by Scott Meyer
Rayzo lay wheezing on the mat. He knew what was coming, but it was too late to prevent it. The competitor dove for his midsection and thrust both of his hands into Rayzo’s shorts, grasping the waistband. Sensors built into the shorts registered the presence of a regulation pantsing grip and administered a sizeable shock, which was assisted on its trip into Rayzo’s nervous system by his body’s generous coating of conductive oil.
Rayzo’s body was incapacitated, but his mind and senses were unaffected. The shock caused little pain, not nearly as much as hearing every spectator in the arena shout, “Pantsed!” in perfect unison. The only three people in the arena who were not shouting were Rayzo, Rayzo’s competitor, and Rayzo’s father.
Rayzo lay twitching on the mat, unable to control his own limbs. He knew exactly what would happen next as if it were a choreographed dance. His competitor grasped him by the ankles and twisted. Rayzo flopped over like a wooden plank, settling facedown on the mat. The segment of the mat where his face made contact changed color and a chime played, signifying points scored. Rayzo was dragged feetfirst to the gutter, his face skidding through various segments of the mat. As each new segment changed color, the chime raised in pitch, telling everyone that not only had more points been scored, but that the point value had doubled for each consecutive cell his face slid through.
The strangest things get one’s attention at such times. Here Rayzo was, experiencing the worst nightmare of every sportsman, and all he could think about was that he was unable to close his mouth. His tongue was dragging along the mat with the rest of his face. He pictured all of the bare, oiled feet that had touched that mat. He was actually relieved when he reached the edge and rolled into the gutter.
Rayzo lay there for a moment, waiting for control of his limbs to return. Normally, a competitor in his position would be spared the sight of his opponent’s victory celebration, but because they were on the big screen, and because he had landed on his back, Rayzo got to watch as his competitor’s father proclaimed, “It is the prophecy!”
Rayzo closed his eyes, and kept them closed until he heard his father’s voice.
“Son? Can you move?”
Lord Jakabitus was peering over the edge of the gutter.
“Yes,” Rayzo said, sitting up shakily.
“I blame myself, Rayzo. This was my fault.”
“Oh, Father, you didn’t mean any harm.”
“I was just so excited that you were doing so well,” Frederain said. “I wanted to encourage you, but I made you overconfident.”
“Overconfident? Father, I don’t think I was overconfident.”
“Sounds like you still are,” Frederain said. “Now get out of that gutter. They need the mat cleared for the next match.”
Rayzo stood and put up a hand for his father to grasp and pull him up, but Frederain didn’t move.
“No, Son. I’d like to help you, but it’s better for your self-esteem if you pull yourself up.”
8.
“The full formal greeting was invoked at the staff meeting this morning, so we will dispense with it now,” Wollard said as he walked briskly into the room, Phee following behind. “Instead, I will simply thank you all for taking a moment from your duties to attend this impromptu meeting. I assure you, it will be worthwhile. Everyone is present, I trust?”
Wollard looked over the assembled group. They were sitting in their accustomed places in the servants’ hall, but their mood seemed unfathomably dark, and he didn’t know why. He looked to Glaz. She was the palace expediter, and, as such, was the staff’s leader and spokesperson.
Glaz glanced at the rest of the staff, all of whom were staring at the floor. “I’m sorry, Wollard. I didn’t get the chance to tell you. Umily’s not here. She just received some terrible news. I’ve given her the rest of the day off.”
“Gint?” Wollard asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Injured?”
“Worse.”
“Oh, dear. I see,” Wollard said. “That is, of course, terrible. I know we all thought very highly of the young man. I don’t want to intrude on poor Umily, but please let her know that if I can be of any assistance in the planning of a memorial and the disposition of the remains—”
“She won’t get any remains,” Shly said, speaking out of turn. “The letter said that they only found one piece, and they’re keeping it for something called loss-retardant measures, whatever that is.”
“Well,” Wollard said, “please let her know that Phee and I are anxious to assist her in any way we can.”
Phee nodded vigorously at Glaz, who thanked them and promised to pass along the message.
Wollard took a deep breath and barreled on to the topic of the meeting.
“I know that this is hard, but as much as we’d all like to take some time to digest this news, the world isn’t going to stop moving because we are grieving.” He studied the faces of the staff to see if they were with him, and he was pleased to see that they were. They didn’t look happy about it, but given the circumstances, it would be most inappropriate if they had.
“As you all know, Her Ladyship received a special briefing this morning about the state of the war with the Hahn. I can now tell you that the subject of that briefing was the capture of a member of the Hahn ruling family, the ruler’s son, Master Hennik Hahn.”
Wollard paused to let the import of his announcement sink in before continuing.
“After exploring all of the options put forth by her military commanders and checking for any available precedents, Lady Jakabitus has determined that the best course of action is for Her Ladyship and His Lordship to adopt the Hahn boy and raise him, alongside Master Rayzo, as their own son.”
There was a moment of silence, followed by every staff member saying, “Query,” in varying volumes and tones of voice.
