The Madness of Kings

by Gene Doucette

  “Why not?”

  “He was next in line for the throne,” she said. “One of the most exalted positions on the planet. Why would he surrender that claim?”

  Damid didn’t answer that right away. It seemed he was struggling for the best approach.

  “What if he didn’t want to shoulder the cost of that position?” he asked.

  “How do you mean?”

  “It’s something we talked about a great deal. It may be harder to see from the inside, but the entire economic system of the nine kingdoms is horribly exploitive.”

  “You mean to the peasantry? You’re right, that is harder to see from the inside. Because on the inside it’s clear the citizens of Totus are quite content.”

  “This is a theocracy,” he said, “designed to maintain the exalted status of nine families at the expense of nearly everyone else. All the wealth flows upward, Batt. Even someone like you, an outcast designated at birth, is one of the richest people in one of the wealthiest countries in the world.”

  “That won’t be true for much longer,” she said.

  One of the unfortunate realities of her current circumstance was that most of her riches—though substantial—were ephemeral. There was her name, the bequest and the taxes that came with it, and whatever else she owned that was stored in the estate. (Her horse, Eremis, wasn’t included in the tally; she was still in the stable at Castle Totus. Batt remained saddened by the fact that she’d never see her mount again.) Beyond that, there was a decent-sized pile of platinum dorins stored in the basement vault at the Delphina, and nothing else.

  The kingdoms didn’t have internal banks, nor did any of its citizens—the royalty included—have access to Stream-based banking. (Each of the nine kingdoms did maintain accounts with the international bank for the purposes of global trade, but those accounts were held by the kingdoms and not by individuals—or families—within them.) The currency of the land was the dorin, a House-backed hard currency that existed in no other format. Therefore, Batt’s wealth was precisely what she could carry and nothing more. Her name would be disavowed, her titles and holdings stripped.

  “But you understand what I’m saying,” Damid said. “Take away the religious underpinnings of this region’s brand of Septalism and you have something a lot closer to a kleptocratic dictatorship.”

  “That’s a simplistic way of seeing us,” she said.

  “Is it? Ken didn’t think so. The only reason Totus exists as it does is faith-based: The belief the people here serve a mortal incarnation of a god, and that this service will be rewarded in the Haven. Take that away and what does it look like to you?”

  “It’s still simplistic,” she said.

  She had no interest in debating the merits of the Middle Kingdoms’ political system, a system that had been existence for longer than any other individual country on Dibble. Clearly it worked, and was stable, and the people participating in it were generally content. Otherwise the whole thing would have been torn down centuries ago. If Professor Magly wanted to lecture on the subject of the state being built on the backs of the worker, he needed to move his target further south, to Wivvol, where exploitation was their commerce. And if it was religious intolerance he was after, Punkoah had more to offer.

  Totus was just a land of farmers, hardly any of whom would willingly describe themselves as exploited.

  Yes, there were plenty of occasions in her life in which she felt like she was taking advantage of the peasantry. But every time she tried to make things more equitable, it was the people she felt sorry for who pushed back.

  She didn’t say any of this to Magly.

  “Did Ken really feel this way?” she asked instead.

  “He did when we were at Callim. Not at first, but eventually.”

  “And that’s why he was thinking about not returning.”

  “He ultimately decided there was no value in not returning,” Magly said. “The crown would only go to someone else; Ken would be perpetuating the system whether he went back or not. But what he could do was effect change from within.”

  “I must have missed the proclamation where he declared that everybody should start voting for their leaders from now on,” she said. It was a joke, but Damid took it seriously.

  “Nothing so drastic would have worked,” he said. “The masses had to want to be free. He decided the best way to make that happen was through technology.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He was going to pass a decree permitting the widespread use of previously forbidden tech.”

  She laughed. “He passed no such decree.”

  “I know, but that was what we talked about. And when he became king and didn’t…for years I thought it was because he’d changed his mind. We’re all a little more radical in college, aren’t we? I was sure once he’d returned home he decided he was fine with how everything was set up in Totus after all. Going from Ken Alcon to King Ho-Kenson could have that kind of effect, I’d expect. But I was wrong. What actually happened was that he’d gotten smarter about the whole thing. He could declare whatever he wanted in Totus, but unless all nine kingdoms passed the same decree it wouldn’t work; he’d just end up starting a war.”

  “The aero-cars,” Batt realized. “The voicers.”

  “Exactly. First, he had to get the others to appreciate the technology the way he did. I helped him facilitate all of that. It’s how I ended up in Extum, which is where I was when Ken first reached out to me about something he’d found.”

  “’Something he’d found,’” she repeated. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. He refused to elaborate. But he said he had proof, which we never had before. We only ever had rumors and rumors don’t go far when it comes to a place like the Middle Kingdoms. And he wanted it to get out.”

  “Out of where? Totus? And to whom? Who is the we you’re talking about?”

  “I’m not the only one who’s worried about what’s been going on in the Middle Kingdoms,” Damid said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Call it a human rights organization. That’s how we think of it. We’re Middle Kingdom scholars, but we’re also advocates for people who don’t have a voice of their own.”

