Why I Can't Have Nice Kings Page 6
As we made our way to the stairs, Hammurabi locked me in his unnerving gaze. Already taller than I by several inches, he appeared to be getting even taller as he stood. His eyes seemed to search me for something hidden deep inside. When he appeared satisfied that there was neither anything deep nor hidden about me, he sat back down and waved me away. As I ascended the stairs, I glanced back and saw that he appeared to be mimicking what he thought had been done to me with his hands, to the uproarious laughter of the sailors. Normally, I would have offered a scathing rebuke, but I had more important things on my mind.
Once on deck, we could see land getting closer by the minute. As we had shoved off from Sculan a little over two hours before, this must have represented the northern coast of New Atlia. New Atlia City shouldn’t have been too far away.
“How much longer do we have?” I said to the captain.
“About an hour,” he replied without turning.
With nothing on land yet visible, I needed something else to occupy me. I wisely decided to stay distant from Geoff. Fortunately, my wait only lasted about ten minutes.
“Ship sighted to starboard!” a voice from the crow’s nest said.
When I looked up, I was sure that his supposed spyglass was actually a small camera. Either they were getting sloppy, or I was seeing things. This show would have been so much better for them if I thought this was all real, but I was too clever.
When I turned around, the other ship was a lot closer than I had assumed, so close that I could see the faces of its crew. On its prow, the ship bore a rather fearsome dragon figurehead—not a good sign. I don’t know of many friendly ships with dragons on the front, do you? Granted, modern ships don’t have figureheads, but can you imagine any friendly ships in a fantasy world with dragons on them?
I didn’t think so.
The captain gestured wildly. “All hands on deck! All hands on deck! Line up, men! Line to starboard!”
“Should I go get Hammurabi, Captain?” I asked.
“No, my men can handle this. Besides, what’s he going to do? Heal them to death? Make all the plants grow on a ship? I can’t risk the life of such an important person, anyway.”
I considered suggesting that Hammurabi could just glare them into submission, but the captain was too far away.
From all about the ship, sailors scurried onto the deck. Some climbed down from the rigging. Others came charging from below. I think I even saw a few climb up the side of the ship. After about three minutes, the starboard side of the ship was full of sailors lined up perfectly in two rows, with the shortest in the front. Were they planning to combat the enemy with song?
“You all know the drill. In a couple of minutes, we’ll show them that we are not to be trifled with.”
I assumed they were preparing to be boarded, though I found it odd that so few of them seemed to be armed. Maybe they knew kung fu? They were all shaved like Shaolin monks, after all, and I had created a pirate crew that knew kung fu in my second book. I probably should have gone somewhere safer at this point, but I was too caught up in the spectacle.
“First line, kneel. Now, tilt!” All of the crewmen inclined the tops of their heads toward the approaching ship.
I had seen some strange things in my day, but this was probably the strangest. From the mass of bald heads, a glaring light shone onto the approaching ship. At the time, I couldn’t believe that it actually worked, but I later found out that the captain had bought a “magic” wax and had made the crewmen wax their heads thoroughly before every meal.
On the other ship, the crewman on deck were cowering in their blindness, paralyzed by the power of bald. I couldn’t believe how bright the light was. In my mind, the captain was no longer an eccentric with baldness inadequacies; the captain was a genius . . . who also happened to be an eccentric with baldness inadequacies.
After several minutes, I noticed a severe flaw in the captain’s plan: the other ship was heading straight for us, and no one on board could see or move enough to steer. Now, I know what you’re thinking, and yes, our captain had remembered to leave crewmen free to steer and navigate our ship. Unfortunately, the other ship had the wind and was coming fast.
As he settled from his glee-filled dance, our captain finally noticed this. “Prepare for boarding! To the weapons!”
As sailors frantically gathered weapons, the other ship crashed hard into our side. The power of the collision knocked me hard on my back, and I fell into a large pile of rope. While I grappled with my rope-ponent, I lost track of what was going on.
