Page 56

“Using a spell,” Dr. Pipt muttered, “that was intended to make the radish harvest easier. It’s never been tested on soldiers.”

“And it was a pleasure to watch the radishes run, Nikidik. But we have more important concerns at hand.” The emperor turned back to me. “Once you’re out of the swamp, just ask around for the enormous army. Someone’ll know where it is.”

“Why two weeks?” asked Yudit. “I mean, that puts us on a pretty tight schedule.”

“His Imperial Majesty doesn’t need to justify himself to you!” Dr. Pipt said.

The emperor tutted. “Now, now. There’s no reason they can’t know. It’s quite the tale.” His words fell into a storyteller’s cadence. “Many years ago, long before I became the Red Emperor, before I was even the Red King, I was once no more than a newborn babe.”

I hadn’t really needed to be told that the Red Emperor started life as a baby, but I refrained from pointing this out.

“The Pink Prince, I was called,” he went on. “The first and only child born to the king and queen of this barren land. Though our country was poor and insignificant, the fairies must have sensed in me the potential for greatness, for three of them came to attend my naming day.

“They hated each other’s guts. All three of them. They came armed to a baby shower, ready to throw down. Two of them brought knives. The other one brought a sledgehammer. Wanted to hear the crunch, you know?

“That ended up working out pretty well for me.”

The emperor leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. Settling in for the long haul. I hadn’t been mistaken earlier; he really did love his own voice.

“Once they were disarmed and separated, the first fairy decided on a different approach. Making the other two look bad. Which meant no gift of song or goodness for me; nothing so useless. The fairy peered into my cradle and declared, ‘I shall give this child the blessing of skill at arms. He will be a great warrior.’ Which is why, as I’ve told you, there is no shame in being beaten by me in single combat, for my talent with weapons is greater than that of other men.”

Lucky him. If I’d been granted skill at arms along with my other gifts, my life would have been considerably different. My kidnappers would have had more difficulty, if nothing else. And Ilyana, I was fairly sure, would have preferred skill at arms to polite language and a pleasant smell. But that kind of gift wasn’t often bestowed upon princesses.

“The second fairy wasn’t about to be outdone. So that one grasped my tiny hand and sneered, ‘Skill at arms is a small and petty gift. I shall give this child the blessing of strategic brilliance. He will be a great general.’ Which is why no country’s leaders should be embarrassed when I defeat them, for my knowledge of military matters is greater than that of other men.”

Embarrassment did not strike me as the most likely reaction to conquest and subjugation, but once again I held my tongue.

“The third fairy glared at the other two, desperate to outshine them. So that one touched my brow and intoned, ‘Both of your gifts are meaningless and useless without mine. For I shall grant this child the greatest gift of all—time. Nothing shall slay him before he reaches the age of threescore and ten. Only on his seventieth birthday will he become vulnerable to the mortal threats faced by other men. He will rule long enough to leave his mark upon the world.’ With that, the three fairies retrieved their weapons and stomped out the door, presumably planning to settle their differences in a more direct way.

“As I grew into manhood, I put these gifts to good use, forging the greatest empire the world has ever seen and so on. However, if not for Nikidik’s wise counsel, I might have left my empire to collapse after my death. His advice led me to woo Ilyana the Golden, my dearest love and the delight of what time I have left.

“In spite of my fairy-protected lifespan—or perhaps because of it—the years rather got away from me. The deadline fast approaches. My seventieth birthday will arrive in two weeks and a day. Who knows how long I shall live once it comes? I want to at least try to beget an heir before that day arrives. I need to make haste, if I wish my life’s work to endure.”

The emperor took a sip of tea and made a face. He’d spent so much time talking that it had gone cold.

“So bring me my love, Sir Jules,” he concluded. “Two weeks from today, before the hour of midnight. I shall see that you are amply rewarded for your efforts.”

“Um, well, all right,” I said. “What about the cow?”

He gave me an odd look. “What cow?”

“The Wild Freemartin of the Swamp. You didn’t know?” I’d assumed that he would, being her fiancé. “Ilyana vowed to marry only the one who captures the Freemartin for her.”

“Has she, now?” The emperor glanced at Dr. Pipt. “Can she do that?”

The grand vizier nodded reluctantly. “That is allowed by Moersbadian custom and law.”

“Which I’ll point out,” Yudit said, “lends further credence to our—”

The emperor waved her silent. “Can we change the law?”

“Not without causing considerable unrest,” Dr. Pipt answered him. “It’s dear to the hearts of the Moersbadian people. And—”

“And unrest at the start of a military campaign is a terrible idea. I know.” The emperor sighed. “All right,” he said to me. “Since you’ll be in the swamp anyway, capture the cow for me as well. Same timeline as Ilyana, obviously.”

That would make an already difficult task even more daunting. “We’ll…we’ll certainly do our best to bring them both to you in time.”

The grand vizier snorted. “Once these two leave the room, we’ll never hear from them again. Whatever their motive, they’ve failed, whether it was treason or grift. I’m still not sure which.”