Saturday, June 02, 2007

Black Rose Kate: Stop MDC

And now for a word from Black Rose Katie specks, the Pirate Scribe!(Cross-posted from Outpost Mâvarin)
Stop MDC


Kate and her pistol
Black Rose Kate has no problem dispatching history's villains

"Aye, I thought ye'd be at the computer," announced. I looked up, startled. There she was, standing in front of my L'Engle books, my semi-fictional pirate friend, looking down at me with her usual air of amused tolerance. It was Thursday night, ten minutes past one in the morning. "Ariel said that you wanted to see me," she explained.

"Hi, Kate," I said. "Yes, I did. But how did Ariel know that?" Our mutual friend Ariel travels between time and between universes, meanwhile attending Croatoan College, which is itself transdimensional.

Kate shrugged. "She reads your blog. You mentioned me in tomorrow's entry. And that black cloth rose of yours was in one of your photos this week, so we knew you were already thinking of me. So tell me. Am I here for a particular reason, or is this a social call only? Did you want my expert opinion on that Johnny Depp movie Ariel has spoken of for the better part of an hour tonight?"

"Oh, I didn't go on about it that long," Ariel said, coming into the room behind Kate. "Hi, Karen."

"Hi, Ariel. And no, it's not about Pirates of the Caribbean. I have a Weekend Assignment to do, and I thought Kate might be able to help. You too, Ariel."

"Oh, one of those," Kate said, looking none too pleased.

I pasted the relevant text into this entry, and let them read it over my shoulder:

Weekend Assignment #168: For reasons best left unexplained, you have been allowed to excise one and only one person from the course of history. Which person would you choose to remove from history and why? That's right: Any one person you think history would be better without, you can now expunge. So who would it be -- and how do you think history would be changed with their absence? See. Told you it was one that would make you think.

Extra Credit: Favorite historical-themed movie. Because why not?


"I see," Kate said as she finished reading. "Because I have dispatched my share of enemies on the high seas and elsewhere, it pleases you to seek my advice before murdering some historical villain before he is ever born. Is that it?"

"Pretty much, yes," I said. "And you're right. I do think that preventing Nero or someone like that from being born is a kind of murder."

"But you don't have a problem with--" Ariel began. I was starting to think she was a mind-reader.

"Shh," I interrupted. "I don't want to talk about that. The point is, I wouldn't have the right to stop someone from ever existing."

"And you think that I, the bloodthirsty pirate, would be more ruthless about such things, and thus could give Scalzi an answer in your stead," Kate said.

"Yes," I said. "And if not, you can at least discuss the idea with me, and I can report on that."

"As I notice ye be doing already," Kate observed.

"Your problem with this is that you lack perspective," Ariel said. "There are plenty of worlds in which there was no Hitler, or no John Wilkes Booth, or no Nero. On the multiverse level, it's not that big a deal."

"It is if you're in a world where he did exist, and now you decree that he doesn't," I insisted. "That creates a whole new universe, right? And that's on top of the loss suffered by family and friends."

"I have known several families," Kate said, "that benefited greatly from the death of a father or brother or son. A woman my own age once thanked me for killing her husband, who had chained her and beaten her. Pick someone sufficiently awful, and the world is certain to benefit."

"Well, I did think about choosing someone whose nonexistence would mean lives saved," I said. "I could go with Adolf Eichmann or Josef Mengele, but that violates the spirit of disallowing Hitler."

"Who were these people?" Kate asked.

"Eichmann helped Adolf Hitler, the ruler of Germany, organize the murder of millions of Jews and Romany and other people," Ariel said. "Mengele conducted horrific medical experiments on some of their victims before killing them."

"Right," I said. "But it's all part of the same horror. And I don't think there is an equivalent person in more recent examples of genocide. Usually it's groups of people killing other groups for the crime of being a 'them'. So I was thinking along the lines of a Richard Speck, or Timothy McVeigh - you know, someone who personally killed a lot of people."

"Aye, that makes sense," Kate said. "But ye didn't need me to figure that out."

"I still don't like it, though," I said. "I still wouldn't do it. Would you?"

"Aye, with hardly a moment's thought, nor any regrets," Kate said. "Oliver Cromwell is another one I would not mind seeing gone from the world."

Ariel was rereading the text of Scalzi's assignment. "You know, I don't think you read this very carefully," she said. "It doesn't specify that one person was never born. It only says excised from history. There might be other ways to do that."

