by Phil Geusz
I blushed and looked down into my chocolate.
“And,” His Majesty continued, “I also wished to offer my most sincere apologies for giving it to you.”
That got my attention. Against my will, both ears rose abruptly.
“Heh!” His Highness declared. “My advisors claimed that you were a real charmer. I’m glad to see that they were right. Because you’re going to need that ability, son. And far, far more.”
I took another sip before replying. “Forgive me, sir. But I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”
His Majesty nodded. “Which is part of what makes all of this so cruel. No one really expects you to understand, you see. Not yet, at least. I, however, feel obliged to at least try and explain.” Then he sighed and lowered his glass to the table. “As you must certainly know by now, there’s a strong, ah… Connection, let’s call it. A strong connection between myself and the House of Marcus.”
I nodded silently.
“It goes deeper than you probably realize, no matter how good your nose is.” He smiled knowingly at me. “I’ve been privy to their deepest, darkest secrets for most of my life, and they to many of mine.” His smile faded, and he met my eyes. “Therefore, I’ve known all about you for a very long time now. And your father, as well.”
I looked away. “I see.”
He laughed. “You can’t see, son. Because you don’t—can’t possibly!—have all the facts. But I intend to share some of them with you. Because of the Sword, see? And because things have gone so badly wrong.”
I tilted my head, not understanding.
“The House of Marcus created you Rabbits,” he continued after a time. “Horses and Dogs too, of course. But it was Rabbits that first made them wealthy, then ennobled them, then carried them to the highest ranks of all. There will always be unpleasant, mind-numbing labor that absolutely needs to be done. You Rabbits were specifically bred to perform it so that we humans wouldn’t have to. Dogs and Horses have their places, yes. But it’s Rabbits that are the key.” He paused. “Did you know that there are nearly as many Rabbits in this kingdom as there are humans?”
I blinked. “No, sire.”
“Almost no one does. Because we keep the fact carefully suppressed. It’s a terrible strategic weakness, you see. An uprising might be unlikely, given how submissive and even meek Rabbits tend to be. But still…. The results could be disastrous.”
I blinked again. “Sire,” I tried to reassure him. “I’ve never met a Rabbit who would even dream… I mean…”
His Majesty waved his hand airily. “Yes, yes, yes!” he replied, for the first time sounding his true age. “I’ve heard all that before, a million times.” He looked down at my Sword and smiled. “And, I assure you… If I had even the slightest doubts regarding your personal loyalty, you’d not be armed in my private chamber.”
I nodded, wanting to say more but holding my tongue.
“Anyway…” my sovereign continued, looking off into the distance again. “Widespread slavery carries far more subtle poisons with it than just the crass fear of revolt.” He smiled again. “Did you know, David, that in the beginning being the King of the Empire of Man was a purely ceremonial job?”
“No!” I answered, eyes wide. “But… I mean, how…”
His Highness shook his head and smiled. “We truly are pathetic creatures, we human beings. In the beginning there was His Majesty and a handful of Lords to assist him in opening public buildings, addressing schoolchildren and all that royal rot. But as people grew more and more conscious of how much better they were than mere Rabbits, well… They started thinking about how much better they were than each other, too. The whole feudal structure revived itself in nothing flat.” He looked away. “There were other factors in play as well, like the semi-isolation of the new colony worlds and the need for centralized authority on such an inhospitable frontier. But, the eggheads claim, it was mostly you Rabbits who did this to us. And now we’re not only stuck with a wretchedly inefficient governmental system run largely via graft and intrigue, but are also plagued with a population that’s half made up of illiterate, uninventive, zero-initiative slaves.” He looked away. “I’m sorry, David. But that’s how it really is.”
I nodded slowly. It was true, so what could I say?
