"The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master— that's all." -- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There

The world would not stop to sympathise when someone was upset. Neither did Death. Even if Kilan had found Malish a hell on Earth -- or whatever the equivalent Carannish expression was; she couldn't keep track of them all -- she had work to do and souls to collect before she could visit him.

She did not look forward to the minute she was free to check on him and hear his complaints, truly. She simply thought that visiting him, even if most of the visit was taken up with him grumbling about this, that or the other, would be more interesting than collecting the souls killed in a mine cave-in.

At last she decided she could leave the rest of the night's duties to her Reapers. In less time than it took to blink, she had left the mine far behind and had stepped into a typical Malishese nobleman's bedroom. There were the curious murals on the walls, the arched, glassless windows, the open balcony, and the bed surrounded by curtains that could be pulled shut around it. But there was no sign of Kilan.

There were also several empty suitcases piled in a corner, and the slightly-ajar wardrobe door provided a glimpse of typically Carannish clothes -- things no Malishese nobleman would ever dare to wear. If it hadn't been for those, she might have thought she'd gotten the wrong room.

Death shrugged and lay down on the bed, deciding she might as well sleep until Emperor Tinuviel deigned to appear.

She had hardly closed her eyes when the door flew open.

Kilan hadn't looked so ill since he had seen that memory. For a moment she wondered if the Iqui had taken his foreign guests to see a stoning. She promptly dismissed the thought as nonsense.

"What happened?"

Kilan laughed shakily. "Dinner, that's what happened."

"Did they really serve you sheep's eyes?" Death found herself curious about the answer.

"No. They served me something called q'lel. I asked what it was. They told me it was sautéed yaed noodles and xitil steak. I only learned that a xitil is a sort of wildcat after I'd eaten it." 

Frankly, Death couldn't see why that bothered him. His own people ate slices of octopus on special occasions, and she had it on good authority that in some parts of the Carann Empire bats were considered a delicacy. She watched Kilan pace around the room and thought this might not be the best time to point that out.

"And then to make things worse, Counsellor Habek had to go and make a fool of himself! Did you know that the Malishese language is something called a tonal language? Apparently that means one word can have a dozen different meanings if said in different tones."

"I did know that," Death said.

Kilan continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Well, I didn't know that, and neither did Habek. He tried to compliment the Iqui's palace. According to the interpreter, he ended up saying some gibberish about fish ponds and cake."

Death laughed. "And that, my dear, is why trying to speak foreign languages is hazardous if you aren't absolutely sure of what you're saying."

"I know that now, and so does everyone who was with me, Habek most of all. I'd have felt sorry for him, if he hadn't embarrassed me along with him. Maybe I'll make a law: if you aren't fluent in a language, don't speak that language. I don't think the Council would object after this."

"What else happened at dinner? Other than exotic dishes and Counsellors embarrassing themselves, I mean."

Kilan stopped beside the bed and frowned thoughtfully. "You know, I can't remember anything else. I assume there were no disasters, but I don't remember the rest of the meal. Anyway, why are you here? If you're here to cause trouble--"

Death placed a hand over where her heart would be if she had one and feigned offence. "Can I not visit a friend without being subject to having my motives questioned?"

Kilan gave her a shove that had no effect on her whatsoever. "You know what I mean."

She was flattered that he had such faith in her skills of perception, but in this instance she really didn't know what he meant. Had this something to do with that memory? Did he still think she was trying to turn him against the Iqui? Well, why would she go to so much trouble to do that when the Iqui and Kilan himself were managing it all on their own?

"I have no intention of causing trouble," she assured him. "It would be difficult for me to do that even if I wanted to. Adult mortals cannot see me unless they are dying."

"I'm twenty and I can see you," Kilan pointed out.

"Yes, but you're hardly a normal mortal, are you?"

There was no arguing with that. Kilan had the sense not to try.

He sat down beside her. "The Iqui wants to show me around the city tomorrow. I'm afraid I won't be able to hold my tongue if I see another slave market."

"It wasn't that long ago that slavery was practiced in Carann," Death remarked. "Your grandfather outlawed it less than seventy years ago."

"Yes, but it is outlawed. It isn't here. And I've read the history books. We only practiced it to keep defeated nations under control."

The mental contortions mortals could put their minds through to justify their own people's crimes never ceased to amaze Death. "I doubt the reasons slavery was practiced mattered anything to the slaves."

Kilan looked briefly uncomfortable before changing the subject. "How am I supposed to sleep in this room? There are no windows!"

"Yes, there are. They're right there." She pointed to the arched windows that led onto the balcony.

"Those aren't windows. They have no glass!"

Death thought of all the windows in Zasordoth Palace that had no glass. Admittedly, those windows were features of hallways, not bedrooms, and could be shuttered at night, but the principle still applied. "Not all windows have glass."

"No, but the ones that don't make for a very cold room."

Hmm. He had a point there.

"That's why the bed has curtains." Wait a minute. Was she seriously debating the merits of Malishese architecture with him? What was this boy doing to her?

Kilan examined the heavy velvet curtains tied back against the bed-posts with an air of distrust. "I have to sleep with those closed? I'll suffocate!"

