by Hugh Cook
In the days of its power, the Nexus seldom colonized any cosmos so Permissive as to permit the miracles of the Gods Minor and the thaumaturgical feats of mage, shaman and sorcerer.
Consequently, it made no serious effort to produce a Predictive Paradigm which would explain the otherlogic of magic.
The scientists of the Golden Gulag, however, living as they did in a cosmos so Permissive as to be only marginally stable, were in an ideal position to research those processes so often described as Synergetic Improbability. They had made some considerable progress toward understanding the ominous ambiguities of the Realms of Power when the Chasm Gates collapsed, precipitating a power struggle which shortly led to the wars of destruction in which the Gulag was utterly destroyed.
And so alone upon the sands
Two weapons bleed.
Yet while they bleed
In equal isolations sits -
Seated, yes, but just as lone -
A man who never dares a knife
Yet never lives without a blade
A skin away from striking.
This chair least comfortable of all:
Its purchase, peace:
And all slaves sounder sleep, though one and all
In fantasy desire that seat.
On the heights of the minor mountain of Cap Ogo Blotch, the northernmost of the great rocks of Dalar ken Halvar, stood a building of whitewashed stone. That building of whitewashed stone was the palace of Na Sashimoko, that Shrine of Thrones (or, in the mouths of some, that Shrine of Shrines) from which the Silver Emperor ruled the City of Sun and the realms of Parengarenga.
Despite its eminence, the palace owed nothing to the silver science of interior decorating. Here slovenly decay had the rule, and had ruled for centuries if appearances were anything to go by.
It was undecorated - indeed, parts of it were unfinished. But when Hatch called in at the Treasurer's office, he entered another world entirely, a world dominated by immaculate order and an auditor's precision.
The Treasurer, Nambasa Berlin by name, was a hard man, and ruthless. His ruthlessness was exemplified by his noseless state.
In his youth, Berlin had fought a rival for the favors of a beautiful young woman, and had persisted in fighting on to victory even after getting his nose bitten off. Unfortunately, the woman in question had then decided that she liked a third party much better than either of the two fools who had fought over her; but Berlin had benefited much from having the ruthless resolution of his courage confirmed to both himself and the world at large at such an early age.
Hatch, however, did not like him, even though Hatch often admired those who were brave, and courageous, and ruthless in their resolution. In fact, Hatch had cause to hate him, for Berlin had made him contribute two years worth of savings toward the costs of the campaign to retake Malic Milvus. Right now, Hatch had a grievous need for money; and he was sure his circumstances would not have been so straitened had he not lost so much in paying for the costs of the abovementioned campaign.
For his part, Berlin disliked all the "purple filth" as he termed the Frangoni. Nambasa Berlin was one of the Chem, the wealthy and hence Real upperclass of the people Pang, and the sexual rival who had bitten off his nose so many years earlier had been a Frangoni warrior. Hence Berlin's hatred for the Frangoni.
With such deep discontents sourced in their past, Asodo Hatch and Nambasa Berlin should by rights have been bitter enemies, whereas in truth they had an effective working relationship based on a wary trust. Hatch appreciated Berlin's honesty, efficiency and forthrightness; and Berlin, for his part, admired the way in which Hatch tried to shoulder the whole of his family's debt-
burden.
Thus their relationship stood when Hatch was admitted to the Treasurer's office.
"I wish to see the emperor," said Hatch, without bothering with any introductory formalities.
"Very well," said Berlin, and wrote out a pass which would get Hatch past the guards who safeguarded the very imperial presence itself. Berlin dated the pass, sanded it, sealed it in hot wax and handed it over. "Present yourself to the Hall."
Hatch nodded, and removed himself.
The corridor leading to the Hall was open to the sky, and the Hall itself had a floor of loose stones in sizes up to that of a fist.
Some generations previously, the Silver Emperor had set about manic renovations which had destroyed the previous splendor of Na Sashimoko. Unfortunately, he had entered a deep depression before the renovations entered their creative phase. He had sent away the workers, and had never succeeded in conjuring up the enthusiasm necessary to arrange for the completion of the work.
