The Forest at the Edge of the World(4)

Although he’d always been a bit vague as to what exactly that was—

“I am here to inform you that you are not fit to lead this world,” Mal announced, “and that in your stead will be placed a body of administrators and a chairman who will govern and protect this world in the way it was meant to be ruled, supported by the Army of Idumea. We will be here for the people. Oren, if you believe in a creator, now would be the time to begin a conversation with him.”

Oren’s tongue went limp as he watched the soldiers come around from behind the High General. He made a slight motion with his hand, and Oren could do nothing but watch the soldiers draw their swords. The scraping of the metal had always seemed to him a rather pretty noise, but today it seemed to scratch the inside of his ears.

Ten men.

There was a lot he knew he didn’t know. It was as if the rest of the world had an edge up on him. Maybe they had extra eyes, because they always saw more than him. Additional ears, to hear things he never picked up. And maybe even more in the head. Mal always shouted at him, Use your brains, Oren! That always worried him. He knew he had a brain, so did others have more than one?

But there was one thing Oren did understand: the number of men in an execution squad. They used to be called killing squads in his grandparents’ days. The name change was supposed to make people feel better.

As he stared at the ten approaching blades, he realized the change wasn’t helping.

He hoped his cat would be all right. And the skunk—



---



A few moments later Professor Mal—now Chairman of the Administrators Nicko Mal—smiled grimly as the body of their dead king slumped in his throne. Ten sword blades thrust simultaneously was humanely efficient.

“Well,” the High General tilted his head, “that was simple.”

Mal nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, all of this was far simpler than I ever imagined. Could portend of good things,” he muttered to himself, “or it could all prove to be disappointingly easy.”

The High General glanced briefly at Mal’s unusual musings, then gestured to a waiting servant at a side entrance. “Call in someone to clean up this mess. Then you and the others may have whatever you can carry from King Oren’s private rooms, as agreed. But make sure that silk cloak he took is brought to me the moment it’s found. Chairman Mal will be presenting it to the surviving family of that dead silk seller when he announces the change in government this evening. You—”

He pointed to the scribe, who had momentarily forgotten his duty and was staring at the growing pool of blood. He paled as he looked up into the terrible expression of the High General.

“—You will show me that record before it goes out to the copiers. I want to verify every word.”

The scribe whimpered his response, and the servant dashed off to find the cloak.

Chairman Mal nodded. “Excellent, High General. I suppose that’s why I’m keeping you on.”

The High General scoffed. “As if any of this would have happened without my help.”

Mal smiled thinly. “And why you’ll also keep that mansion.”

“You’ve taken care of his former friends?” the general asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Only the two sons of that mistress had any possible claim. And since they were never legitimately his, the claim is weak. So weak that a couple of bags of gold quashed it completely. She left that mansion for good years ago, and neither she nor her sons will be coming back to take it from you.”

“The way seems to be wide open, Nicko,” the general said plainly, “with only one man’s blood shed. Indeed, quite efficient.”

Mal looked around the throne room. “This is too ostentatious for a gathering room, wouldn’t you say?”

The High General didn’t even glance at it. “Perhaps better suited as an eating hall, or a—”

“Library!” Mal whispered, his smile growing. “I own nearly every book ever created in the world. And my personal writings . . . there’s enough room here for those and more.”

The High General sniffed. “Books. Thinking. This room won’t know how to react to such behavior. Never saw it before.”

Chairman Mal’s grin chilled the throne room. “There are going to be all kinds of changes and progress made now, High General. The world will hardly know what to do with it all.”

The High General looked askance at his new ruler, but said nothing.

Mal turned slightly to a slender older sergeant, formerly the head of the king’s guard, who watched from a shadowed alcove.

The sergeant nodded almost imperceptibly back.

Stage One had begun.