Chasing the Phoenix, page 3
“Darger, you are a professed agnostic. Surely you must have considered this possibility.”
“There is a great difference between admitting one’s ignorance of ultimate matters and having it proved that life is not only brief but meaningless as well.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Surplus cried. “I refuse to debate this matter with you. It would simply be indulging your tendency toward introspection and abstraction.”
“Sir.” From behind him, Capable Servant suggested, “Try reminding your noble friend of the great successes of his life.”
“That is an excellent idea, Capable Servant. Aubrey, do you remember our first meeting? We convinced the lords and ladies of Buckingham Labyrinth that we possessed a device from ancient times which would allow instantaneous communication through the Internet without rousing the demons and mad gods living therein.”
“I remember that … there were complications.”
“In Paris, we sold the Eiffel Tower, despite its location having been lost for centuries.”
“Yes.” The faintest touch of warmth entered Darger’s voice. “That was not badly done.”
“In Stockholm, we sold nonexistent royal titles—several of them to none other than the king of Sweden himself.”
Darger said nothing, but one side of his mouth quirked upward in a near smile.
“Starting with nothing but a forged letter of recommendation from the caliph of Krakow—a personage and indeed a title you knew did not exist—you attached us to the Byzantine embassy to Muskovy. And by the time we reached Moscow, you had single-handedly elevated me from a lowly secretary to the position of ambassador. Who else could have done that but you?”
“It sounds immodest to reply ‘nobody,’” Darger admitted. “But I can honestly think of no other.”
“Then put aside your metaphysical mopings, sir. They ill become you.”
“What you ask of me is extremely difficult. Considering what I have been through and subsequently not seen.”
“Make the effort. A great deal has gone into your resurrection, and we have immediate need for your cunning.”
“Oh? How so?”
Surplus gave his friend a quick recap of his arrival in Brocade, his imposture of a god, the signs of impending war, and the deal he had made with Bright Pearl. Then he said, “Two days ago, a scholar came to the village, ostensibly collecting folktales, and in so doing casually asked about rumors of a dog-headed deity. The villagers naturally told him of my arrival and of the Infallible Physician’s revival of your corpse, and he went away. Yesterday, that same scholar returned, and in the course of writing down children’s counting rhymes, convinced the tykes to point out to him the house where the Infallible Physician lived. But though he paused before this building and studied it thoughtfully, he did not knock. Today, I am convinced—”
“Listen,” Capable Servant said. “Drums!”
“That can only be soldiers, coming to arrest us and take us before the Hidden King,” Surplus said. “We must leave this place immediately!”
“Perhaps not.” Darger turned to Capable Servant. “What do you know of the personality of the Hidden King?”
“No one knows anything, for his title perfectly describes his habits. If the Hidden King ever leaves his palace, he does so incognito. His face and person are a mystery. His habits and personality are less than rumors. People say he is mad, but on so little direct evidence that we must consider it mere speculation.”
“Hmmm.” Darger rubbed his chin. “Is he rich?”
“Oh, most assuredly.”
“Rich for a man or rich for a king?”
“Fabulously wealthy. His father, the Admirable King, kept the Abundant Kingdom out of war by playing his rivals against one another while trading freely with all. It is said he sent agents to all the kingdoms of China to seek out extraordinary treasures he might buy.”
An avaricious glint entered Darger’s eye. In an instant, he was on his feet, wrapping the blanket about himself like a robe. “I need clothing, quickly! Plain but of good quality. No ornamentation at all. The sort of garb a sage of tremendous modesty would wear. Bright Pearl, you must take your father and leave by the back at once. While Surplus and I are their chief prey, if the Hidden King’s men see you, they will assuredly take you both captive as well. Stay away for a week or two—surely you have friends who will hide you—and I promise I will spin the king such a tale that he will forget all about you. Take the yak! That is an important prop for your future prosperity.”
Capable Servant dashed to the cupboards and returned with an armload of clothing that had clearly not been worn by the old man for decades. Bright Pearl, meanwhile, took her father’s arm and began leading him away. Pausing in the back door, she said, “Capable Servant. Perhaps you would consider working for me?”
“Oh, no,” Capable Servant replied brightly. “My masters are going to be extremely rich—all the signs of it are on them. And then I shall be the servant of wealthy men and have servants of my own.”
* * *
SURPLUS WAS lounging on the front stoop when a squad of twenty soldiers with two drummers and a standard-bearer marched down the street and into the yard. He leaped to his feet and, acknowledging the leader with a gracious nod, seized the hand of the captain of the city guard, who had clearly been brought along to ensure that they arrested the correct dog-man. “It is my old friend from the city gate!” he cried. “What a drubbing this man gave me!” he said to the leader. “I have been sore ever since. It was only by the most outrageous turn of fortune that I escaped him. A child threw a ball, which rolled beneath his foot just as he was about to—well, never mind that. I ran like the wind and still only barely got away. This fellow is a tiger! You are very lucky to have him.”
