by Scott Meyer
“And that, Pitt, is how you make Skolash.” Barsparse set her papers down on the worktable. She’d told Pitt to meet her in the kitchen, and to bring her a stiff drink. She had read almost every word of the recipe, instructions, and stage directions aloud to him, and now she waited while he absorbed what he’d heard.
“That’s awful,” Pitt said.
“That’s Hahn cuisine,” Barsparse countered.
“We can’t do that,” Pitt said.
“It’s difficult,” Barsparse allowed, “but possible. I’ve been in contact with Her Ladyship’s zookeepers, experts in forensic biology from Her Ladyship’s University, as well as the machine shop and seamstresses in the palace’s new addition. Getting everything in place before dinner will be tight, but we’ll be ready in time.”
“I’m not talking about any of that stuff,” Pitt said. “Our part, we can’t do it.”
Barsparse put her drink down. “We must,” she said. “Her Ladyship promised Master Hennik he could have any dish from his home world. He chose Skolash. She has commanded us to make that happen, and we will.”
“I can’t believe Wollard signed off on this.”
“He has, in a sense. He handed me the instructions personally.”
“Did he read them?” Pitt asked.
“No. Part of the Skolash ritual is that nobody outside of the kitchen staff can know how it’s made. Master Hennik told me that, in the original Hahn language, Skolash means something like surprise.”
Pitt squinted. “Something like?”
Barsparse shrugged. “It’s more nuanced than that. There’s no word in the common tongue for it. The instructions said it means an unexpected revelation that leaves one more knowledgeable yet less content.”
“And you want to serve that up to the ruling family and their guests?”
“No, but if they want me to, as long as I’m not being asked to make something poisonous, I will, and you’ll help me,” Barsparse said.
“But they don’t know what they’re asking for.”
“I warned them as best I could, but Wollard was adamant. He said that the Formalities demanded that we welcome Master Hennik properly, and that interfering with Master Hennik’s choice in any way would be bad form. I tried to tell him what Skolash was, but he refused to hear it. In the end, all he’d do was promise to make Her Ladyship aware that we were making the dish under protest, and out of loyalty to her.”
“Chef, this is a mistake.”
“Yes, Pitt, but it’s their mistake to make.”
“We’re the ones making it, Chef.”
“At their direction, Pitt.”
“Chef, that’s just stupid. We can’t do this.”
Finally, Barsparse snapped. “It will be done, Pitt! We’ve already started.”
“What, because you ordered some stuff?! Cancel it! I’ll cancel it!”
“You will not! That’s not what I meant anyway. We’ve already started because the first step in the Skolash-making process, the one that I didn’t tell you about, is the delegating of the actual work, starting at the head chef and ending with the lowest-ranking member of the kitchen staff. We aren’t going to make Skolash. You are, Pitt.”
“What?!” Pitt yelled.
Barsparse sighed. “It’s actually written into the instructions. The Skolash is ordered from the head chef, who tells his second to make it, who passes the duty to the third, and it goes all the way down, reminding everyone of exactly where they stand in the pecking order, spreading the misery around. It’s all a part of the Skolash ways, I guess. Anyway, I’m sorry, Pitt, but there’s only the two of us, so you get the honors.”
“No way,” Pitt shouted. “There’s no way! I won’t do it!”
“You are the lowest ranking member of the kitchen staff, and you will do it.”
“No. No way. And besides, I’m not the lowest. What about Ebbler?”
“He’s not kitchen staff,” Barsparse said.
“But you could make him kitchen staff.”
There was a long silence, then Barsparse said, “An interesting idea. I can think of at least one way to make Ebbler part of the kitchen staff.”
“Yeah,” Pitt said, agreeing with Barsparse without stopping to consider her words. “And I bet he’d make the Skolash. He’d probably thank you for the opportunity.”
There was another long silence. Barsparse took a sip of her drink, then said, “You know, I bet he would.”
15.