That got me thinking. "Such as?" I prompted. I was starting to have a few ideas, but wondered what Ariel had in mind.

"Lock the person up so he or she can do no harm," she suggested. "Send the person back in time, or forward, or to another universe."

"Where the person can do even more harm in unknown ways," I said. "That's no good. But if we can stop the person from becoming crazy or evil or both, that would take him out of the history we know."

"Mark David Chapman," Ariel suggested.

I nodded. "I suppose I should go with McVeigh or someone like that anyway," I said, "or the older of the two DC snipers, or one of the serial killers up in Phoenix last year. But Chapman...I don't know. If you could catch him young, get him the right treatment, keep him on the right medication and away from the Dakota, that still only saves one man's life, technically."

"Yes, but what a life you'd be saving," Ariel said.

"Whose?" Kate asked.

"John Lennon," Ariel and I said together. "Of the Beatles," I added.

Before I could explain further, Kate pointed at me, a look of triumph on her face. "Aye, that's the one!" she said. "I like the Beatles. Ariel even took me to the Cavern once."

This made me angry. "Why didn't you take me with you? You know how much I want to go."

Ariel shook her head. "We bend the rules quite a bit even just coming to see you, even for a quick conversation. Your version of the world isn't meant to have time travel, and I can't let you go wandering the multiverse with me. We're pushing the fiction boundary as it is."

"Fiction boundary? What's that?"

"It's a way of gauging relationships between realities, and the relative safety of certain kinds of interactions," Ariel explained. "As my supposed creator in the context of this reality, you can receive my visits, as long as they can be passed off as fiction. But the moment you actually go into the past with me, or off into a world in which the Beatles have been reunited for the past twenty years and are currently in the studio, you damage every timeline you touch. Sorry."

"Whereas I have no such restriction," Kate said. "Say the word and I will take this Chapman person from history, my way."

"You know I won't condone that," I said. "Much as I'd like to."

"And anyway, you can't do that either," Ariel told Kate. "John Lennon wrote a song about you. That makes you fictional to him, too."

"He did? When was that?" I asked.

"1982."

"But he died in 1980," I said.

Ariel looked thoughtful. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Kate does go after Chapman," she said.

"Then that's my choice, if I have to choose someone," I said. "Just don't actually kill him if you can help it."

For a moment Ariel looked tempted. Then she shook her head. "No, sorry," she said. "Lennon's death is too well established in your world. But we might be able to do it in another world, a few universes over. Are you game for it, Kate?"

"Aye, always. Let's go, then."

"Bring me back a CD," I said.

Ariel laughed. "Can't do that, either," she said. "but if you're very good, I'll find a way for you to at least hear a later album, at least once."

They left, then, and I was alone again, finishing up this entry. I don't know how serious Ariel was. She could easily have been making up all those rules as she went along. And I'm still a little worried that Black Rose Kate will kill Chapman rather than try to get him into treatment, or at least locked up.

Imagine there's no murder.

But oh, wouldn't it be something, having another 26 1/2 years and counting of new music by John Lennon?

Oh, drat, I didn't ask my guests about the Extra Credit. I'm not big on historical movies, unless you count Back to the Future or Camelot. Lawrence of Arabia was kind of amazing, although the long version really is too long. Oh, I know. My Favorite Year. That's based on a very specific history period: the days of early television, and the live comedy variety show.

Karen

Sunday, May 20, 2007

The Mâvarin Revolutions: Final Instructions, Part Six

Wow. It looks like nobody got around to reading the previous entry. Short of a truly crippling level of lurkiness, I don't think anyone could have read it through and failed to alert me that I repeated the opening block of text at the end! Well, no matter; it's fixed now.

Good news: King Jor finally told me what he has in mind about how to handle the royal succession when he dies. Can you guess what it is?


The Mâvarin Revolutions

Fragments from a Work in Progress

by Karen Funk Blocher
© 2007 by KFB


Final Instructions, Part Six
(With Fayubi's magical help, dying King Jor of the alternative version of Mâvarin has just summoned witnesses to hear him to name a successor.)

Prince Carmi. Original art by Sherlock; combined with photo and colorized by KFB“Wait for what?” Prince Carmi asked impatiently.

“We need more witnesses first,” the King said. Fayubi didn’t like the feverish look in King Jor’s eyes. But if the old King was to make the decision Fayubi had thrust upon him, he needed to do so without interference. Fayubi hoped the result would not just increase the death and destruction to come.

