had an easel.”
“I’m glad they’ve gone,” said the Magus. “We should do something about getting away. I only needed the robes so the chancellor would listen to us to help with STOP, and that didn’t work at all.”
“It went down like a tungsten triplane, didn't it?” said Rannie. “We are stuck here, now. I like the luxury, but it isn’t making me any money.”
“We have all the money and riches we need. What’s your problem?” The Magus stretched out luxuriously on the hairy-wombat leather commode.
“There’s no challenge, no excitement, no adventure, no perspective, and I miss the bunnies. Anyway, why are you wasting time reading the Objects when we should be departing? There’s more to life than fabulous wealth and being waited on nose and ankle you know.”
“I would still like to help Two-Dan. I was looking for a loophole.”
“Like those behind that portrait of the emperor, Geordie the Tenth over there?” said Rannie, screwing her eyes up.
“I do get the feeling we are being watched.”
“All the time. I don’t like it.”
“We really have to get away, if only for the sake of privacy.”
“Agreed, and soon at that. If we go out on the Blurgar campaign, lose and don’t get killed, we will end up minus our aural facilities and possibly a nose or two.”
“We should go” The Magus threw on an ocelot-skin robe and padded across to the door. It opened before he reached it, and he was faced with the entire council of elders, headed by Maurice the Other Bastard, head of the military.
“Good morning, Emperor,” said Maurice, blocking the way. “I trust you slept soundly. Were you thinking of leaving us? If so, I refer you to point six on the Objects of Emperorship.”
“Remind me,” said the Magus.
“Emperors attempting to leave the palace before major campaigns of war will be deposed, and the Distasteful Dice will be shaken to determine which part of their anatomy will be surgically removed... see page ninety-four.”
“I don’t think I’ll bother,” said the Magus, pretending to be inspecting a portrait of the emperor, Justin-Time II, and his gold-plated nose-guard. Can you leave us for a moment please? Oh, and I’d like some of that royal spitting tobacco I saw advertised.”
“Here, my emperor.” Maurice handed over a sealed pack.
“That was quick.”
“It is my duty to anticipate your needs.”
There was a disturbance in the corridor. Maurice turned irritably.
“Let him in then,” he said. “Regrets, My Emperors, but your man has been insisting on seeing you. I told him he would need to have his gonads removed in order to be granted audience, but he seems determined to resist that honour. We have lost a few good surgeons to his three-fingered mega-fist.”
“He can enter,” said Rannie. “He works for me.”
“We all work for you, Empress; however, we do not permit access to any Tiberius, Romanos or Heraklonas the Third, you know.”
“Luigis get special permission. He is my personal bodyguard.”
“As you request, Empress.” He clapped his hands. “Let him through. And someone get this camel replaced before it explodes.”
There was a clash of armour and a scattering of weapons across the marble floor, and Big Three-Fingered Luigi, somewhat trouser-less and breathless, burst into the room. He paused long enough to bring his fist down on the helmet of one of the guards, piling the man to the floor.
“Ms Dearheat,” he said. “Apologies for the delay. I had a bit of trouble with the palace staff.”
“He is to be given free access... and iron trousers,” said Rannie. “Do you understand me, Maurice?”
“Of course, Empress.”
“You may go,” said Rannie.
“Probably not, though,” said Maurice.
“I meant that I would like you to depart.”
“And leave you with this... creature. I am sworn to protect you.”
“I owe him my life, on a number of occasions. Please leave us now. We need to have private conversation about my business empire.”
The scowl on Maurice's face deepened. “Protocol demands that you are never left alone.”
“Then change the protocols.” Luigi picked up the man by his collar, marched him to the door and shoved him through.
“Thanks for coming, Maurice,” shouted Rannie, after the vizier. “We have a war to conduct, and having you by my side will be invaluable. Now, Luigi, how’s business?”
“Running along nicely, ma’am,” said Luigi, rubbing his hands together. “The ‘Sleep Simulator’ app for people who have no time to sleep because they are addicted to social media, is selling consistently. Our income for this month should be more than adequate.”
“One moment,” said the Magus. He took a plug of spitting tobacco from his mouth and deliberately forced it into the eye sockets of the portrait of the emperor on the wall opposite them. There was a yelp from the other side. The Magus smirked. “See no evil,” he said. “I thought they were spying on us.” He returned to Rannie and got back under the covers. Luigi still stood respectfully, watching him.