“For three generations it’s been the secret goal of both my House and that of Marcus to at least begin to remedy this, though the scale of the problem is so incredible that it boggles the mind.” He frowned. “As always, the first thing that needs to change are attitudes. You and your father were part of a plan to accomplish this.” He sighed and reached out to pat my shoulder. “A most successful part so far, I might add. Though there’s still so far to go…”
I looked down at the ground. “We’re different, aren’t we? Me and Dad, I mean? I’ve always sort of felt that way.”
His Majesty nodded. “Illegally different, actually. The same gengineering tech that created Rabbits to begin with can serve to alter them as well, you see.” He looked away again. “You were optimized for intelligence, initiative and ability, David, instead of servility. More specifically, you were gifted with technical and leadership skills in the hope that you’d make an exceptional merchantman’s officer someday. Because for a Rabbit to succeed in a human world nothing less than truly exceptional would do.”
“I see,” I whispered back.
“There are a few others,” the king continued. “You’d have found one of the females far more attractive than a run-of-mill servile type, or at least you were so designed. Eventually you’d have been encouraged to marry, and with a little help your children would’ve been more capable still. We’d have seen to it that they rose even higher, so that humanity might learn that ancient bloodlines don’t mean so much after all.” He sighed again. “Certainly it would’ve led to chaos and turmoil. Maybe even war and suffering. My own House might’ve fallen. But growth is like that, David. You have to accept the pains with the gains.”
I nodded slowly. “I see.”
He sighed and sipped more chocolate milk. “This current war changes everything, of course. And so, in its way, does your Sword. Truth be told, I expect we’ll be forced to the table soon to make peace. It won’t last long, however. We’re at loggerheads with the Imperials in a very fundamental way, and this fight won’t end until either their realm collapses or mine.” His eyes hardened. “I may be forced to accept a short-term peace; their surprise-attack accomplished that much even if it blackened their names forever.” His ancient hands formed fists. “But I intend to win the larger war, David, never doubt it for a moment! If it takes every last credit and costs me my crown, I’ll win it!” He pounded the arm of his chair. “Because I must! Because Mankind and Rabbitkind and all the rest of us should move forward, not fall back into some wretched dark age.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I heard myself say, though I wasn’t really sure I meant it. Burning had hurt a lot, and I didn’t ever want to have to face it again.
His Highness smiled. “That brings us back to square one, David. And why I’m so sorry I had to give you the Sword. The plan as it once stood, the one where you’d have spent the rest of your life as a chief engineer and your son would’ve become a merchant captain, is wrecked beyond all salvage. That plan would’ve demanded much of you, though in fairness it also offered much in return. But now…” He sighed. “Son, I won’t force you, because what I’m going to ask isn’t something that can rightly be demanded of a man or a Rabbit either one. Nor do I want you to decide here and now. You’ve a little childhood left, and I want you to enjoy every minute of it that you can. But…” He looked away.
“The greatest stronghold of the nobility in this entire realm is the navy, David. The bulk of the officer corps are of blue blood, and the higher one rises the truer this becomes. Like it or not, these are the movers and shakers of our universe—impress them, and the impression will spread.” His Highness sighed. “My beloved subject, quite by accident you�
��re in an advantageous position to advance some of the Kingdom’s most important goals at a crucial time in our history. We’re about to fight a long war, or more likely a long series of wars, and successful military leaders will be held in the highest of public esteem. You’ve already been decorated for courage after actions which speak for themselves to the most closed of minds—even that pompous ass Blaine was decent enough to properly credit you for his victory. It’s almost like it was somehow meant to be. Even your engineering education, son…. While it was meant for something else, it fits a naval career perfectly. And, as predicted, you have quite a knack for it.”
I gulped. “You’re asking me to enlist in the navy, sire?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Of course not! At your age and with your proven abilities, it’d be a waste for you to become an enlisted man. Instead, I want you to apply to the Academy and become an officer. You’re acceptance is certain, I might add—while I can pull only just so many so many strings on your behalf without ruining my own purpose, that particular one I can manage.”
I nodded again. “And this is the burden of the Sword, your majesty?”