Lieutenant Govan was the next to arrive. “I don’t suppose you know where Commander Masan and the Princess are, do you?” King Jor asked him.

“No, Your Majesty. Have they gone somewhere?” Fayubi couldn’t tell for sure, but he suspected Govan was being disingenuous.

“Apparently so.”

“Do you want a search mounted?”

“That depends. If we were to find them, would it help the situation?”

“I do not understand the question, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t? Well, neither do I, really,” the King said. “What I mean is, I’m a little concerned about the security around here. If you find Princess Cathla today, will she be alive tomorrow?”

“I…I don’t know, Your Majesty,” Govan managed to say.

“That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?” the King said.

“Why wouldn’t she still be alive?” Prince Carmi asked angrily. “She always does exactly what she wants, and nothing ever happens to her. Why would today and tomorrow be any different?”

“Because today or tomorrow, I’ll be dead,” King Jor said.

“Don’t say that,” said Carmi.

“Why not? It’s true.”

Carmi shook his head. “Even if it is, what does that have to do with Cathla? It’s not like she’s going to fight me for the throne.”

“Are you certain of that?” Jor asked.

“Of course I am,” Carmi said. Fayubi wondered what else Prince Carmi’s wife and mother had forced him to believe.

“And if Cathla is my designated heir instead of you, what then?” King Jor asked. “Will you fight her for the throne, as you put it? Will your mother do so?”

“Mother would support me,” Carmi said. “She always has. But Cathla can’t be the heir. Not while I’m alive. I’m the male heir.”

“So was Ari Selevar, two centuries ago,” Lt. Govan said. The man sounded nervous, but to his credit he said it anyway. “But it was Queen Torla who ruled after Epli, not her brother,” he continued.

“That was a long time ago,” Carmi said between gritted teeth. “And you’re dismissed. Forever.”

“You forget, Carmi, that I’m still the King, and I want him here,” King Jor said mildly. “And if you’ll take my advice, it’s not a good idea to remove someone from his position for daring to state a fact.” Govan looked at him gratefully, but said nothing further.

“What good is your advice to me, Father, if according to you I’m not going to take the position I was born for?” Carmi asked bitterly.

“I didn’t say that,” King Jor told him. “I asked what would happen if I were to designate Cathla as my heir? I did not say that was my decision.”

“Then what is all this about?” Carmi nearly shouted at the dying King.

“This is about preventing a war,” King Jor said. “And I think I’ve just about worked out how to do it.”



(Original art by Sherlock; combined with photo and colorized by KFB. Originally of Carli (Del), but also depicts Prince Carmi.)

Sunday, May 06, 2007

The Mâvarin Revolutions: Final Instructions, Part Five

Here we go, the last bit of this particular scene, and the next scene with the same characters. I was going to stop at the end of the first, but the second is short, and more interesting, and my handwritten draft ends 83 words later. I actually have no idea yet what Jor is talking about, but we'll get there. - KFB

The Mâvarin Revolutions
Fragments from a Work in Progress
by Karen Funk Blocher

© 2007 by KFB

King JorFinal Instructions, Part Five
(With Fayubi's magical help, dying King Jor of the alternative version of Mâvarin has just summoned witnesses to hear him to name a successor.)


Guardsman Medor burst in. “Your Majesty, what…what was that? Are you all right? Did you want to see me?”

“That was a request, no, I’m dying, and you’re just one of the people I want to see,” the King said. “I suspect I will have quite a few visitors shortly. They are all to be admitted except my Queen and my daughter-in-law, Do you understand?”

“But the Queen—


“—has no authority over me except what I cede to her. Please tell her, if she turns up, that I said that if she loves me, she will not interfere with this meeting. If she does interfere, she will live to regret it. Can you do that?”

“I…yes, Your Majesty. I think so.”

“Good man. Don’t worry. It will be all right. I think. Now, go wait for my guests, please.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I rather enjoyed that,” Jor remarked when Merc had left the room. “Too bad it’s my last chance to do anything interesting.” He looked pale but contented. His hand trembled as it lay on the quilt. “I don’t suppose you know a healer who can save me.”

Fayubi shook his head. “Sorry. I know a number of healers, but the only one better than Dimider lives far away in the other world. My contacts assure me that she could do nothing for you that he hasn’t already done.”

“Ah well, I expected as much,” the King said sadly.

#

The first to arrive was Prince Carmi, accompanied by his personal Guard. “What is this all about, Father? I’m certain that I heard your voice in the Sun Room just now, but it seems impossible.”