Lady Jakabitus sat in her intricately carved chair, behind her expansive desk, in her opulent, historic office, with a stunning view of the capital visible through the massive gilt-framed windows behind her. She wore a heavily decorated blazer and hat that managed to be both militaristic and feminine. The only flaw in the tableau was Her Ladyship’s expression, which betrayed her nervousness.
“I’m about to be the first Jakabitus to exchange civil words with a Hahn ruler in hundreds of years,” she said.
“Indeed, Milady,” Wollard agreed to the words she’d repeated several times that day. He felt confident in his answer, being sure that, at the very least, Her Ladyship’s words would be civil. He nodded to Phee who stood beside him, soaking in the historic moment.
“How do you think Lord Hahn will react to the news?” Lady Jakabitus wondered.
“I expect he’ll be angered by the loss of access to his son, but I would hope that said anger will be tempered by the relief of knowing that the boy is safe and being well treated,” Wollard said.
“Frederain says that he made some progress with Hennik today,” she said, looking for any hook on which to hang her hopes.
“That’s very good to hear, Milady.”
“How are the preparations for the banquet proceeding?”
“Well, Milady,” Wollard said. “Migg retrieved the necessary recipe from the Arbiters and we have forwarded it to Chef Barsparse.”
“Did the chef seem satisfied with the recipe?”
“She expressed concerns, Milady.”
“Concerns?”
“Yes, Milady. I’m led to understand that the dish is rather theatrical in nature, and is designed more for the Hahn’s tastes than for our own.”
“I see,” Lady Jakabitus said. “Maybe I should have a snack before the banquet.”
“That might be wise, Milady.”
As the meeting time approached, Wollard walked to a spot directly in front of Her Ladyship’s desk. He and Lady Jakabitus nodded to each other. They had worked together long enough for each to know without asking when the other was ready to face a challenge. Besides, in this situation, it didn’t particularly matter. The conference was going to happen at the appointed time whether they were ready or not.
Wollard turned his back on Lady Jakabitus to face the epic oil painting that took up most of the wall opposite Her Ladyship’s desk. The painting, which would soon transform into a feed for the communication with the Hahn, depicted one of the early battles in the war over Ophion 6, which was fitting. Wollard took a moment to appreciate the skill of the long-dead painter in depicting the long-dead soldiers attempting to kill each other.
Such beautiful work, he thought, with such ugly subject matter.
Without turning away from the painting, Wollard asked, “What happens next, Phee?”
Phee was standing along the wall where she could see and hear everything, but would be neither seen nor heard herself once the connection was made. She replied, “The link will be established automatically. We will see Kamar Hahn’s Master of Formalities first. As it was Her Ladyship who initiated this contact, it will fall on you to offer the full formal greeting. The Hahn Master of Formalities will respond, then you will defer to Her Ladyship, at which point the Hahn will defer to Lord Kamar Hahn. Once the two principals are talking, you will do your best to make everyone forget that you are in the room, unless yo
u are needed.”
“Indeed. Well done.”
Wollard looked down at his papers and slid his finger around them for a moment. The painting faded to a uniform shade of black, then brightened slightly to display a live feed from the office of Kamar Hahn.
Most of the image was taken up by the Hahn Master of Formalities, a tall, thin man with slicked-down platinum-blond hair. He wore the same sort of shiny, skintight one-piece suit as Hennik and Migg wore, but his was all black, with a collar and cuffs identical to the design of the ones on Wollard and Phee’s suits.
The wall of Kamar Hahn’s office looked to be covered with detailed carvings of industrial conduits and ducts, all painted a uniform nonreflective black. Along the wall, on the right side of the screen, a short blond man in a skintight Hahn uniform stood silently with some sort of boxy mechanical apparatus strapped to his belly. Further forward, two additional Hahn footmen stood on either side of the Hahn Master of Formalities. They stood sideways, facing each other. Each held two handles, but whatever they were supporting was hidden from view behind the Master of Formalities. All three of the men were standing ankle deep in some sort of gravel, which seemed to completely cover the office floor.