His Highness's smile faded. “Yes, David. I fear that it is. A burden of honor, for those noble-hearted enough to feel it.”
I nodded back. “Thank you for explaining all this to me, sire.”
“Don’t mention it. It was owed you, and far more besides.” He sighed and, joints creaking, rose to his feet. Then he arched his back and stretched in a most unkinglike manner. “A-a-a-rgh!” he declared as the vertebrae popped. “I fear that I must get back to work, David. Poor Douglas is probably improvising like a fiend right about now. I should be ashamed of myself, I treat him so shabbily.” He reached down and fozzled my ears with both hands. “Forgive me, but I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
I smiled back. “Anytime, sire.”
Then his face grew serious once more. “Your Mr. Banes has my ear, David. Once upon a time he was my tutor as well, you see. Let him know what you decide; I’ll see to the rest. And please, forward him my regards as well.”
I nodded. “Yes, sire.”
Then he smiled again. “One of the few benefits of being king is that no one ever questions your basic prerogatives. So sit down and finish your milk once I’m gone, David—I won’t be back for hours. Take as long as you need to relax and settle down before facing the press—waiting won’t kill them, and it’ll be your last chance for quite some time. I’ll leave instructions on the matter.”
I smiled one last time, then bowed even though protocol didn’t call for it. “Thank you, sire. For everything.”
He smiled back. “Thank you, David. For all you’ve done, and for what’s yet to come. No matter what path you choose, I’m certain you won’t let me down. In fact, I begin to doubt that you’re capable of it.”
13
His Majesty told me that I didn’t have to answer him about the Academy right away, and I was glad of it. For a long time after getting the Sword I felt all twisted up and confused inside. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, though when I talked to Mr. Banes about it he smiled and told me that he suspected my fourteenth birthday just might have something to do with it. And it probably did—he gave me a nice little booklet to read about going through puberty, for which I was grateful. But still… I felt like something was terribly wrong inside of me. I cried for no reason, grew angry at James, didn’t study as hard…
…and then one day it all blew away like a passing summer storm, and I felt like I could actually think again a little. In fact, judging by the comments Mr. Banes wrote on my papers, I was thinking better than ever.
Bu it wasn’t all just puberty. The Sword was definitely part of it as well. I’d never really wanted the thing, nor enjoyed any of the other stuff that went with it like not bowing to anyone. Most especially, I hated all the obligations that were part of the package. “I don’t want everyone treating me differently!” I complained late one night to Mr. Banes, during the weeks when I was at my worst. He’d overheard me weeping from the corridor, and stopped in to see what was wrong. “All I ever wanted was to be an engineer and run a safe and efficient ship like Dad did. It’s not fair! I don’t want to be anyone’s hero!”
“There, there!” Mr. Banes replied, hugging me close alongside him. Thank heavens James was away visiting His Majesty—I couldn’t have stood for him to see me like that. Then my tutor sighed and looked me in the eye. “Wherever did you get the idea, young David, that life is fair?”
“I… Well…”
He laughed a single, harsh syllable. “Was it fair that you were born a slave, David?”
“No,” I answered without even thinking about it. “Not really. But—”
“Was it fair that your father never knew a minute’s freedom till the day he died?” he interrupted.
I opened my mouth, then bit off my reply. Somehow, I’d never really considered the issue. “Gee,” I answered at length. “That was really terrible!”
“Yes,” my tutor agreed, nodding soberly. “Utterly wretched, in fact.” Then he looked off into the distance. “How about all the other Rabbits, David? Or for that matter, all the other enslaved individuals of history? However many billions there’s been, of all races and creeds?”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “You’re right,” I admitted. “They all had it a lot worse than I do.”
