Every Inch a King

by Harry Turtledove

  He looked at me. He looked at the portrait. He looked at me some more. He looked at the portrait again. Apparently, I was expected not to notice this. If I’d played by the rules, I wouldn’t have been sitting in the royal palace of Shqiperi eating an indifferent breakfast in the first place. “Is something troubling you, your Excellency?” I inquired.

  Essad Pasha looked at me. He looked at the portrait. This could have grown tedious. It could also have given him a crick in the neck if he’d kept it up much longer. “You look like his Highness,” he said grudgingly.

  “And what do you suppose the most likely reason for that is?” I said. “A man often resembles his portrait-if the artist has half a notion of what he’s doing, anyway.”

  “But is that the most likely reason?” Was Essad Pasha asking himself or me? Himself, for he went on, “The Atabeg says you are not Halim Eddin.”

  “I’ve already explained to you why he has to do that,” I said with such patience as I could muster. A man does get tired of telling the same lie over and over.

  And a man does get alarmed when the fellow who most needs to believe that lie starts wondering about it. “Yes, but the Atabeg seemed quite emphatic, even impassioned, in his latest denial,” Essad Pasha said. “I shall have to investigate further.”

  He didn’t really disbelieve me, or he never would have let me hear that last. “Investigate all you please,” I told him. “You will find it is just as I say.” The only sure way he could find it wasn’t was by sailing to Vyzance and looking at the veritable Halim Eddin there with his own eyes. If he was determined enough to do that, at least he would give me plenty of time to make my getaway.

  Or so it seemed to me. But once things started unraveling, they came unknotted and unknitted faster than a cheap mitten. “Where are Colonel Kemal and Major Mustafa?” Essad Pasha asked.

  If he didn’t hear it from me, he would from someone else. That would only make him more suspicious, if such a thing was possible. “In the dungeon here,” I answered. “They presumed to doubt my royal status, too.” I couldn’t very well jug Essad Pasha, no matter how good an idea that might seem. Without him, I had no hold at all on the Hassocki troops in Peshkepiia and the rest of Shqiperi.

  Before Essad Pasha could say anything, Skander bustled up to me. “Your Majesty, Zogu the mage would speak to you.”

  I sighed. I wouldn’t have enjoyed my breakfast even alone, not as oily as it was. I might as well not enjoy it in company, then. “Go fetch him,” I told Skander, and away he went. He still thought I was king.

  “If we are going to fight the Belagorans, your Majesty, I need to speak to these officers,” Essad Pasha said. “I should like to have them released, if at all possible. They are excellent commanders.”

  He waited. I wondered if he wanted to persuade them I was the king or if he wanted them to persuade him I wasn’t. But I had to act as if I trusted him, or he wouldn’t trust me at all. “You may see them,” I told him as Skander brought Zogu up to my table. “If they pledge their loyalty to me-and if they make me believe it-they may be released.”

  “Very well, your Majesty.” Essad Pasha bowed and took his leave. He didn’t need to ask Skander where the dungeons were. Plainly, he already knew.

  He would.

  And he hadn’t even got to the dining-room door before I realized how many different flavors of fool I was. Colonel Kemal and Major Mustafa weren’t the only ones languishing in the dungeons. Josй-Diego was sitting in one of those cells, too. And Josй-Diego knew enough about Max and me not just to cook our goose but to incinerate it.

  “Zogu!” If fate was kind enough to throw me a straw, I’d try to grab it. “How would you like to put another chunk of the Shqipetari royal treasury in your own pocket?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind,” Zogu answered. Somehow, I hadn’t thought he would. “What do you need me to do?” He didn’t ask about a fee, not right then. I figured that meant he figured he had me by the short hairs. I also figured he was right.

  I pointed after Essad Pasha. “Can you arrange it so his Excellency thinks he’s hurrying toward the dungeons but he’s really not moving very fast at all?”

  A light gleamed in the wizard’s dark eyes. For all piratical porpoises, I’d just told him I wasn’t the rightful King of Shqiperi. If he felt like denouncing me, I’d probably end up envying my breakfast. But he only bowed. “As your Majesty wishes, so shall it be.”

