Things a Map Won't Show You

by Pam Macintyre

  Cardello frowned. He clapped his hands and a fountain of fire leapt from them, jetting upward. ‘Enough! The penalty for being a stranger in Wolpen is beheading!’

  Bryn stared up at the scorch marks on the ceiling, then at the ropes which bound him securely, and decided that this was probably a reasonable time to start worrying.

  ‘Did I say I was a traveller? Sorry, I meant to say that I was born and raised in Wolpen. Lived here every one of my sixteen years, I have. Love the place.’

  Cardello was unmoved.

  ‘Sorry,’ Bryn said. ‘Did I forget to tell you about the treasure I buried on the other side of the border? I kept it in case I found someone –’ he glanced around ‘– twelve someones who looked as if they’d appreciate it. Just untie me and I’ll pop off and fetch it for you.’

  This time, Cardello smiled a calculating smile. ‘Stranger, our king died two weeks ago.’

  ‘It wasn’t me. Two weeks ago I was in Coobondolis. Nice people there. Didn’t tie anyone up.’

  ‘Stranger,’ Cardello went on, and Bryn wondered if the wizard had actually heard anything he’d said. ‘The laws of Wolpen are clear. When the Monarch of Wolpen dies, a new one must take the throne within a month.’

  ‘Not that you’re asking me,’ Bryn said, ‘but I don’t see the problem. Just toss the crown to the old king’s son or daughter. Isn’t that the way kinging works?’

  ‘Wolpen has a superior form of Monarchy. A queen or king is a powerful ruler. In order to avoid the excesses that can come with power, the Council of the Wise limits their reign to a single year.’

  Bryn didn’t like the way this was going. ‘What happens then?’

  ‘We cut their head off.’

  ‘Uh huh. I can see why none of you wants the job.’ Bryn’s eyebrows rose. ‘Hold on – you’re not saying that you want me as a replacement king, are you?’

  ‘We’re asking you to volunteer.’

  ‘King? Me? I’m only sixteen!’

  ‘We like to provide opportunities for the young.’

  ‘Wait – did you say you wanted me to volunteer?’

  ‘Wolpen cannot have an unwilling monarch.’

  ‘That’s it then. I don’t volunteer. Now, take it easy, don’t trip over in the rush to untie me.’

  Cardello’s smile became more shark-like than Bryn preferred. ‘We can’t tempt you? You’ll have a palace of your own. The best clothes, a lovely crown, all the tourmaline sherbet you can eat …’

  ‘And an appointment with an axe at the end of the year? No thanks.’

  ‘In that case, as a stranger in Wolpen, the penalty is immediate beheading.’

  Bryn blinked. ‘Let me get this straight. Either I volunteer to be your king, which means getting my head cut off in twelve months, or I get my head cut off straightaway.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Where do I get measured for the sparkly hat?’

  Wolpen was accustomed to reluctant monarchs. Guards were stationed in the palace, in the castle grounds, on the walls, and throughout the town. Bryn also discovered that a special corps of guards patrolled the countryside just in case a wandering king made it that far.

  This didn’t stop him trying. As soon as he’d been crowned in a stirring – and well-guarded – ceremony, he tried to escape.

  He tried slipping out of the city underneath a cartload of hay. He tried disguising himself as a washerwoman. He tried scaling the city walls with a rope made of torn-up blankets. He tried bribes. He tried threats. Nothing worked. Each day started with a new escape attempt, and each day ended with his ignominious return.

  The day after his latest attempt had failed – he should have known that the balloon-maker would betray him – Bryn slumped on his gold and ruby encrusted throne. Servants were taking away the remains of his breakfast. He’d been so depressed he’d only picked at his scrambled phoenix eggs and he hadn’t touched his favourite tourmaline sherbet.

  After a month of trying to escape, he had to admit that he was trapped. He tugged his fine silk robe with ermine trim around him – the mornings had grown a little chill – and shrugged. If he was in a trap, it was a very comfortable one. The castle was well-appointed, with a wonderful library, excellent art (even if it was mostly portraits of previous kings, painted before they had their heads cut off, of course) and a superb kitchen. Maybe he should just sit back and enjoy it while he could. It’d be simplest to wallow in the perks of the job while trying not to think about the unattractive retirement plan. The Wolpenites didn’t refuse him anything. No matter how extravagant the request, it was fulfilled immediately.