Wollard bowed and said, “Know that two thousand, one hundred, and seventy-one conventional years have passed since the Terran Exodus. Today is the fifty-seventh day of the third month. I speak to you from the planet Apios, in the palace and office of the ruler, Lady Joanadie Jakabitus. I am Wollard, Master of Formalities for House Jakabitus, and I wish to facilitate communication between Her Ladyship, Joanadie Jakabitus, and His Lordship, Kamar Hahn, of House Hahn and the Hahn Home World, regarding the capture and treatment of His Lordship’s son, Master Hennik Hahn.”
The Hahn Master of Formalities bowed, but instead of introducing himself, he said, “I formally invoke His Lordship’s right to express offense on a line item basis.”
Wollard said, “Acknowledged.”
The Hahn Master of Formalities said, “We accept and endorse as accurate all of the times, locations, names, and titles listed in the formal greeting, but would remove the words capture and treatment, replacing them with the verbiage: unlawful kidnapping and continued use as a hostage and human bargaining chip.”
“Noted,” Wollard said.
The Hahn Master of Formalities bowed. “I, Kallump, Master of Formalities to His Lordship Kamar Hahn, acknowledge and return your greeting.”
“Greetings, Kallump.”
“Greetings, Wollard.”
“I present Her Ladyship, Joanadie Jakabitus, the ruler of Apios.” Wollard stepped smoothly to the side and out of view, revealing Lady Jakabitus at her desk. She looked very much like someone with whom one would not want to mess.
Kallump bowed quite deeply. “Your Ladyship, I present His Lordship, Kamar Hahn, ruler of the Hahn Home World.” Kallump turned, and with noticeable effort and loud crunching noises, walked out of view.
The object supported by the two men who had been visible behind Kallump was revealed to be a thick slab of polished stone roughly the size of a large desktop. Behind the slab sat a chair that appeared to be made entirely of nonreflective metals and hoses. The chair had a high back and six arched, folding legs that supported and surrounded it like buttresses. In the chair, there was a man so lanky and thin that Lady Jakabitus doubted whether he could stand on his own. He had a bushy mane of platinum blond hair atop a sickly hide of platinum blond skin. His eyes were bright and lively, and a huge smile stretched across his face.
Lady Jakabitus said, “Greetings, Lord Hahn.”
Lord Hahn turned and said, “Well? Don’t you know your job? You’re even worse than the last one.”
Kallump said, “Oh, sorry, Milord!” He crunched his way back into view, this time behind Lord Hahn, and said, “Your Ladyship. His Lordship offers you his greetings.”
Lady Jakabitus glanced to Wollard, then said, “I’ve initiated contact to tell you that your son, Hennik, is in our custody, is being treated well, and is in no danger.”
Kamar Hahn leaned over and quietly said something to Kallump, who said, “His Lordship assures you that he had no doubt you would keep Master Hennik safe, as he knows that you are not foolish, and would not dare harm His Lordship’s son.”
Kamar Hahn grabbed Kallump’s shoulder and roughly pulled Kallump’s ear down to his mouth. He snarled something, then let Kallump go.
“I apologize. I misunderstood His Lordship’s meaning. He intended to say that while you are unquestionably foolish, even you are not so foolish as to harm His Lordship’s son.”
“Is there some reason Lord Hahn is hesitant to speak with me directly?” Lady Jakabitus asked.
Lord Hahn pulled Kallump back down and spoke at great length into his ear. After a long moment spent listening intently, Kallump straightened back up and said, “Yes.”
“And that reason is?”
“He believes that addressing you would be beneath his dignity.”
Lady Jakabitus looked directly at Kamar Hahn. “I don’t want to inconvenience you more than necessary.” She paused until he stopped laughing. “I just wanted to inform you that I have your son, and I’m not giving him back. I intend to raise him as my own.”
