by Garon Whited
I took a few deep breaths and straightened. I could walk. Mary took my arm immediately and pulled me along the street.
“And another thing,” she added, switching to English. “You are terrible at being incognito.”
“I thought I was doing pretty well.”
“Only when it was convenient and easy. The first rule of being in disguise is to commit.”
“Commit?”
“John Smith the Normal Nobody does not pick a fight with the off-duty police officer! He stays the hell out of it—at most, he calls an on-duty cop. When you adopt a disguise, you become the disguise—you become the person you pretend to be, or it’s no better than a carnival mask.”
I squirmed inwardly, mainly because she was right and I knew she was right.
“All right. I’m not good at it.”
“You better learn to be.”
“Must I? Why?”
“Because you’re still stuck in the whole power thing. Like it or not, you have power—physical, magical, mental, popular, political, whatever. Those knights recognized you, or what you were saying.” Mary rolled her eyes theatrically. “You could have just bared fangs or bit someone, you know. That would have been quicker and even more effective.”
“All right, all right. I’m a moron. I get it.”
“No, you don’t get it,” she contradicted. “You keep being a moron! You don’t learn from your mistakes—which, I suppose, is characteristic of a moron.”
Ouch.
“And while we’re on the subject of morons,” she continued, “why in the name of sanity are you still pretending to be a king?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Well… remember how I wound up accidentally founding a city?”
“Yes, I recall. You slipped and fell and accidentally had refugees and a pregnant fire-priestess.”
“Um. No. Yes. Not exactly.”
“Oh? Do explain.”
“They didn’t think of being self-governing. They wanted a king. They expected a king. If they were voting people, they’d have voted me into office. I sort of wound up being king because they wanted me to be.”
“What did you want?”
“That doesn’t matter. They wanted and needed a central authority figure. They expected it. It’s the mode they knew and understood, so they… what are you looking at?”
“You. You’re a soft-hearted slob and an unrepentant romantic, you know that?”
“No.”
“That’s a big river you’re sailing on,” she observed. “Right past the pyramids, I see.”
“If you’re trying to imply I’m in denial—” I began, but she interrupted.
“Pets.”
“Beg pardon?”
“If you’re not a sappy romantic, then this whole kingdom is a terrarium and it’s full of your pets. You take care of them even when it’s more trouble than they’re worth.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“I’m sure you don’t. You don’t want to be king. You don’t want to the responsibility—and, somehow, you think responsibility and power are inextricably linked. And you won’t simply abandon your tank of living toys even when they’re being difficult.”
“Look,” I argued, “if you’re going to go with the whole pets metaphor, think of it like this. If you pick up a starving puppy and feed it, do you then dump it back out into the snow?”
“If it starts chewing up my shoes? Yes.”
“See, that’s where we differ. I’ll try and find it a home.”
“You’re a soft-hearted slob.”
“Have you seen me rip the guts out of someone?” I countered.
“Yes. I’ve also seen you get into a swordfight with people toting shotguns. There’s the restaurant I want to try,” she indicated, nodding at a place up ahead. “Think you can avoid rescuing any small children from the horrors of okra and pickled cabbage?”
“That’s asking quite a bit,” I admitted, trying to smile.
“Try hard.”
“I will. Can I have a minute to work a healing spell for my face?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Then no. Maybe it’ll help as a reminder.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Moron.” She sighed and squeezed my undamaged arm. “Look… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be like that. It’s just… I guess I don’t know what to expect from you. You seem contradictory to me. Maybe you’re more complicated than I thought and I haven’t figured out the pattern.”
“I’m a complicated moron?”
“Possibly a good summary, but I think there’s more to you than that.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“How about accepting my apology and working your healing spell? Then we can have a nice dinner and maybe have a less heated discussion, instead of an argument?”
“I accept your apology. And I apologize for being lousy at disguises. I’ll try to do better.”
I worked my healing spell for my face, sealing the skin, and another one for my various aches and pains.
Dinner went well. No fights, no reprimands, not even dirty looks. It was a good dinner; I managed to enjoy it despite my sensory handicaps. I noticed the door was another “normal” door and saw a lot of traffic, furthering my theory.
During our leisurely meal, Mary and I discussed a number of things, mostly personal, and generally avoiding what might be thought of as business topics. Mary called my attention to the conversations around us, however.
“Listen to the three over there,” she suggested. I glanced their way, matched sounds to lips, and listened.
“He’s roamin’ about the town, handin’ out judgment!” one insisted. “I was there when he thrashed a dozen guards!”
“I don’t believe it,” number two scoffed. “Even he couldn’t judge the whole city.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the third. “He’s got a lot of knights in the Temple of Shadow.”
“There, see?” demanded the first. “I tell you, he’s back. He’s eaten the Demon King and now he’s out to undo all the damage!”
“Demon King my left nut,” replied the second. “I’ll grant you he’s in the mountain. I don’t believe he’s walking the streets and watching us. Lerit? Help me here.”