“Yes it does, doesn’t it?” the King agreed. He had no intention of explaining about the invisible visitor at the foot of his bed. “I need to make an announcement, Carmi. I don’t think you are going to like it.”

“It’s something to do with my sister, isn’t it? She looked awfully guilty earlier, when I saw her sneaking out to the stables with her Guard Commander lover.” Jor did not like the look on his adopted son's face as he repeated the usual Palace gossip about Cathla and Wil Masan.

From Carmi’s point of view, a moment of silence followed. For Jor, however, the moment was filled with Fayubi’s less jaundiced assessment of the Princess’s actions. “We may be too late, Your Majesty. That was probably Princess Cathla’s attempt to escape being murdered when you die.”

Jor’s conclusion was much the same as Fayubi’s. “How long ago was this?” he asked Carmi.

“About half an hour. Maybe a little longer.”

“Might she still be in the stable?”

The Prince shrugged. “I suppose. She’s not in the Palace, that’s all I know. The Guard at the back door says he hasn’t seen her since she went in the stable.”

“It’s not all that hard to get from the stable to Prince Street without being seen from the Palace side,” the King said. I’ve done it myself.” The thought that such exploits were long since behind him made Jor a little sad.

“Well, yeah, if your horse is a good jumper, or you don’t mind climbing an eight foot wall that’s guarded on the other side,” Carmi said. “But why would she bother?”

If Carmi didn’t understand the danger to his sister, Jor realized sadly, there was no easy way to enlighten him. “So Cathla has fled the Palace,” Jor said, more to Fayubi than Carmi. “That complicates thing. Hmm. There’s an idea.”

“What are you going to do?” Fayubi asked.

“What idea is that?” Carmi asked.

“Wait and see,” the King said.

Friday, April 27, 2007

The Mâvarin Revolutions: Final Instructions, Part Four

The following takes us to about a page from the end of the scene, but not the end of the sequence. Yep, the next entry will be a cliffhanger. After that we've got the next section of the "A Fire in Mâvarin" sequence with Temet and friends. (And wait until you see who the friends are!) By the time that's in the can, maybe we can get poor King Jor to tell us all the idea he had, which for some reason I didn't write down. - KFB

The Mâvarin Revolutions

Fragments from a Work in Progress
by Karen Funk Blocher

© 2007 by KFB

King JorFinal Instructions, Part Four
(Fayubi has gone to visit the dying King, trying to get him to name a successor.)


“What would these people do, I wonder, if I called them in as you ask, and they saw you standing here?”

“They won’t see me,” Fayubi said. “Only you can see me. I’m not really here.”

“So I’m hallucinating again?” the King asked. He sounded more resigned than surprised.

“No, this is my projection. It’s an illusion of sorts, but for your eyes only.”

“Oh, one of those,” the King said wisely. “If you’re not really here, then you won’t be able to do anything to me – not that it matters – if I call in those people and endorse Carmi as king.”

“Is that your choice, Your Majesty?” It was less than ideal, but the Mâ-na-Mâ might be willing to accept Carmi, at least for now, if Jor officially endorsed him.

“Carmi is as qualified as I was, and would do an equally good job. He would maintain cordial relations with Mâton, and fill our tax coffers for the same purposes as always. He is mild-mannered and does what is expected of him, and will not lead this country into war. Does that not sound like a good king?”

“With respect, I have to say no, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t think so either,” Jor said. “If I do nothing, or endorse Carmi, then he makes all the same mistakes I made, and dies young. Cathla could die even sooner. Or don’t you agree?”

“I agree completely, Your Majesty. Cathla is in danger either way, though.”

“Just so. I would save her if I could.”

“Perhaps you can.”

“We’ll see.” He lifted his head and raised his voice. “Guards! Come in here, please.” The ailing King was clearly doing his best, but the sound was weak and quavery. No guards appeared. Jor tried twice more, and shook his head sadly. “There, you see? It’s not just that people don’t listen to me. They don’t even hear me any more.”

Fayubi smiled. “Let me help you with that.” Casting a spell from a projection was a little harder than doing it while embodied, largely because of the energy loss; still, it was the best option for the present situation. The spell itself was a two step variation on one he had used many times before: tricky, but far from impossible. Fayubi closed his aura eyes, and placed Jor’s voice at the center of his mind.

“Please just speak normally while I set this up. It should only take a few minutes.”

“What do you want me to talk about?” the King asked.