  She was growing increasingly annoyed with his depiction of the peasantry as an oppressed population.

  “You advocate to whom precisely?” she asked.

  “The League of Countries, primarily,” he said. “Look, that’s not important right now. What is important is that Ken wanted to help our cause, and he was willing to risk a lot to do it.”

  “By smuggling out proof to show the League of Countries. Proof of how awful we are.”

  “I don’t know the nature of the proof, like I said. But he didn’t want it to go to the League; he wanted it released on the Stream. Only he didn’t want to sacrifice his position to do it. He preferred still being the king when the news got out—whatever it was—so that he could capitalize on it.”

  “That sounds like some proof,” she said, with a considerable dollop of sarcasm.

  “I think it was,” Magly said. (He was evidently immune to sarcasm.) “And I think they found out about it and killed him because of it.”

  “They couldn’t have required much of an excuse. If Kenson was about to, as you’ve said, liberate technology for the entire kingdom and the other eight disagreed…they might go to these lengths to stop him. Existential threat was how Fergo described it.”

  “Maybe, except I think Ken’s plan was actually working. I can tell you for a fact that all nine sovereigns have an aero-car now, and seven of them have their own voicers. I’m told King Honus-Veem of Paulus is looking into fusion technology to power his castle and the sovereign of Choruscam has been pricing tractors. What I’m saying is, Javilon’s crate has been opened and the snake is halfway out. No, this was something else. Do you think it’s a coincidence that they’re framing me for the murder? Because I don’t.”

  “All right,” she said. �
�Assuming Kenson had evidence that was precisely as significant as you think it was…we don’t know what it is. Can we at least work out where it is?”

  “Some of it was saved in his voicer.”

  “Which is in Porra’s hands. Terrific. How about where he got it? If it’s an image, it can be reproduced with the one in your pocket.”

  “He wouldn’t share that information with me either,” he said.

  “Well, the other kings know what it is,” she said. “We can try torturing them one at a time.”

  Magly fell silent again, either because he needed to concentrate on the piloting of the vehicle for a time, or because he had to think about the matter further. (She doubted he was taking the torture option seriously. She was at least semi-serious.)

  As regarding the aero-car, Batt couldn’t figure out how any of it worked. There were buttons and levers, a wheel and a lit console with all manner of measurements on it, but nothing Damid was doing seemed to be directly connected to their height, speed or direction. It was a good thing she didn’t have to fly it on her own.

  “Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” Magly said. “You were one of the last people to see Kenson alive. What did he talk to you about?”

  “He wasn’t making a lot of sense,” she said. “He said I was owed an apology but couldn’t say what for. I assumed it was because of how things turned out between us. Romantically. But he never got to say all he intended to; Porra interrupted us. At the time I thought that if it was serious enough he’d make another opportunity for us to talk, being the king. If he left a clue in there, I don’t understand it.”

  She thought back to the conversation, and the one that followed. Porra was so angry.

  He wouldn’t lay with her, she remembered.

  “About when did he say he found this proof?” she asked.

  “Eight, ten months ago. I’d have to check the message history, but I know he said he’d been sitting on it for a while, trying to decide what to do. If I hadn’t already been visiting the Middle Kingdoms I’m not sure what he would have done with it.”

  “We should go to the Great Temple,” she said.

  “Oh! All right. Why?”

  “I think something might have happened there. All the royals carry to term at the Temple. You know this, right?”

  “I do,” he said. “But I’m not clear on where you’re heading.”

  “Porra blamed me because of problems she and Kenson were having in the bedroom. She said he refused to give her a child and somehow that was my fault.”

  “That’s…extreme.”

  “I know, but I’ve been focusing on the wrong part of that story. The marriage was consummated; it isn’t like he’d not bedded her before. But royals intending to formally try for an offspring typically visit the Temple first. What if whatever had him so frantic to pass information on to you is the same thing that sparked Porra’s anger toward me?”

  “You’re saying you think something happened to him at the Great Temple,” Magly said.

  “I do. And it’s also where the King’s Justice brooch last resided.”

  “You want to shake down the High Hat for information while we’re there?”

  Battine had few pleasant memories where High Hat Alva was concerned. She used to nurse a fantasy back when she was a tenner of besting the woman in combat, revenge for all the imagined and actual abuses she’d inflicted on the younger Battine Alconnot.

  “I won’t lie,” she said. “If it comes to that, I’d probably enjoy it. But the larger point is we have two pieces of evidence that lead to Temple Island. Let’s start there.”

  “I’m in. I promised a friend I’d try to secure an invite there anyway. I was ready to write that off as not happening under the circumstances; I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear otherwise. How do we get there?”

  When Damid agreed to go, he probably assumed they’d be able to simply fly there. That was provided aero-cars could go over water. But docking an “airship” at Temple Island drew a ton of attention, which wouldn’t serve their purposes well.

