"Going great guns, partner," Aahz said. "A few more hundred thousand like that and we're immortal."
Just as he said that, Cay-Man struck the head of the chisel. The carving tool seemed to spin in his hand. The next thing I knew, it was facing the wrong way. The point plunged into his palm. The carpet salesman's wife screamed.
Cay-Man knelt, clutching his hand. Tears rolled down his scaly face.
"I have an owie!" he cried.
"Don't pay any attention to him, folks!" Samwise said, holding up his hands for calm. "Someone go get Doctor Cobra."
I hurried to the carver's side and looked at the wound. To my surprise it was less than an inch long and barely bleeding.
"It's just a scratch," I said.
"It's not!" the carver wailed. "I'm going to die. Everything is starting to go black ..." He raised the uninjured hand to his forehead. The crowd crooned sympathetically.
I rolled my eyes. He was enjoying having an audience.
Between a pair of Ghordesses barged a male with a snake for a head.
"I'm Doctor Cobra," he said. "Where'sss the patient?"
Cay-Man waved a feeble hand. The doctor homed in on him. He seized the injured limb and examined it, the snake-headed male's beady eyes scrutinizing the wound.
"It is not a serious injury," he stated, "but you will require immunization against infection."
Without further warning, he bared his fangs and jabbed them into the palm of Cay-Man's hand.
"Yow!" the carver yelled. "I hate injections!"
"Yes, yes," Cobra said, as if he'd heard it all before. "But, see? It is already healing."
To my amazement, the wound started to close up from one end to the other.
"That's remarkable," I commented.
"Nothing, really," Cobra said, modestly. "It's the second most common injury on the site."
"Let's move this slab out of the way," Beltasar ordered. "It can be completed later on! Let us place it in the Phase Two work area." She zipped over the corner of the foundation and hovered above a perfectly level floor of flagstones that had been laid down beside it.
"Let me help," Aahz said. He and the used-carpet salesman joined the horde of Scarabs and Ghords who swarmed up to move the historic stone.
"No, we do not need you!" Beltasar insisted. "Ghords and Perverts ruin everything!"
"Knock it off," Aahz growled. "This is my project!"
"On your head be it." Beltasar flitted back to the stone's destination. "Proceed!"
"Together now," bellowed Inhstep, Beltasar's assistant contractor.
Hundreds of Scarabs burrowed down and lifted the huge block. Aahz stooped and got his fingertips underneath the edge.
"Hoist!" cried Inhstep.
The huge stone rose a couple of feet. Aahz's muscles popped under his fashionable tunic as he helped move it. His strength was far greater than mine. Even with help, I couldn't have moved that slab without magik. Together, the team edged slowly over the rammed foundation, backed slowly onto the new work area, and started to lower it.
A loud rumble began. I felt the ground start to shake under my feet. I was thrown to one side. I kept from falling by grabbing onto the air with a handful of magik and hanging on.
"Yeow!"
A familiar bellow reached my ears. I flew to Aahz's side. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Stone. On. Foot!" he gritted out. I looked down and realized his toes were partway underneath the gigantic slab of rock. The Deveel merchant, by virtue of having hooves instead of feet, missed out on the same tragedy, but his fingers got caught. He was on his knees trying to tug them loose. Hundreds of
Scarabs had been knocked flat on their faces, their six limbs spread out around them. They flexed their legs to try and heave upward.
"Gee, that's awful," I said. "Does it hurt?"
"Of course it hurts!" Aahz bellowed. "Do something!"
"No problem," I said.
Having done it once with the pyramid next door, hefting one building block posed no problem. I pressed against the unseen desert bedrock, far beneath the sands, and the block rose. Aahz staggered backwards and sat down on the paving stones. I moved the slab and set it down out of the way.
"That's the most common injury," Dr. Cobra sighed, switching his narrow head from side to side. "Give me room!" he ordered, pushing back onlookers.
"Funny thing," Beltasar said, as we stepped out of the doctor's way. "All of these people are owners."
Gurn was gone, probably back to Suzal to report on us.
Chapter 17
"Now we're all in this together."
