by Samit Basu
You’re very good-looking, Asvin from Avranti. ‘Hello, Asvin. You’re right on time. Do sit.’ Punctual, too, I like that. There was a sharp nip on Asvin’s foot. He looked down. ‘Oh hello, where did you come from? Maya, I’d like you to meet Fluffy.’ He patted Steel-Bunz on the head.
Kind to animals, too. Maya held out her hand and Asvin kissed it. Charming. So charming. Quite the prince, aren’t you. Very good-looking. Muscles, too, and nice and tall. Of course all this means nothing to me. ‘Where’s Amloki?’
‘Packing. He’s packing for himself and for me. He told me he had to go meet Gaam the vaman, who is to be my new guru, and organize our departure at dawn. Apparently a member of the Silver Phalanx is also going to come with us. I love Amloki, he works so hard.’
Caring, considerate, respectful. What a nice smile. ‘I love him too.’ I love him too? What is wrong with you? ‘I mean, he’s very nice. Yes.’ Control yourself, Maya. He’s not the first handsome type you’ve met. Probably really stupid, and never read a book in his life.
‘Yes, khudrans are fascinating, aren’t they? I haven’t seen any other khudrans in Kol, though. I guess they don’t generally like city life. I once went to a khudran village, near our eastern border, with my father. It was amazing, quite unlike the books.’
The books. So well-read. So knowledgeable, wise, intelligent. Must have traveled a lot, too. But obviously he’s special. He’s a Hero. Simoqin’s hero, no less. I must say he suits the part. ‘Is that so.’ Is that so? Is that so? I’ve read all the books in Enki library on all the known races in the world! Is that so?
‘Amloki and the Civilian have told me wonderful things about you,’ said Asvin, feeling intimidated by Maya’s glassy stare. The most brilliant spellbinder in Kol, no wonder she doesn’t seem interested in what I’m saying. She’s probably far away, in some land where mathematics and magic mingle and sing to her in strange voices. ‘Can I get you something to eat?’
I’m not hungry, not any more. He will be such a good Hero. I can tell just by looking at him. What a nice person he seems to be. Probably witty, too, if only I could stop my tongue hanging out and engage him in brilliant conversation. ‘No, thanks, I’m not hungry’. On the other hand, if he gets up to go to the bar, I could… ‘On second thoughts, could you see if Triog has any bhel-puris from upstairs?’
‘Certainly,’ Asvin got up and turned towards the bar.
Oh, very nice. Must get a lot of exercise. ‘Actually, forget it. Triog hasn’t met you before, and he always makes strangers wait. And I’m not really hungry.’ Finally, she stops speaking in simple sentences. Congratulations. I can’t wait to go on this quest. So, I’m to be his companion and helper. That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing. Of course, I must let him know that I’m working with him, not for him. But that can wait. What nice eyes he has. But that’s not why we’re here. There’s something I’ve forgotten, isn’t there?
Asvin sat down obediently. She’s so bored. ‘Amloki said you wanted to talk to me about something.’
Kirin! What a bad friend I am. Kirin has to come with us! What is wrong with me?
She looked at Kirin, sitting in his corner with Spikes and a customer. He was looking back at her. And shaking his head. Maya felt very guilty. She cleared her throat, and began the long speech she had prepared.
Maya had met many intelligent, charming and handsome men before. Her reaction to them had never been so strong, though. She was generally very level-headed and analytical, even cynical sometimes. Yes, Asvin was really attractive and dashing and heroic, but Maya was reacting more strongly than she would have in other circumstances. Normally she would have flirted happily with him and then forgotten all about him as soon as she found an interesting book. But as she looked at Asvin, she had a sudden urge to marry him and have six children. Because here she was dealing with more than standard attraction. She was dealing with one of the fundamental Laws.
The Hero Always Gets The Girl.
Hooba was trembling. He had been trembling continuously since King Leer had offered his former Emporium to Bjorkun the Skuan and his bodyguards. But he was trembling especially hard now.
‘Please, my lord,’ he said, ‘don’t take away my shop. I’ve worked all my life for it. The Emporium is all I own, I’ve proved my loyalty, I’ve given the men food and shelter, don’t turn me out.’