When I finally won my epic battle with the world’s wiliest rope, fighting was going on all around me. To my dismay, none of the bald crewmen were using kung fu. At least there was some rather excellent swordplay going on. No, not the Hollywood swashbuckling kind. Actual men doing everything they could to try to kill each other, with lots of hacking, punching, spitting, elbowing, and eye gouging, without the least bit of slapping. Seeing this going on all around me, I did what any sensible person would: I cowered and rolled up into a ball. There are many great songs and stories about brave warriors in battle, but most people forget that most of them don’t live to old age. I knew, deep down, that this was only a very well-choreographed act, but it all seemed so real.
As I looked up through the gaps between my fingers, I found the enemy captain. How did I know he was the enemy captain? Well, he had a majestic black beard, for one thing. Aren’t all pirate captains well-bearded? He was also dressed much nicer than any of his men; his clothes screamed pirate captain.
“Kill the pirate scum, men!” the pirate captain said.
After what seemed like an hour, but was likely only a few minutes, the fighting finally died down. One crew being completely bald did make it very easy to see what side everyone was on. The pirates had killed several of our crew, but most of ours realized how outnumbered they were and surrendered.
“You, there, in the ball,” the pirate captain said. “Come here.”
I was greatly disappointed that my hiding spot right in front of the steps had been so easily uncovered. Realizing that I didn’t really have a choice, I rose. I am proud to say that I did not wet myself in fear. I guess I was starting to get the hang of this whole peril thing.
“Who are you, and what part do you have in this crew?”
“I’m a writer and a passenger on this ship. Are you going to make me walk the plank?”
The pirate captain scratched his forehead. “Walk the what? Why would I do that?”
“You’re a pirate, and pirates always make prisoners walk the plank.”
“Why would anyone make people walk the plank? First, you have to carry a special extra-long plank around just for that. That’s expensive. Then, you kill people unnecessarily. Why do that when you can ransom them? And really, dropping someone in the ocean is not a very effective way to kill them. They might swim away and live.”
“You could shoot them after they fall in to make sure they die.”
“Wouldn’t it be more effective to shoot them on board? It’s much easier to hit them, and then you don’t need to bring a special plank.”
He had really thought this out. That must be why he was the captain.
Why do pirates always make prisoners walk the plank? I wondered if Hollywood was being influenced by the powerful plank makers industry. Or was Hollywood secretly run by them? I would have to investigate this later.
“Why do you keep calling us pirates, anyway? Your ship attacked us.”
“Well, you do have a dragon on your prow, and pirates always have fearsome or lewd figureheads.”
“The dragon is the corporate symbol for Dragon Deliveries, LLC.”
“Well, why was your ship charging us?”
“We weren’t. We saw Lord Hartin’s flag and thought we would ask your captain for news of the war.”
“Oh. What will you do with the crew and this ship now?”
“If you’re not pirates, as you allege, then we’ll let you all go
.”
It was then that several members of the Dragon Deliveries crew brought the poorly acted and foul-mouthed Hammurabi Joudisz from below.
“Do you know who I am, you mermaid-sucking, fish-#%&* @%#&?”
The captain’s eyes widened. “Unhand him, men. Of course we know who you are, Your Excellency.”
“Damn right. And while I may be excellent, I am not a noble. You may address me as Representative Hammurabi, or you can kiss my $%^ some more for wasting my time. Now, what is the meaning of this?”
“Well, Representative, there appears to have been a misunderstanding. We thought that ship was a pirate ship, and their crew were evidently under the same impression of us.” The dragon captain then motioned for his men to let Captain Bald loose.
Captain Bald brushed himself off and rubbed his head. “They appeared to be attacking.”
Hammurabi stalked forward. “But they weren’t, correct?”