Asodo Hatch entered the Hall, advanced gingerly across the knobbled stones, and halted in front of the imperial plinth. On that marble platform stood the imperial throne, a high-backed chair padded with red velvet. Its lacquerwork armrests were of black lacquerwork adorned with mother-of-pearl, and it came complete with two silver-stitched cushions, one for the emperor to sit on and the other for his feet to rest upon.
For the moment, the throne was empty but for the Princess Nuboltipon, who had no business being there, even though she was undoubtedly the most well-bred personage in all of Dalar ken Halvar.
"Greetings," said Hatch to the Princess. "Greetings from the low to the high."
The Princess Nuboltipon made no answer to him. She never did.
She seemed, indeed, to think herself a member of a breed so superior that it had no need to even acknowledge the existence of a bit of Frangoni lowlife like Asodo Hatch. Nevertheless, Hatch bore her contempt lightly, finding it a chivalrous pleasure to do so.
"My lady," said Hatch. "Can I be of some service to you?
Your slightest wish, you know, is ever my command."
So saying, Hatch bowed to the Princess Nuboltipon. Then straightened up, alerted to the approach of his emperor by the blast of a trumpet.
"All hail!" shouted an usher. "All hail the Silver Emperor!
All hail! All hail the great and mighty - "
Here the usher slowed, for it was death to mispronounce the emperor's name, but the contortions of that name might have been maliciously designed for the very purpose of tripping tongues. But the usher got it out without mutilating it.
" - the great and mighty Plandruk Qinplaqus!"
The Silver Emperor had other names, at least five of which were known to Hatch. There were said to also be others by which his slavegirls were entitled to address him, and he might have yet more names as yet unknown, but it was as Plandruk Qinplaqus that he currently chose to be announced in public in his own palace.
Hard on the heels of his name, the Silver Emperor entered the Hall, escorted by four slave girls. These were young women chosen for their high-breasted beauty. All were nubile and graceful, fair of face and seductive of gesture. Presumably the Silver Emperor took them in fantasy, for to Hatch's knowledge (and Hatch followed the palace gossip with a modicum of diligence) the emperor certainly never took them in the fact of the flesh.
The Silver Emperor looked indeed so old and frail that it was easy to imagine that a single incautious act of lust might bring his life story to an abrupt conclusion. Plandruk Qinplaqus was an ancient Ashdan so shriveled and withered that he looked as if he might blow away on the wind. Looks were not deceptive, for Plandruk Qinplaqus had once nearly met with an untimely death when the Hot Mouth had sucked him off his feet.
On that notable occasion - no account of which was to be found in the official annals of Dalar ken Halvar, for the scribes who maintained the annals were a cautious breed - the Hot Mouth had in-breathed of a sudden. The emperor had been snatched away by the wind thus generated. Fortunately, Hatch had pounced on the emperor. The musclepumped Asodo Hatch had caught the fast-flying Silver Emperor, had thrown him to the ground, and then -
Few people cared to remember what had happened next, but the uncomfortable truth was that Asodo Hatch had sat on top of the Silver Emperor until the in-breathing wind
s of the Hot Mouth had died away to nothing. Hatch had never been thanked for doing his overlord this favor, for Plandruk Qinplaqus was a wizard, and wizards are mighty in their dignity, and are slow to give thanks to those who compromise that dignity, regardless of the excuse.
However, the emperor had ever afterwards made sure that Hatch was in his entourage whenever he went near the Hot Mouth, which he did once a year in the course of his annual tour of inspection of Dalar ken Halvar.
Now the Silver Emperor stalked toward his chair of state.
"Off!" said the Silver Emperor, on discovering the Princess Nuboltipon ensconced in his throne.
So saying, the emperor slapped the armrest of the throne with a copy of the Imperial Census.