  If Zogu had to withdraw to his sorcerous lair, Essad Pasha would already have got to the place where I didn’t want him to go by the time the wizard set out to stop him. That struck me as an impractical solution to the difficulty in which I found myself. I cast about for one more timely. Tackling the military governor sprang to mind.

  But Zogu proved himself a man of parts. And he had all the parts he needed right there with him. He took from his belt something that resembled both a curiously mottled fingernail and a much smaller version of the dragon’s scale I now wore under my tunic.

  “As tortoises grow,” he remarked, “they shed the outer layer of the scutes that armor their backs. These come in handy now and again.”

  I didn’t know whether this was now or again. I did know Zogu had better hurry if he was going to take care of what I needed from him. I also knew that, the more nervous I seemed, the more he would charge me when he finished-if he finished in time. I’m not the least accomplished actor in the world. I wouldn’t have succeeded even for five days in the role I was playing without a share of the true gift. But staying calm, or seeming to stay calm, while Zogu went through the rest of his pouches and pockets was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

  After what felt like forever and might have been half a minute, he let out a small, satisfied grunt. The bit of dried, withered greenery he held up put me in mind of nothing so much as…a bit of dried, withered greenery. But he seemed pleased with it. “Henbane,” he explained-he was an inveterate explainer, was Zogu. “It has the property of blurring that which is and that which seems to be.”

  “Very good,” I said, and could not help adding, “Can you make it seem to move faster?”

  His smile told me his price had just gone up. Well, I was past worrying about that. What could I buy with the gold and silver in that multiply locked treasure chamber more precious than my own neck and its continuing attachment to my shoulders?

  Zogu rubbed the henbane to powder between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He let the powder drizzle down over the shed tortoise scute, which he held in his left palm. As he did so, he chanted in nasal, braying Shqipetari: an unmusical language at the best of times, which this was not.

  I thought I caught Essad Pasha’s name in that flood of incomprehensible syllables. I also thought I caught mine. No, not Halim Eddin’s-mine. If Zogu didn’t say Otto of Schlepsig in there-well, then he said something else, that was all. But I sure thought he did. For a moment, I was offended. How could he presume to know who I really was? But he was a wizard, after all. If he set his mind to it, how could he not know?

  With an abrupt motion, he swept the scute and the henbane dust from his hand. “It is accomplished, your Majesty,” he said, with no irony in my title that I could find-and I was looking.

  I got to my feet. “All right,” I said. “Let’s see what Essad Pasha is doing.”

  Before I could leave the dining room, Max burst in. My distinguished minister for special affairs seemed imperfectly pleased with the world around him. I wondered why. I had the distinct feeling I didn’t really want to know.

  “Your Majesty-” Max sounded as happy as he looked-which is to say, he thought the end was nigh.

  “Captain, the news will wait, whatever it may be,” I said.

  “No, it won’t,” Max said.

  “Yes, it will,” I said in my best royal tones-so soon to be abandoned! “We must discover what our bold and clever mage has accomplished.”

  “You do me too much honor,” Zogu murmured.

  “I had better not,�
� I told him. Let him take that as he pleased. Maybe I meant his services were vital, and that I had confidence he’d done what he set out to do. Or maybe I meant his services were vital, and his head would answer if something had gone wrong. A man with a spell is generally stronger than a man with a sword. But a man with a sword can generally use his weapon faster than a man with a spell. Since Zogu was right there between Max and me, he had to be a little thoughtful…

  Max seemed about ready to burst. “Your Majesty, you really do need to know-Ow!” Not entirely by accident, I’d done my best to flatten Max’s instep. The look he gave me made me wonder if Zogu was the only one who needed to worry about swords. But he did shut up. That was nice.

  Each of us thinking his no doubt interesting thoughts, none of us saying anything, we walked out into the hallway. One of the palace servants trotted toward me, calling, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

  When I put the crown on five days earlier, I never dreamt I might tire of the title. Just at that moment, though, I rather wished people would forget I was King of Shqiperi. “Yes, Mujo?” I couldn’t possibly have sounded as apprehensive as I felt.