‘After the Glorious Revolution there will be no possessions for anyone, Hooba,’ said King Leer. ‘You are a soldier in the Divine Army of asurs, personally conscripted by the Supreme Commander. Is that honour not enough for you? You will travel to Imokoi tomorrow. This shop is now Divine Army property, gifted by me to Bjorkun, asur-friend and brave-heart of the cold North.’
‘Don’t do that,’ sobbed Hooba as a few danavs started taking objects off the shelves randomly. Others tore off the big ‘Hooba’s Emporium’ sign outside the door.
‘Go now, I have no more time to waste on you, I have a council to attend,’ commanded King Leer. Hooba saw the spears his guards held and slunk quietly out of the door.
‘That little maggot will betray us,’ said Bjorkun.
Tungz, King Leer’s official translator, translated.
King Leer jabbered a little. One of his guards started out after Hooba.
‘His serene highness King Leer, Supreme Commander of the Divine Army, Sword of Justice, Mace of destiny, Descendant of the One…’ began Tungz.
‘I could kill you with a finger,’ snarled Bjorkun.
‘The city-rat will not live another night,’ said Tungz hurriedly.
‘Shall we begin the meeting, Leer?’ asked Bjorkun, striding towards the stairs.
‘His serene…Yes,’ said Tungz, and followed.
Hooba broke into a run. Lost Street was usually crowded and bustling at this time of the night, but after that mad vanar’s morning escapade, the Red Phoenix guards had come and shut everything down, curse them. The street was deserted, pitch dark and eerily quiet. It was not a good time to be an asur in Kol. All day there’d been bad news – asurs were losing jobs all over the city as panic spread. Word had got out that some important things had been stolen, and everyone blamed asurs for everything. All the doors and windows on the streets were closed, and darkness was everywhere – the human inhabitants of Lost Street, sensing trouble, had left for the night. Not that the darkness mattered to Hooba, for asurs had excellent night-eyes, of course; it had taken years for city asurs to find bright sunlight tolerable.
He saw the spear-bearing danav come out of the door and give chase. He ran faster, but he knew the guard would catch him eventually. His time was up.
A lasso fell on his shoulders and sneaked under his arms. The noose was drawn tight, and suddenly Hooba was airborne, struggling and flailing his arms wildly as he dangled spider-like in mid-air. Hooba looked back and downwards at his pursuer. He was lying on the street, immobile, dead. What?
The Silver Dagger threw Hooba down on to a roof and jumped off his vroomstick. Hooba, sprawled face down on the roof, mouth full of grime, felt cold steel on the back of his neck.
‘Don’t even dream of turning around,’ said the Dagger.
Hooba shook his head obediently and vigorously. Turning around was not high on his current to-do list.
‘I don’t remember there being only one asur on Lost Street,’ mused the Dagger. ‘Do tell me what’s going on.’
‘The other esurs ere all underground, es fer es I know,’ croaked Hooba. ‘They’ve been ordered to weit for King Leer’s commend. He’s in my house, heving a conference with thet eccursed Skuen wolf, Bjorkun. They took my house, I done nothing. Blested northern swine.’
‘And which house is that? Point, don’t turn.’
Hooba raised a trembling finger and showed him.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Hoobe.’
‘Well, Hooba, tonight is your lucky night. I’m not going to kill you. After I hit you, you should be unconscious for about an hour. What you d
o with your life after that is your problem, not mine. Is that understood?’
Hooba nodded.
The Dagger knocked him out noiselessly and jumped on to his vroomstick.
As assignments went, this was quite a trivial one. The Civilian had told him not to kill Bjorkun or Leer unless he was sure that killing them would positively stop Danh-Gem’s return. Since neither the Civilian nor the Dagger ever made assumptions about anything, that meant they were to be left alive. This kind of eavesdropping could have been done by almost anyone in the Phalanx. Still, if you want something done well, do it yourself, thought the Dagger as he reached into his special effects bag and brought out the Sticky Fingers. That Kirin lad was very bright, he might grow up to be a member of the Phalanx one day. It was a shame that the Stuff, like the vroomstick, didn’t work outside Kol. When all the magic glue-covered finger-caps were in place, he crawled down the walls of Hooba’s house, lizard-like, and listened.