The armrest shattered, disintegrating in a cloud of woodworm dust. Bits of mother-of-pearl fell to the white marble of the imperial plinth. The Princess Nuboltipon fled, nimbling over the stones of the Hall till she was well out of reach of the destructive might of the Imperial Census. At which point she slowed, then cast a disdainful look over her shoulder. Then, with her tail high and undaunted, she made her way toward the exit at a pace more consonant with her dignity.
The Silver Emperor struck his throne's surviving armrest with his walking stick, which was old and crooked yet was possessed of the strength of iron. That armrest also disintegrated.
"A cheap and shoddy piece of rubbish," said the Silver Emperor.
As this he said, the Princess Nuboltipon disappeared out of the door through which Hatch had entered. The soldiers there on guard, who had less regard for her than did Asodo Hatch, did not bother to salute her departure.
"Hatch," said the Silver Emperor, tapping the Frangoni warrior on the chest with the handle of his walking stick, which was of silver, and was in the shape of a pelican.
"My lord," said Hatch.
"Find out who made this piece of furniture."
"My lord," said Hatch, "it came to Dalar ken Halvar as part of the spoils from Malic Milvus."
This was true, and Hatch was glad to mention it, for he was eager to reopen the matter of the Malic Milvus campaign and the costs of that victory.
"Yes, yes, Malic Milvus," said the emperor. "Where you put us to abominable expense, this piece of rotten woodworm your sole recompense to the throne."
"My lord, I - "
"You might brush down my robes," said the Silver Emperor, "if you were wanting to be of assistance to us."
Hatch plucked a fan from one of the slave girls and used it to remove the splinters, dust and woodworm droppings which had despoiled his emperor's robes.
"Hatch," said the Silver Emperor, while Hatch was still at work.
"My lord," said Hatch, pausing in his cleaning duties.
"See how far you can throw this throne."
Hatch looked at his emperor in astonishment. Was he hearing aright? And if he was, then was his emperor deranged or what?
"In ... in which direction, my lord?"
"The direction of your choice."
"As my lord commands," said Hatch.
Since Hatch was the emperor's slave, it was his duty to obey the emperor's every whim. Sometimes these whims were exceedingly strange, as Hatch had found in the past. Still, many emperors have suffered from worse deficiencies than a taste for the occasional piece of casual vandalism, so Hatch did not object too seriously to his lord's excesses.
Obedient to his emperor's command, the Frangoni warrior braced himself, picked up the throne - it proved lighter than he had expected - and heaved it toward the center of the Hall. It crashed onto the rocks of the Hall and shattered in a cloud of dust.
"Ah," said the Silver Emperor, with a great sigh of satisfaction. "That's something I've always wanted to do. So, Hatch. So you do have your uses. You - you, girl - what's your name - fetch me a chair."
A chair was fetched and Plandruk Qinplaqus settled himself in this makeshift throne - a procedure which was less than instantaneous, involving as it did the placement of a cushion under his feet by one slave and the serving to him of sherbet by another.
"Well, Hatch," said the Silver Emperor, once he was properly seated. "Have you caught any more mad scientists?"
"None," said Hatch.
"Then you're in default of your duty," said the Silver Emperor. "My spies tell me there were ten of them down by the river. They were endeavoring to invent a vehicle for submersible travel."
"To do what?" said Hatch. "To ride the river to the Mouth?"
"Don't be impertinent with me!" said Plandruk Qinplaqus, shaking his walking stick at Hatch. "Impertinence ill becomes you. Address the question, Hatch. What have you been doing to catch me mad scientists?"
In truth, Asodo Hatch had not been involved with any mad scientists since he had disposed of Darius Flute. The unfortunate Flute had cracked under the pressure of his Combat College studies, and had abruptly withdrawn from the College, announcing that he was going to start a new Renaissance of Technology in Dalar ken Halvar. This was quite, quite mad, as the city of Dalar ken Halvar and the continent of Parengarenga as a whole quite lacked the population base and the raw materials required to create any technology capable of economically out-performing an ox
cart.