Captain Bald’s shoulders slumped. “I thought they were, Representative, but . . . perhaps they weren’t? They appeared to be approaching in a threatening manner, I mean, sir. Their prow was definitely glaring at us.”
Hammurabi scowled like I do when my computer forgets to save hours of quality writing, and let loose a blinding green bolt.
When my sight returned, the captain was weeping on the deck in the fetal position—my signature move—though he appeared unharmed.
“For the sake of The One, man, get up. I was just angry at you. You know my magic can’t hurt you.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Hammurabi pulled the captain to his feet. “You should show a little more backbone, especially in front of your crew.”
“You are correct, as always, sir.”
Hammurabi caught the dragon captain out of the corner of his eye and beckoned him forward. “What is it?”
“My apologies, Representative, but, well—my boss has us on a very tight schedule, and seeing as how the crown of Garandia is one of our biggest shareholders, I was wondering if, maybe, we could, that is, ahh, leave?”
Hammurabi waved them away.
With a speed not seen since I outran those angry kindergarteners, the dragon captain and his crew scurried off and had their ship underway in the blink of an eye.
Hammurabi ground his teeth. “I guess I was a little hard on you, Captain, but I have a lot on my mind. I’ll make it up to you by healing your wounded.”
Without another word, he strode away, and the green glow of his magic soon covered the opposite side of the ship. The captain, now free from Hammurabi’s overpowering aura, began barking orders like a mad dog.
It occurred to me that it had been quite some time since I had heard a peep out of Geoff. After searching for several minutes, I noticed a pile of rags moving on its own. At first, I thought it impossible that even such a thin, gangly man as Geoff could be hiding in a foot-high pile of rags, and I was amazed when his mop of eternally disheveled hair emerged.
“Are you double-jointed, or a contortionist?”
“Well, when I was younger,” the pile of rags said, “I was forever pursued by bullies. This was before I befriended Moppy and Pan, mind you. So, I became proficient at hiding in whatever was convenient: piles of laundry, packs of dogs, toy wagons, formations of lawn gnomes, tea sets . . .”
“How did you fit inside a tea set?”
A head popped out of the rags. “It was a giant tea set.”
“Why would anyone make a giant tea set?”
“Giants need tea, too.”
“Where have you ever seen a giant?” There were no giants in my world. None.
“Just because we haven’t seen one doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be prepared.”
“Shouldn’t a tea set be pretty low on the list of things to make in case you meet a giant?”
“You don’t know that giants dislike tea. They might favor tea a great deal, and if they do, they would really need a tea set.”
I wept into my hands.
“If a giant were to arrive in our land and found we didn’t have tea for him to consume, he might get very angry. And as we all know, angry giants do like to rampage. It’s what they’re known for, after all. So, in their infinite wisdom, the elders of my village, the cozy and underrated Durnstil, created a giant tea set to avoid just such a rampage.”
It was at this moment that I decided there would never be giants in the world of Vyenra. I might not have really tall people, either. Six feet, three inches might be as tall as people would get in the series. I was also heavily in favor of not having tea.
Before I could attempt to slap the stupid out of Geoff, Hammurabi shambled over, hunching slightly due to the toll of his magic. In spite of his discomfort, he managed to maintain a nonchalant yet purposeful look on his face. “Greetings, gentlemen. My apologies for taking your money earlier, Geoff. I sometimes get caught up in the game and forget my manners.” He handed Geoff a few coins. “So, where are you gentlemen heading in New Atlia?”
“I hope to get passage back to Lord Hartin’s estate in the capital,” Geoff said.
“I’m looking for a phone,” I said. “I need to call my assistant.”
“A phone . . . hmm. Do you mean the Phoine of Destiny, the ancient artifact that is kept in the Vault of Kings in the royal palace? It is reported to be the only thing that can reach the First World.”
