by John Jakes
And so saying, he led the way up the incline.
Her Radiance went with us. But Conax, who immediately commenced complaining, was tapped on the head and rendered prone. I hoped the rest might make him more temperate.
From the passage which I had traversed before, we turned to the right, into a similar way. Shortly, His Splendor signed to the left.
Once more we descended an incline—this rather longer; I was beginning to get the hang of it!—to a sort of gallery overlooking a large chamber where blue beings scurried in and out among half a dozen round, open vats. The vats brimmed with a dark purplish liquid, which was apparently pumped out through a complex network of transparent pipes.
All attending the vats flexed their digits out of respect for the royal presence. Then they continued in their incomprehensible chores. The king said:
"Below, you see the Sacred Fuel. It is the wellspring—the source—of civilization on Zorop. This craft is powered by it. All our ubflabs are illumined by it"— (I declined to ask the nature of an ubflab. A public structure, might it be?) —"indeed, all of Zorophimian culture is centrally rooted in the supply of Sacred Fuel. In our world's dim beginnings, there was an abundance. But ours is a very ancient planet, growing more populous with each passing zapz. Due to these increased demands, as well as to certain temporary climatological setbacks, the supply of Sacred Fuel is running dangerously low. In a few more whambs, all will be gone—and life as we know it on Zorop will expire."
Wonderstruck, I asked, "And there is no means by which you can create additional quantities?"
"None," said Her Radiance. "Our finest minds have studied the problem. They have exhausted every known possibility."
'Thus," continued her consort, "equipped with our knowledge of the inhabited planets—there are quite a few of those, you know—we have visited each in turn, searching for wellsprings of the Sacred Fuel. We intend to locate a supply which will enable Zorop to flourish for another plenty-thousand lubs or more."
"How has your search fared so far?"
"We have been away from our home world an aumox already. And each stop has been more disappointing than the last. Nowhere can we find the Sacred Fuel. Oh, there's life aplenty—and usually it's hostile, just as here. So we leave—without Sacred Fuel."
"But if you fail to find it anywhere—!" I exclaimed.
"Extinction," he intoned. "The darkness. The end."
"Whew," I said, "that's a heartrending tale."
Once more I glanced down at the vats; the mysterious purple liquid was fuming and foaming.
"I'm sorry to say, Your Splendor, that offhand I don't know of any supply either. Perhaps if you indicated its composition—?"
Her Radiance poured out a string of terms, until at last I raised my hand.
"It's no use, I can't understand. Is it possible to translate that gibber—uh, formula?"
"According to our linguistic studies, there are no equivalents," His Splendor answered. His shoulders seemed to fall, despairingly. "Perhaps the search is futile, as we are beginning to suspect. Come, we are weary of this place—"
I followed the king and queen up the incline, and back to the audience chamber, where I now saw an opening in the ceiling. Through it, I perceived the moon, luminous behind stormy clouds. The craft had surfaced, though how and when His Splendor had issued the order remained a mystery.
"Let us arise for a breath of fresh blope," said His Splendor, stepping under the opening and immediately levitating.
I followed suit, intrigued to find myself likewise lifted.
With agile movements, His Splendor negotiated the roll of the craft, holding fast to the ornamental spine. I did likewise. Her Radiance had opted not to join us.
Thus, in company with the monarch of distant Zorop—if I could believe in such a "planet!"—I clung to the fantastical ship and looked longingly at lamplit Atlantis rising from the night-dark sea.
That sea, I might mention, had grown quite choppy. The clouds scudding before the moon looked distinctly menacing. Another storm on the way; one awful omen after another!
"That is your homeland, then, Hoptor?"
"Fair Atlantis," I nodded, not without a sentimental tremor.
"A cruel, unattractive place. Though a cut above one or two others we have visited. None can compare with Zorop. Ah, Zorop, Zorop! Shall our eyes behold you ever again? Shall we once more revel in your justice? Your learning, your culture, your intrapersonal harmony? Aye, perhaps not—!"
A moment of silence; then a sharp gesture.