And he suspected her of trying to turn him against Malish. He was doing an excellent job of that all by himself, and he didn't even realise it.

~~~~

Kilan could count on one hand with fingers to spare the number of times he had been as uncomfortable as on that first night. The temperature in Ihalāiksonen plummeted the moment the sun set. In what seemed like seconds, his room went from being pleasantly warm to being so cold he was surprised icicles didn't form on the fringe of the curtains. He shivered and tried to wrap his quilt around him. This proved difficult, since Death was lying on it.

"Do you mind moving?" he said, his teeth chattering.

Death obligingly stood up and let him crawl into bed. It was much, much too cold to even contemplate getting changed. He would have to remember that tomorrow night and get changed before the sun set.

"How can anyone live here without freezing to death?" he wondered, pulling his quilt around him until he was wrapped up in it.

"I imagine they get used to it."

Distracted as Kilan was by the cold, it was a shock when Death pulled the curtains closed and lay down beside him again.

"Hey!" he yelped, taken aback by the sudden darkness.

"Is it warmer now?" Death asked. He couldn't see her face, but he suspected she was laughing at him.

He paused. On the one hand, it was certainly warmer now the curtains had been pulled. On the other, he and Death were now in bed together, and a bed which now felt closed off from the rest of the world, at that. He had a feeling this could end badly -- or at least unwisely -- if he wasn't careful.

"I'd be warmer if you weren't here," he said. "You're like a block of ice."

That was an exaggeration. While it was true Death was colder than a living, breathing mortal, she certainly wasn't as cold as a block of ice. Her laugh implied she knew this as well as he did.

"Far be it from me to make Emperor Tinuviel uncomfortable." It was hard to see anything with the curtains pulled, but he could feel her sit up and lean towards him. It was still a shock when her lips brushed against his. "Good night, your Majesty."

With that, she was gone. Kilan was left alone, with the memory of the kiss playing over and over in his head. The night now felt colder than before.

Sleep was a long time coming.

~~~~

The next morning, Kilan awoke feeling sleepy and irritable. He had finally drifted off to sleep about two hours after Death left, then he had awoken in the middle of the night to the singing of some strange bird. It had been almost dawn before he went back to sleep. Less than an hour later his valet woke him up with the day's itinerary.

Kilan thought, all things considered, that he could be excused for not being ecstatic at the news he would spend the day visiting museums and art galleries.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stifling a yawn.

"I'm afraid I don't know, your Majesty," his valet replied, helping him into his tunic. Kilan had learned not to bother protesting when servants helped him get dressed. They couldn't seem to get it through their heads that he was capable of putting on clothes without help. "The Iqui wishes you to dine with him."

Well, that was all right -- Wait, what?

"The Iqui wants what?" He must have misheard. Surely no sensible ruler would demand a visiting foreign ruler have breakfast with them on the first day of their visit.

"He wishes you to dine with him, your Majesty. As a matter of fact, he has sent an escort which is currently waiting outside the door."

~~~~

Kilan had learnt since his coronation that an Emperor had to do many things he would rather not do. That did not make it any easier to follow the palace guards sent to escort him through a maze of hallways. If it hadn't been for the prospect of food, Kilan would have turned and run away.

At last they reached a set of double doors very similar to the ones opening onto the Iqui's throne room. Carved into them was a picture of a man with four arms and legs riding a winged, eight-headed lion.

And I thought some of our artwork was odd, Kilan thought as he approached the doors.

The doors opened to reveal a wide, circular room. Four sofas sat in a circle around a table in the middle of the room. The Iqui sat on one of the sofas, placidly munching away at what looked like half a ngalo[1]. A boy of about seven or eight stood beside him with a plate of different sorts of fruit in his hands, his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the floor. At first Kilan thought the boy was one of the Iqui's sons, but then he noticed that the boy's skin was much darker than the Iqui's and his clothes were far too plain to be a Prince's. A servant, then... or a slave.

"Ah, Emperor Tinuviel," the Iqui said. "It is a pleasure." He spoke in a sweet tone that reminded Kilan of the way Ranoryin spoke to Death when especially angry with her. That association hardly inspired confidence in his sincerity. "Sit down and have something to eat. I trust you slept well."

"Very well," Kilan said. He suspected that would not be the last lie he told today.

~~~~

The Iqui spoke only of inconsequential matters until Kilan had finished the plate of fruit the slave gave him. Then he waved his hand. The slave and the guards left the room, leaving Kilan alone with the Iqui.

"There is a matter of some importance I would speak with you on," the Iqui said. That sounded ominous. "You are, I am sure, aware that the country of Istogu, now part of your empire, was once part of mine?"

Kilan had an awful feeling he knew where this was going. Where were his Counsellors when he needed them?

"I was aware of that," he said, unsure what else he could say.

"Many of my subjects have friends and relatives who live in Istogu. It is hard for them to be separated from their loved ones by a border between countries."

Istogu has been part of the Carann Empire since before Ranoryin's time, Kilan thought angrily, taking care not to let his thoughts show on his face. Any friends or close relatives personally affected by the border would be long dead by now.

He would have to look into this situation more. How had Istogu come to be part of Carann? Did its people want to go back to being part of Malish? And why would the Iqui be making a fuss over it now? There were undercurrents here that he wasn't aware of, and a misstep could be disastrous.

"It is my heart's desire for this breach to be mended," the Iqui continued.

"You want me to give Istogu back to you."

"Yes."

What was he supposed to do? Directly answering "no" would anger the Iqui. Answering "yes" would cause an uproar in Carann.

"I will have to consider the matter carefully before I can answer," Kilan said, choosing his words with great care. He felt as if he had been dropped onto a battlefield riddled with landmines.

The Iqui smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Of course! Quite right! But it would be a shame to wait too long before deciding, don't you think?"

There was a threat in that sentence, Kilan knew. It was in that moment that he truly realised how serious the situation was.

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] ngalo = A type of fruit resembling a cross between an orange and a watermelon.