  He glanced out the window at the herd of unicorns frolicking in the morning sun and suddenly regretted asking for them. He now felt sorry for the creatures. They were trapped, kept here for people to gawk at.

  Just like him.

  He drummed his fingers on the solid gold armrest. He thought of his mother, and how disappointed she’d be to have a headless son. He thought of his father and how disappointed he’d be that Bryn hadn’t been able to wriggle his way out of this one.

  Power. Bryn was king but he had no real power. For a start, he’d tried to order his guards to let him go and they wouldn’t. Then Cardello had just laughed when he demanded a proclamation that redefined a ‘year’ as ‘a period of time a week longer than Bryn Scarfel’s natural lifespan’.

  He rubbed his jaw, thinking. It was obvious that Cardello had power. Whatever he said, the others in the Council of the Wise agreed with.

  Bryn needed more power than Cardello, otherwise he was doomed.

  An idea crept into his mind, slowly, almost shyly. Something he’d come across in the castle library …

  He sat up straight. ‘Cardello!’

  Instantly, the wizard was by his side. ‘Yes, your Majesty?’

  ‘The castle library. Do the people of Wolpen use it?’

  ‘Your Majesty jests, of course. The people are too busy to spend time reading books. Hard work keeps them happy, and the Council of the Wise makes sure they have plenty of happiness.’

  Bryn adjusted his crown. ‘Cardello, I’ve decided to give up trying to escape.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, your Majesty.’

  ‘Instead, I’m going to dedicate myself to improving the lives of the ordinary Wolpenites.’

  ‘A commendable twelve-month plan, your Majesty.’

  ‘I want all the books taken from the palace library and put in that mansion across the street. And I want this done by the end of the week.’

  ‘But that house belongs to Marwen Stilmadon! She’s the richest merchant in town!’

  ‘And I’m King of Wolpen.’ Bryn fixed Cardello with a stare. ‘Aren’t I?’

  Cardello bowed and he smiled his shark smile.

  ‘We’ll give her a good price, your Majesty. Besides, she’s been getting ideas above her station lately. This will put her in her place.’ He frowned. ‘If you’re turning the Stilmadon mansion into a public library, your Majesty, you’ll need a librarian.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of that.’

  After a month in his new role as King and Chief Librarian of Wolpen, Bryn made it a point to become friendly with the guards who waited at the palace to accompany him across the street.

  ‘Morning, Drogor. Morning, Arno.’

  ‘Good morning, your Majesty.’

  Bryn frowned at them and pointed to his long, red and very false beard.

  ‘Sorry,’ Drogor said, nudging Arno. ‘Good morning, Chief Librarian.’

  The guards helped to push through the waiting crowd, so he could reach and unlock the gates to the mansion. While the guards held the people back, he sprinted up the stairs to the front doors of the library.

  He nodded to the guards standing there, alert and eager. ‘Morning, Ollo. Morning, Tragi. Are Myrten and Yoph at the back doors?’

  ‘Yes, Chief Librarian.’

  ‘And Raph is at the side entrance?’

  ‘Yes, Chi
ef Librarian. And Pigar, Nox and Mimmon are on the roof.’

  ‘Ah. Good, good.’

  Bryn unlocked the doors, admiring Cardello’s caution. With all these guards, the wizard was taking no chances that Bryn’s library project was actually a clever plan to escape.

  He stepped over the threshold and hung his fur coat on the rack. Of course it was a clever plan to escape, just not in the way Cardello expected.

  He donned his crimson librarian’s robe, his gold Chief Librarian’s hat and adjusted his beard. Most Wolpenites wouldn’t recognise a king they’d never seen, but he wanted to make sure of it.

  He turned and waved to the guards. ‘Let ’em in!’

  He stood back. Hundreds of Wolpenites thundered through the doors.

  Bryn smiled. Step One in his quest for power – offering a little bit of learning to the ordinary Wolpenites – was going nicely. It was time for Step Two.

  That evening, the very first Library Discussion Group didn’t go quite as Bryn had planned.