Wollard said, “I recognize Glaz, the palace expediter.” She could speak on behalf of all of them, since the others would likely want to ask the same few questions.
Glaz said, “I have a question in two parts. The first part is, are you serious?”
“Understood, and yes, I assure you that both I and Lady Jakabitus are entirely serious.”
“Thank you. The second part of my question is this: Why would Her Ladyship do that?”
“I’m glad you asked. I understand that adopting her sworn enemy’s son is not the first course of action that springs to mind. There were those in the military who wanted to injure the boy or worse, but Her Ladyship understands that to harm a defenseless prisoner would be poor form. That sort of thing simply isn’t done. If we hurt him, we hurt our standing in the galaxy, and thus, ourselves. Conversely, if we sent him back to the Hahn unharmed, it would show considerable weakness in a time of war, which is also quite unacceptable.”
Glaz shook her head. “Treating a Hahn as if he’s a member of her own family seems crazy.”
“But it is a brilliant tactical maneuver, when you think through the possible outcomes. Despite spending the rest of his adolescence with us, Master Hennik will still be a member of the Hahn ruling family, and may very well take control of the Hahn Empire someday. If that happens, he will think of Her Ladyship not as the enemy, but as a parent, and the war will essentially be over.”
“Query,” Shly said.
“Recognized,” Wollard said.
“What about the Hahn who runs their army? Shimlish the Pig.”
“It is true,” Wollard said, “that Master Hennik’s older sister Shimlish Hahn commands the Hahn armed forces, and is considered most likely to succeed their father, but she is actively involved in the war. It is possible that she will not outlive her father. Whether Shimlish Hahn takes control or Kamar Hahn maintains his grip on the reins of power, any kindness and respect Her Ladyship shows Hennik Hahn may still be appreciated.”
“Query,” Hartchar said, then cont
inued without waiting for a reply. “Is the general idea that the Hahn are unlikely to attack the palace if we have one of their family here?”
“Her Ladyship’s plan has many merits,” Wollard answered.
Glaz queried, and when she was recognized, said, “Was this your idea?”
“No,” Wollard said, “I can’t take credit for it. It is a strategy that has existed for hundreds of years. Phee and I merely found the precedents and brought them to Her Ladyship’s attention.”
“Follow-up query: In the past, has this strategy led to peace?”
“I would scarcely have brought it to Her Ladyship’s attention otherwise.”
Wollard said it with conviction, though Phee struggled to betray no emotion. While it was true that this strategy had led to peace in the past, part of the secret knowledge from the Arbiters that all Masters of Formalities needed to understand in order to do their job was that all strategies led to peace eventually. Even defeat leads to peace, if you take a broad enough view.
The two most similar precedents for this strategy had, indeed, resulted in a period of peace in the short term, followed eventually by a lasting peace in the long term, with a brief period of strife in between.
In one, the adopted son had attempted to usurp his older adoptive brother’s position and seize control, but his scheme was discovered and thwarted, resulting in his banishment. In the other, the adopted son grew to adulthood, returned to his birth world, and then came back with a small army to seize control of his former adoptive family’s palace. He was betrayed by his own men, and eventually captured and tortured by a third great house, simply for belligerence’s sake, so it seemed.
Phee and Wollard both understood that these results were less than optimal, but the alternative was continued, uninterrupted war. It was true that neither precedent had worked out well for certain individuals, but another piece of secret knowledge all Masters of Formalities understood was that in the long run, no plan ever worked out well for every individual. Even success and happiness ends in death eventually.
Ebbler muttered, thinking out loud, “If he’s going to be living here, we might want to get out of the habit of calling his sister the Pig.”
Wollard said, “I’ll recognize your out-of-order comment, Ebbler, because these are unusual circumstances . . . and because I like the way you’re thinking. The practice of referring to Shimlish Hahn as the Pig was actually started by the Hahn family itself, and it was meant as an honorific, not an insult. Indeed, she’s reported to be quite attractive, physically. The name describes her behavior, not her appearance.”
“But how could it possibly be meant as a compliment?”
“The Hahn culture is different from ours. As soon as the plan was settled, I requested a report on their home world customs from the Arbiters. Thankfully, the Arbiters made it a priority and had it compiled, organized, and vetted at an accelerated rate. Even so, it just arrived. Phee and I have only had time to give it a cursory glance. It is a given that introducing Master Hennik to our way of life will cause a certain amount of friction. To ease this, Her Ladyship is allowing him to keep the servant who was captured with him. Said servant will act as his personal valet, and will be treated as a member of the palace staff.”
There were uncomfortable glances and murmurs. Wollard pressed on.
“Hennik Hahn and his servant were captured yesterday. This morning, Lady Jakabitus settled on her course of action, and word was sent to Ophion 6. The pair was put on a direct warp transport as prisoners. Soon they will arrive as a member of the ruling family and a member of the palace staff. They will be tired and disoriented. They will have eaten on the transport, so they will be shown to their new quarters to rest after a brief welcome ceremony. Tomorrow night there will be an official welcome banquet, for which Barsparse will be preparing Master Hennik’s favorite dish from his home world.”