  If they wanted to see whatever it was that Kenson saw on the island—assuming a decent number of their initial assumptions were even correct—they would need to get into the more-private areas of the temple. Battine knew where those areas were, but she also knew that getting to them would require that they arrive undetected.

  It would also require that they look like Septal monks.

  They’d worked out the plan to get to Temple Island by way of the pilgrim’s voyage before touching down at the Delphina bequest. The important details, like how to avoid detection for three weeks and how to obtain Septal robes, hadn’t yet been settled. Then Haupid stepped in and got them at least part of the way by promising to secure their lodging in a barn.

  This didn’t happen right away. Battine and Damid left the Delphina that night, flew the aero-car over the hillside and parked it in a clearing in the trees overlooking Dolt. They then spent an hour covering the car in loose branches to make it difficult to spot from the air. Then Damid did something with his voicer—“Marking its GPS” was what he called it, which she didn’t understand—so they’d be able to locate it again later.

  He also did something called “pairing it up” with the ignition, which she also didn’t understand and which he said he would explain later if he had to.

  Then they waited at the edge of the wood.

  At the same time they’d left in the aero-car, Haupid had taken the fastest remaining horse in Battine’s stable to Dolt over land, to his niece’s farm. There, he somehow managed to convince the niece—her name was Elownit—to join him in committing treason by hiding the Alconnot and her male companion.

  Whatever Haupid said worked. He turned up at nightfall on the following day to hand them over to Elownit.

  “Cover your heads,” was how Elownit greeted them, tossing a couple of blankets. “It’s two kalomaders to the barn. Better you’re not seen.”

  “She will take you the rest of the way, Battine,” Haupid said. “Now I’ve got to ride hard back to the Delphina. It will be easier to swear I never left if I’m there when the king’s guard arrive.”

  “Thank you, Haupid,” Batt said. “May your next lord be a boring old Alcon.”

  “One can only hope. The gods be with you both.”

  Elownit walked them to the barn, gave them a change of clothes, some food and a bucket, and promised to return with more food and another bucket twice a day. Meanwhile, it would be in their best interest to not leave the barn for any reason until it was time to head to the dock.

  That was a very, very long three weeks. The highlight was when, after a week had passed, they convinced Elownit to let them head to the main house under the cover of night and use the bath. The lowlight was whenever they had to use the bucket.

  But it worked. After the three weeks was over, their host showed up with two monk’s robes and the clothes they’d arrived in—now clean—and a horse-drawn cart to take them to the docks.

  Now, finally aboard Allyra’s Chariot, they were only a couple of hours from the island. The hard part, seemingly, was over.

  “There you are,” Magly said, sidling up next to her at the railing. “You know it’s incredibly difficult to find someone dressed as a monk on a ship full of people dressed as monks.”

  “You didn’t start talking to the wrong one, did you?” she asked. “That could get awkward rapidly.”

  “I didn’t, but it was close. There’s a sister on the aft deck who’s your exact height and build. Her skin’s too pale, but I had to get right up in her face to find that out.”

  Battine laughed.

  It was a minor miracle that they were still even talking. Battine couldn’t think of a single living person she was capable of being stuck with for three weeks without eventually murdering them while they slept. To that end, she had considered killing Damid Magly a couple of times, but overall it wasn’t all that terrible.

  They talked a good deal, or ra
ther he did, about the outside world. It was a subject in which her interest was no longer casual, given if she survived to make it to the border she’d end up having to live out the rest of her days in that world. It was a good idea, then, to start studying.

  They engaged in intercourse a few times as well, which was a decent way to pass the time, if slightly less entertaining than when a proper bed was involved. (She was still finding straw in the oddest of places.)

  The three weeks in the barn were definitely harder on Damid than on her, mainly because he had to force himself to shut off his voicer and stow it. He was under the impression that as long as they were in Totus, “someone” would find a way to locate them by tracking his device. It was an odd concern for a person whose most persistent complaint regarding the kingdom of Totus was the lack of modern technology, but he was convinced that this tracking capability existed and could be employed by the new king to find them.

  Unsurprisingly, then, as soon as they’d settled on the ship and secured their bags, Magly went below deck, found a dark, quiet place, and turned on his voicer.

  “So how are we doing?” she asked.

  “They aren’t looking for us,” he said.

  She fixed him with a look that was no doubt diminished by the hood. “Really.”

  “I mean outside of the Middle Kingdoms,” he said. “I assume we’re still in the same amount of danger as we thought we were when we got up this morning. But according to the Stream, King Ho-Kenson of Totus died in a tragic accident. We’re not wanted international fugitives at the moment, at least not publicly.”

  “That sounds like a good reason to head to Mursk,” she said. “Pity we’re facing the wrong direction.”

  “Maybe we can ask the captain to take us around the continent instead. I’m sure the others won’t mind.”

  “They might not even notice the change in direction.”

  “Right,” Magly said. “There was an unwelcome bit of news, though. You remember that friend I mentioned, who asked me about getting a tour of the Great Temple?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Mm. Well, turns out somebody murdered him.”