‘I do not know where Bali has gone,’ Bjorkun said, ‘but the crows will let me know. Until then, I will stay in Kol – they have no proof of my involvement in the theft of the books.’
‘Everything else is proceeding smoothly,’ said Tungz. ‘But my king wants to know what the strike tonight will achieve.’
‘I think the books will tell us all that we need to know about bringing Danh-Gem back to this world,’ said Bjorkun, ‘but Bali insisted that I find the most dangerous pashan in the city, and take him away with me, by force if necessary. He met some stork who told him there was a magical stone egg that yielded a pashan that would be Danh-Gem’s bodyguard.’
‘My king says he does not understand a word.’
The Dagger listened, fascinated, as Bjorkun, somewhat annoyed, told the asurs what Bali had told him about pashan reproduction, the role the storks played, the Oathbreakers, the Oathbreaker’s Egg and its mysterious disappearance. This was important. This could be very important. He was glad he had come himself.
‘And so Bali thinks this pashan, the child of Danh-Gem’s bodyguard, walks the earth today and finding him will be the crucial step in the resurrection of Danh-Gem,’ concluded Bjorkun.
‘My king says, could you say all that again? He understands it all, of course, but he thinks you should explain more clearly.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know. The point is that we need to find the deadliest pashan in the world. Crows are searching for unusual pashans in every city, but Bali says –and I agree with him – that such a pashan would probably find his way to Kol somehow. Even if this pashan is too stupid to understand his worth, there must be something about him that will answer our questions.’
‘You need to know who the most fearsome pashans in the city are? We already know, thanks to our peerless intelligence network. Our city cousins inform us that the biggest, strongest pashan in the city is one named Yarni, and there is another thing, which they are not sure is a pashan, called Spikes. Crows have been watching them for the last few days. Strangely enough, both of these work at a place called the Fragrant Underbelly. We will capture them both and bring them to you. My king has seen the one called Spikes fight. He is very good, but he has claws and spikes, and so cannot be a pashan.’
‘I am not interested in things which might not even be pashans,’ said Bjorkun, ‘and I do not have much time. I have been followed since I entered the city, and I want to leave before the Silver Dagger becomes involved personally. Bali should have done his job quietly. That fool has made Kol an unsafe place for all of us. So my soldiers will bring back the big pashan – the one called Yarni.’
‘No. My king will send asur soldiers immediately. Your soldiers will not be required. It is time the asurs struck back. Too long have we waited. Innumerable atrocities have been committed against asurs this very day. My king says the Glorious Revolution will start tonight.’
‘Don’t tell your king, but he is a fool. The last thing asurs need to do now is start more trouble in Kol. I will send some of my soldiers. They are trained snow-trolls, and they cannot be identified as Skuans.’
‘But asurs have rights, and…’
‘No.’
He called out in the Skuan tongue, and the Dagger heard the stairs creaking as the snow-trolls thumped their way upstairs.
‘Find an asur to guide you to a place called the Fragrant Underbelly. There is a pashan there called Yarni. Bring him to me. Do not reveal the fact that you work for me.’
‘Yah,’ said a grainy voice.
The Dagger had heard all he needed to hear.
‘Want another one?’ asked Maya. She was smiling now, the kind of smile sharks smile when, swimming around feeling a little peckish, they see pale pink legs thrashing about in front of them.
Asvin opened an eye. He saw Kirin setting two more glasses of Dragonjuice down on the table. He opened another eye and suddenly there were two Kirins, both smiling at him winningly. Asvin looked at the Mayas across the table, gulping down their Dragonjuices.
‘Bottoms up,’ they said.
Asvin closed an eye. He looked at the glass in front of him and sighed.
When Maya had said she wanted two of her friends to come with them on the quest, Asvin had been all smiles. Any friend of Maya, he had said, was a friend of his. He had waved happily at Kirin, sitting in his corner selling Stuff. Kirin had waved back. Then Asvin had seen Spikes.