The captain of the city guard straightened proudly, his gawk of astonishment vanishing so quickly that only the most observant could have noticed it. His commander scowled. “All that is of no matter. I am General Bold Stallion of the Hidden King’s Guard,” he said, producing a folded sheet of paper that could only have been an arrest warrant. “I have come to escort you—”
“—to be presented to your glorious king, so that I may subject myself to his wise and penetrating interrogation. Yes, I have been expecting you. You will also require the presence of my revered companion, Aubrey Darger, newly returned from the World of Shadows, where he has acquired wisdom previously denied any living human being. Capable Servant! Go inside and inform the great man that his hour of destiny has arrived.”
Not much later, bowing and cringing outrageously, Capable Servant backed out of the house. After the briefest pause, Darger loomed up in the doorway, wearing a plain black gown so that in the gloom only his face and hands could be clearly seen. He cocked a haughty eyebrow at the soldiers. “Is this all the welcome I have for returning from the Winter Lands? Your liege is a skeptical man indeed.” He stepped forward and took General Bold Stallion’s arm in his own. “No matter. The Hidden King and I have many weighty matters to discuss. Let us go to him immediately.”
“Your walking stick, sir,” Capable Servant said.
Surplus accepted the stick and, even as the captain of the city guard gaped in alarm, held it outstretched to the man in both paws. “Obviously, I would never be allowed to carry a weapon into the presence of the Hidden King. That being so, I can think of no one I would more trust to keep it safe.” Then he fell alongside the commander, whom Darger was already walking toward the gate.
So it was that, accompanied by General Bold Stallion and an honor guard of twenty soldiers, Darger and Surplus turned their backs on the Infallible Physician’s hut, her village, and indeed the great city of Brocade and strolled away, never to return.
* * *
“HERE WE are,” said General Bold Stallion with obvious pride.
Surplus could not help but stare. “This is the Hidden King’s palace?”
They were confronted with what at first appeared to be a gracefully landscaped hillside, with green meadows and small stands of trees dotted by the occasional small building. But on closer examination, those buildings revealed themselves to be gateways to the interior of the hill. Just below the summit, a white stone temple resolved itself into a cluster of vents and chimneys. A stony outcrop became a guardhouse. Tall cedars camouflaged a lookout tower. “This would be a difficult place to break into,” Darger observed. “Or even to find. A traveler might easily pass by it without suspecting it existed at all.”
“After the Admirable King’s sudden death,” said Bold Stallion, who had been made voluble by Surplus’s warm camaraderie and Darger’s grave attentiveness, “his son had the entire palace complex buried and its defenses strengthened. You have passed through six circles of security, and I will warrant that you noticed none.”
This last statement was not entirely true. Nevertheless, “Your king is a cautious man,” Darger commented lightly. “What else can you tell me about his personality?”
General Bold Stallion looked uncomfortable. “That is not a matter we talk about.” The road curved into a wood that opened into an allée of kingly trees. They passed through an elaborate stone gateway to find themselves within an entrance chamber framed with tremendous cedar beams with carved and gilded decorations. Guards appeared to turn back the soldiers and examine the general’s credentials.
A cold wind of a woman swept out of the gloom. Her hair was long and, like her austere and undecorated uniform, the color of snow. “So these are the troublemakers I have been ordered to waste time on,” she said, “while important decisions are being made without me. The king certainly has an overdeveloped sense of whimsy.”
“White Squall!” General Bold Stallion looked thunderstruck. “I—I was not expecting to be met by the chief archaeological officer herself. I am honored that you—”
“You took long enough getting here. Leave.” White Squall briefly studied Darger and Surplus with a gaze both intelligent and unsympathetic. “As for you two … You will regret having imposed yourselves upon the Hidden King’s attention.” She turned her back on them. “Follow. Your servant as well, in case he turns out to be more than he appears.” Four grim-looking guards took up positions before and behind the three, and in solemn procession all entered the inner palace.
A proper Chinese palace was not a single building in the European style but a walled archipelago of smaller buildings connected by gracious courtyards and gardens. Each building was symbolically an island in that archipelago and, like islands, which are variously forested and inhabited, each had its own character. Those nearest the main entrance were the largest and most formal and were reserved for public matters. Beyond them were more functional buildings for meetings, storage, and other practical functions. Innermost and most intimate were the dwelling places for the king, his family, and their necessary entourages. Burying all these buildings had necessitated the sacrifice of the gardens and courtyards and the construction of wooden passageways to connect them all to one another.
Deep into the palace their path led, up stairs and down, turning and twisting and sometimes passing through walls that were slid aside to reveal hidden corridors and then shut firmly again behind them. But by ignoring such complications and considering each building as a node, Surplus was able to keep a mental map of their labyrinthine wanderings. This revealed that they were following a long spiral, moving inexorably toward the very center of the palace. Had they gone directly they would already be there. But they were being deliberately confused, in order to render them lost and helpless.
It was chilling to reflect on the personality of a monarch who would think this necessary in his own palace.
At last they were deposited in an unadorned room with wooden walls and two chairs. “You will be sent for at the Hidden King’s pleasure,” White Squall said. “As I am a kindly woman, I warn you: His appetite for novelty does not extend to flights of nonsense. I advise you to restrict yourselves to the unadorned truth and hope that, in his mercy, he will sentence you to a relatively painless death.”
