The Kingdoms of Evil (19 page)

Bloodbyrn stifled a snort of laughter with a handkerchief of black lace.

"I see." Freetrick peered at his list. "I've been thinking about this wrong," he said eventually. "What I need to do is prevent people from
wanting
to kill me. How can I do that?"

"I have several, extremely specific directions," said Bloodbyrn brightly.

"Ha ha, but I don't suppose you feel at all like being useful?" Freetrick stared at her. "For example, what can you tell me about the Skrean government?"

There was silence, punctuated by a glottal clicking from Mr. Skree, which Freetrick interpreted as the vampire equivalent of a "well…um…" It sounded like a skeleton rapping its knuckles on damp leather.

Finally, Bloodbyrn sighed. "I must admit I am unsure what my lord means."

"How does the government work?" asked Freetrick. "Who makes the decisions?"

"You, my lord," said Bloodbyrn, "obviously."

"And how do I enforce them?"

"With fear," said Bloodbyrn, "and blood, and death."

"Nicely put, Dark Lady" wheezed Mr. Skree.

"So…I terrify people into doing what I say." Freetrick said. "And if they disagree with me they…"

"Attempt to kill you, my lord."

"…attempt to kill me, of course." Freetrick drummed his fingers on his desk. "So who can I trust to advise me?"

He waited. " …Guys?"

Mr. Skree stared blankly into space, while Bloodbyrn peered at him as if searching for dents in his skull, drool, and other indications of idiocy.

"Fine. Thank you. I get it. So I'm the king of the kingdoms of evil, ruling the entire populace personally? So what do the
other
people in the castle do? I mean, aside from plot my assassination."

"Oh, the court of Castle Clouds-Gather do a great deal." Bloodbyrn sounded slightly affronted. As well she should be, Freetrick thought, since she could probably plan his assassination over breakfast and carry it out before lunch. More likely
as
lunch. "Those of lower rank, of course, plot to eliminate their superiors, while those above seek to destroy any too-ambitious underlings…" she waved a hand vaguely, "and so forth. Let me see. Then there are those who foster false hope among the slaves, those who cut apart living creatures, those who cut apart themselves…Yes, lord, we keep ourselves quite busy."

Freetrick swallowed. "What I…meant to ask is: do any of the courtiers govern anything? For example," he said, when Bloodbyrn made no response, "who makes sure food gets to the castle? Who commands the army? Who collects taxes, or makes sure the castle doesn't fall apart? Who runs the country?"

"Ah…The Shaper of Cruelties refers, perhaps, to the Cabinet of Horrors?" Mr. Skree ventured in a voice like nails scraped across the floor of the tomb.

"Okay?" Freetrick snatched up his pen and brought it to the parchment. "The what again?"

"The Cabinet of Horrors performs many of those tasks the Malevolence mentioned." Mr. Skree's face was even less expressive than usual, which shouldn't have been physically possible.

"So I should talk to them?" asked Freetrick.

"Oh no, my lord," Bloodbyrn said, aghast, "What respect does the Cabinet of Horrors command? None, my lord; The Dark Synod, the Council of Villainy, even the Homicidiary spit upon them as they pass in the Vile Halls." Her little mouth drew into an even tighter bow with disgust. "They are nothing but Higher Monstrosities."

Freetrick, his mind grappling with what sounded like four evil governing bodies, said "Huh?"

Mr. Skree coughed, "Render not this pitiful bag of offal into homogenized syrup for daring to suggest the black attentions of the Soon-to-be Ultimate Fiend are not entirely appropriately placed, but the Dark Lady DeMacabre is essentially correct in her distain, as she is in all things."

Bloodbyrn sniffed.

"The Cabinet of Horrors is indeed unworthy and spat upon from all directions," said Mr. Skree, "but the Higher Monstrosities perform those tasks his Malevolence mentioned, scurrying under the spiked boots of the human court like foul insects."

"Monsters? Just how many of them are there?"