“They are expecting us to lead the army in the attack on the Blurgars,” said Rannie. “Wh
at do you think of that, Luigi?”
“Not a good idea, ma’am. I’ve seen the army. There are about two hundred soldiers, but they are ill-equipped, and all their armour and weapons are rusty, and will probably break at first use. In this climate, attention to detail, and a good rust-killer are essential.”
“Does it ever stop raining?” said the Magus.
“I don’t believe so,” said Luigi. “I hear that it does ease off to a ‘downpour’ at about five bells, but starts again at seven.”
“Five bells?” said the Magus. “Wouldn’t they get rusty too?”
“Time on ‘Out’ is marked using the nautical system because of the amount of water,” said Luigi, patiently. “And the bells are made of brass to a certain Verdigris. Between the peals of five and seven of them would be the best time for an attack.”
“Good, let’s get this over with. We can have a look at the enemy first, and then discuss our tactics.”
There was a bang as the water-camel burst, and sprayed water across the room.
“We should have let him change the dromedary,” said the Magus, mopping himself with a panda-skin towel. “This one’s split.”
“It will be fine. I believe they’re meant to do that,” said Rannie. “That’s how they regulate their water intake. They carry it all in the hump, you know.”
At the border of the empire, the Magus, Rannie and Luigi stood on the royal podium, sheltered by the royal yeti-skin umbrellas, and surveying the enemy forces.
“I think we have a problem,” said the Magus. “How do we get out of this situation and stay alive?”
“I admit it looks a little hopeless,” said Rannie. “Luigi, what do you think about our chances?”
“I can see what must amount to several thousand enemy soldiers, ma’am. They are only wearing shiny pants, but their weapons appear to be rust-free. If our warriors were properly equipped and trained and experienced, I think we might have had a chance with these bare-chested barbarians. As it is, we’re in serious trouble.”
“We need to leave,” said the Magus. There was a sound of rusty swords being drawn and they were instantly surrounded by armed men.
“If you are going to default on the agreement,” said Maurice the Other Bastard, “then you know your fate.”
“I was talking about pushing through their defences,” said the Magus quickly. “If we can break through and take their leader captive, we can force them to surrender, and win the war that way.”
“That’s not how we do it,” said Maurice. “When we go into battle, it is total war, total annihilation. How do you think Basil the Blurgar Slayer got his name?”
“You might have to help me out on that one.”
“We’ve been reading up on Basil,” said Rannie. “Apparently, he was drowned in the mud when his battle-dolphins shied at a manifestation of Saint Clarkson, in a four-wheel drive, powering up through the seal nursery, but that’s not the full story, is it?”
“No, Empress. The legend goes that he was not drowned, only stunned. The battle was suspended, and he was taken in pomp and water-resistant carriage to the Great Tomb of the Emperors. Because he died in battle, all his features were left intact, and he was embalmed in LARD42 to keep the moisture out… so it is said, anyway. You know what these legends are like.”
“Other sources say that he is still alive, and will return when his people most need him.”
“I have heard that, Empress.”
“Then, where is this tomb? If we could exhume the body, the sight of it might instil terror, and give us the advantage we need.”
“Depending on the level of decomposition,” said the Magus, shuddering, “it might have the same effect on our men.”
“It is a good plan, Empress,” said Maurice. “You are truly a great leader and deserve to keep your beauty intact, for the moment.”
“Then you will show us the tomb?” said the Magus.
“You will have to make the journey by yourselves,” said Maurice, a sneaky expression flicking across his face. “It is that way, across the Arid Desert, through the Parched Mountains and into the Uncanny Valley of the Emperors. I will lend you the Royal Chariot and the Imperial Homing Dolphins. If you get lost, they will always find the way back... unless there is a thunderstorm raging, in which case it upsets their direction finders and they settle in large pods in town squares, generally becoming an obstruction to local traffic.”
“Is there a thunderstorm due?”
“Not until four bells. Try to set off before then.”
“He seemed very keen to let us go,” said the Magus, as the team of four armoured dolphins pulled their stage-boat across the swamp known as the Arid Desert. “Too keen if you ask me.”
“I don’t need to ask you,” said Rannie. “I’d spotted that. I’ve also spotted that this Arid Desert isn’t that arid.”