"But this melancholy ill befits a monarch! We must turn our thoughts to more practical matters. Since your state, too, evidently knows nothing of the Sacred Fuel, further visitation is fruitless. Therefore, in return for what has been a generally agreeable visit—once we calmed your furious companion!— we shall immediately order this craft to fly you home."
O nausea! And not from the rolling sea, either.
"But Your Splendor—I don't dare go back—that is, I don't wish to go back—that is, I couldn't possibly trouble you—"
"Nonsense," he replied, "it's no trouble. We shall depart at once."
* Eleven *
Imagine my dismay at this turn of events!
Having behaved agreeably in the presence of the curious Zorophim, I was about to be repaid by a kindness which would do nothing short of plunge me back into danger. Happily, in such a plight, my native wit didn't desert me.
I had no sooner followed His Splendor down to the circular room, via the now-familiar levitation process, than I made so bold as to say:
"Before we do anything hasty, let's discuss the subject of the Sacred Fuel again. If I were to be appointed, let's say, Official Liaison Officer of the Zorophim to the Court of His Exaltedness, Geriasticus X—why, by virtue of my many connections and acquaintances, I might be able to reward your search."
The blue ruler countered, "But did you not state that you lacked any knowledge of Sacred Fuel sources?"
"True, true! But I was speaking personally—and I'm only a simple vintner. It would behoove you to converse with some of our many savants—" (Frankly, I couldn't name a single one, save addled Babylos; but sometimes truth must be adjusted to suit a higher purpose!) "They might possess the information I lack."
Hope gleamed in those elongated eyes. "Do you really think so, Vintner?"
"Oh, very definitely—provided you permit me to establish you at court, via the proper procedures and protocols—"
The discussion continued for some additional time. Even I blush to recall the many outrageous misstatements I was required to make in order to convince him. Suffice it to say, the quest of the Zorophim was of such great importance that he finally agreed.
As a direct consequence, I was soon ferried within wading distance of the beach.
The Zorophim could extinguish their craft's exterior lanterns at will. Thus we approached the shore undetected. His Subservience, Captain Mrf Qqt, was going to come along, a circumstance I wasn't too happy about. But His Splendor insisted.
Mrf Qqt affixed a silver disc to his forehead by means of a chain which he slipped round his skull. This, I was told, would enable him to communicate instantly with his superiors, informing them as soon as I had arranged a court audience.
Therefore, I gathered up my now-begrimed cloak and slid down the side of the craft into the surf, landing navel-deep but upright. Conax followed suit, grumbling over not being kept informed about what was happening.
The captain was more agreeable, content to follow my lead and slog to shore without comment. We landed near the point where we had embarked—in another age, it seemed. Many wondrous events had transpired in the interim, as I was reminded when the vessel of the Zorophim rose straight up from the foam, torrents of water draining down its sides. Higher and higher it climbed. Now nothing could conceal its iridescent glow.
At a suitable altitude, it flashed away horizontally, to rendezvous somewhere behind the clouds with its sister ships.
"Come on," I told the others wearily. "Up the wall and down again. And look sharp for soldiers."
Fair Atlantis had quieted during our absence. At least I did not detect the presence of armed might on every corner. The night had grown ominously dark, the clouds hiding the moon once more. Lightning began to flicker intermittently.
Perhaps it was my fatigue, but I wondered if all this hustling and scheming would ultimately prove to be for naught. Perhaps gods greater than either I or the Zorophim could imagine were preparing an unhappy fate for us all.
Rotten Row, at least, seemed its old self. A member of the gentry was being throttled in the shadows near the Bloody Bench. I thought I recognized a friendly face.
"Ho, Mimmo, you scalawag. Tear yourself away long enough to do me a favor."
Recognizing me at once, he left the gentleman struggling in the grip of his five- and six-year-old assistants. I had asked His Subservience to stand well back in the dark, and he had earlier donned a cloak which did not shimmer. But there was simply no concealing the glint of the disc chained to his forehead. It immediately attracted Mimmo's greedy eye.
I boxed Mimmo's ears.