Wollard looked toward Barsparse. “I will get back to you as soon as I know what that is.”
Barsparse nodded. She and Wollard had met earlier to discuss the addition of an extra family member and an extra staff member to the meals, so she’d had extra time to process the news.
“Now, a word about the Hahn culture. As you all know, Apios has been at war with the Hahn for generations. As such, there has been little cultural interaction between the two worlds. The average Apiosan knows little about daily life on the Hahn home world. Phee and I have skimmed the Arbiter’s report, and it seems the primary feature of Hahn culture is their respect for honesty. Theirs is a culture built upon total honesty in all things.
“Oh,” Shly said, quietly, “that sounds nice.”
“Yes,” Wollard said, casting a glance at Phee. “It does.”
9.
At the appointed time, the staff gathered in the palace’s inner courtyard. It was that brief moment before night falls, when the light of day has dimmed slightly, yet everything seems to be lit from within. The heat of the day had died, and the chill of the night was still ahead. It was as if the day knew this was its last chance to make a good impression and had pulled out all the stops.
The palace was spectacular from any angle and in any light, but in this light, seen from within the inner courtyard, it defied description.
Palace Koa, or the palace, as it was commonly called, was one building but had been constructed in three phases. Phase one, the Old Palace, dated back all the way to the dawn of the Jakabitus empire, two thousand years prior. For centuries the Old Palace was renowned for its beauty, opulence, and size. Now it was renowned mostly because of its age and history.
The second phase of construction, the New Palace, took the form of an oval ring that flared outward as it rose, its walls starting out thick at the bottom, then growing narrow and graceful at the top. It had been built a little under a thousand years later, a little over a thousand years ago. Clad in shining polished marble, the ring connected to the rear of the Old Palace. It surrounded and framed the Old Palace like a giant collar. Its outside wall was featureless, but the inside wall held several balconies, offering a view of the courtyard and the city beyond. The ring thinned to a sharp edge, and was embedded with a gate directly in front of the Old Palace. This addition was the part that contained the kitchen and staff accommodations, which had allowed those spaces in the Old Palace to be repurposed.
The final, outer portion of Palace Koa, surrounded and connected with the New Palace. While lavishly embellished and decorated on the exterior, it was essentially a low, hollow rectangle. It housed the security staff, bureaucrats, and fixers whose tireless work allowed Lady Jakabitus to make the leadership of an entire planet look graceful and elegant. It was the definition of thankless work, and the décor of its offices bore that out. This was the Recent Expansion, completed a mere four hundred years ago.
When Wollard stepped into the palace courtyard with Phee, he was pleased to see that the staff had taken their assigned positions, lining up as they would to greet any visiting member of a ruling house. He was less pleased to see the empty spot where Umily would usually stand, but perhaps it was best for her not to be present. This is probably not the best moment to introduce the poor dear to a member of the Hahn ruling family, he thought.
Though all appeared to be going according to plan, Wollard felt uneasy, which was understandable given the circumstances. In a voice quiet enough that only Phee could hear, Wollard said, “I assume you’ve taken the time to read the Hahn cultural report in more detail.”
“Yes, have you?”
“Of course.”
Phee looked up at Wollard. “Shouldn’t we warn everyone?”
“No, Phee,” Wollard said without turning to look at her. “We should not, tempting though it may be.”
“But you saw what the report said about the Hahn.”
“Yes, but the report was referring to the Hahn, plural, as in all of the Hahn, not the Hahn, singular, in this case,
Master Hennik.”
“But Wollard, surely the category of the Hahn, plural, would include Master Hennik?”
“Not necessarily. There is great variation from individual to individual. Master Hennik could be an unusual Hahn, and if so, we would do him a grave disservice by telling the staff to expect typical Hahn behavior. We must give Master Hennik the opportunity to create the first impression he chooses. People make their own beds, Phee. It’s not our place to dictate how they do it. We just advise them on what bedding to select.”
The immense entrance doors of the Old Palace swung open, and the ruling family, consisting of Her Ladyship, His Lordship, and Master Rayzo, stepped out of the palace and into the courtyard. They were dressed in their third-finest formal uniforms. The cavernous interior of the Old Palace shone behind them invitingly.
Her Ladyship nodded her approval to the staff, who bowed and curtsied in return, then they all shared that uncomfortable moment where everybody’s ready for something, but that something hasn’t happened yet.
The staff was dead silent and stock-still. Lady Jakabitus smiled at them, hoping it would help them relax. It did not.
Lady Jakabitus sighed, then looked at her son.
“Rayzo, you look very handsome.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“You had a sports meet today, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“How did it go?”
Lord Jakabitus said. “He got pantsed.”
“Oh dear,” Lady Jakabitus said. “Still, I’m sure that’s not the only thing that happened. How was the rest of the meet?”
Rayzo brightened. “Quite good, actually. I won my first five matches in a row.”
“Then he got pantsed,” Lord Jakabitus added.
“And, uh, my last match made it onto the big screen.”
