The Kingdoms of Evil (40 page)

The Audience Pit erupted into chaos.

"Never!" shouted Strakhblargle, while Teirchoke tottered to his feet, shaking a liver-spotted fist and bellowing "…absolutely ridiculous, DeMacabre and his idiot faction have
castrated
the skull throne---" and his grandson simply threw back his head and shrieked. A dozen black clouds formed over the audience, while several Sangboise counts and marquises threw bared their wrists, and St'tdrakhorodni drew themselves up into columns of chill darkness. Sparks showered from Worthred's iron staff as he banged it uselessly against the ground. "For a thousand
years
," Teirchoke's voice rose above the audience-roar, "the Kingdoms of Evil have preyed upon the world!"

"Why?" Freetrick shouted into the cacophony, "
why
do you prey on the world?"

"Because!" came the answer, "we are the Kingdoms of Evil! Evil, Fiend!"

"Kingdoms of Evil, Kingdoms of Evil, what does that even
mean
?" Freetrick stood from his throne, sparks arcing across his pupils. "We're running this country into the ground for what? The Covenant? 'Evil'? What we're doing is plain stupid! And for what?"

The variously screeching, stamping, and bleeding lords all turned to look at Teirchoke. The Despot of Nogg rose on the legs of his mobile chair and explained. "Because, my lord," he said, "it is in the Covenant. Our purpose."

"Yes, our purpose." One of the others echoed. "Our purpose. The First God made it so."

"The First God," said Freetrick, "does not want us to destroy His nation in pursuit of…some
idea
." He spread his hands, pleading, "Lords, villains, we
cannot
continue doing this."

The rising grumble was cut as another figure rose from below and to the left of the Ultimate Fiend. DeMacabre twitched the wrinkles out of his vermillion cape and addressed the Pit through another athame. "Silence, now," he soothed, "Calm. Now, I am sure, that we
all
tremble at the justified wrath of the scion of the First God. And," He looked out at the other ministers, a slight smile on his red lips, "we shall all eagerly follow whatever commands our mighty sovereign dictates. However." He looked up at Freetrick, still smiling, "if I may quote our most un-holy books, my lord, 'without the contrast of darkness, light cannot exist.'"

There was a rumble of agreement from below.

"Huh? Wait," he said, "wait a minute. Doesn't that mean that everything we do is actually for the benefit of
Good
? How does that make sense?"

"With all humility and justified fear, my lord," said DeMacabre, "no. Our function is to preserve the
ideas
of good and evil. As stated the Covenant
.
"

" 'For a thousand years Skrea has preyed upon the nations of the world…'" Comprehension broke over Freetrick, "They've
let
us! This isn't a nation we're running! It's a…a moral toxic waste dump!"

There was stunned silence, into which, almost inaudibly, DeMacabre sighed.

Freetrick explained, his mind racing ahead of his lips and tongue. "We have been
allowed
to exist! Because The RU and The Nation of Love and the rest
needed
a Kingdom of Evil! They needed someone they could all hate, someone they could point to and say 'we don't do things like the evil guys, therefore we must be good.'" He remembered what Mr. Skree had said. "The entire basis of our civilization is the negative example!"

Freetrick ignored the murmurs from below. He ignored DeMacabre, who was making increasingly frantic gestures and expressions at him, and the lead-melting glare from Bloodbyrn. The Ultimate Fiend paced before his throne, listening to himself speak. "Look, I'm sure that all of you here believe in Good and Evil with capital letters. But
I
don't! There is no Good or Evil, gentlemen. Just smart and dumb." Freetrick faced his audience. "And right now, we're being dumb."

"My lord," hissed DeMacabre, "Fiend! You cannot…"

"To dismiss the struggle between Good and Evil….no," Teirchoke spoke into his own athame, his voice cracked with age and emotion. "The Kingdoms of Evil have been thus for
centuries
."

"Well, they can't be thus for much longer," terrible ideas evolved in Freetrick's brain, "Because most of signatories of the Covenant are part of the Rationalist Union now, and the RU doesn't give a damn about Good and Evil. Believe me."

Freetrick drove his argument forward like a steaming locomotive, "I
grew up
in The RU. My generation doesn't
believe
in moral absolutes---the concept doesn't make
sense
any more. And with my generation taking office, the old system is collapsing." One by one the conclusions rattled past, ignored as Freetrick shouted into the athame, overriding DeMacabre's frantic quelling gestures. "Covenant or no Covenant, the RU won't be willing to put up with the Kingdoms of Evil for much longer."

"Never!" Despot Dewmnor rose from his seat, spittle flying and cape flapping. "Our armies are
mighty
! They will tear and
tear
apart any invading force. Their word-magic will be useless here, yes,
useless
! And we shall reduce them to grease on the sand!"

"The Rationalists will use weapons of Universal Science. Guns, bombs, and hang gliders don't need gods to support them or people to believe in them. They just work," Freetrick waved aside the distraction. In his mind, something big was rushing toward him.

"Outrageous!" scoffed a necromancer from the Pit, "Our own magic---"

"Our own magic is nearly exhausted," Freetrick threw up his hands, "haven't you figured that out yet? Necromancy is based on death, and nothing dies here because nothing
lives
her because this nation is a lightless striking cloudy
desert
! If we were to slaughter every peasant in all of the Kingdoms of Evil, we would not be able to summon enough power to do more than slow their progress. As we stand now, villains, we are helpless. And they
must
know that! So they'll...they'll invade."

