The Rat King

5

"They arrive tonight."

The king is turned away from him, his fingers running over the old piece of rock. It's the one still marred with ash and blood, a fact that has led a few inquisitive minds to decide it originated from the Mountain. Ha, the Mountain. They have begun capitalizing it—he'd seen it in the reports. Just another trinket to feed the king's pride.

"What do you think they will be like?"

It strikes Slyv how childlike the king seems when he sits and lets his mind drift, when only slightest consciousness waits for an answer.

"I imagine they will be quite polite, Your Majesty."

"I wonder... It has been such a long time since I have left this place, has it not? One hundred and sixty-nine years, actually."

"It is quite some time for a human, sire."

"Ah, but I am not human, Slyv. Am I?"

"You are what you wish to be."

"Yes, yes..." his voice trails off into nothingness. "One hundred and sixty-nine years. Imagine that. It does not feel that long."

"It rarely does. You have been quite happy here, have you not?"

"What?" Life sparks in his gaze as it flits back up to the old man. "Yes, of course. Don't be silly. I have not forgotten how much you work to please me, Slyv. I remember very well, you know."

"I know, sire. It was not any attempt to—"

"Yes, I have known you long enough to know you don't do that. I merely wished to set you at ease."

The Chancellor shifts his weight on the cane and watches carefully as the firelight plays across the king's face. "You need not worry: I am quite calm."

A shadow of a smile then plays across his liege's face. "As always. I don't think you even flinched when they did that to your leg."

"It was quite painful, I assure you."

"Yes, and it is still." And suddenly his expression changes as his mind flits, rapid-fire, to something else. "Look at me! Here I am, lounging in this—this—"

He motions to the chair. "Well, never mind. Here I am, sitting, while you stand like a messenger waiting for parcels."

He rises and it's only when his hand stretches out for the other chair Slyv comprehends what he means to do.

"No, no. you should not worry yourself on my behalf."

The king pulls the chair back, his thumb pressing along the wooden edge. "No, that is my problem: I do not worry enough. Let me exercise my manners while I still remember them. They will not survive long."

"Your manners always exceed what is obligated."

"Your silver tongue always exceeds what is obligated," he returns; his lips stretch wide and there is a flash of teeth before he sits back onto his own chair. "We will need that soon."

"I am sure you will charm them all."

"I do not have your words, Slyv," the king muses, his mood turning toward pensiveness once more. "I will need them in the coming days."

"They are here for your use, Your Grace. In all aspects of governance."

The king tilts his head back over the nape of his chair, his brows shift upward.

"Ah, it has come to my attention," Slyv clears his throat, "that a few days back a messenger interrupted your reading?"

"He did."