Star of Gypsies
- Автор: Силверберг Роберт
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Star of Gypsies». Краткое содержание книги:
Nothing as drastic as that happened to me in Shandor's oubliette. I ghosted here, I ghosted there, and in the intervals between ghosting I counted the flagstones in the floor, I counted the stones making up the walls, I calculated the quantity of gold that must be scattered atom by atom through the floors and the walls, I played with my snakes, I told stories to my slime mold, I tried to catch my protozoa by their whirling tails, and when the rats came out to dance I made speeches to them in several languages and dialects.
All in all it was much like taking a very long relay-sweep journey, but somewhat more interesting, because on a relay-sweep journey you don't get snakes and slime molds and protozoa and rats to divert you from the colossal boredom of the journey. Or anything else. On the other hand, you are on a journey, and you will eventually get somewhere. One thing that was beginning to occur to me as the hours turned into days and the days tied themselves into skeins of indeterminable length was that I might not get anywhere at all down here. This was an oubliette, after all. And what is the traditional use of an oubliette? Why, to file away and forget an inconvenient prisoner. Forever, if necessary.
My intuition had said that it would be a useful move, politically speaking, to allow Shandor to incarcerate me. Ordinary people wouldn't think so. They would say that it's lunacy to hand yourself over to a monstrous wicked villain like Shandor. Well, of course it is. Any simpleton can see that. But I'm not a simpleton and I'm not ordinary people, and I perceive life as a chess game. The good player learns to look five or six moves ahead. Which is what I had done. And thereby had landed myself in this dismal oubliette, precisely as I expected. Now I was starting to think that I might just have outsmarted myself.
Fortunately, I'm not given to long spells of brooding and despair. Instead I gave myself long spells of counting flagstones and making speeches to rats. And ghosting hither and yon on any number of worlds in all accessible eras. It passed the time.
And one day Shandor paid me a visit.
There was the usual clanking and creaking outside that told me that one of the robot jailers was bringing me the evening tray of mush and weak tea. Then I heard some unusual clanking and creaking and the front section of the wall began to slide back. Shandor stood there, glowering in at me. He was wearing a preposterous red robe and a yellow scarf, and he had the seal of office mounted on his breast, going full blast all up and down the spectrum.
"You're too early for dinner," I said. "But sit down anyway and make yourself at home. Would you like some champagne?"
He didn't smile. He looked tense and mean, even more so than he generally did. Pulling himself up tall in what he must have hoped was a kingly way, he stalked around the cell like a conqueror.
The seal of office was blindingly bright in the dimness of the cell. "Do you mind turning that thing off?" I asked. "You're scaring the snakes. You aren't entitled to be wearing it anyway, you know."
"Don't start in with me, Yakoub."
"Who started with whom? I was sitting down here minding my own business when you barged in. Scattering all that goddamned noisy light around. I have a right to peace and quiet in my own cell."
Sourly he said, "You're really a madman." "I don't think so."
"Why are you making this much trouble for me?"
"Me? Trouble?"
"And for the entire Rom nation."
I sat up, all attention. "What's this? Strange words out of Shandor's mouth! You express concern for the welfare of the Rom nation, my son? You?"
"You are determined to make me angry, aren't you?" I AM IT'
"This time you're not going to succeed. I've come to offer you a deal, father. "
"Father. When did I last hear that word from you?"
"I will not let you goad me." He sat down on the stone bench facing me, close enough so I could grab him and slap him around again if I felt like it. Slapping him had driven him berserk, that other time. He seemed to be daring me. For a long while he stared at me as though trying to read my mind. Finally he said, "You abandoned the Kingdom. Everyone agrees on that. You announced your abdication and you disappeared, leaving us all in the lurch. For five years there was no king. The whole Rom nation cried out for a new king. Even the Empire called for one. You should have heard Sunteil bitching and moaning. The emperor's a zombie, he said, and the Rom don't have a king either. The whole governmental structure is going to disappear down the power vacuum. What's wrong with you people, Sunteil said. Why don't you elect a new king? So finally we did."
"The election was invalid," I said mildly.
His eyes flashed fire, but he kept himself under tight control. ("Why?"
"Because the krisatora never ratified my abdication. A Rom king can't abdicate. There's no tradition of abdication."
"I tell you they did ratify. I was there when they did it." "The day they elected you?"
"Yes," he said.
"You're the son of a king. A king's son can't be king."
"Just because it's never happened before doesn't mean it can't ever be done. "
"A convicted criminal has never been elected king either."
A muscle leaped in Shandor's cheek. But still he held himself still. He was doing very well, was Shandor.
"A criminal, father?"
"The Diebel Abdullah business."
"The first trial was a farce. There was perjury from top to bottom.
Afterward I was able to show that I did everything possible to save my passengers and at the second trial I was given a full exoneration." "None of your passengers testified at either trial."
"That isn't true."
"None of the ones that got eaten for dinner, boy." "Don't call me boy! I am your king!"
"Not mine, Shandor." "The second verdict-"
"Was every bit as legitimate as the session of the great kris that elected you King of the Rom."
"I am king, father. Whether you like it or not. The krisatora have chosen me and the grand kumpania of Rom on all the worlds have accepted me. And I have been to the Capital and the emperor himself has given me the wand of recognition."
"Has he, now?"
"With his own hands. Sunteil and Naria and Periandros right alongside him. And here I live in the king's house of power and my decrees are obeyed throughout the worlds. Face reality, old man. Your abdication really is binding. And you really can't revoke it now."
"You said you came here to offer me a deal," I reminded him. "Yes."
"Go ahead. What's the quid and what's the pro quo?"
"I want you to give me your blessing. I want you to make a public avowal of me as King of the Rom and to withdraw all claims of your own to the throne. Also, they tell me you took the scepter with you when you left here. That scepter belongs to me."
"Ah. That's what you want, is it? My blessing and my scepter." "In return," he said, "I'll let you out of here. I'll allow you to go back to Xamur, to your estate, to Kamaviben, and live out your days in wealth and luxury."
"My freedom is my own property, given to me by God, which no man can take away. You'll give me something that isn't even yours, if I agree to support your claim to something else that isn't yours? What kind of deal is that?"
"It's a deal that will get you out of this dungeon, father." "I like this dungeon."