“It’s possible,” Lerit, the third man, mused. “We wouldn’t know. For all we know, he’s in Carrillon killing the cabinet and siring another heir—or he’s at the next table, enjoying dinner.”
“See!” the first one crowed. “He could be anywhere! Watching. Judging. Getting ready to kill anyone who doesn’t measure up!”
“Or seeing who he wants to create knights,” the second argued. “If he’s not the Demon King, that is.”
I dialed down my ears and looked at Mary. I raised my eyebrows meaningfully.
“I like the rumor,” she said, smiling.
“I’m not sure I do. And it’s amazing how quickly it’s spread if we’re hearing it already.”
“We’re not far from the source, and there were a lot of people.”
“Yeah, I guess. Still, I’m not sure I like this rumor.”
“Why not?”
“It sounds like I’m some sort of free-roaming bolt of lightning, waiting to strike down the wicked.”
“Aren’t you?”
I didn’t have an answer. I don’t picture myself as one, but, objectively, I suppose I could be interpreted that way. At least until you get to know me. I think. I hope.
After dinner, it was a walk up to the southern gate to the undermountain, a stroll through the corridors, and up to my front door.
We were underground for the transformation, but didn’t quite make it to the waterfall in time. We showered and changed afterward, though. It’s always an unpleasant experience, but, in the larger scheme of things, merely an annoyance. It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.
“Tell me something,” Mary requested.
“Pretty much anything.”
“Pretty much?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, remember?”
“Ah. About the thought of you being a bolt of justice from the heavens?”
“I think you’ve got the launch point wrong, but go ahead.”
“I think it’s a really good sign.”
I finished brushing my face and handed her the brush.
“I don’t.”
“Hear me out. They’re thinking of you as a terror in the streets, hunting and stalking among the crowd, a creature of many faces, watching and waiting for someone to be wicked and evil so you can pounce, mercilessly ripping their lives away before drinking their blood. Right?”
I looked at Mary while she brushed her hair in a mirror. On top of everything, I was envious of her ability to see herself.
“I really do hate the way you put it.”
“Sorry,” she shrugged. “I’m trying to make a point.”
“Could you do it without drawing blood?”
“Probably not. But it’s good for you.”
“If you say so. Could you do it quickly, at least?”
“They think of you as something on the side of angels, seeking out the wicked. Yes, you’re a blood-drinking monster, but they think of you in terms of ‘What evildoer will he kill?’ They think of you as… as a positive force.”
Mary poked me.
“Hmm?”
“You have your faraway look again.”
“I’m only wondering why I didn’t see it that way. It seems… I don’t want to say it’s obvious, but I should have seen it. I’m an antihero—a ruthless monster doing good in horrible ways.”
“Pretty much. You didn’t realize it until now?”
“No. I’m not sure how it changes things.”
“Does it change things?” she asked, setting the brush aside and turning to me.
“I guess not. I’m a monster with a nasty case of humanity. I’ve been trying to come to terms with it for years. If people think of me this way, I guess it’s a good thing.”
“It’s only public opinion,” Mary assured me. She rose and kissed the tip of my nose. “I’m going to get dressed and poll some other citizens. You carry on with your garage projects.” She kissed me more thoroughly and went to find something to wear.
I went to check my messages. Heydyl left a note—in shaky letters, but writing, nonetheless—saying his mother had nothing to request and he was satisfied to know for certain who his father was. Despite my urge to interfere, Mary’s scathing tones were still ringing in my ears. My suspicion was his mother made him say that—she probably didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Still, if he wanted anything, he knew where to find me. I put the note away and resolved to not bother him or his mother in any way if I could possibly avoid it. But if they showed up with a request… that would be a different matter.
Dantos and his family—Laisa, his wife, and Caris, his daughter—were already there. He selected a smaller set of chambers near the main baths and moved in. I had no idea what I was going to do with them, but I suppose it was good to have company. Someday, the larder would start to run low and someone would have to do shopping. I don’t even know where the local market is.
Finally, I set up the communications mirror again and called Seldar. He answered quickly, as though expecting me.
“My King,” he said, bowing again. “I have been expecting your call.”
See? Told you.
“Busy?”
“Not at all.”
“Sorry for the long delay. Things happened.”
“They tend to do so, Sire. I trust you are feeling much more yourself?”
“If that’s a polite way of asking if I’m no longer possessed by the demon-thing created by the Devourer out of my own darker nature, then yes, I’m feeling much better.” I grinned at him. Seldar chuckled.
“Good. You are aware you—the other you—has much to answer for?”
“And I’m working on plans to punish him appropriately. I’m also looking for Tort and T’yl. I don’t suppose you know where they are?”
“I am sorry, but I do not.”
“Speaking of locations, where are you? I didn’t see you in Mochara, and Beltar has the temple duty here in Karvalen.”
“I reside in Carrillon, Sire. The Temple of Justice here was refurbished and rededicated after the Church of Light could no longer enforce the belief that all other faiths were heretical. I have the honor of presiding over the Justiciar in these latter days.”
