Pyramid Schemes

by Peter David

  “If you ask me,” he continued, “she never wanted to take the chance of causing someone else to walk out on her. She simply believed that she was not deserving of love.”

  I hung my head. Never in my life had I ever felt so ashamed. Entipy may have been relatively insane, but I had come to believe that inwardly she was a good person. Or at least my memory of twenty years had softened my recollections of her to the point where I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Whatever the reason, I felt it was an appalling way in which to live her life. To some degree, it was as if I had died and she swore to remain a widow the rest of her life for fear of losing a second husband. That was no way to live, and yet it was the fate for herself that she had chosen.

  “I didn’t tell her for the right reasons,” I said softly, as much to convince myself as Germane. “For her to learn that she was not truly a princess. To learn that her mother had been unfaithful to her father. It would have destroyed them in front of the entire court. Runcible might well have killed himself upon learning the news. Or he might have had Queen Bea executed. Hell, he might have killed her and then himself. Leaving Entipy with what? No status? No court? No friends? To live the rest of her life as a royal bastard?”

  “Which is how I lived the entirety of my life,” he pointed out, and I had to admit that that was true enough. “I survived it. I’m sure she would have been able to as well.”

  “What do you want of me?” I said in exasperation. “Go back in time and do things differently? Find a weaver who can change the past in order to effect the future?”

  He sat up and looked surprised. “Are there such individuals?”

  “No!” I rolled my eyes. “That is an impossibility. And even if I could do it, I doubt that I would. I made the right decision with all of the information I had at my disposal and if I had the opportunity to repeat it, I would do it again.”

  “Except it would cost you nothing to return and tell her the truth now. Her father is dead. She rules and if she knew the truth, I very much doubt that she would feel compelled to turn her back on her kingdom. She would keep it a secret, and at least she would be able to put her loss behind herself and live something approaching a normal life.”

  I had no idea what to say or what to do, so I put up my hands in a manner evocative of surrender and said, “I will consider it. All right? But I’m not going to do a damned thing until you have managed to recover and we have freed the Shews.”

  “Clea won’t do it,” he said firmly.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she has never done anything for anybody. She is an extremely non-generous person and the notion that she would make such a grand gesture is unthinkable.”

  “Well, I have to make sure that she does it.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  I studied him for a time and then said, “Why didn’t you identify yourself to me immediately. You recognized my name, you knew who I was. Why did you wait until you did?”

  “Because I figured that I could manipulate you more adroitly if you had no idea of my true identity.”

  I considered that and then nodded. “That is true, I suppose. Good thinking.”

  “Thank you.”

  I got to my feet. “I should go talk to Nuskin. See how she is holding up.”

  He stared at me, seemingly surprised. “You really do care about others, don’t you.”

  “Of course I do. What sort of monster would I be if I did not?”

  “I have spent the entirety of my life wondering what sort of monster you were, Apropos. And after years of pondering, I am interested to see that I still have absolutely no idea.”

  Having no clue how to react to that statement, I simply nodded, turned and walked away from him.

  I made my way quickly to Nuskin’s quarters and knocked gently. When I received no response, I opened the door slightly to glance in, unsure of what I would see.

  Nuskin was inside, all right. She was seated on the edge of her bed and staring out at nothing. I whispered her name softly and at first she did not respond. I said it a second time, somewhat louder than before, and this time she tilted her head slightly and focused on me.

  “Nuskin?” I said. “I assume you’ve heard?”

  She managed a single nod. That was all.

  I started to walk toward her but she held up a hand, stopping me in my place. I stood there and stared at her questioningly.

  “We’re all going to die,” she said. “Soon.”

  “What? Why?”

  She didn’t reply. Instead she just shook her head. I queried her again as to what she was talking about, not having the slightest clue why she was under the impression that we were going to die, but she didn’t respond. It was as if her mind had departed her body. I tried to bring her back down to reality but was unable to garner any further response from her other than her initial and frankly discouraging warning that our destruction was imminent.

  I sat there for some minutes but finally gave up. I had no idea what she was referring to, and it was clear that she was not intending to provide any further hint. I squeezed her hand once but she did nothing to return it, and then I got up and left her room.

  The Rama Lama’s body was quickly mummified. At Clea’s declaration, no formal funeral service was held for him. Her assertion was that he had explicitly told her that he did not desire any. I very much doubted that. When one is a teenage boy, one’s own death is something that is never discussed or even considered, because one firmly believes in the reality of one’s own immortality. So I was skeptical that it had ever come up in conversation between Lama and Clea. Her declaration, however, did not forestall the palace holy men from having prayer convocations where they prayed for the gods to look well upon Lama and welcome him into their world. I did not participate in any of these because they were not designed for outsiders, but nevertheless I could not help but send my wishes along for Lama’s safe transition to the netherworld.

