by Peter David
Anything was possible when it came to my fiancée.
Chapter 11 A Bet’s a Bet
The days passed briskly and surprisingly amicably. Of particular interest to me was the bond that I was beginning to form with the Rama.
The truth was that, insofar as depraved dictators went, the Rama Lama was not really all that bad. Once I was able to carve myself past the arrogant exterior and the sense that everything he said or did was superior to whatever anyone else might say or do, I found that he was actually somewhat easy to talk to. Yes, granted, he was the ruler and did not hesitate to remind anyone within hearing distance of his rank. But once I managed to get beyond that, the Rama was not difficult to be around. He had little pretentions beyond that of the average young teen boy; even less, since he had no dreams of what he would do once he grew up. His life’s destiny was already determined by the circumstances of his birth.
It frankly irritated me that I found myself liking the boy. I had to ascribe it to the fact that I myself had never had any children, or at least certainly none that I knew of. So the entire business of father/son interaction was new to me. Many was the time that I had speculated as to what such a relationship would be akin to, and honestly I had never been able to come up with much of anything in terms of imagining it. Now that I was actually confronted with it, I had to admit that it was rather nice. Even pleasant.
Of course, all of that would very likely fly apart the moment I broached to the Rama the prospect of freeing the slaves. He would probably see it as a betrayal of the current relationship. But that could not be helped. I had both made a promise to the Shews and also been instructed to do so thanks to the burning shrubbery in the desert.
What I found interesting was that Mane seemed intent on watching all my interactions. He never once interfered. He was just always nearby somehow, keeping an eye on any time that I was with the Rama. I figured that he was simply being possessive of the boy. That he enjoyed being the main advisor and was not interested in seeing some stranger show up and insert his influence into the Rama’s daily interactions. I supposed on some level I could not blame him. I certainly knew how I would react if I was in his position insofar as the Rama was concerned.
Matters shifted abruptly one evening, however, when Mane came to my quarters with a sizable jug of wine in his hand. “We need to get to know each other,” Mane announced. Naturally I am always happy to get to know anyone bearing a jug of wine, and I graciously invited Mane to take a seat.
At this juncture the gathering for the wedding was a mere three days away. I was busy appraising all the ways that what I laughingly referred to as my plan could go horribly awry. The first and foremost of them was that I was unable to win the race. That was not an impossibility. I had taken a natural enjoyment and liking to maneuvering the team of horses, but certainly the leaders of the other countries would have their own expert charioteers in the race. Despite the fact that the Rama and I had been working on building a relationship with one another, I did not hesitate to consider the possibility that he would not take a loss well. He might choose to punish me if he felt that I had deliberately not done my best for some reason. That punishment could take the form of anything from cancelling the wedding to cutting my head off. Yes, I liked him well enough; but I was not sufficiently foolish to think that I was invulnerable from his wrath.
Secondly, I might win the race but he could take such offense at my wish that it would bring us right back to the various potential punishments.
So it occurred to me that having Mane on my side in my endeavors would not necessarily be a bad thing.
We drank from the wine, although I was cautious enough to have Mane drink first. I was no fool and was not about to fall prey to poisoned wine. Mane seemed friendly enough, but there were still reasons not to trust him although, as the night wore on, those reasons seemed to dissolve.
Mane seemed mostly interested to find out about my background. I told him as much as I felt comfortable with. I didn’t think he was being especially nosy; just conversational. Plus, again, if I were going to be influencing the Rama, it made sense for him to determine as much as he reasonably could about me.
I naturally took the opportunity to find out as much about Mane as I could beyond what I already knew. Unfortunately there was not all that much to learn. Mane remained rather tight-lipped about his history before arriving in Rogypt. “I did much of which I am not proud,” he admitted, “and see no reason to dwell on it.” I hated to admit it, but I readily understood the attitude. Gods knew that on the ledger of my life, there was certainly an assortment of deeds that I took no pride in, and was disinclined to share my life’s story with pretty much anyone.
So we continued to drink, continued to chat, and then he put down his goblet and stared intently at me. “Apropos,” he said, “what is your true opinion of the Rama?”
I half-smiled at that. “You truly wish me to answer that? You are his chief advisor. If I say something negative, you will naturally report it directly to him in order to sour me in his opinion.”
“You are very wrong, my friend. Completely wrong. You know nothing of me.”
“True, although that is mostly because you have told me very little.”
“That is correct. Very well,” and he looped his hands around his knee. “I shall instead tell you my opinion of him.”
“As you wish.”
“I believe he is a tyrant.”
I have to admit, I must have been visibly startled at the flat pronouncement. “Really?”
“He has an entire race of people as his prisoners. He has no true vision of his own for Rogypt, but instead simply tries to guess what his father would want him to do and then does that. One could argue that he should not be harshly judged because he is so young, but there are plenty of youthful rulers in the world who have far more going on in their heads than the Rama Lama. The longer he is allowed to rule, the more danger and destruction he is going to bring down upon Rogypt.”