“I’m pleased for you. What’s a justiciar?”
“The kingdom has a system of judges and magistrates to deal with criminals and other wrongdoers. Where the guilt is not clear, or the blame difficult to place, such cases are brought before the Lord of Justice.”
“Ah. And you hear the evidence, render a verdict, and so on?”
“No,” Seldar replied, puzzled. “We bring the prisoners or supplicants before the Lord of Justice’ altar. He makes His will known, and so judgment is rendered.”
“Well, of course it is,” I agreed, disgusted. No wonder people tended to be less curious and innovative around here. Why bother? You can ring up the gods and ask for help. Just pick up the hotline to heaven and consult.
I’m beginning to think the world would be better off without the goddish things running a religion scam on it. But I could be wrong.
“So,” I continued, “Beltar said you would want to talk, and there were things you would want to know.”
“Such as?” he asked, interested.
“First off, you know the whole thing about how my knights are supposed to be better than me?”
“Yes. I recall quite clearly your words on the subject.”
“Good. I’ve told this to Sir Beltar and now I’m telling it to Sir Seldar. The idea was for me to do my best to be a good person, setting the minimum standard for the knights. It was not to say everyone else had to be exceptional while I got to go do anything I pleased. It’s an important distinction.” I paced back and forth in front of the mirror.
“Seldar, I don’t know how much you went through. I don’t know if by staying you could have mitigated the problems caused by the Demon King. You were on the spot; I trust your judgment. If you feel you did the right thing, then I believe you.”
Seldar turned away from the mirror for a moment. I pretended to be interested in something on a worktable. When he turned back, his features were composed.
“Thank you, Sire. You may not know how much that means to me.”
“Probably not. I may not be possessed, but I’m still medium-stupid.”
“Medium at most, Your Majesty.”
“Flatterer. And you’re not supposed to call me that, remember?”
“I was a knight when I had that privilege.”
“Yeah, about that. I hear you’ve misplaced your sword. If I ever see it, I’ll be sure to give it back to you.”
“I am now a priest of the Lord of Justice,” Seldar replied, dubiously.
“So?”
“So? Can a man be a priest and a knight?”
“Seldar, if any of my knights fail to act justly, they aren’t going to be knights for long. I don’t see how it conflicts. If it does conflict, I expect—as always—for you to use your built-in sense of right and wrong. Oh, and to tell me what you think, of course. That’s your job, Seldar. It’s my job to listen.”
Seldar simply looked at me for several seconds, as though trying to wrap his head around the idea. Seldar was always a bright, quick kid; I never expected to see him stumped.
“You do not require absolute obedience…?” he asked, doubtfully.
“There’s a huge difference between loyalty and obedience, Seldar. Work on it. In the meantime, you’ve had most of the day to look forward to this conversation. Got anything for me?”
“Much. First, however, I must be certain of that which has been said. You are yourself again?”
“I am.”<
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“Yet, even if this were not the case, such words would issue from your lips, Your—” he broke off. “Sire.” I grinned at him.
“Yes, you raise a good point.” “Then, with respect, how am I to know the truth?” he inquired.
“Well, I’ve met with both Amber and Tianna in the past couple of days. I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t me, those meetings would have gone differently. Since they are both alive—as am I—then I’d take it as pretty conclusive.”
“Quite possibly,” he agreed, chuckling.
“I suppose I could come visit. If I’m a demon-possessed monster, you’d be able to tell, right?”
“Here? In the Temple? I should think so.”
“Well, if that’s what it will take…”
“Perhaps,” he mused, folding his arms and looking up, thoughtfully. After a moment of contemplation, he regarded me again and leaned forward. “May I ask your plans, Sire? What goals do you have?”
“Goals? Oh, the whole king thing. No. I’m in the palace at Karvalen—the mountain—and I’m looking for Tort. That’s about it, for now. Lissette is on the throne and doesn’t need me, right?”
“Need? No, I suppose need is too strong a word. If she could bring herself to call upon you, she might find you convenient in some circumstances, but I do not think we can, in fairness, call it a need.”
“Please let her know if she wants me for anything, I’ll be there. Otherwise, she’s got a kingdom to rule. I understand it might not be… what’s the word? Acceptable? Safe?… for me to resume the throne.”
“You intend she should rule?” Seldar asked, sounding thoughtful.
“I do. Nobody wants me to. Well, nobody wants my old self to do so, and explaining what happened won’t wash away the stain of what he did.”
“That is true. Very well. I will inform her.”
“Thank you. Meanwhile, I plan to stay home and mind my own business.” I paused. “Oh! And I hear the local baron… Gosford?”
“Gosford, yes.”
“…may be planning to declare himself a prince of the city, maybe king of the eastern plains. I don’t know for sure, but that’s what I hear. I haven’t got a mirror in the Palace of Carrillon I can call, so I’m having a hard time telling Lissette directly. Would you do it for me?”