“That was precisely our intention,” Darger said. “Except for the last part, of course.”
“You cannot leave,” White Squall said. “It would be fatal to try.” Then she departed. The guards took position in the hall outside and closed the double doors.
Darger and Surplus sat down facing each other.
“Poor General Bold Stallion!” Surplus exclaimed. “He looked so terrified to be met by a high-ranking official and so relieved to be dismissed.” Then, in English, he said, “Do you suppose they have somebody eavesdropping on us?”
“They’d be fools not to,” Darger replied, also speaking in English. He was careful to speak slowly and sonorously, as befit a sage. “It is a bad sign when an underling fears to come face-to-face with his ultimate superiors. It suggests that the loyalty they demand of him is not returned.”
“What do you make of the palace so far?” Surplus asked.
“The buildings, which predate the Hidden King, are of the richest materials and finest craftsmanship. Yet the passages connecting them are merely functional. Everywhere, I saw vacant niches in the walls where jade statues should be and curiosity cabinets thronged not with gold-and-silver-filigree masks and Ming Dynasty porcelain but empty shelves. The furniture is sturdy but hardly worthy of a monarch. Clearly, everything of value has been sold to fund the impending war. Which means that titles, public lands, mines, and future tax revenues from entire cities and industries have been sold as well. Which in turn means that war is inevitable. Without an influx of tribute from conquest, the Abundant Kingdom will be bankrupt within the year.”
“That was my conclusion as well.”
Capable Servant crouched between the two on the floor, watching them intently, though clearly he understood not a word of what they were saying. Now, as the two friends fell silent, reflecting on how best to adapt to this deplorable lack of lootable knickknacks, he said, “Oh, sirs! On our trip here, I was speaking with your new friend the city guard, and he expressed his undying gratitude for the kind words regarding him you spoke to his superior officer.”
“That is as it should be,” Darger said, switching back again to Chinese. “I am glad to learn that courtesy is not dead in Brocade.”
“He also said to tell you that you will be tested. He said that the man you will be shown is not the Hidden King.”
“That was an interesting comment,” Surplus said.
“Useful, too,” Darger replied. “Potentially.” Then, after a moment’s silence, “I don’t suppose he said anything about how we could recognize the monarch?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Capable Servant looked regretful. “I asked, but he said he was taking a great chance saying as much as he did.” Then he produced a deck of cards. “Perhaps my masters know a game or two to pass the time?”
Surplus took the deck, cut it once, and said, “I will wager five grams of silver that the top card is the ace of hearts.”
“Alas, sir, I have no money.”
“Nor I. In which case, there is no reason for us to be parsimonious. Make it fifty kilograms of gold.”
An hour passed, perhaps two. Capable Servant had lost several tons of precious metals by the time the guards reappeared and marched them away.
* * *
THEY WERE brought to a conference room, where seven individuals sat around a half-circular table whose straight edge faced the door. At the center, a still personage in purple brocade sat upon a chair slightly higher than those of the others. His body was broad and burly, yet his face was young, lean, and ascetic. His expression was alert and clever. Anybody who had not been forewarned would naturally assume this man to be the Hidden King. To his right sat a general in full armor, his metal visor the face of a demon. To his left was White Squall. Two more counselors sat to either side, their faces grim.
“Who are these men?” asked the supposed king.
“These are the lowborn scoundrels who present themselves as figures out of ancient myth and superstition,” White Squall said. “If Your Majesty wishes, I can have their throats cut now and spare you the tedium of their pleas for mercy.”
The lean-faced man glanced to his right and then said, “With your permission, Chief Executive Officer Powerful Locomotive, and yours as well, Chief Archaeological Officer White Squall, it amuses us to hear what they have to say.”
Darger nodded slightly, as if acknowledging something that was entirely his due. Then, stepping forward, he spoke.
“My name is Aubrey Darger, and since my associate’s name is not easily translatable into your language, you may think of him as the Noble Dog Warrior. We were born or, rather, created in a laboratory in a faraway land in the final years of the Utopian era, when all the world was unimaginably rich. Not long before the fall of Utopia, the secret of perpetual life was discovered. To test it, immortals were created. Our genomes were so designed as to render us unaging and immune to all natural causes of death, though we remain as vulnerable to acts of chance and violence as any other men. There were eight of us in the pilot program, but it has been many centuries since we have seen any of the others, and I must presume they are dead. Each of our kind varied greatly from the others, for the goal of the pilot program was not merely long lives but socially productive ones. Thus, my friend’s character was so composed as to be decisive and active, making him a fearless fighter and protector of the weak. I, meanwhile, found myself to be of a more contemplative bent, a natural philosopher, scholar, and mentor to the young. Collectively, we were meant to be the world’s moral guardians.
“Alas, our society was not as enduring as we. Having created machines to do their manual labor, mankind built more subtle engines to do their thinking as well. The times fell into lassitude and decay. We immortals, meanwhile, discovered that natural talents count for little without training and experience. Though we tried our best, we were ineffectual against the evils of the times. We saw the great nations of the world fragment and fall apart … and could do nothing to prevent it.