“How? I don’t understand. How is he going to bring danger and destruction down on us?”
“This wedding…this,” and he gestured widely as if to encompass the world, “gathering that is impending…it is simply an excuse to gather the leaders of all neighboring countries in one place. Do you not understand the significance of that?”
“Not really, no.”
“He is going to kill them all.”
I had been drinking a bit of wine when he said that, but it caught in my throat. I almost choked before I managed to recover myself. “Do you know that of a certainty?”
“Not definitively. He has discussed it with me in the abstract. Wondered aloud how simple it would be to just behead everyone who came here. To his mind, all the neighboring countries represent a potential threat to the future of Rogypt, and he reasons that if he simply disposes of them in one fell swoop, then he would effectively secure the future of our land. The alternative would be to execute half of them and keep the rest as hostages to avoid any potential assaults.”
“Well, that would certainly be more judicious,” I said, making no effort to keep the sarcasm from my tone. “He can’t kill them. It would be a complete violation of the rules of hospitality.”
“Are those rules written down anywhere? Are they laws of any sort? Is there any manner of punishment that is written down somewhere that would be inflicted on any violators of the law?”
Slowly I shook my head. “None of which I am aware.”
“You see the problem then. He feels that the other countries represent a perpetual threat to Rogypt, and who knows? Perhaps he is right. By striking first, quickly and viciously, he undermines the threat.”
“He can’t be allowed to do that.”
“I had the very same thought, but as long as he remains the Rama, the opportunity remains open that he might. Unless something is done about it.”
My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
He leaned forward, his g
aze intent on mine. “For whatever reason, the Rama trusts you, Apropos. He believes in you. And he is convinced that you are going to win the chariot race.”
“Yes. So?”
“So we can use that.”
“Use that how?”
He glanced around as if to make certain that no one was listening in on us. It was a gesture that I had employed myself, usually for effect. But he seemed genuine in his caution. “You need to throw the race.”
“You mean lose deliberately?”
“I do.”
“But why? What possible reason is there for me to do less than my best?”
“The Rama’s greatest weakness is greed. Promise him vast treasures and he will do almost anything to achieve them.”
“Why? He has so much.”
“There is nothing that attracts the interest of the greedy like more. He wants more, Apropos, and will do whatever he can to achieve it, particularly when it requires no risk for himself.”
“What does my losing the race have to do with any of that?”
Mane smiled grimly. “Because he is going to place a bet with Lucy Anno.”
“Who is Lucy Anno?”
“Lucy Anno is the ruler of Afrasia,” Mane informed me. “She is one of the wisest and most beloved rulers of them all. I happen to know that she has long coveted this land, but she dislikes the concept of war and is disinclined to launch any sort of hostilities against us.”
“However…” I prompted him.
“However, Lucy Anno is renowned as something of a bettor woman. Some consider it a weakness and others a strength. She is also known as Lucy Anno the Lucky because she has never lost a bet.”
“Never?”
“None of any kind. It is believed that the gods adore her for some reason and always conspire fate to align in her favor. The fact that she is literally unbeatable only provokes people to make bigger and bigger bets with her.”
I was beginning to see where the conversation was going. “You want to have the Rama make a bet with her.”
“I do indeed,” said Mane, bobbing his head in approval that I was ahead of him. “I am going to encourage the Rama to bet his kingdom.”
“The entirety of Rogypt?” I was having trouble imagining it.
“His ruling of it. Against a massive fortune in gold and jewels.”
“But I thought he already had a fortune in gold and jewels.”
“Not as vast as he would like you to think,” said Mane. “He lives quite the exorbitant lifestyle and always has. He does not have quite the fortune that he wants all to believe and a massive cash infusion would solve many of his problems. I think he will easily bet his kingship against the money that Lucy Anno has to provide.”
“And he’s going to make the bet that I will win the race.”
Mane nodded. “That is absolutely correct.”
“And you need me to lose.”
“It does not have to be a huge loss,” Mane assured me. “Nothing that will provoke the Rama to retaliate.”
“Retaliate. You mean kill me in revenge.”
“Well, yes,” Mane admitted. “But I assure you it will not come to that.”
“You assure me? I don’t believe that when it comes to the Rama, there is anything of which you can assure me except that you cannot assure me of anything.”
“There is some truth to that,” Mane said. “But I can guarantee you that the Rama will make this bet. And if he loses the bet…”
“Then what? Then Lucy Anno becomes the new Rama?”
“Technically, yes. But she will not be inclined to leave Afrasia to take over. So she will place a regent here to run things in her stead.”
“A regent.” Then, of course, it immediately all made sense to me. “You. She’s going to put you in charge.”
Mane tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment. “There is no one more appropriate.”
“Because you are working with Lucy Anno to establish that the Rama will make the bet. Of course. It’s a brilliant scheme. And the only thing that you have no control over is whether I will cooperate or not.”
“If you do, I will make it worth your while.”