—G. A. Custer
A crushed foot took a few days longer to heal than a cut palm, although in the case of a Pervect, not much longer. Aahz took advantage of Miss Tauret's cooing over him and kept the cast on his leg well past the time when he showed any pain at putting his foot on the floor. Even though having him out of commission meant I had to do all the rounds on site myself, I let him get away with sitting around. I felt responsible for him getting hurt. After the conference Guido, Nunzio, and I had had, I should have been watching more closely. If that stone had fallen on him, it could have killed him.
"You know, Miss Tauret's supposed to be greeting visitors, not just waiting on you," I said, as the receptionist slipped out of the room with an empty pitcher.
"You gotta enjoy the perks," Aahz stretched lazily. "Besides, I'm not going to haul my butt up and down those ramps with plaster on my leg. I don't have any clients coming by until tomorrow. It's not like I don't have any work. The paperwork never stops." He threw a document to me. "Here. Sign this."
I glanced at it. The papyrus was entirely written in glyphs, except for Aahz's signature down at the bottom. A second line had been drawn to the right of it with a symbol below. The figure of a male with the bee revolving around its head meant 'skinny Klahd, hair of honey.' "What is it?" I asked.
"Progress report," Aahz grunted. I shrugged and reached for a reed pen. As soon as I signed it, Aahz took it back and stuck it in the Crocofile.
"Where's the food?" he demanded. "Hey, honey, come on with the snacks! I have to get my strength back!"
"Honey?" A face showed around the doorjamb. Instead of the gray visage we expected, it was covered in purple fur. "Sorry, what? I say, Aahz, are you up to having visitors?"
"Chumley!" I exclaimed, coming to offer him a hand. He engulfed me in one of his usual Trollish embraces.
"Good to see you, Skeeve, but mum please on the C-word, eh? The walls, as they say, have ears. I go by Wat-Is-Et here."
"Wat-Is-Et?" I asked.
"My name," Chumley said.
"I get it, but what is your name?" I asked.
"It is what it is."
"I thought you said 'what is it?' " "No, Wat-Is-Et."
"I'm still trying to figure out what it is." "It's very simple." "Then what is it?"
"Now you have it," Chumley said, with a smile. "What?"
"Hold it, hold it!" Aahz said, holding up his hands to stop us. "We haven't got time for 'Who's On First.' I'll explain it to the kid later." I closed my open mouth. "Take a load off! How are you doing? It's been a while. We've been expecting you to drop by."
"Oh, yes." Chumley looked a little uncomfortable. "It hasn't been too easy to get away, what with the way things have been going in the royal court. Suspicion and intrigue have been rife, what?"
Aahz eyed him. "And you're right in the middle of it?"
"Trying not to be, old thing, trying not to be! But it is difficult. The walls have ears, as they say, and even a simple gesture is enough for some of our neighbors to read. They are adept at putting volumes of meaning into a single expression."
"I've noticed," I said. "Some of those glyphs are as long as a book."
"When your means of writing is a chisel and a block, you compress as much as you can into every stroke," Chumley said. "It is a marvelous time saver, but also fraught with difficulty if you get even a syllable wrong, as I have found to my dis
may."
"I won't ask what you're doing," I said. "I mean, it's none of my business. But I have to say I'm curious how you got involved in the court here."
"For once," Chumley said, "my erudition won out over my more obvious attributes."
"Huh?"
"How'd you get to be a linen-wearing bureaucrat?" Aahz asked.
Chumley sat back on the guest bench, which creaked under his weight, and threw off the curtaining headdress. "Ah, well, it started as an accident, I am afraid. The previous Pharaoh, Geezer the Ninth, had a wise man who actually went to university with me. While studying in the university library some years ago, we rekindled our friendship. Naten-Idjut was a fine fellow. We had mutual interests in the study of geology and mineral rights, but we came upon one another in the ancient lore section. Scads of old scrolls and ostraca, marvelous sources of both rumor and information.