Mr. Skree cleared his throat with the sound of a manatee sucking mud out of a coconut. Freetrick knew he was about to hear another frightening bit of Skrean trivia. "If this worthless pustule may, Malevolence. Many Dark Lords have attempted to twist the working of nature to their nefarious wills. A few have succeeded, and have proved crafty and fierce indeed. Those creations that survived have bred, and few breeds have proved…fecund, Malevolence."

"Maybe it would be easier to ask what percentage of the population of my country is actually…um…human," said Freetrick.

Mr. Skree thought for a moment. "There is the royal family, inner and outer, Malevolence. That is twice thirteen. And of course the courtiers and hostages from the various ruling houses and tribes of sSt'tdrakh and Sangboire pay their homage to the skull throne by dint of their never-ending cruelty…"

"There are Sangboise merchants and slave-drivers, as well," supplied Bloodbyrn.

"And various miscellaneous prisoners from other lands," finished Mr. Skree. "Although this shambling heap of filth should mention that this population is transient."

"And all this would make, what, two hundred people?" said Freetrick. "What about in the country-side? The peasants."

Mr. Skree cleared his throat, "The terrible ancestors of his Malevolence have long held an interest in creatures that subsist only on human life. My own kind, for example, has been relatively successful, though most broods die out after a few generations." Freetrick detected a shimmer of pride there. "The bile-drinkers, for example, are surely extinct, despite reports of sightings in Sangboire"

Bile-drinkers? "Who…who thought that was a good idea?" asked Freetrick.

"The bile-drinkers were, I believe, a creation of his Malevolence's horrifically honored ancestor Tehrborg, father of Wrothborg, may the blood on his hands never dry, along with many other famous breeds." Mr. Skree clicked his toe-nails on the ceiling. "Some, such as the fat-worms, the Kaimeera, and the crabs-with-skin, of course, are still extant. In addition are the numberless Higher Monstrosities: ogres and lizard-men, goblins, ghasts, wendigos, war-things…"

"Enough," Bloodbyrn waved a hand at the wheezing secritary, " I am sure my lord can have a list made."

Freetrick fought for clarity. "And those monsters have…
replaced
the peasants?"

"A most novel way of phrasing the matter, Malevolence."

"And they live in a black desert," said Freetrick. "What do they eat?

"The Soon-to-be Ultimate Fiend would find some cruel delight in knowing that most of those doomed to live under the shadow of the Ultimate Fiend depend upon raids of the sun-drenched Do-Gooder nations to the west."

Skrean raids were the stuff of history, and current news broadcasts. But he had never imagined that the monsters being slaughtered by Naobelites in the mountains were trying to save themselves from starvation. And why? All because of the Skrean patron god's abysmal taste in interior decorating?
"True words,
why?
" Freetrick exploded. "Why are the Skreans doing this to their own population?"

"Oh, my lord is droll indeed," Bloodbyrn laughed. Then, when her eyes met his, "pardon? My lord is...no, my lord did not mean that question seriously."

"I striking well am!" Freetrick said, "how does it make sense to turn some of your peasants into monsters to eat the other peasants?"

"Of course it, as my lord puts it, 'makes sense.'" Bloodbyrn responded. "The policies we have discussed, and many others, are designed to extract the maximum suffering from the population. 'All your works we shall oppose.'"

"But---"

"My lord," she interrupted, "you are not in The Rationalist Union, ruled by the Good half of the Covenant, you are in Skrea, ruled by the Evil half. And it is the sacred responsibility of the rulers of Skrea, of which you are one, my lord, to see that Evil continues to hold sway over this nation."

"But nobody in The RU cares about the struck-out Covenant!" Freetrick protested.

"That means only," Bloodbyrn grinned, "that we are winning."

Freetrick rested his forehead against his desk.

They expected him to rule a country of monsters. He would have to work constantly to keep both the general population and his own advisers so terrified that they wouldn't try to murder him in his sleep. And if Bloodbyrn and Mr. Skree were any indication, the inhabitants of the Kingdoms of Evil practiced terror and murder like people back in The RU practiced crossword puzzles. And it wasn't enough just to keep the aristocracy from killing him; Freetrick would be just as dead if the RU figured out how weak Skrea really was and sent an army to remove the annoyance. Or, hell if they just improved defenses along the eastern borders, Freetrick would just starve along with everyone else in Skrea.