  But Mujo said, “Your Majesty, Essad Pasha’s had some kind of fit! Come quick!”

  “You see?” Zogu said quietly.

  “I see,” I answered, as quietly. Max started to say something. I stepped on his foot again; I don’t know how I could have been so clumsy. “Oh, what a pity!” I told Mujo in my normal tone of voice, or as normal as I could sound while shamelessly overacting. “Take me to him right away!”

  And the good Mujo did. By what he’d said, I expected to see Essad Pasha thrashing on the floor foaming at the mouth. That wasn’t what I’d looked for from Zogu’s wizardry. It turned out not to be what I got, either.

  There Essad Pasha was, hurrying along toward the dungeons. Every line of his body proclaimed his urgency. Purpose gleamed in his eyes. His mouth was firm and determined.

  I walked up to him. I walked past him. I walked around him. I stopped next to him. If I watched for a little while, I could see him moving. If I’d stood around for an hour or so, I might have seen him take another step. At that rate, he would get to the dungeons just a little before Colonel Kemal and Major Mustafa died of old age.

  A number of fates might still await me in Shqiperi. Somehow, I didn’t think dying of old age was one of them.

  “Are you satisfied, your Majesty?” Zogu asked.

  “Will you listen to me, your Majesty?” Max asked.

  “Yes,” I said, and then, “No.” To Zogu, I went on, “Let’s go to the treasury. You’ve earned your pay.” To Max, I went on, “Captain Yildirim, whatever it is, it will keep for a little while.”

  “They’re getting ready to hang you from a lamppost out there, and me from the one next door,” Max said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I told him. “Peshkepiia hasn’t got any lampposts.”

  That kept him quiet till we got to the treasury chamber. The guards standing in front of it came to attention. I had the keys to the treasury with me-what better perquisite of kingship? One by one, the locks opened. The bars came off. The door swung wide. We went inside. I unlocked the chests.

  “Go ahead,” I said to Zogu. “Help yourself.”

  “North and south, east and west, your Majesty, that is spoken like a king!” he exclaimed.

  “Nice of you to say so,” I answered. By Eliphalet’s holy hangnail, I was still a king! I might not have been Prince Halim Eddin, the way Essad Pasha thought I was. But I had been properly crowned as King of Shqiperi, no matter who I really was. All hail King Otto I! Long may he reign! Unfortunately, King Otto I was going to have a short reign, and it would have been even shorter if he hadn’t been smart enough to realize as much.

  Zogu wasn’t shy about exacting his fee, but he wasn’t greedy-or not too greedy, anyhow. “You put my honor at stake here,” he said. “Were you niggardly, I would feel duty-bound to take more.”

  “If I didn’t know you had honor, I wouldn’t have spoken the way I did,” I replied. One more lie for the road, even if a lie kindly meant. The truth was, right then I didn’t care how much he took. He couldn’t carry it all away, which was the only thing that mattered to me. But this was a lie that helped me more than the truth would have.

  The mage bowed very low, clinking musically as he did. “For your kindness, your Majesty, I will give you a parting gift.” He plucked a withered leaf from a pouch on his belt. “Here is a veritable tortoise leaf.”

  He’d used a tortoise scute before. That I understood, even if I’d never heard the term till he gave it to me. But this…“Do tortoises in Shqiperi turn into shrubs, or maybe grow on them?” I asked.

  “Not so,” Zogu said. “No one knows from which plant the she-tortoise-for it is always a she-tortoise-finds this leaf. She will not seek it if she is followed. But she carries it in her mouth with her. To get it from her, you must build a wall of stones around the nest where she has laid her eggs. The leaf has the property of breaking down any wall or door.” He bowed again. “May it prove useful to you.”

  He still didn’t say he knew I wasn’t the king Essad Pasha had thought I was. He didn’t need to say anything of the kind. He just gave me a present that would help me go on being who I was, even if I wasn’t who Essad Pasha thought I was. Zogu might have worn his hair in a cut that looked like a pancake, but he was all right.