Avrantics hated pashans. Pashans had not been allowed in Avranti ever since the War, and even Avrantics who lived in Kol avoided pashans as much as they could. Asvin had refused immediately, saying he would not go anywhere with a pashan. Maya had then pointed out that that was not a problem, because Spikes was not a pashan. Asvin had still not been satisfied. Then Kirin had come over to the table and struck up a conversation with the prince, and had completely charmed Asvin by showing him the Stuff. He had suggested that they resolve their differences over a game of chess – Spikes would go with them if Maya won. Asvin was quite happy with that – chess, after all, had been invented in Avranti (along with the zero, and if you listened to Avrantics for long enough, almost everything else) and Asvin was a skilled player.
Maya had then proceeded to demolish Asvin in twelve moves. But Asvin had looked so crestfallen that she had relented, explaining that spellbinders were unbeatable at chess because they could see a little bit of the future. Kirin had known this was completely untrue, but he never interfered with Maya and her prospective conquests, so he had said nothing.
Then Maya had set her master plan into motion. She issued the Dragonjuice challenge to Asvin, saying Spikes would go with them if she stayed conscious longer than Asvin did. Asvin had agreed enthusiastically, thinking that Kirin was laughing out of excitement. They had already gone four rounds, and Asvin’s world had started turning purple and spinning really fast a little while ago. Maya, on the other hand, was looking serene and poised.
‘It’s not such a bad thing, us coming with you,’ said Kirin kindly. ‘We’re good at fighting, and I can do a little magic.’
Asvin tried opening the other eye again and gave up – it seemed to want to stay shut. ‘AnifrenoMaya ishafrenomine’ he said.
‘I really don’t think he should have any more,’ Kirin told Maya sternly. ‘We have to leave at dawn tomorrow, remember? We should all get some sleep.’
‘But he’s still conscious,’ Maya pointed out.
‘I know. That doesn’t matter. You’ve won.’
‘But it’s a Dragonjuice challenge. Someone has to hit the floor,’ said Maya, slowly, because Kirin was being so obtuse.
‘Am I coming with you?’ asked Spikes, coming up to the table.
‘Of course you are, Spikes, that was never in doubt,’ said Maya grandly, ‘I’ll just wait until he’s unconscious.’
‘Heshreallyugly. You’re reallyugly, Shpikesh,’ said Asvin happily.
‘I know,’ said Spikes, who knew.
Asvin managed to open his other eye and saw two Spikeses. An expression of frozen ter
ror crept over his face.
‘Go away Spikes, you’re getting him all sober,’ said Maya crossly.
‘I’mallshober,’ said Asvin, grabbing his fifth Dragonjuice and drinking it in one huge gulp.
‘Triog’s made them really strong today,’ said Maya to Kirin, who was looking concerned. Kirin looked more concerned.
‘I’mshorry IwashmeantoShpikesh. I loveyou, Shpikesh,’ said Asvin, leaning forward and crashing gently on the table.
‘I think I win. You can go and pack, Spikes,’ said Maya proudly.
The snow-trolls entered Frags. There were fifteen of them. A particularly vicious looking one, the leader, walked up to a security pashan and said ‘Which Yarni, yah?’
‘Him,’ said the pashan, pointing a stubby finger at Yarni.
The leader walked up to Yarni, who was demonstrating the laws of gravity to a group of unruly Artaxerxian carpet-makers by picking one of them up and letting him go.
‘You Yarni, yah?’ he said.
‘Yah,’ said Yarni. He looked at the cowering carpet-makers.
‘I’ll be back,’ he said.
He turned and looked down at the snow-troll. ‘What?’ he asked.
‘You come with us, yah.’
‘Why?’ enquired the huge stalactroll.
‘We can’t tell you. Just come, yah.’
‘No,’ said Yarni after a while.
The snow-troll hit him in the face. A snow-troll can generally knock out a young polar bear with a punch. Yarni looked at him, puzzled.
The Fragrant Underbelly was silent. Triog groaned. There were many kinds of silences in the Underbelly.
This was the expensive kind.
Kirin looked at Spikes. ‘How bad do you think this is going to be?’
‘Not very bad. About level two brawl, I think.’
‘I guess so.’
The silence stopped.
Fifteen pashans charged into the Underbelly. Yarni’s security pashans rushed towards them. The leader hit Yarni again.
Some people never learn.
Yarni’s punch knocked him a good four feet back. The snow-troll flung his arms around wildly, looking for something to hold on to, caught something but fell anyway.