  There was also a great deal of concern over placing the Rama into the main pyramid into which his father was entombed. I could not blame any of the soldiers for having no desire to set foot in that place. There was a smaller tomb that had been erected for people of lower value in the vast Rogyptian escutcheon, and it had been there that the Rama Lama’s remains had been dispatched. Clea offered no objections, and that was not surprising. She had as vivid a memory of what had transpired as anyone else and was not especially enamored of having to return to that pyramid, ever.

  So it was that the Rama Lama was laid to rest. The population did its best to try and shed its collective tears, but no one mourned his loss. No one gave a damn.

  No one except me. How the hell had I fallen this far? To care about some teenaged punkish dictator? It was almost embarrassing.

  I sat sullenly in my room. Ahmway entered and saw the way that I was sitting there, uninvolved with the world. He asked me what was bothering me and at first I considered shrugging or perhaps just lying to him. But instead, much to my surprise, I was honest with him. I told him what was going through my mind, and how I was actually mourning the loss of the little rat.

  “Easy answer,” said Ahmway immediately. “You mourn him because you don’t have your own son to mourn. So he stepped in and filled that emptiness in your life. So it makes sense that you would feel his loss.”

  Except of course I did have a son, but I wasn’t about to tell Ahmway that.

  “Yes, I suppose you are right,” was all I said in response. Then I gazed toward the door. “I’m surprised that Clea hasn’t come in and arranged for our immediate marriage.”

  “She cannot,” Ahmway told me. “It is tradition that no member of the royal family can engage in any manner of happy ceremony for a week after the death of a Rama. As Clea is the succeeding Rama, she would be more than aware of that.”

  “Ah. That was something I was unaware of. So where is she now?”

  “This evening is her crowning as the new Rama. She is doubtle
ss preparing for that. And she has quite an audience. All the leaders of the foreign lands are still here. They are probably going to remain here for a week until the wedding ceremony can be held. And wait until you see the crown. It’s very impressive. It has a—”

  “There isn’t going to be a wedding ceremony,” I informed him.

  He blinked in surprise. “There…there isn’t?”

  “I very much suspect there won’t be. Not after this evening. Because I am going to mortally embarrass my future wife in front of all those leaders.”

  “Why on Earth would you do something like that?”

  “Because I don’t like her very much,” I said grimly. “And I think it’s about time that she knew it.”

  Chapter 14 Pestilence, Famine and Breath

  It was difficult to believe that the leader of Rogypt had been so brutally killed considering that the great hall was filled with laughter.

  I knew that Clea was expected to be brought forward from a back room. The high priest was at the front of the hall, speaking with an assistant over some matter or another. He caught a glimpse of me from the corner of his eye, turned and nodded in acknowledgment of my presence. I tilted my head slightly in response and moved toward the front. I was amused as people saw me coming and stepped out of my way. A number of them even bowed to me, which I considered to be wholly excessive, but I did not bother to correct anyone.

  I saw Nuskin seated over to the side, and to my surprise, Simon was with her. Certainly his bravery was growing, that he allowed himself to be seen beside her, clearly accompanying her. He was clutching her hand and she still appeared as distant and disconnected as she had been when I’d last seen her. Simon and I locked eyes, but he said nothing; simply gazed at me. I wondered what his reaction would be when he saw what I was about to do.

  People continued to gesture to me in greeting, and I nodded to everyone. I took a seat that was off by itself and whenever anyone tried to engage me in conversation I would politely nod but otherwise ignore them. Soon apparently word got around and people stopped coming over to me. That was fine with me. I was hardly in a social mood.

  What I could not understand was why the air was feeling different to me. It seemed thicker somehow. I could not determine why that was. Perhaps there was some manner of storm rolling in. I wondered if anyone else sensed it.

  Eventually the high priest spread his arms wide and began to chant. Others joined in for what were clearly a series of prayers with which they were all familiar. Since I did not know any of them, I simply kept my silence.

  Finally he said, “ I now bring forth the next Rama.” From behind a huge, elaborate curtain that was hanging at the back, Clea emerged. She was smiling broadly; much too broadly, as far as I was concerned, for someone who had just lost her brother. But obviously she was not especially worried about that. She was looking resolutely ahead: not at me, not at the high priest. There was no telling what thoughts were going through her head, but I suspected that if I knew, I wouldn’t be all that thrilled about it.

  The High Priest then engaged in a string of prayers to their gods, asking for their aid in guiding the newly established Rama in her path to rule. Clea listened impassively, and on occasion muttered some manner of reiteration over what he said. I assumed it was all part of the ceremony.

  Then another courtier came from behind the curtain. He was carrying a sizable crown, one that I had never seen Lama wear. It was obviously the one that Ahmway had mentioned. I assumed that it was something purely reserved for ceremonies. Clea dropped down to one knee as the courtier handed the crown to the High Priest. “Crown” was not truly the best word for it. It was a towering piece of headwear, glittering in gold, so much so that I could not begin to imagine how much the damned thing weighed. It was at least a foot tall and there was a red gem glittering in the middle of it that reflected the rays of the sun filtering through a skylight.