  I bowed to him in turn. “It shall be a talisman, as long as my reign lasts.” No, I wasn’t going to admit a thing.

  “Good fortune go with you-and with your leaf,” he said. One more bow, and he was gone.

  “Now,” I said to Max. “You wanted to tell me something?”

  He eyed the guards outside the door and spoke in a low voice. That didn’t make him sound any less, ah, sincere-on the contrary, in fact. “Man, things are getting critical out there! We can’t stay here any more, not after those cursed scribes-may demons take them-went and spilled the beans. More and more people know about the denials from Vyzance, and more and more people believe them. If we don’t escape right now, we’re lost. We’ll be shot!”

  Shot! Brr…That was not a pretty word.

  But it was obvious that my good minister for special affairs was right. If it became clear the denials were true, then nothing good would happen to us. Essad Pasha (once he thawed out anyway) and his officers would be in a fine fury because we’d led them around by the nose like that. I could picture it perfectly well in my mind. I didn’t want to wait around to see it for real.

  And I wouldn’t have to wait around very long. One of the palace guards trotted up to the treasury. He saluted me as king and said, “Excuse me, your Majesty, but there are soldiers outside the front entrance who don’t seem well-inclined toward you.”

  How big an understatement was that? Probably bigger by the second. If I couldn’t get adulation, chaos seemed the next best bet. I clapped a hand to my forehead. I looked stricken. As I had with Mujo, I overacted like you wouldn’t believe. “Traitors!” I cried. “North and south, east and west, traitors beset me! They must be in Narbonese pay, those accursed curs! They’d eat their dead, vomit it up, and howl for more. Hold them off as long as you can. Reinforcements are on the way!”

  The soldier saluted. He bowed. He ran back toward the entrance, waving his sword. When you do things like that, people get out of your way. They’d better, anyhow. One of the guards at the treasury door turned to peer in at me, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Your Majesty?” he said.

  “Go help the men at the entrance,” I told him. “Captain Yildirim and I will protect the treasury till you’ve beaten back the wicked rebels.”

  “Aye, your Majesty!” This poor sap saluted and bowed, too. He and his pal hotfooted it down the corridor after the other soldier. I couldn’t see if they were waving their swords. It wouldn’t surprise me, though. If you’re going to act melodramatic, don’t do it halfway.

  “Narbonese pay?” Max said. “Protect the treasury?�
��

  “Of course, Narbonese pay. You wouldn’t expect me to blame a kingdom that’s friendly to Schlepsig, would you?” I said. “And you’d best believe I intend to protect the treasury-as much of it as I can carry, anyway.” I started filling every pocket and pouch my uniform possessed. I stuffed coins down my boot tops, too.

  Max stared at me. Then-I know you’ll think I’m making this up, but I am a truthful man-he started to laugh. “By Eliphalet’s burgeoning bank account, Otto, you’re not crazy after all!” He also loaded up.

  Zogu had clinked when he left the treasury. We didn’t. We’d packed ourselves too tight with cash to make much noise. The first few steps, I was awkward-I’d gained more than a little weight. I soon got the hang of it, though. Max was less graceful, but Max is always less graceful.

  “Aren’t you going to close the door?” Max inquired as we exited, stage left.

  “Not me,” I told him. “Sooner or later”-by the racket out front, it sounded like sooner-“those mean-spirited, misguided, misunderstanding rogues out there are going to break in. Some of them just may prove more interested in an open treasury than in open season on a king-and on his minister for special affairs.”

  “A point. A distinct point,” he allowed. “How much do you think we’ve got?”

  “More than Dooger and Cark would have paid us, that’s for sure,” I said. “Enough so that I’d sooner not go swimming.”

  “Urk,” Max said, which was more or less what I was thinking. Servants stared at us as we strode past. I don’t know what they were thinking. There wasn’t really time to ask. They didn’t try to stop us. Surely that was a sign of approval of my glorious if all too brief reign. After a bit, Max asked, “Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

  Surely that was a sign of imperfect trust in one’s sovereign. “As a matter of fact, yes,” I answered. And I did.