"You little rascal, can't you recognize cheap goods? The man's a traveling necromancer—a worker of marketplace stunts."
"Oh yes? Is that why his dial's all blue?"
"Hasn't had time to remove his makeup. Gave a whole series of performances tonight. Now pay attention, and I'll reward you handsomely later. Go into the Bloody Bench. See if there's anyone present who is trustworthy. If so, fetch him."
Mimmo nodded and hopped off, though not before he fixed us with a piercing glance I did not understand.
Shortly he returned with aged Rheumus, an acquaintance of long standing. I had helped Rheumus obtain pension payments by testifying that he was lame. In fact, he was spry as a cat. Mimmo shot off down the street at top speed, while I inquired about the general situation.
"Very bad, Hoptor," Rheumus coughed. He was forever feigning infirmities in order to beg zebs. "Right after you dropped out of sight, General Pytho's men rounded up a flock of so-called undesirables. Many were executed, hundreds more thrown in prison—"
"In heaven's name, what's the reason for such injustice?"
"Them lights that's been flashing has got everybody saying Atlantis is accursed. Most folk think a cataclysm's due—"
A well-timed ruffle of thunder punctuated his remarks dramatically!
"—and them that's still at liberty are furious with old ivorymouth. There's either ruin or rebellion brewing. Maybe both."
"Thanks for the counsel, Rheumus. I'm off for my villa—"
"Ssh! Don't say that so loud! You obviously don't know what else has happened."
"Tell me!"
"The general's put a price on your head. A whopper. Two hundred and fifty zebs. Why, if you'n me didn't have a history of friendship, I might be tempted myself— Say, who's your friend with the jewelry on his head?"
But I was already departing the scene, cursing General Pytho's vindictiveness.
Fortunately, we were able to reach my house undetected.
All the soldiers had been withdrawn, probably on the theory that I would not be foolish enough to return. Perhaps our return was rash. But we needed a base of operations.
We scaled the wall, passed through the garden, and proceeded to my study. With stylus and tablets, I immediately drafted a message:
MEMORANDUM:
From: the Official Liaison Officer of the Zorophim.
To: His Exaltedness, Geriasticus X.
Subj: Marvelous royal beings from another "planet," intercourse with.
Thereafter, in a succession of well-chosen phrases, I sketched the arrival of the blue monarchs, briefly noted the many marvels I'd witnessed as their guest, and mentioned the desire of the Zorophim to meet with Geriasticus under conditions more pleasant than they had encountered earlier.
Further, I advised that the visitors be received with extreme courtesy and high honor, as their vessels were the source of the heavenly lights. Once their presence was explained to the populace, I stated, panic would disappear, and Geriasticus X would zoom up to his former heights of popularity.
On the final tablet, I outlined my terms for helping to bring about a mutually advantageous audience. Those terms, of course, included full pardon for myself.
I then signed Hoptor the Vintner, underneath repeating my title, just to make certain.
When I had read portions of my memorandum aloud, Conax said, "But how do we deliver that to the palace?"
"Why, you shall take it. It's time you held up your end again. In one of the portions I didn't read, I asked for your pardon along with that of several others. See for yourself—"
I displayed the tablets, which I doubted he could read. In point of fact, I had, in my haste, neglected to mention his name.
"Umm, yes, I see," he said, which only proves the conceit of kings!
"Only you, Conax, have the sheer force of personality to persuade the palace guards to let you speak to Geriasticus. I'll provide what support I can. Follow me."
In a rear room, I located a poor-quality sword I had once purchased when the neighborhood was undergoing a rash of burglaries. The flimsy weapon seemed to restore Conax's confidence. He departed through the front doors, slashing the air and making barking noises, the tablets tucked beneath his other arm.
While Mrf Qqt amused himself by wandering through my villa to peer and poke at the unfamiliar furnishings, I set about drafting a set of tablets identical with the first. In truth, I was not at all certain that Conax would come through alive. In the event that he didn't—alarming thought!—I would have to go myself.
At least two hours went by. Then, between claps of thunder, I heard a groan from the garden.