Freetrick could still feel the tingle of necromancy in the air, and above him, past the walls and the bones of the volcano, the Eye of the Maelstrom waited for him to look into it again. There was no use trying to deny it now, he was the Despot of Skrea, and Soon-to-be Ultimate Fiend of the Kingdoms of Evil, feared by his million minions, minus the two who had actually met him.

A lot depended on his ability to make a good impression to the rest of his people, Freetrick realized. Alright, a bad impression.

"Mr. Skree," Freetrick said, "I have tasks that need accomplishing."

"Fiend?"

Freetrick looked down at his notes. "I need someone to take me on a tour of the castle. I will also want to put together some kind of contingent of bodyguards."

"Fiend."

Freetrick took that for a 'yes' and made a check mark next to
EXPLORE THE CASTLE
on his list. "And while I'm walking, I want someone knowledgeable to accompany me to explain what I'm seeing, and someone to start telling me about necromancy. I will have to schedule lessons in necromancy, Mr. Skree."

"Quite, Malevolence."

Bloodbyrn was tapping her foot, but Freetrick ignored her.

Freetrick nodded, "Then I want you to schedule a meeting of the ministers of the Skrean government, I want to meet everyone who holds high office and is currently in the castle. And I would like to have that meeting tonight, before dinner. Would that be possible?"

Bloodbyrn snorted.

Mr. Skree stared coolly down at him, "may this slobbering reprobate be torn apart by tectonic forces, Fiend, but some eventualities cannot come to pass, even at the behest of the most terrible of overlords."

"Mr. Skree, why can't I call a meeting of ministers?"

"Oh Fiend," pronounced Mr. Skree, like the ringing of the bells of doom, "may this miserable wretch be riven asunder by termites, may he be crushed under an infinite pile of a tannery's refuse, but only the crowned Ultimate Fiend may command a meeting of the subjects, those ground beneath the heal of his obsidian—"

"My lord---" Bloodbyrn began, then stopped as she saw Freetrick's face.

He narrowed his eyes at Mr. Skree. "I'm not the Ultimate Fiend yet, am I?"

Mr. Skree wheezed, "May this shambling putrescence dare to repeat himself, only the crowned Ultimate Fiend may command a meeting of the subjects, those commanded by the awesome power and fear of the Skull Throne, those whose very hearts clench to see—"

"I haven't been coronated!" Freetrick was feeling less and less bad about interrupting his two advisors. "Mr. Skree, Bloodbyrn, when the hell was that supposed to happen?"

"Tomorrow, my lord," Bloodbyrn hissed, expression furious.

"But I thought," Freetrick said slowly, "I thought my wedding was supposed to be tonight."

"Tonight, oh Supreme Minister of phobias great and small," Mr. Skree agreed, "when comets burnish the moon beyond the Maelstrom and the constellations of hell glow most brightly, the Ultimate Fiend of the Kingdoms of Evil was to be joined in most unholy matrimony with his first concubine, Her Vileness the Dark Lady Bloodbyrn."

Mr. Skree actually paused on his own initiative, which threw Freetrick off his stride. There was an awkward moment before he translated the last verse of the vampire's recitation.

"But I called off the marriage! Un-marriage."

"Indeed, oh Eminent Monster. Though foretold it was in the ancient tomes of sleeping darkness—"

"Strike it out! You were going to marry me and
then
crown me?" Freetrick stood and glared at Bloodbyrn, who returned his look without expression. "So what, before I'm king I'm your husband? Or…stricken nonsense,
your dad's son-in-law
! That's why that old psychopath was so pissed when I told him I'd postponed the un-wedding, wasn't he? Oh hell." Freetrick sank back into his chair.

"The Underminer of Virtue grasps the situation with a bladed fist." What emotion colored the vampire's voice?