He nodded again. “And then we might consider the destitute, the ignorant, the endless legions of the crippled…” He shook his head and sighed. “Life’s never fair, David, nor can it be made fair. No matter how hard people try. If I could share only one lesson with you, this would be the one. Every single person there’s ever been was a universe unto themselves, and their path through life a unique, individual voyage that can’t be meaningfully compared with that of any another. Nothing’s ever the same twice and therefore no two lives, or two people, are comparable.” He sighed. “So fairness is an illusion, David, and yearning for it is a waste of precious time.” He squeezed me extra-tight. “Especially for someone like you.”
“I… I guess I am more different than most,” I admitted.
“In many ways,” Mr. Banes agreed. “Which must make you feel very lonely. I understand this and make allowances for it when I can. But I fear that no one can ever be lonely for you. It’s something everyone has to go through for themselves.”
I nodded slowly, my face screwing up again. “You expect so much from me! All of you!”
Mr. Banes nodded. “Yes, we do. Including His Royal Highness. Or so I’m informed.” He smiled softly. “I suspect I know what’s really bothering you, son. No one will make you attend the Academy. I’d offer my own word of honor, but His Majesty has already made you his promise. And he never, ever breaks his word on things like this.” He peered at me intently. “Did I guess right?”
I nodded. “He says it’s okay if I don’t. And I know he wouldn’t make me. But…” I looked down at my feet. “I guess I sorta have to go anyway.”
Mr. Banes smiled again. “And why is that, David?”
My eyes filled with tears. “Because… Because I just do! Part of it’s the Sword, yes. But…” I looked up at him. “Someone has to be first. His Highness is right about how important it is. And so are you and Lord Robert and everyone else around here. Something’s gotta give, you see. And… And… And…” I looked down, and Mr. Banes squeezed me again.
“Something’s got to give,” he whispered. “And someone has to be the first. You’re the best-placed there’s ever likely to be. You know it as well as we do, and because of that you can’t run away. Even though it’ll make you miserable.”
I nodded wordlessly.
He squeezed me around the shoulders and we sat in silence for what felt like forever before he spoke again. “David,” he said at last. “You’re aware by now that I’m no ordinary instructor.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “You’re a special-good one. And I’m thankf
ul for all you’ve done for me. Even if I don’t say it out loud very often.”
He smiled. “You’re most welcome.” He looked at James’s empty bed and sighed. “The privilege has been mine, really. I’ve tutored no less than eleven lordlings and a royal prince in my time. Or, perhaps it may yet turn out to be ten lordlings and two royal princes—who can know?” He shook his head. “And now a Rabbit as well.” He squeezed me again. “One of the traits I’m expected to encourage in my charges is a true sense of nobility. An understanding that being a nobleman is more about obligations than privileges, and that true honor is the greatest burden that a man, or a Rabbit, can ever bear.” He shook his head, then turned to face me. “The greater one’s abilities and power, the greater their obligations. Some people never come to understand that, David. They become monsters like the Emperor. You, on the other hand…” He shook his head and stood up to leave. “Some men devote their entire lives to seeking the very highest titles and decorations. To them something like the Sword—or even better a crown!—is more precious than gold. They’ll do anything—even commit terrible crimes—to obtain what they seek, all the while never having a clue about the substance that necessarily lies behind the symbol. Others, however, live quietly and try to do what’s right even when it’s not easy. They don’t seek medals or crowns or glory—instead, all they’re interested in is satisfying the demands of their own personal sense of honor. Yet, though this sort of man doesn’t chase after honors, somehow the honors tend to find him.”
Then to my shock Mr. Banes bowed to me. “I can teach you nothing about honor, David Birkenhead, because it’s clearly a subject you’ve long-since mastered. It was honor that won you first your freedom and then your Sword. It’ll also be honor that you’ll curse again and again all through your life as it drives you do what’s difficult—sometimes even impossible!—instead of what’s conventional and easy.” He shook his head. “I don’t envy you, son—not at all! But know that I’ll always be here for you so long as I live, and also that you’ve earned my eternal respect. I’m proud to include you among the lords and princes, David. Never doubt it for a moment.”