  It was the gem that most caught my interest. I had never seen anything quite like it. As insane as it may sound, it almost seemed… there was no other way to say it…alive.

  “That gem,” I whispered to Ahmway, who was seated right behind me. “Whence came it?”

  “That is the gem of Moomy,” he replied. “Or so the legend says. It used to be a headpiece in a staff that he carried. Upon his death, the Rama became so enamored of it that he added it to the crown.”

  “He added the gem of a supposed wizard that hated him to the crown? Why on Earth would he do that?”

  Ahmway shrugged. “To prove that he wasn’t afraid, I suppose.”

  Slowly the High Priest placed the crown atop her skull. It encircled her head and I could see that she was moving very carefully so as not to dislodge it as she rose to her feet. Then the High Priest turned to the crowd and said sonorously, “I am honored to introduce you all to the Rama Clea.”

  A resounding round of applause burst from the populace. I glanced briefly at Lucy Anno’s face. She was managing to keep herself composed rather admirably, considering the circumstances. The race could not have ended worse for her: her man had clearly lost since he had never completed the race, although I heard she was contending there was trickery and therefore she did not owe any money. She was as suspicious as everyone else was regarding all the collapsing horses, but could not prove anything, of course. Obviously Germane had not brought her current with my identity. There were some things that he wished to keep to himself.

  When the applause faded, Clea took her place in the grand throne that was erected on a podium in the front. There was another, smaller throne next to her and she extended a hand to me. “Come to me, my future husband,” she called out. “And someone bring me some water, for my throat is quite parched.”

  A servant hastened to fetch her water as I slowly approached her. I did not, however, take my seat. Instead I simply stood there, staring at her.

  She smiled smugly down upon me. She had everything in the world that she desired, and as I stared up at her, I could not recall more fervently hating someone in my life than I despised her at that moment.

  I only had one thing going for me: she had no idea what I was going to say.

  “I request a boon, my Rama,” I said to her.

  I was speaking so softly that it was obviously difficult for her to hear me. She leaned forward, clearly a bit confused, uncertain what I might be asking her for. But she kept her face gamely smiling, as if anxious to accommodate me in whatever I desired. “Of course, my future husband. Anything you desire.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “Let the Shews go.”

  “Go where?” Obviously she did not understand my request.

  “Away from Rogypt,” I said. “Free the slaves.”

  There were scattered gasps from around the room. Clearly no one could quite believe that I had the temerity to make such a request.

  The servant brought the mug of water to Clea. She took it without even looking at him. Instead all her attention was upon me. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I am reasonably certain that I have not.”

  “Why in the name of all that’s holy should I free the slaves?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I,” and she raised her voice, “am the only one in the position to declare what is the right thing to do when it comes to the slaves! Not you; not anyone else in this place. The slaves are going nowhere!”

  “That is a mistake,” I said, gripping tightly onto my staff. I tried to sound as threatening as I could. I imagined that the god who had addressed me through the bush had inhabited me and was speaking His will through me. “For your safety, and the safety of all others, let the people go.”

  “For our safety?!” Clea roared with laughter at the notion that I was lecturing her on how to keep the people of Rogypt safe. “Is this some manner of joke, Apropos? Because if it is,” and her voice dropped to a deadly tone, “I do not find it the least bit funny.”

  “Nor am I amused by how you’ve treat
ed your slaves. The execution of their first-born. The endless construction projects; the brutal manner in which you treat them. You have abrogated all responsibility in terms of treating them like human beings…”

  “They are not human beings! They are property! They are our property,” she informed me, and I could not determine at that moment if she was referring to the whole of Rogypt or herself in the royal “we.” She had now risen to her feet and her hand was trembling with rage. Perhaps she felt betrayed by the fact that her future husband was challenging her in front of everyone of importance. “I will not release them! But if you wish, I will release you from your vow to wed me!”

  “That would be fine with me,” I said.

  There was a rush of hushed whispers amongst everyone observing. It was rare that they had the opportunity to witness a relationship dissolving before their eyes. Such things typically occurred behind closed doors.

  “Then,” she said in full fury, “you have removed any reason I would have not to kill you!” She pointed at me and was clearly about to order her people to dispatch me.

  Ahmway was directly behind me. He had pulled his sword from his scabbard and to my astonishment he said in a low voice, “Get behind me. I’ll protect you.”

  I could not believe it. This man, this murderer of infants, was prepared to walk directly into his own slaughter in order to try and guard me. Either the overwhelming number of guards would kill him, or if he managed to survive somehow, Clea would have him executed for flying in the face of her commands.

  And that was when Clea screamed.

  No one had any idea why she was screaming, but she sounded terrified. The glass that she was holding slipped from her hand and the contents spilled in front of her. It was a thick red liquid and at first I thought it was some manner of wine rather than water, but then I realized what it was.

  It was blood. Thick and oozing down the steps that led up to her.

  She glanced at the servant, but the shock on his face spoke volumes. He had handed her water and was as dumbfounded as anyone else that somehow it had changed into blood.