"Naten-Idjut fell ill before he could return home. He needed to convey to his employer some important information. Leaving him in hospital, I went to Aegis as his locum and found myself as a visiting fireman, so to speak. To my surprise, I also spotted a problem that my old friend had not observed, having to do
with food supply and sanitation, and was called a wise man for my pains by none less than the Pharaoh Geezer himself. Ever since then, he and then his daughter, when he finally succumbed to old age, have called upon me when they needed outside perspective, what?"
"What?" I asked. "What perspective?"
"Whatever they require," Chumley said. "I must say, it is nice to have a job in which one can use one's own manner of speech. Big Crunch's monosyllabic verbalizations are hard on the throat."
"I think the kid wants to know, what perspective are they looking for this time?" Aahz asked.
"Ah," Chumley said. "Forgive me. Well, you saw part of it some days ago when you met her esteemed majesty.
The Pharaoh Suzal feels that she has incurred the wrath of the ancient ones. For months now, she has suffered severe attacks of food poisoning. Even though tasters sample all her food with no signs of distress, when she eats of almost any dish, she has a bad reaction."
"Could it be some form of magikal attack?" I asked.
"I am studying all the signs," Chumley said. "More importantly, I am running chemical analyses on the foodstuffs in question to see whether we are dealing with food-borne parasites or pathogens targeted at the genetic level before I investigate magikal sources of interference. Science will reveal the truth." One of his many college degrees was in chemistry, as I recalled finding that out when a letter came from his alumni association looking for donations. Chumley had been embarrassed and ate the letter to keep anyone else from reading it. "If it does not prove to have a scientific answer, I may call in you two as consultants on the magikal side."
"I'd be honored," I said. "What do they think of her here in Aegis?"
Chumley's mouth curved in an avuncular smile. "She is a fine monarch, in the mode if not the mold of her father. She is much beloved. Her servants adore her, as do her people. I would be surprised as well as troubled if this were indeed some attempt to remove her from the throne. My spies have not indicated any usurpers threatening. Nor have any of the neighboring nations shown an interest in taking over Aegis. As you have seen, there's little arable land, and little useful mineral wealth at hand, apart from first-rate building stone. So far, I am at a loss."
"You have spies?" I asked, astonished. Chumley had always seemed to be the most straightforward person I knew.
"It's a jackal-eat-jackal world, old chap," he said. "You never know when a problem will turn up unexpectedly. Best to have all the warning one can."
"So," a voice said, from approximately my waist level, "you know our esteemed wise man."
I jumped at the sound. Gurn leered up at us. I wondered how much he had heard.
"Yeah," Aahz said, casually. "Turns out that his mama used to koochie dance at the bar my father owned. Shove off, pal. Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to interrupt other people's conversations? Ugly like yours is a major short-circuit."
To my surprise, Gurn looked hurt. It occurred to me that maybe he couldn't help looking like an annoying know-it-all. It might be a function of his misshapen face.
"How long have you been in Queen Suzal's employ?" I asked politely. Gurn regarded me with deep suspicion.
"My life is hers," he said.
I was touched. Gurn was a complicated guy, in everything except his devotion to his queen. I could respect that.
"We'll do everything we can to make this the best pyramid ever," I said. "Won't we, Aahz?"
Aahz regarded the interloper with distaste. "Yes. Of course."
"Do not make empty promises, Klahd," Gurn snapped, the soft moment ended.
"I don't make empty promises," I said, liking him less with every syllable. "If there's anything I can do, I'll do it."
"The word of Klahds has no weight here."
I felt my temper rising. "How about stones? If you want to step outside, I can drop one on you."
"Like you did to your so-called partner yesterday?" Gurn leered from me to Aahz. "The earthquake was a nice touch, distracting all of us from the attempt upon your friend's life. Very subtle! And will your next attempt be directly underneath her majesty's nose?"
All four of us stopped for a moment to contemplate that very pretty nose. Chumley sighed, breaking the spell. I growled down at Gurn.
"How do I know it wasn't you trying to mess things up?" I snapped.
"How dare you?" Gurn squealed. "I am the queen's trusted advisor!"
"I took a flight with you last week, remember? I can tell you like Diksen's pyramid better, and so does she. Maybe you want to convince the queen that she should try again to get in on it."
