More servants threw silk pillows on a golden throne. After their queen was satisfied with their job, she shooed them away and took a seat. The most trying aspect of dealing with Serket was all the long pauses required as she was doted upon.
“So tell me, Emperor, former Warlord of Terra. What brings you here?”
“We think someone is stealing water from your fountain,” said Zala.
Serket’s eyes flashed. A servant offered her a platter of dates. She had another servant pick through the dates until he found one worthy of her. He placed it to her lips. She took a nibble and nodded her approval.
“The fountain is my most precious resource.” She paused for another throat moistening. “I assure you no one has stolen a drop of it.”
“Perhaps there’s been a theft you just haven’t noticed yet,” said Zala.
Serket chuckled. “I’m not used to seeing you with such foolish company, Emperor.”
“My apologies, Queen,” I said, “but she has a point. The thieves we suspect are very clever. They managed to abscond with some items of my own.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied the long, delicate fingers on her right hand. “Most distressing, I can imagine. But the Everlasting Dynasty has protected our fountain for over five thousand years without a single incident.”
“There’s always a first time,” said Zala.
Serket shifted in her throne then shifted back. Pillow wranglers ensured they were in the proper position each time.
“Three thousand years ago, I would have had your companion ritually disemboweled for that remark. But this is a different age, I suppose. I may be immortal, but I’m not unchanging. I can accept that the world is…more civilized. The rabble rules it now, and while that is disappointing, it is the way of things. Perhaps in another five thousand, the world will return to its proper order.”
She clapped. A giant scorpion with a throne mounted to its back scuttled from behind a curtain. Her servants transferred their queen to the new conveyance.
“In the meantime, perhaps it would ease your concerns to see the security for our fountain.”
The scorpion lumbered down a hall, and we followed, flanked by guards.
“Not very pleasant, is she?” asked Zala, under her breath.
“You’re still alive,” I replied. “That’s exceedingly polite from her perspective.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m Warlord of Terra. That puts us on relatively equal footing. And, yes, I know I’m not officially holding the title, but Serket’s old-fashioned. Once you’re royalty, you’re always royalty.”
“Such nonsense.”
“If I recall correctly, Venus is ruled by a queen.”
“Our queen proves herself by facing the Twelve Divine Trials. All this queen does is drink from a fountain.”
“I stand corrected. Yours is a far superior arbitrary system of governance.”
We entered a tremendous open space. Red stains, new and old, spattered the stones under our feet. Bones and broken weapons lay scattered across the room. Zala reached for her weapon, but changed her mind when three spears were put to her throat.
A blue spotlight fixed on us. My exoskeleton shut down.
Serket’s scorpion throne sprouted dragonfly wings and flew her to a balcony overlooking the chamber.
“You’ll forgive the insult,” said Serket. “I never would have dreamt of such an offense even a thousand years ago, but even a queen must sometimes put her honor behind other concerns.”
“It’s a different world,” I agreed.
“One rarely to my liking, but I adapt as I must.”
“What’s going on here?” asked Zala.
“Serket is working with the Brain,” I said.
“And just when did you deduce this? Before or after we walked into the trap?”
“On the flight over here.”
“And you couldn’t bother letting me know?”
“If I told you everything I know, you’d be terribly bored. So I leave out the little details. For your entertainment.”
Zala moved in a whirl. I wasn’t paying attention to the details, but by the end of it, she had a spear in each hand, and the guards were all on the floor, either dead or close enough not to worry about.
“Thanks for your consideration, Emperor.”
A device mounted on the coliseum walls was the source of the spotlight. A single candle, amplified and filtered through a scope containing crystalline prisms, was all that was required to interfere with my exo. The nature of the science eluded me, like most Dynasty technology. I’d have loved to study the device, if only for a glimpse of forgotten science, but Serket wasn’t one to share her secrets with the outside world, and I had more than enough secrets of science to explore without pressing the issue, even when I ruled Terra.
Zala hurled a spear. It arced beautifully and pierced Serket in the chest. The queen grunted, leaned back in her throne while a pair of handmaidens wrenched it free.
“How terribly uncouth,” said Serket.
Zala shrugged. “Had to try.”
“You could try for the spotlight,” I said.
She threw another spear. It clanged against the spotlight’s cast iron exterior, and the blue light flickered.
Zala prepared to hurl another spear, when a door on the other side of the arena opened and a monstrous arachnid lumbered forth. The purple-and-yellow behemoth, easily thirty tons, with pincers that could snap a full-grown snarglefot in half, plodded sleepily.
“She really loves scorpions,” said Zala.
The monster shook itself alert. It focused its many deep black eyes on us.
“Could you take care of this for me,” I asked. “I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.”
Zala drew her sword. Without any hesitation, she charged the great beast.
I turned my attention to Serket. “How long have you been working for the Brain?”
She spoke, but kept her eyes on the battle. “Always so eager for knowledge. It’s one of the things I do so love about you. I was always rather fond of you. Shame that I must kill you now.”
The arena rumbled, and the scorpion howled. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the unsteadied beast swaying as Zala did something to cause it to fall back a step. Stabbing it in some creative place, I assumed.