I flung aside the study hangings, rushed down the hall, and thence outdoors. Conax had just dropped over the wall. He was a veritable patchwork of sword cuts!
"Conax, what happened to you?"
"I encountered quarrelsome guards." All at once, he grinned. "They tasted iron, to their everlasting regret."
"Didn't you manage to talk your way into the king's presence?"
"No, unfortunately, I lost my temper before—"
"You rash rogue, you've ruined everything!"
"In what way? I didn't talk my way to Geriasticus, I fought my way. Maiming at least a dozen of his toadies en route! I hewed a bloody path straight to the old fool's sleeping rooms, and surprised him in his nightgown, with his ivory mouthpieces lying nearby. Of course, by then, a pack of baying hellhounds pursued me. By thrusting the tablets into the king's hands, then holding the doors shut with nothing save the strength of my thews, I gave him time to read all that babble you wrote. At first he looked as though he'd glimpsed the abyss. Then he questioned me—all the while my pursuers were beating the door with a battering ram. But the thews of Conax held fast! When I vouched for the presence of the Zorops or whatever you call them, the king instantly brightened up. I've never seen such a swift change, in fact. He read me that passage about his popularity, seizing it as a rat a cheese. He bade me admit the soldiers—they fell on their arses when I removed myself suddenly—and he forbade them to touch so much as a hair of my head. Then he ordered me to return here, and bid you arrange a formal visit by the Zorops. Oh, yes. He also granted your terms. Aphrodisia and that soothsayer will be freed at first light. Here, it's all written on this little tablet and marked with his seal. In sum, not a bad night's work!"
So saying, he flexed his blood-stained biceps proudly.
"Well, Your Subservience," I said to Mrf Qqt, who had joined us, "we have won a small victory from Geriasticus at last. Principally because he needs to restore the people's faith and calm their fears. We must immediately communicate with your—"
Knocking resounded within the house.
"I hope that's not soldiers," I said. "Conax, where is your sword?"
"Stuck in some lieutenant's leg, I believe."
&nb
sp; "Then I must prepare other defenses!" I rushed toward the house, urging him to follow.
"No, thanks, I've done my share," he replied, dogging me into my study. He picked up a flagon of wine and, humming, began to empty it over his wounds.
Seizing the heaviest taboret available, I pressed Mrf Qqt into following me to the street doors, where the knocking was repeated, louder this time.
"You turn this handle, Captain. Then step back. I, crouching to one side with the taboret raised, will dispatch whoever has come to arrest us."
Nodding, he released the latch. A gray oblong appeared on the floor—it was indeed the first crack of morning. A voice exclaimed, "Praise be, we're free—!"
I brained the entrant as he entered, discovering his identity as he fell.
"Babylos! And Aphrodisia! My little vintage—! Argh! Why are you hitting me that way?"
"Why did you hit him?" she returned.
"I, I—" Dodging her fists, I attempted to explain: "I thought it might be soldiers, trying to collect the reward on my head. An honest error—gods! Will you kindly stop that?"
"I don't know when I've ever met such a vexatious person!" she exclaimed, delivering one final blow to my ribs.
"How have I vexed you, Aphrodisia? I told you that striking Babylos was an accident!"
"You've vexed me by not honoring your promises of marriage! Had we been husband and wife, none of this would have happened!"
"Aphrodisia, I find it inconceivable that you can think of marriage at a time like this. Events of unparalleled significance are taking place, but you utterly fail to appreciate—"
Just then, Babylos woke with a groan. He sat up, spied Mrf Qqt, shrieked and fainted.
Aphrodisia turned to look. She likewise shrieked and fainted.
Now I was the one who was sorely vexed! Mrf Qqt helped me drag Babylos to the study. I seized the wine jar from Conax—by now his wounds reeked like a dozen taverns!—and emptied what remained over the old soothsayer's head.
Babylos stirred, and licked his lips. Then he commenced raving about grape-flavored rain, another sure sign of the doom of Atlantis. I left the study forthwith, carrying Aphrodisia outside for some reviving fresh air.