"You do not understand the function of a courtier at all, Klahd!" he exclaimed.
I bent down until we were nose to nose. "Yeah? So why don't you explain it to me?"
Behind him, Chumley was making the pat-down gesture again. Gurn spun around.
"Your education will be completed whether or not you like the teacher! And her majesty will be curious about the conspiracy that seems to be fomenting between her builders and one of her court officials. Is it a coincidence that you seem to be quite old friends—old fellow?" he demanded, throwing his head back to look Chumley in the eye.
"Maybe he's just easier on the eye," Aahz said. "Don't let the door hit your ass on your way out."
"Your misfortunes are not over!" Gurn snarled. He stalked off.
"Nice exit, what?" Chumley said. "Rather like an old-time movie villain. But he does bask in her majesty's favor."
"You can't put all your exits in one bask," Aahz said. "I don't care who favors him. It sure wasn't Mother Nature. The Pharaoh likes Samwise because he's doing what she wants, and by extension, she likes us.
I'll settle for that, for now. By the time he comes up with a way to interfere with us, I hope to be back in Deva."
"I am afraid that he can cause us rather more trouble than we can cause him. He's an insidious little creature, and a very powerful magician. Keep your eye on him, Aahz."
Aahz made a face. "If I have to. I've got prettier things to look at."
As if on cue, in sashayed Miss Tauret with a tray full of goodies.
"I have brought you your lunch, O noble-faced Aahz," she said, twitching her ears fetchingly. "Shall I set a place for your friend and your honored guest?"
"No, thanks." Aahz turned a gaze full of meaning upon the two of us. "They were just leaving. Nice to see you, Wat-Is-Et. Come back any time."
Chumley let out a laugh. "Come, Skeeve, let us take a tour of this marvelous construction."
In his persona as the queen's wise man, Chumley attracted plenty of attention from the locals on site. Samwise shook his hand enthusiastically and invited him to check out the second and third stones just being placed on the new fourth tier. Chumley duly admired them and praised the carvers for their hard work. The Ghords bowed to
him. As soon as he left one station, I heard hasty chiseling noises, then glyphs went flying toward the other Ghord emplacements. We stopped to see how the injured Scarabs were getting along. While their small limbs were wrapped in plaster like Aahz's leg, Beltasar had them sorting out different sizes of sand and gravel, some pieces so small I could barely see them. Chumley praised them on their diligence in four- and five-syllable words that were bigger than they were. Everyone was very impressed.
"You seem to have established a good working relationship with the staff," Chumley observed. He glanced backwards toward the office building. "Dare I say too good?"
"Maybe," I said. I kicked a small stone. "Say, er, Wat-Is-Et, have you noticed anything different about Aahz?"
"Not at all," Chumley said. "He is a man of strong appetites, as I have always observed, but does not usually let them interfere with his business acumen. Still, he won't miss a chance to indulge himself."
"You can say that again." There I was, trying to learn the ins and outs of good dating, and Aahz was going for girls right in front of me—and they were letting him. Perhaps Tananda was right, and I was overthinking things.
"Why do you ask?" Chumley interrupted my reverie.
"Well ..." I was reluctant to bring up my fears. It was unfair to Chumley, who was in Aegis on an unrelated mission. He had his own worries, but he must care what happened to Aahz. Yet I had asked, and Chumley was waiting for clarification. "Does he seem sick or troubled to you?"
"Aahz? No, not at all." Chumley laughed, then cut it off when he studied my face. "You are worried. Why?"
I lowered my voice. It wouldn't keep magikal eavesdroppers from hearing me, but it would discourage those who were merely listening. "Well, you know what we're selling here."
"Elaborate tombs for the well-heeled."
"Aahz bought one. Not just one, the top of the pyramid in Phase Two."
Chumley's shaggy purple eyebrows went up. "Really, old thing? Shell out for a, well, castle in the air? Why? Does he fear that mortality is imminent?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," I said. "I don't think that he's sick—but I don't know that much about Pervish health. He might have gotten a dire prediction from a fortuneteller, but he has never really believed in them."
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