So, that was how they expected me to get out of there. The classic fantasy quest to find the all-powerful artifact. Did this mean I was Dorothy? I hoped so; I would really like some ruby slippers. Although, maybe not—shiny red things weren’t super-manly and they wouldn’t go with anything I had. Werewolf-hide boots? There weren’t any werewolves in my world, but for some awesome boots, I could make an exception.
“I’m off to see the wizard, then!” I said.
“I am a wizard.”
“Never mind. It’s a metaphor. I guess I’m headed to the capital, too, then. Care for some company, Geoff?”
I really wasn’t thinking at that point. I had a tendency to say things without thinking them through, though usually only around women.
“Your company would be most appreciated, Harrold.”
“If you’re headed that way, perhaps you can do me a favor,” Hammurabi said. “It’s probably best discussed over dinner. Would you care to accompany me back to my estate? I can give you lodgings for the night and should even be able to offer you an escort back to the capital.”
Hammurabi’s expression was eerily sincere as he spoke. Given that, and the fact that he hadn’t cursed once through all of this, I had a very suspicious feeling.
“That sounds magnificent,” Geoff said. “To be invited to the personal lodgings of one of the most illustrious individuals in all of the Garandian Empire? You honor us greatly, sir.”
I raised my hand, and Hammurabi nodded reluctantly in response. “Why is the Phoine ‘of Destiny’?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that it’s an all-powerful artifact. Only the king may grant access to it.”
“Are there any other artifacts called ‘Phoine,’ like the Phoine of Power or the Phoine of Armpit Noises?”
“Well, no.”
“It’s always bothered me that they have to add a prepositional phrase to the names of powerful artifacts. Why can’t it just be the Phoine?”
“Well,” Hammurabi said, “that doesn’t sound as impressive. I mean, ‘of Destiny’ says a lot more about it.”
“What destiny does it fulfill?”
“No one knows. Perhaps its destiny is to tell us what its destiny is.”
“I contend that it would sound more impressive and accurate if it was just called the Phoine, like ‘Madonna’ is better than Madonna Ciccone.”
“You might be right, Harry. Perhaps you can take this matter up with the king.”
The pit of my stomach dropped sharply. Me? Meet the king? But I was only an author, and too lowly to converse with a king, especially one as spectacular as Good King Berin.
A Beautiful Woman Makes Me Do Something Stupid
Captain Bald was all too happy to be rid of us and quickly chased us from the ship as soon as we hit the docks. I didn’t mind the fact that he had treated the star of the show so rudely once I saw my beautiful city come to life. Thin white towers jutted in reckless abandon from all about the landscape, most of which was covered in a blinding white marble, the majesty of which could only be created through the use of the crafting line of Atlian magic, or an excessive amount of special effects. It’s one thing to write about a fantastic city, but to see your creation displayed before you is a truly breathtaking experience. I’m not ashamed that I drooled a little.
The people bustling throughout the city bore the rainbow of colors that were the hallmark of Atlian society: the multi-hued purples of the healer caste, the browns and reds of the workers, the blacks and greens of the warrior caste, the yellows and whites of the artisans, the grays of the diplomats and politicians, and the blues of the naval and trade caste. Some might say the crowd looked like a crayon box had thrown up, but while the colorful crowd was a little jarring at first, I found myself transfixed in utter delight by the mesmerizing scene before me. My reaction may have been a bit biased, though. Sprinkled throughout the crowd were the occasional Garandians, visible both for their bland clothing and their pale skin.
I slapped myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and found yet another time when it was alright for a man to slap a man. My theory on man-slapping was clearly failing miserably.
So transfixed was I by the sights that I barely observed where we were going as Hammurabi strong-armed me through the city. I finally became cognizant of my immediate surroundings when the light dimmed considerably as we entered Hammurabi’s home. His house was actually a little bit of a letdown. It was possible my senses were skewed by the sight of the gorgeous city outside, however. The furnishings were of an exceptionally high quality, though I was struck by their scarcity. The only adornments in the main entranceway were two very bland chairs and a modest end table with a tiny painting behind it.