  ‘I mean,’ he brushed at his false beard. ‘What good is a king, anyway?’

  The room had once been a banqueting room. Bryn had made it more comfortable with lots of cushiony armchairs arranged in a circle. When he’d had posters put up announcing a Discussion Group, promising hot drinks and cakes, the session had filled up quickly.

  Bryn’s opening question caused some muttering and a few floorward glances. All the armchairs were full, and plenty of people were standing around behind them, mostly slurping and munching and ready for some entertainment.

  One oldster, gamer than the rest, took up the challenge. ‘We’ve always had a king.’

  ‘Ah,’ Bryn said. ‘Tradition. A way of doing stupid things because that’s the way we’ve always done it.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ the oldster said.

  ‘Would you keep hitting your head against a brick wall because you’ve done it every day in the past?’

  ‘I’m too poor to have a brick wall.’

  Bryn sighed. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

  The woman next to the old man slapped his arm. ‘He’s talking about principle, Jubner.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bryn said. ‘In principle, having a single person make all the decisions isn’t very sensible. What if your king or queen is a loony?’

  ‘We’ve had a few of those, haven’t we, Rosa?’ Jubner muttered. ‘We just put up with ’em.’

  Rosa jumped in again. ‘But why should we? It just makes things harder. There must be a better way.’

  Bryn barely stopped himself from cheering. This was exactly what he wanted! If he could get the people on his side, Cardello wouldn’t dare touch him.

  As a low buzz of support greeted Rosa’s point, a young woman pushed her way forward until she was standing right next to Bryn’s chair. She addressed the gathering. ‘My name is Lila. Since this library has opened, I’ve been reading and reading. It’s as if I’ve been living in the dark and a light has suddenly appeared.’

  Bryn was pleased by the applause and charmed by the blush that rose to Lila’s cheeks. ‘My eyes have been opened,’ she continued, and Bryn couldn’t help noticing that they were the most remarkable dark green. ‘The Council of the Wise is a dangerous oligarchy that must be overthrown!’

  Bryn’s mouth fell open. It was as if the Discussion Group were a household cat that had suddenly turned into a tiger. In preparing for his plan, he’d read most of the books in the Political Theory section, but Lila must have devoured the entire shelf.

  ‘Oligarchy?’ he said. ‘That’s where a few people rule a whole country? You’re talking about the Council of the Wise?’

  Everyone ignored him. What had been just an excuse to get away from the cold and get free food and drink had become unexpectedly interesting.

  Old Jubner wagged a finger at Lila. ‘I never thought we lived in a real Monarchy, anyway. I thought we had a Constitutional Monarchy.’

  Lila laughed. ‘Constitutional Monarchy? Has anyone here ever seen Wolpen’s constitution?’

  Bryn had never thought of politics as good comedy material, but Lila’s question prompted hoots and laughter.

  Rosa crossed her arms and scowled. ‘You’re wrong. It’s not an Oligarchy. What we’ve got here is a Dictatorship. Cardello tells all those buffoons what to do. He’s the one in charge.’

  Bryn tried to assert control. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter what you call it, the way this place is ruled isn’t very good. We need something better.’

  ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place,’ Rosa said brightly. ‘We’ve discussed ’em all.’

  Lila caught Bryn’s look of astonishment. ‘Did you think this was the first political discussion Wolpenites have ever had? The library has helped us put words to thoughts, but we’ve been talking about governments for years.’

  ‘Talked about ’em and dumped ’em,’ Jubner said. ‘Like Kritarchy.’

  ‘Rule by judges,’ Rosa explained. ‘Hopeless. Judges are good for laws but don’t know anything about roads, and taxes, and sewerage.’

  ‘Then there’s Plutocracy,’ Jubner said. ‘Rule by the wealthy. Problem is that the rich generally like to make themselves richer and forget about everyone else.’

  ‘That’s a bit like a Timocracy,’ Rosa said. ‘Where only land owners have a say in government. Which is fine for land owners and not for anyone else.’

  Bryn’s head was spinning. ‘I see.’

  ‘You’ve got them started now,’ Lila murmured. She didn’t look displeased.

  Jubner counted on his fingers. ‘We’ve had a look at Stratocracy, Androcracy, Gynocracy and Theocracy. None of ’em any good.’