“Anything you like. I have to concentrate on my ritual, so I’ll be paying more attention to your voice than your words. I won’t reply, but I will listen.”

“All right, then. As long as you’re obliged to listen, I may as well tell you something nobody else ever cared to hear. For example, I’ve always wanted a parrot for a pet. I saw one once, when we traveled to Derio and Lehic. Huge, colorful birds, they are. Beautiful! Better still, I’ve been told they can be taught to speak human words, and even understand them somewhat. The king of Derio offered me a parrot once, about sixteen years ago. I said I’d be delighted. I even picked out a name, but nobody ever gave me the bird, either then or after we returned home. Skwok, I would have called it. Isn’t that a great name for a parrot? But I think Lormarte told them not to send the bird. She’s allergic to feathers, you see. But I would have kept Skwok in his own apartment, and oh! How I wanted him! He would have listened to me, and not ask for anything in return but food and affection. And maybe freedom, but none of us have that. Not really.”

Fayubi was ready. “We have enough freedom to make a difference, Your Majesty. Please try calling the guard again.”

Jor called out to the guard again as Fayubi activated the spell. Fayubi imagined the King’s voice growing louder and louder, filling the Palace with a wave of illusory sound. The words “Come here, please,” obediently echoed and reverberated from room to room, repeating themselves for a full minute after the King spoke them: “Come here, please…. Come here, please….”

“Wow,” King Jor said when it was over. “I don’t think Lormarte is going to like that.”

Friday, April 20, 2007

The Mavarin Revolutions: Final Instructions, Part Three

Okay, I missed a week again. Here's the next bit. I've written quite a bit further than this, but tonight's installment is all newly, um, typed.

The Mâvarin Revolutions

Fragments from a Work in Progress

by Karen Funk Blocher
© 2007 by KFB


Final Instructions, Part Three
(Fayubi has gone to visit the dying King, trying to get him to name a successor.)


“So you want me to choose between my children?" King Jor asked. "Between Carmi and Cathla?”

“As the next sovereign, yes. I assume your other two children aren’t under consideration at this point.”

“They’re alive? How do you even know about them?”

“They are both mentioned in my failed prophecy. In the world your queen prevented, they rule together.”

The King’s brow furrowed. “How can that be,” he asked, “if the world was prevented?”

“It was prevented here, but another world exists in which it did happen.”

“How do you know?”

Fayubi smiled. “I’ve been there. Part of the time, I live there.”

“Are they good monarchs, your King Del and Queen Crel?”

Fayubi decided not to explain about the name differences. “They do all right.”

“Is that what you would have me do here? Turn the country over to a pair of illegitimate orphans?”

“Not necessarily, Your Majesty. But they are your children, as the Prince and Princess are not.”

Now it was the King’s turn to grimace. Fayubi was unsure whether his pain was physical, emotional or both. “I know that,” Jor said irritably, “but it hardly matters now. They are officially my children, and I love them. I will not disown them on my deathbed.”

“I would not ask you to do so, Your Majesty. But only one of them is likely to rule, and the country’s future depends on that choice. Your word could make all the difference.”

“I don’t see how. I’m never consulted about these things. Even if I were to tell you what you want to hear, who would believe you?”

“Quite a few people, and I’m not the only person you can tell. Get Dimider in here to testify to your competence, the Royal Scribe to witness and record your wishes, and the Captain of the Palace Guard to protect the truth.”

Jor shook his head. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that.” Then he peered up at Fayubi. “Could I?”

“Of course you could,” Fayubi said firmly. “You’re the King.”

“For a little longer,” King Jor said.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

The Mavarin Revolutions: Final Instructions, Part Two

Yes, it's true: I've neglected this blog dreadfully, shamefully. I mean that; both dread and shame were involved. I've been busy, but I've also been stuck, with bits in both the handwritten and typed versions of this scene that I had trouble getting through. These things almost never fix themselves, though. It's not enough to reread what I have so far, close the notebook and walk away; or to open the Word document and leave it untouched for days at a time. I have to actually work on the darn thing. So, as a step in that direction, I'm going to finally get a new entry in here. Maybe I'll get stuck in this version, too--but maybe not!


The Mâvarin Revolutions
Fragments from a Work in Progress

by Karen Funk Blocher
© 2007 by KFB


Final Instructions, Part Two
(Fayubi has gone to visit the dying King, who wonders whether it's too late for anyone to ask anything of him.)