“How?” I said. I did not really care about the answer. The fact was that Mane had delivered himself into my hands. He was a traitor, pure and simple. All I had to do was go to the Rama, inform him of Mane’s treachery, and the Rama would have him executed…
Or refuse to believe you.
My inner voice reminded me, much to my annoyance, that there was no predicting exactly how the Rama would react to my news. He might think that I was trying to tear down Mane because I was endeavoring to take his place. He had known Mane for far longer than he had known me, after all. There was no reason at all to assume that the Rama would believe whatever I told him. And Mane certainly knew that. I had no doubt that he would not hesitate to deny any charges that I made against him, and who knew who the Rama would believe?
“How would you want me to?” Mane asked me. I was so lost in my own thoughts that at first I nearly didn’t hear him, but then the question caught my attention. “What would you want from me to make it worth your while?”
“Free the Shews,” I said immediately. “All of them.”
“Done,” he said so quickly that at first I thought perhaps he had not actually listened to what I had said. His next words, though, made it clear that he had. “I was already thinking about that, truth to tell. Frankly, I have never been enamored of the situation with the enslaved Shews. Having that many people residing within our borders with enmity for the ruling class. That is simply a revolution waiting to happen. Far better to free them and let them lead their lives. The main activity in which they are engaged is building pyramids and tributes to us, and really, how many do we truly need? We have plenty of room in the existing tombs to lay out the bodies of the next hundred Ramas, so there is no point in keeping them here.”
“What about the supposed curse?” I said, clearly suspicious.
He shrugged indifferently. “What do I care what some dying wizard swore? It is nonsense. Slaying harmless first born? Heightening the enmity of their parents as a result? No, to blazes with them. Let them go.”
I was having trouble believing that Mane was being completely honest with me. He saw the look in my eyes and immediately discerned what was going through my mind. “You do not trust me.”
“I am…skeptical.”
“I cannot blame you. Trust me, do not trust me. Do as you see fit. But I know what you are planning to do; it is not all that difficult to figure out. You are assuming that if you win, you will be able to prevail upon the Rama to free the Shews. That will not happen, Apropos. Not ever. The Rama lives in fear to this day of the orders that his father placed upon him. He firmly believes that if the Shews are freed, it will mean the end of his kingdom. He will slay you before he frees them.”
“Not if I do it publicly. If he promises publicly…”
“What happens publicly does not matter. The true events that impact on our realm happen in private, and I assure you that even if he promises to free the slaves, you will then be dead before that can happen. And as soon as you are dead, he will retract his promise because he will contend that a promise to a dead man does not have to be maintained.”
I wanted to respond but no words came to mind. So I simply sat there and stared at nothing in particular.
To my surprise and mild discomfort, Mane reached over and took my hand. He squeezed it firmly and said, “Promise me, Apropos. Aid me in this endeavor. Free the Shews and rid Rogypt of the oppressive tyrant who rules over us.”
“And what will happen to him if he has his throne taken from him?”
“He will retire,” Mane said immediately. “He has a smaller home in one of the outlaying areas of Rogypt. He and Clea and, if you are welcome and so inclined, you, will go there and live out your lives in comfort.” He paused and when I didn’t respond, he said, “It is a good deal, Apropos. A great deal. All you have t
o do is not do your best, and everyone gets a happy ending.”
Slowly I nodded. “It makes a good deal of sense, what you’re saying. Of course, it would still mean disappointing the Rama…”
“He is a murderer, Apropos. A brutal murderer who happily enforces some law that results in infant boys being slaughtered. He is the very last person you should be concerned about disappointing.”
In my heart, I knew he was right. Still, that image didn’t jibe with the young man whom I had come to know over the recent days. But there was simply no denying his homicidal actions. Mane was right about that. There was no trusting the Rama to keep his promises or not kill me.
And would it really be so bad if he were driven out of power?
“What if he refuses to go?” I asked. “There is no guarantee that he will adhere to the terms of the bet.”
“Yes, he will,” Mane said firmly. “There are some lines that even the Rama will not cross. Because the bet will be made when the other rulers are there, at the grand feast to welcome them. He would not dare to back out of a bet under those circumstances. No one would ever believe anything else he ever said. His effectiveness as a ruler would be over.”
It made sense. I considered the situation for a time. Mane said nothing as I just sat there and thought about all the ramifications.
The bottom line was that I was betting the future that I knew against the future that I did not know. Granted, there were unknowns in both realms, but the more I pondered the choice before me, the more that Mane’s line of attack seemed to be the most reasonable.
Finally, I spoke.
“All right,” I said. “I will do it.”
A grin broke across Mane’s face. It was doubtless aided by the fact that he was a bit inebriated, but that made it no less sincere. He stuck out his hand and I shook it firmly, and then—to my discomfort—he actually leaned over and embraced me. I patted his back awkwardly. For some bizarre reason it felt like the most natural thing in the world, to be hugging him.
He lingered for a time more, discussing in increasing details the changes he was planning to make to the land of Rogypt once he was effectively in charge. It all sounded rather convincing and I even found myself admiring his enthusiasm somewhat.