“It’s been, oh I don’t know, a few years now,” said Serket. “Time becomes…vague when one’s immortal. But it was well before I met you, Emperor. Before you even arrived on Terra. He wasn’t just a brain then, of course. But he was mortal and knew he must live on. For the greater good, as he liked to say.”
“He can’t have been the first to approach you for the secrets of immortality.”
“Most certainly not. There have been others. I tell them what I tell all. The secrets of my fountain are not mine to give. Drinking the undying water grants long life, but the effect varies among individuals. Only I have been given true immortality. A quirk perhaps? A gift from the gods? Who can say? This didn’t discourage him. He said the waters were all he needed, that he could decipher their secrets on his own. So I let him have a few drops to experiment with.”
“I’m surprised you let him have any.”
The scorpion growled, and Serket clapped her hands. “Oh my, very good.”
I glanced at the fight. Zala was astride the monster’s back. She’d speared out half its eyes and sliced off two legs. It was now trying to shake her loose, but she clung to her sword, buried in its back.
“And it worked?” I asked Serket.
A servant offered her another date, but she waved him away. The giant scorpion fell hard to the floor, squirming on its back as Zala dashed around, looking for a fresh vulnerable spot.
“And it worked?” I asked again.
“What worked?”
“The Brain found a way to use the water?”
She sighed, paused for another throat moistening.
“I suppose. In some manner.”
<
br /> “I’m surprised you let him have the water in the first place.”
She waved her hand. “He was very persuasive. One so rarely meets interesting individuals. Though I have lived countless lifetimes, such curious brilliance is an infrequent thing.”
“You never let me take a look at the water.”
Serket ran a delicate finger down her cheek. “You never asked.”
It had never occurred to me. I’d just assumed it was out of the question. It was little mistakes like this that both annoyed and amused me. I didn’t like slipups, especially obvious ones, but if I were truly infallible there wouldn’t have been a point in doing anything. It was only in those small moments of uncertainty that I found the challenges that kept me engaged.
“Could I have a sample now?” I asked.
She leaned forward, clasped her hands.
“No.”
I heard the scorpion beast’s death rattle. Or thought I did. But the monster wasn’t dead, only wounded and frightened. It skittered backward on its six legs, covered its cephalothorax with its claws, and cowered from Zala.
“Interesting,” said Serket. “You do keep the most unique company, Emperor.”
Zala sheathed her sword.
“Aren’t you going to finish it off?” asked Serket.
“There’s no glory in killing harmless beasts.”
Serket nodded to a servant, who sounded the gong. The arena doors opened again, and packs of merely wolf-sized scorpions charged toward us. But chains around tails restrained them to a dozen feet away.
“She really likes scorpions,” said Zala, drawing her sword again.
“There’s no need for that,” said Serket. “Lay down your weapon, and exit the arena peacefully. You have my word that no harm shall come to you.”
“You expect us to believe you’re letting us go?” asked Zala.
Serket laughed. “Nothing of the sort. I’m only granting you a moment of respite until I can determine an amusing way to get rid of you.”
“Lay down your sword,” I said.
“Are you mad, Emperor?” asked Zala. “I’m the only thing standing between you and death.”
“You’re a fine warrior, Zala. But even you can’t stand against that. If she wanted us dead, she wouldn’t ask you to disarm.”
“But you can’t ask me to surrender. It goes against everything I’ve been taught.”
“Don’t think of it as capitulation. Think of it as a strategic retreat.”
“I don’t retreat.”
Serket made a show of yawning. “I find myself growing bored. Perhaps watching you be ripped apart by my pets would be worthwhile after all.”
“You’ve said you’re going to trust me, Zala,” I said.
“You walked us into a trap. As a matter of fact, you keep walking us into traps.”
“Details.”
She leaned in and whispered. “This blade is tempered from the rarest, most sacred Venusian steel. It has been in my family-caste for nine generations. It is my soul. If I lose it, I shall have to seriously consider ritual suicide to atone for that sin. But not before I find you, wherever you might try to hide, and step on you, crushing your cartilaginous body beneath my heel. Very, very slowly.”
She put a finger on my dome and smiled with menace.
“Have I made myself clear?”
It was fortunate that Neptunon faces are so innately difficult to read because her threat, while not unexpected, was still a wee bit terrifying. The look in her eyes, the conviction in her voice, proved she meant every word. Getting killed by my own ally was something I had considered, but for the first time, it seemed a genuine possibility. It was another uncertain moment, and I smiled.
“You don’t believe me?” she asked.
“Quite the opposite,” I replied.
Zala held up her sword. “This blade was tempered from the rarest, most sacred—”
“Yes, I heard you,” said Serket. “Very inspiring. Very amusing.”
Zala placed the weapon at her feet. Guards rushed from another door and surrounded her. They aimed their spears at her but kept their distance.
“See that she is fed and cared for,” ordered the queen. “I trust she won’t do anything foolish.”
They led Zala away, although the word led implied they were in charge when all they were doing was following Zala from a safe distance.