“Not while you still live, Your Majesty.” The opportunity to talk to King Jor actually extended a little beyond death, but Fayubi was not eager to exercise that option.

Jor’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean to kill a dying man?”

Fayubi smiled. “No, Your Majesty. I mean to ask a dying sovereign for last instructions.”

“Instructions about what? Who in Thâle’s name are you?”

“I have several names, Your Majesty. The one you may have heard is Fabi the Innkeeper. Or possibly Fabi the Drunk.”

Jor peered at him curiously. “Are you drunk? You don’t sound drunk.”

“Nor am I, Your Majesty. I no longer do that.”

“Good for you. The name is familiar, though…oh! Oh! I remember! You’re the one who made that strange rhyming prediction about me being kidnapped.”

Fayubi was startled. “You know about that?”

“Lore told me about it long ago. She and Jere created a spell that saved me from it happening. Or so they said.”

Here was confirmation of Fayubi’s suspicions, but the means remained unclear. “What kind of spell was it?”

Still lying nearly flat in his bed, the King managed a shrug by twitching his right shoulder. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. Have I upset you?”

“A little, Your Majesty. Whatever they did affected my whole life since then – and yours.”

“For the better, I hope.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I disagree with you. That’s the one luxury I have now, disagreeing. You may think that getting kidnapped would have been an interesting experience for me, but to be honest I see no possible advantage to it. How can being dragged away by the creatures in the prophecy possibly be better than being right here in my Palace, with the woman I love, who loves me in return?”

Fayubi hesitated in his reply, which prompted an amused smile from the dying king. “You don’t think Lormarte loves me, do you?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”

“Well I do. Even now, when she has withdrawn her mindpush spells to help keep me alive a little longer, I cannot doubt that my queen really does love me.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but how do you know you are free from such influences?”

“I know because I see now all my faults that were once hidden from me. I know because all those private opinions I hardly knew I had, now run freely through my mind. I know because Dimider said three days ago that eighteen years of magic have drained me of vitality to the point of death, and yet for the moment I still live. Do you believe me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good man. Now, what did you want to ask me that you can’t divine for yourself?”

Fayubi winced. “In this world I can no longer divine anything, Your Majesty. So I ask questions. Chief among them is this: who would you choose to succeed you on the throne of Mâvarin?”

“Ah! You must be with the Mâ-na-Mâ. But what makes you think my opinion on the subject matters? Nobody’s going to listen to it.”

Fayubi sighed. King Jor might indeed be right about being free from his queen’s mindpush spells, but imposing his own will on the situation seemed to be beyond his capability. Still, Fayubi had to try to get Jor’s approval for whatever needed to happen next.

“I’ll listen, Your Majesty,” he said. “Perhaps, with my help,” others will listen, too.”

--

Yeah, that broke the log jam.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

The Mavarin Revolutions: Final Instructions, Part One

Now that my marathon of consecutive days worked is finally over for now, I can post the beginning of the scene I've been working on intermittently at lunch. Here it is.


The Mâvarin Revolutions

Fragments from a Work in Progress

by Karen Funk Blocher
© 2007 by KFB


Final Instructions, Part One

They thought about using the baggy pants man, recently updated by Dupili with a new visage and identity. After some discussion with Mera, however, Fayubi decided to visit the dying King as himself—by projection, of course. Unlike his physical body, his projected spirit was not subject to arrest. Even a capture bottle would not hold him this time.

The voyant window was still at his house in the other world. Projecting without it required more preparation and more expenditure of magic, but it wasn’t really a problem, as long as his visualization was sufficiently accurate. He had never been in the apartment of this world’s King Jor, but he remembered the tower hallway well, the one where he had walked unseen toward the bottle containing his other self. A selective visibility subritual would ensure that he went unseen this time, too, by all but the King himself.

The entrance to King Jor’s apartment – double doors with a rather nice stained glass mosaic in blue and gold – was blocked by two large Palace guards. Fayubi was pretty sure he’d seen one of them before, guarding Imuselti’s apartment the day Rani Lunder had visited openly while Fayubi slipped by unnoticed. This time, neither the guards nor the closed doors were barriers to him. His projected spirit passed unseen through guard and glass, and a moment later stood before the dying King.

King Jor lay in a huge, sumptuous feather bed, his too-thin body hardly making a bulge on the left side of the thick blue quilt.

“Your Majesty,” Fayubi murmured.

King Jor opened his eyes and peered up at the visitor only he could see. “Hello. Whatever you want from me, you’re a bit late, don’t you think?”