And there was the final conclusion, looming from the mists of supposition like a landslide over the tracks of Freetrick's rhetorical steam engine. Why had the RU proctors, the border guards, and everyone else helped Bloodbyrn kidnap him? Why had he been raised in The RU in the first place?

"They'll invade us when we're...weakest...oh sweet words." Freetrick's mind, working bare seconds ahead of his voice, applied the brakes, and the Ultimate Fiend stammered to a stop, shaking. His eyes darted to DeMacabre's, who for a moment looked not at all ridiculous or crazy.

Then the light of mania came back into that orange gaze, and Freetrick's future-father-in-law and arch-chancellor turned to the suddenly Audience Pit. With a hiss and a ping, he had another athame to his lips. "Villains, Dark Lords, Nobles, and Princes, I give you the Ultimate Fiend!" DeMacabre's voice insinuated itself into this newest silence like a warm, smiling eel. "Tremble in fear, for does he not frighten even
you
? Gaze with wonder, at a villain so evil he opposes the very idea of Good, itself. Weep in adoration, for his insanity
knows no bounds
!"

"Uh," said Freetrick, suddenly dizzy "I don't think that's—"

"Be silent, my lord!" Bloodbyrn's hand closed over his athame. The bloody dagger smoked and buzzed, then fell silent. "You have done damage enough for one council meeting," she said. "Enough for thirteen. So now be silent and look suitably deranged, or I swear by all that is twisted and unholy I will push the nail of my finger into your ear until I feel something pop."

"And now," continued DeMacabre, "I move we conclude this meeting of the Council of Villainy."

"No," said Freetrick, "you can't." But his voice was lost in the crowd noise.

"My lord," Bloodbyrn hissed at him, but Freetrick pushed her aside.

"No, strike it."
Strike it
! Freetrick knew half a dozen programs he could spell to amplify his voice, but of course none of them would work! "Here! Re-enchant this knife so I can talk to these people, Bloodbyrn! Even if none of you can see the striking rock about to fall on all of us,
I
can."

"My lord," said Bloodbyrn, "it would be best for you to leave the ruling to those who know how to rule."

And understanding radiated through Freetrick like ripples across a pond. There was final hidden facet of the huge and sinister mountain of the Rationalist plot to place him as a puppet on the throne of Skrea. The Rationalist-
Sangboise
plot. What was the decision DeMacabre had made about the troops for the western border? Can't reinforce border despotates in-striking-deed!

As DeMacabre himself had told him, Freetrick would have to rule, or be killed. The ripples reached the edges of his mind, leaving calm, smooth certainty in their wake.

Lightning snapped across his eyes and darkness bloomed above his head as the Ultimate Fiend stretched a hand out to DeMacabre. Tentacles of mist coagulated out of the air and snatched the Duke's athame from his hands.

***

The High Maiden's tent stood in the center of the camp, its bleached leather walls seeming to glow in the deepening dusk.

Kadene, the High Maiden herself, glowed as well, the pure clear fire of Maw shimmering on her skin, outlining her regal form in silver. Her eyes were cool and wise in her deceptively youthful face as she regarded Madene, Selene, and Istain. Istain looked back at her with barely concealed insolence, and Selene's expression was stony and strange.

"
Dó n dhubhró se ais, t Sestríngekh
." The High Maiden spoke in a two-hundred-year-old dialect, with much more finicky grammatical rules than the modern language, but Madene could understand this formula:
Welcome back, Little Sisters.

"
Íea ú prineth o ich Seleneo i Istaineo, Modeuichegh,
"
said Madene in her best
Maidenspeak
. I have brought Selene and Istain, Maiden.

The High Maiden nodded, and looked at Selene, then Istain, one dark eyebrow arched.

"
Misim, go tá tú posaé dinnsoikhe
,"
she said to Selene, and Madene understood. Still a virgin, I see.

Selene's brows drew together, but she bowed low.

High Maiden Kadene nodded, then told Selene she had to do something…Madene didn't follow.

Selene bowed again, then stepped aside and addressed Madene and Istain. "The High Maiden says I must translate for her."

Madene looked at her sister Warrior Maiden uneasily. Something was wrong here. Something to do with Selene and Istain.

The High Maiden spoke again and Selene translated, "She says this is a time of great danger and suffering. She says it is a time when we must," she paused, searching for a translation, "we must do strange things. We must all…emm, sacrifice. She asks, do you understand?"

"I do," said Madene, lifting her chin, "
Finimim, Modeuichegh..
"

"I don't," Istain growled from behind her, "Selene, what is she talking about? Ask her where the Captain-Assistant is."

The High Maiden looked at Istain as Selene translated, and he squinted in the light that shone from her when she spoke.

Madene found herself remembering the way Selene had talked about the High Maiden. Disloyal. Almost treasonous.

"She says, do not worry about your commander," Selene relayed, "She says she remembers your orders."

And
why
was she hanging around with Istain? Hmm.

"Where is the Captain-Assistant?" Istain repeated, who apparently couldn't understand what the High Maiden was trying to say. Madene turned to glare at him, but Selene had translated and Kadene responded.