Kamar Hahn sat motionless for several seconds, then turned to Kallump, who leaned down of his own accord. After more whispering, Kallump rose and said, “His Lordship says that raising a child is one of the most challenging tasks a person can undertake.”
“I agree,” Lady Jakabitus said.
“As such, his brilliance in tricking his sworn enemy into raising his son for him will become legendary.”
Lady Jakabitus turned to Wollard and said, “End this. I’ve said what I had to say.”
Wollard stepped in front of Her Ladyship’s desk and initiated the formal closing salutation. “This has been an official transmission of the Apiosan ruling family. Any reuse or re—”
Lord Hahn interrupted him. “Please give Hennik a message.”
“What is it?” Lady Jakabitus asked, leaning to see around Wollard.
“Tell him not to let living there make him weak and stupid, or he will not be welcomed back. End transmission.”
The feed went dark, and the antique oil painting reasserted itself.
“The rudeness of the manner in which Lord Hahn terminated the conversation will be noted,” Wollard said. “Given the tenor of the exchange, the Formalities do not require you to pass along the message verbatim, Milady.”
“Right now, Wollard, I do not want you to tell me about the Formalities.”
“Underst—”
“Or anything else.”
“Have I displeased you, Milady?”
“This entire mess was your idea.”
“I couldn’t take credit for the idea, Milady.”
“Credit is not what I was offering.”
“Your Ladyship, I do apologize. I recognize that the situation is unpleasant. We are at war with the Hahn. You were presented with the choice between harming a child and weakening your planet’s position by delivering him to the enemy unscathed. I found a precedent for a third option, and you, in your wisdom, chose to take it.”
Wollard’s tone and body language were relaxed, but Phee could see his hands, which were clasped behind his back. They seemed to be trying to kill each other.
“As to what just transpired,” Wollard continued, “we contacted Lord Hahn for the express purpose of telling him that we had his son and were not going to give him back. We discussed beforehand that it would be a difficult conversation. Lord Hahn simply made it difficult in a way we did not anticipate.”
Lady Jakabitus considered what Wollard had said, then—in a slow, quiet voice—replied, “I suppose that’s all true.”
Wollard nodded, but said nothing.
“I had a decision to make, and I made it,” sh
e said. “After listening to your impeccably worded input.”
Again, Wollard nodded.
Lady Jakabitus said, “All I can do now is forge ahead and hope I haven’t made a mistake.”
16.
Migg stood behind Hennik, holding his Hahn formalwear up by the shoulders, ready to help him wriggle into the garment. Hennik stood in his underwear in front of a full-length mirror, running his fingers through his hair, trying to make it spike up to his standards. She was not comfortable with her new duties as the personal valet of a teenage boy, and Hennik was not of a mind to make her more comfortable.
“What exactly was Father’s message again?” Hennik asked, studying his hair in the mirror.
“I wasn’t given the exact words, Master Hennik. I was merely told that he said to tell you not to be stupid or weak.”
“And that was it?”
“I was led to believe that His Lordship has no intention of interfering with Lady Jakabitus’s decision to raise you as her own.”
Hennik turned, looked at the formal one-piece, looked at Migg, then simply stood still and held his arms out to his sides. Migg started threading the suit onto his limbs while he offered the absolute minimum cooperation possible.
“That lays things out pretty clearly for me, doesn’t it, Migg?”
“I suppose it does, Master Hennik.”
“We’re stuck here.”
“So it seems.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“I agree, sir.”
“The palace is large and well-appointed by Apiosan standards, and the people are friendly and helpful.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“It should be quite easy to escape.”
Migg paused in the action of stretching a sleeve over Hennik’s arm. “Escape, sir?”
“Of course, Migg. This is no place for a member of the Hahn ruling family.”
“No, sir. I suspect you’re right.”
“And you don’t deserve to be stuck here either, Migg.”
“I fear that might also be true, Master Hennik.”
