Читать книгу The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf - Martin Millar - Страница 9
ОглавлениеQueen Malveria reigned over the Hiyasta Fire Elementals. Bordering her realm was the land of the Hainusta. The two Fire Elemental nations had never been great friends. Throughout their history, there had been many territorial squabbles and occasional outbreaks of war. The last major conflict had been a long time ago, but there were still occasional flare-ups, particularly in the Western Desert, where there was an endless border dispute.
Queen Malveria’s relations with Asaratanti, Empress of the Hainusta, had never been warm, but as the centuries passed they’d developed a grudging respect for each other. Their subjects were reassured that warfare was unlikely to break out between them. Recently, however, the elderly Asaratanti had passed away in her sleep. Her son and heir, Prince Esarax, had died in an accident on the very same day. Much to everyone’s surprise, Princess Kabachetka acceded to the throne. Fire Elementals everywhere now wondered what the outcome might be, because it was well known that Kabachetka and Malveria hated each other.
Empress Kabachetka’s palace was situated on the edge of the Eternal Volcano, the huge raging natural furnace from which the nation drew its power. There the Empress was conferring on matters of state with her new chief adviser.
“Chief Adviser Bakmer, I am not at all happy with my new hair coloring. It is a shade too dark and I specifically asked them not to do that. I am considering a mass execution.”
Chief Adviser Bakmer nodded gravely. “Executing your hairdressers might not go well with the population, your majesty.”
“I don’t see why not. Won’t the population be outraged that they got my hair wrong?”
The Empress glanced in one of the many mirrors that adorned the walls and puckered her lips. “I mean, just look at it.”
Bakmer experienced the feeling of hopelessness that was rapidly becoming familiar while talking to the Empress. He swiftly concealed his thoughts. Like all the most powerful Elementals, Kabachetka was skilled in reading auras. It paid to be equally skilled in concealing them.
The Empress looked suspiciously at the papers in her chief adviser’s hand. “Why are you holding that bundle of documents? You know I don’t like documents.”
“The ratifying of your new officials in each district requires your signature, Great Empress.”
Kabachetka sighed. Since becoming Empress, she always seemed to be signing some document or other.
“Put them down somewhere. I’ll sign them later. Meanwhile, kindly initiate a search for a new hairdresser. Someone who knows what ‘ash blonde’ means.”
Chief Adviser Bakmer looked blank.
“It’s a hair color,” snapped Kabachetka. “One that suits me well, and will go with this season’s fashions. Approach stylists in the Earthly dimension if necessary. And don’t look at me like that, Bakmer. I had enough trouble with Tarentia when I brought my shoe designers here from Milan.”
The unfortunate Tarentia had recently suffered disgrace and demotion after proving himself unable to satisfy Empress Kabachetka’s requirements in matters of style. Her new adviser, Bakmer, knew he could easily suffer the same fate. As an ambitious Elemental he didn’t intend to let that happen.
“The population would most certainly not like to see the Empress in inferior shoes,” he said, very convincingly. “Particularly with several important engagements on the horizon.”
The Empress smiled. She enjoyed thinking about her upcoming social engagements.
“Absolutely. When I venture out to that designers’ reception in London, I’ll need the very best shoes that can be obtained in any dimension. The place will be thick with glamorous women from the world of fashion. Malveria will also be there. It is time to put the rapidly aging Fire Queen in her place. Shoes and hair need to be perfect. So find me a competent hairdresser.”
“I will attend to it,” said her chief adviser.
“And send in Distikka.”
Chief Adviser Bakmer bowed, gathered his dark-red court robe about his tall figure and walked swiftly from the throne room. Moments later, Distikka appeared. The liveried guard saluted as she entered. Empress Kabachetka eyed her critically as she approached.
“Do you really have to wear that ancient piece of chain mail at my court?” demanded Empress Kabachetka. “It is quite unbecoming.”
“I like it,” said Distikka. “I grew up wearing it.”
“And it shows. One does not expect you to be fashionable, Distikka, but there is no need to wander around like a refugee from the Western Desert.”
“I am a refugee from the Western Desert.”
Distikka was below average height, and her dark hair was cut very short by the standards of the women at court.
“I am considering executing my hairdressers,” said the Empress.
“That’s foolish,” said Distikka.
“How dare you call me foolish!” cried Kabachetka, flaring up immediately. “Show some respect for the Empress!”
Distikka shrugged, something which no one else at court would have dared to do.
“It is foolish,” she repeated. “No one deserves to be executed over some trifling hairdressing error. And the citizens wouldn’t like it. Do you want them to regard you as a tyrant?”
“No, but—”
“So just discharge your stylists and find some new ones. Then you won’t have a problem. Is that the only reason you called me here?”
Empress Kabachetka tapped her fingers on the armrest of her ruby throne, which twinkled from the reflection of the burning torches on the walls.
“Distikka, you really must show me more respect. Had I not given you refuge after the failure of your coup against Malveria, you would now be a homeless refugee. Or dead, more probably.”
“You asked me to come to your court. You asked me to be your adviser. So I’m giving you advice. But I’m not going around bowing and scraping like your other advisers and ministers do. And I’m not giving you only the advice you want to hear either.”
The Empress glared at Distikka, then laughed. As a princess, Kabachetka had not successfully negotiated the hazards of life at court by being unable to adapt. In the few months that she’d been Empress, she’d come to appreciate Distikka’s qualities.
“Would it really be a bad idea to execute my hairdressers?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I won’t do it then,” said the Empress. “Though I’m sure they deserve it. Ash blonde is not that difficult to achieve, I’m certain.”
The Empress leaned forward. “That, however, is not the reason I called you here. Now that the realm is more or less in order, it’s time I made progress with a few other matters. You are aware, of course, of my hatred for the Scottish werewolves on Earth, in particular Thrix MacRinnalch and her miserable sister Kalix?”
Distikka nodded. The Scottish werewolves were one of Empress Kabachetka’s favorite topics.
“It’s time for revenge. I’m going to destroy them with a plan of quite unparalleled cunning, a plan so intricate, devious and powerful that it will eradicate forever the dreadful werewolf sisters, and hopefully their annoying clan as well.”
The Empress sat back in her throne and smiled happily at the prospect.
“What is this plan?” asked Distikka.
“I’ve no idea,” admitted the Empress. “I want you to come up with it.”
“Ah.”
“My best attempts to defeat these werewolves have gone wrong,” said Kabachetka frankly. “I admit I may not be the best planner. But you are good at it, Distikka. Cunning plans are your forte.”
Distikka frowned. “My greatest plan was a failure.”
The Empress waved this away. “You almost succeeded. It was a glorious scheme to overthrow Malveria, and you got very close. Much closer than I was expecting. Had Thrix MacRinnalch not interfered yet again, you might well have killed Malveria and taken the throne for yourself.”
The Empress’s eyes flashed with angry golden fire at the thought of Thrix’s interference. She composed herself quickly. It was not the done thing to exhibit flames at court.
“I have confidence in you, Distikka. I want you to think up some plan for revenge. I now control the Eternal Volcano, and my power is much greater than it was. In London, I have access to the guild of werewolf hunters. That ought to be enough to deal a deadly blow against the poorly dressed Thrix and the scrawny Kalix.” The Empress paused. “Scrawny is perhaps a little unfair. I rather admire Kalix’s slender physique. Remind me I have to step up my exercise program. I want Kalix punished. Can you do this?”
“I’m sure I can,” said Distikka.
“Excellent. Now leave me, Distikka. I have a nail appointment, and I have little confidence in my nail attendants. I foresee another very unsatisfactory session.”
