Death and the Emperor

Book 1 Chapter XIX: Trouble Brewing

"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--"