Once they were out of the arena, Serket’s scorpion throne flew down and with a slight yellow glint in her glowing eyes, she asked, “Care to join me for lunch, Emperor?”
18
Serket arranged an elaborate banquet, where all manner of rare and exotic foods were presented to her in grand ceremony in her lavish dining room, decorated with golden statues, fine tapestries, and assorted works of expensive art. The room was made for a huge table, but instead an intimate round table sat in the center. Serket had a chair for herself and a tank of water for me. She’d taken my deactivated exoskeleton and stored it away.
Her minions stoked the heating unit under the tank while another sprinkled rose petals on the surface.
“I trust everything is to your pleasure,” said the queen. “Perhaps more salt?”
The salt-dispensing servant hurried forward at the suggestion.
“No, I’m comfortable.” I bobbed on the surface. The petals were more irritating than helpful, but I was a gracious guest. “Are the walls covered in platinum?”
“Yes, but it’s recently gone down in value so I’m thinking of having it replaced with gold.”
She nodded to a servant whose job it was to ring a bell, which he did with speed and efficiency. At the far end of the room, although all the ends of the room were far if you were technical about it, a procession of more servants appeared. Fine young Terran specimens danced in the lead while scattering flower petals. In the middle of the parade, an entire roasted pig was borne aloft on a platter by four muscular servants. A flute player and a juggler brought up the rear.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” asked Serket as the food made its way slowly in our direction. “I don’t believe I’ve ever entertained you before. Not even when we were equals.”
“An oversight on my part,” I said. “Warlording leaves precious little social time.”
“Yes, it is a terrible responsibility, being master of all. I sometimes wonder if the peasants know how lucky they have it.”
Twenty seconds later, the food finally made its way to our table. Serket nodded approvingly at it. She didn’t take a bite. Serket didn’t eat much. A date a day would’ve been more than enough to sustain her along with a small portion of undying water. It wasn’t anything I could digest either. The bell ringer rang, and the servants carried it away with equal spectacle. Seven servants fussed over their queen.
“Why did you join the Brain?” I asked.
“I already told you. He is a singular intellect.”
“And I don’t believe that. We’re alone.” Servants barely qualified as furniture to Serket. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason?”
She shrugged. “I fail to understand why you insist on talking about such things. A distasteful topic, don’t you agree?”
“It’s money, isn’t it?” I asked.
Serket resigned herself. “Yes…money. It turns out that my treasury is not as endless as my life. And the resources of my empire, such as it currently exists, are not up to the task of keeping me in the manner propriety demands.”
“I would imagine it’s hard to plan a retirement fund for eternity.”
“So it would appear, Emperor. I do try to keep my needs simple. I’ve reduced myself to a banquet a day and feasts only on Sunday. And the royal foundries’ production has dribbled to a mere thirty statues a day.”
She pointed to a lofty golden reproduction of Serket reclining on a throne. Dozens of these works of art decorated the palace, all of the queen, each of them unique.
“That one has been there for six days,” she said. “It bores me. Yet it remain
s. Can you see now the trials I must endure?”
“You’re a tower of strength,” I said.
“Thank you. But, of course, this isn’t all about me. My people need things too. You would think it would be enough to have the honor to serve me. But they insist on the luxury of feeding and clothing themselves. Shelter. Amusements, I presume, of some sort. And medical coverage. The dental plan alone was driving my kingdom to bankruptcy.”
She pointed to the tall man fanning her with a giant feather. “You? How much vacation do you get?”
“Three weeks, Your Gloriousness,” he replied.
Serket shook her head. “I never realized how much I took slaves for granted. My people live to serve me, of course. But that means also that they must live.”
“You could always allow them to export their talents,” I said. “Your goldsmiths and silk merchants are the finest on Terra.”
“Yes, because I must have the finest things. But these things are not meant for the commoners, the upstarts. And my people already have the most sacred trade of all. I couldn’t ask them to do anything else.” She snapped her fingers. The bell ringer rang his bell. The meal procession started again. This time, with a platter piled high with fruit and cheese. “See how happy they are?” she asked. “Aren’t you happy, my people?”
The servants all nodded and murmured their approval. I noticed that they all had very nice teeth.
“But a servant-based economy, as perfect and beautiful as it is, still needs capital from somewhere. These platinum walls don’t pay for themselves. I give the Brain a few drops of my precious water on occasion, and he supplements my coffers. And everything continues as it should. In a perfect world, such sacrifices would not be demanded of me, but this is not a perfect world.”
She held out her hand, and her team of helpers sprang into action. They moved her to her feet, and she stood without the slightest effort on her part. “The question now, Emperor, is what to do with you?”
“Changed your mind about feeding me to your pets?”
“Oh that was just a moment of whimsy.” Her throat sprayer coated her dried vocal cords before she coughed up a titter. “But why kill you when I can ransom you? Someone would surely pay handsomely for you. If not the Brain then the Saturnites, perhaps?” She paced around my tank theatrically. “Or the Venusians? Tell me. How did you end up with a Venusian bodyguard? I thought they despised you.”
Emperor Mollusk Versus The Sinister Brain Page 17