  ‘That’s rule by the military, by men, by women and by priests,’ Rosa added helpfully.

  ‘For a laugh, we’ve even looked at Anarchy,’ Jubner said.

  ‘No government?’ Bryn said. ‘Everyone just does what they want?’

  ‘Which is good if everyone is noble and honourable, but if any special group grabs power, it all goes pear-shaped.’

  Bryn saw an opening. ‘What if power doesn’t belong to a special group? What if power belongs to everyone?’

  ‘Democracy?’ Lila said. ‘Nice idea, but it has a few problems. I mean, who gets a say in a Democracy? Everyone?’

  ‘That’s the idea.’

  ‘Little children?’

  Bryn hesitated. ‘Well, there’d have to be an age qualification.’

  ‘And where would that be? Polnia, down the road a bit, has a Democracy where you have to be fifty years old to vote.’

  ‘They’re fooling themselves,’ Jubner growled. ‘Polnia’s an Oligarchy in disguise.’

  ‘It’s a Gerontocracy,’ Rosa said firmly.

  Jubner thought about this for a moment, then nodded.

  ‘Adults would vote,’ Bryn said firmly.

  ‘What’s that mean?’ Lila pressed. ‘Eighteen years old? Thirty?’

  Bryn felt as if he were sinking. ‘Not everyone could vote, naturally.’

  ‘And what about men?’ Rosa said suddenly. ‘I can imagine all sorts of problems if men get to vote. I’m not sure they could handle it.’

  Bryn put his hands on either side of his head. Maybe his plan wasn’t as easy as he thought. ‘Democracy isn’t perfect, but what form of government is?’

  Everyone in the entire room stared at him.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said slowly. ‘No form of government is perfect, but at least with a Democracy you get some sort of say in the imperfection.’

  Lila nodded. ‘It might be rubbish, but it’d be our rubbish.’

  Bryn smiled. ‘Lila, what do you know about elections?’

  Two months later, Bryn thought it would be the perfect time to make his escape. After all, the parade meant that no one would be keeping an eye on him.

  He had a coil of rope in his pack, perfect for scaling the wall. He had a good knife and he had a map that showed the quickest way to the border.

&n
bsp; A huge cheer came through the window of the throne room. Bryn peeped out to see the street lined with people. The recently elected councillors, the members of the new Assembly of the People, were marching along, smiling and waving. Flags hung from every window.

  ‘You’re not leaving, your Majesty, are you?’

  Bryn whirled to find Cardello glaring at him. A dangerous, fizzing glow surrounded the wizard’s hands.

  ‘I’m not king any more.’ Bryn was pleased his voice was steady. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s been an election. The people have spoken.’

  ‘Bah! The people! What would they know?’

  ‘Well, it looks as if they don’t want you any more, or your stupid year king system.’

  ‘And who helped them come to this conclusion, I wonder?’ Cardello spread his hands. He juggled a spitting ball of magic from one to the other and began to walk toward Bryn. ‘You know, sometimes a year king doesn’t last the whole twelve months. Unfortunate circumstances sometimes intervene.’

  Bryn backed away, but was brought up short by the windowsill behind him. ‘I suppose you mean mysterious accidents.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Cardello drew closer. He spun the ball of magic on one finger. ‘When this happens, we need to find another monarch. But we haven’t had much trouble in the past. Look at the way you arrived, just in time!’

  ‘Look, Cardello, your days are done. The people don’t want me, or you. They want the Prime Minister they voted for.’

  Cardello growled and stopped a few yards away. The ball of magic grew until it was as large as a pumpkin. ‘Prime Minister! What could a Prime Minister possibly do that I cannot?’

  The door to the throne room opened. A slim figure stepped in. With grace and surprising speed, she crossed the room and stood directly between Bryn and the furious wizard. ‘Hello, great-grandfather. Haven’t you left yet?’

  Cardello nearly exploded. ‘Lila! Step aside!’

  Lila’s dark green eyes flashed. ‘That’s Madame Prime Minister to you, great-grandfather.’

  Bryn tapped Lila on the shoulder. ‘Look, I don’t want to get in the way of a family situation. I’ll just make my way out.’