But the Silver Emperor had taken Darius Flute's claims seriously. Plandruk Qinplaqus had never banned technological enterprise, since the Silver Emperor knew full well that to forbid something was to make it universally attractive. So Qinplaqus had ordered Hatch to execute Darius Flute, but to do so in a manner which would not draw public attention to Flute's technological enterprises.
Hatch had then proceeded with consummate skill. He had arranged for his sister Penelope to marry the unsuspecting Darius Flute; and, on their wedding night, Penelope had stepped outside, Hatch had stepped inside, and Flute had been dead in moments. It was the custom amongst the Frangoni that a bridge was fully entitled to kill her husband if he disappointed her on the first night of their marriage, so Flute's death had passed with very little in the way of public comment; and the Silver Emperor had been rightly pleased.
But now -
"Hatch," said Plandruk Qinplaqus. "Will you keep me waiting all day? My question requires an answer. How many mad scientists have you hunted for me of late?"
"I did not know that my lord had commanded me to actively pursue such creatures," said Hatch mildly.
"You don't take this seriously, do you?" said the Silver Emperor.
"I trust that wisdom sits on the throne, and hence am ever eager to obey those commands which come to me from the throne,"
said Hatch. "But as yet the throne has not chosen to give me any instructions for fresh persecution, murder or otherwise."
"I see, I see," said the Silver Emperor. "A legalist. Well then, leaving aside the scientist question - have you seen this?"
With that, the Silver Emperor waved the cat-intimidating Imperial Census at Hatch.
"No," said Hatch shortly.
In his moods of deep depression, Plandruk Qinplaqus was hard to handle, but as he ascended his manic curve Hatch usually found him quite intolerable.
"You haven't read it?" said the Emperor. "Well, then. It's yours, then. Take it."
Then the Silver Emperor tossed the Census in Hatch's general direction.
Hatch let it fall to the broken rubble of the Hall, then bent, picked it up and carefully dusted it off. One never made sudden or incautious moves when one was in the Emperor's presence.
The Emperor himself was possessed of the most admirable self-
control, but some of his guards were a bit too quick with a javelin.
"When you search those pages," said the Silver Emperor, "you will find that a full fifty people claim themselves to be scientists."
Hatch knew the Silver Emperor lived in fear of waking up one morning to find that one of his subjects had built a functional starship, or something worse. It was true that many of Dalar ken Halvar's mad scientists had claimed that they would do as much -
indeed, they had c
laimed that they would bring about a glorious Age of Light in which every man would walk on silver and eat from gold.
"I will take note of the number of scientists," said Hatch, endeavoring to remain non-committal.
"There are probably more of them than that," said Plandruk Qinplaqus. "With every census I trust the figures less. This one, for instance! It tallies the last rice harvest to the very last sack. But last harvest the mountains of Qash were in open revolt against the empire. How then could we count those sack to the very last?"
Hatch caught a note of rising fanaticism in the emperor's voice. Plandruk Qinplaqus was getting quite worked up about his census. Hatch knew this mood. The Silver Emperor was on the upswing, climbing out of his last and longest depression, entering a manic stage.
"Well," said Hatch, seeking an opening.
"Well!" said the Silver Emperor. "You wish to speak, do you?
Then speak! Give your report."
"My lord," said Hatch, thinking he had better speak both quickly and bluntly. "There is revolution brewing in the city.
Indeed, some say it has started already."
"I am intrigued," said the Silver Emperor. "Proceed."
Hatch proceeded, and told what he knew.
"So," said Plandruk Qinplaqus, when Hatch was finished. "Our
soldiers are on the way to the silver mines already."
"That is so," said Hatch, "but if Scorpio Fax is to be believed, then in the city - "
"Forget the city," said the Silver Emperor. "They want a revolution in the city? Very well! Let them have their revolution!
It will do us no harm. Ignore it!"
"Ignore it?" said Hatch, quite taken aback.
"Yes, yes," said the Silver Emperor. "Ignore it. What can they do? Burn the city? It burns on a regular basis. Let them riot, then let the riot burn itself out."