“I am told that they give their places names like that to improve the tourism trade,” said Luigi. “If they called it the Mosquito Swamp of Death, for example, they wouldn’t get as many visitors.”
“I can’t wait to see the Parched Mountains.”
The canal through the soaked mountain range, which was visibly getting smaller as they passed, owing to constant water erosion, led them out into a rich valley of trees and vines and mangrove. The way now was too narrow for the carriage to pass, so the three passengers pulled on long waders, disembarked and left the skittish dolphins firmly tied to a set of roots.
“I don’t know what their problem is,” said the Magus. “Their blubber will protect them from mosquito bites.”
“Perhaps they are worried about the rabbits,” said Luigi.
“Rabbits?” said the Magus. “Would they be a problem?”
“Flesh-eating, vampire rabbits.”
“Remind me?” The Magus looked nervously over his shoulder.
Luigi smiled, warming to his pet subject. “They were originally ordinary rabbits,” he said, “before the great floods of Basil. Because of the amount of rain, all their holes filled with water. As you know, rabbits’ teeth and claws continue growing all their lives, so they need vegetation to chew, and earth to dig, to keep them short. Because they couldn’t burrow, their claws grew, and they had to wear them down on trees instead, which of course led to the discovery that they could climb. Of course, climbing back down was more of a plummet than elegant, but the ground was now soft and waterlogged, so any animals that could hold their breaths, survived. That sorted the problem with the claws, but the soaked tree bark was too soft to be any use for the teeth. To wear those down, they needed to gnaw on something harder. Hence, they developed a taste for bone, and now drop from the trees with but little warning, and attack anything with a skeleton.”
“Then I trust we don’t meet any.”
“Like those,” said Rannie as a number of snarling giant vampire rabbits plopped down in front of them. “Run!”
“Or wade,” said the Magus. “Everything is in slow motion.”
“Perhaps that will hold them up.”
As the three adventurers struggled to get away from the lagomorphic host, the creatures scrabbled up the trunks of trees and leapt along the branches, cutting off potential escape routes.
“I think we have to fight,” said Rannie, drawing the rusty bejewelled imperial sword she had been presented with. She made a few practise sweeps with it, and the end of the blade bent, perforated with rust.
“Leave it with me, ma’am,” said Luigi. “I understand rabbits. I will hold them off with rabbit-thwarting techniques, while you make good your escape.”
“You are very brave,” said the Magus.
“No, I just love bunnies,” said Luigi. “Go.”
“Will he be okay?” said the Magus, as he and Rannie paddled across slightly more solid ground towards the hillock in the ‘Uncanny Valley of the Emperors’ where the tomb resided.
“If anyone can be, he will,” said Rannie. “Anyway, he loves
doing things like that. He must have tried to sacrifice his life for me at least a dozen times since I rescued him from the backstreets of Glenodure, the capital of Glenforbis.”
“I used to work there,” said the Magus, standing on one leg and emptying the water out of his boot. “It’s rife with crime and second-hand-dung carts. He would certainly be grateful to leave. I know I was.”
“Very much so. He says he owes me his life and his nasal passages, and there is no finer accolade than when he blows his nose and the handkerchief doesn’t spontaneously combust. Ah, here we are. There are supposed to be many more tombs hidden around this valley, but as yet, nobody has bought the necessary diving apparatus to explore them. Come on. At least this one is above swamp-level.”
They climbed out of the soggy grassland and up to the tomb.
“The door to the barrow looks very sturdy,” said the Magus.
“Let me see.” Rannie went up to it and ran her hands around the edges. “Sealed,” she said, “with bi-continuous, nonporous electrodes.”
“You can tell that simply by touch?”
“No, there’s a sign here that says, ‘Sealed with bi-continuous, nonporous electrodes. Do not attempt to open on Fridays without the Imperial Key’. Have we got the Imperial Key?”
“Maurice didn’t mention it. So we can’t get in?”
“I’ll give it a try.” She rummaged in her handbag.
“What have you got there?”
“It’s one of my special multipurpose nail-files.”
“Multipurpose? What else can you do with one, except file nails?”
“There was a lot of demand from terrorists for a nail-file that could fire lasers, cut through steel bulkheads and control aircraft. What you see here is one of the most dangerous weapons in the galaxy. Why else do you think they are banned from your hand luggage?”
The Fourteenth Adjustment Page 22