The Emperor's Ostrich Page 17

“But I now know that I am,” said Lumi calmly. “As I say, they shall be tried fairly, and if found guilty, will be sentenced to house arrest, somewhere secure, but civilized.” He scratched his soggy scalp. “I’m not sure where that would be.”

  “How about right here in the palace?” Mumsy’s tone had a bite to it.

  “What an interesting proposal, good woman,” said he. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. Are you the mother of that resourceful young lady?” She nodded and bowed.

  Baxa’s fingers pressed once more into his temples. “Are we all going mad? Guards! Away with that gibbering idiot.”

  But Lumi wasn’t finished. “As I was saying, these three shall receive a fair trial and a just sentence. After that, I … I think it would be a good idea for me to search out the wisest minds in all Camellion, and appoint the best among them to advise me. Together, we’ll share the duties of”—he snapped his fingers—“that thing you keep saying.”

  “Emperor,” said Key, on cue.

  “Thank you. Yes.” He turned about and examined his opulent bedroom as though seeing it for the first time. “You know, I think perhaps I should turn most of this palace into a library and museum. The people should be the ones to enjoy all this. Those of us who need to live here can occupy, oh, a tenth of it, wouldn’t you say, Butler? The books and art alone are far too valuable to belong to just me.” Color came into Lumi’s cheeks as his excitement grew. “I know! The parks and menageries could become … what do you call them … yes, zoological gardens. For all the citizens of Camellion to visit.” He smiled, and then his face clouded. “I hope none of the younger children will be eaten by the lions. Are there ways to prevent that, chancellor?”

  “I believe so,” said that gentleman.

  Lumi nodded. “I’m relieved to hear it.” Then his expression grew serious. “I expect there will be a great deal of work to do. My travels have shown me that running an empire is not so, er, effortless as I had supposed. Dungeons, justice, crime … I have a lot to learn and much to fix.” He turned toward Tree and Song. “Our armies, I think, need better pay and more opportunities. Our tax laws need reform, too. A wedding tax? Absurd!”

  Tree cheered.

  Lumi bowed toward the chancellor. “Old friend, I never appreciated all that you managed to do, until now.”

  The old man’s eyes were bright. “It was my honor, Your Highness.”

  “Lumi!” Begonia marveled. “What’s come over you?”

  “Hush,” whispered Mumsy. “Let them be.”

  If the chancellor felt sentimental, Baxa was anything but. “Oh, please,” cried he. “If you think this sudden change of heart is even remotely real, you’re fools, all of you. Enough of this! I’ve known him for years. I’ve endured more torture from listening to him prattling on, the selfish, stuck-up pig—more agony from pretending to find his every word brilliant and hilarious—more misery, I tell you, than he’d ever face, rotting a thousand lifetimes in the dungeons.”

  Begonia cocked her head to one side. “You do know him? So he is the emperor, then?”

  Baxa bared his teeth. “Silence, impudent girl.” He turned to the soldiers. “Soldiers, hear me. The old regime is gone. The weak, childish emperor is dead. That’s what the people believe, and that’s what will soon be the case. I pay you now. Keep your silence each of you in this room, and you’ll retire tomorrow as wealthy men. Executioner, pick your spot and do your job.”

  At just that moment, something soft and white exploded across Baxa’s face.

  It was a powdered sugar cream puff bursting with lemon-custard filling.

  From the midst of the circle of prisoners, a jowly confectioner trembled in her spot, with one arm still outstretched, demonstrating excellent throwing form and wrist follow-through.

  Time dangled in its place, like a drop of water on an Imperial Bedchamber fountain.

  Then the army of servants exploded in a roar of berserk battle rage. Silver trays, golden chalices, massage stones, rolling pins, and jellied quinces pelted the imperial soldiers. The Keeper of the Imperial Aviary’s eagle screeched and flapped its mighty wings in the soldiers’ faces. With the cry of a wolf leading his pack, Tree entered the fray, bowling soldiers left and right with long tree-chopping limbs. Song screamed, her baby screamed. Two soldiers collapsed onto the Imperial Bed, plugging their ears. Stormcloud didn’t like them there, and she let them know it with her claws.

  But even the fiercest lemon custard is ultimately no match for a sword. Short Red and Fat Blue skirted around the ruckus and went straight for Lumi. They closed in on him like sharks, and each seized him by an elbow just as the last of the rebels was pinned down by a soldier.

  That was when things took a turn for the strange.

  The floor beneath them shook. Boots stamped, spear-butts thumped, and shields clanged whilst wall panels around the chamber swiveled, and that elite but nearly forgotten squadron of warriors emerged from their hiding places: the Guards of the Imperial Bedchamber.

  Attached to no commander but the emperor, and sworn to protect his person to the death, they had watched in silence through cleverly disguised peepholes until angry hands were laid upon Lumi. The others had not been their concern. But the instant he was threatened, they surrounded Baxa’s soldiers and cronies with lightning speed.

  Not even they, however, anticipated the mighty help that was on its way.

  The main door to the Imperial Bedchamber burst open with a bang. An eight-foot bird pelted through on sinewy legs and tore across the cavernous chamber in a few rapid strides. Before Short Red Rudo knew what had hit him, a tremendous shove from one of those terrible pink limbs sent him flying through the air, landing facedown on a sofa. Before Fat Blue Hacheming could congratulate himself on a narrow miss, his portly belly met the stampeding forehead of a single-minded milk cow. The cow’s forehead won. Hacheming rolled heels over nose into a goldfish pool and stayed there.

  “Lightfoot!” cried the Keeper of the Imperial Aviary. “Come to Papa!”

  But the ostrich went straight to Lumi and stood huffing and flapping his wings with protective bird rage by the true emperor’s side.

  A breathless pair of footmen ran into the room and gazed, wide-eyed, at the chaos. “We tried to stop them!” one said, panting. “The beasts kicked and butted the eastern entry doors to bits!”

  Lumi waved to the footmen. “It’s all right,” he told them. “The ostrich and his cow are welcome guests in my private rooms.” The footmen left showing no surprise at this statement.

  The Captain of the Guards of the Imperial Bedchamber bowed to the emperor. “Shall we take the prisoners to the dungeons, Your Excellence?”

  Lumi scratched his nose. “Hmm. I think probably you’d better take them to the kitchens and feed them something. The soldiers can go after that, but give them a good talking-to first. These three—I’d say house arrest in their bedrooms, upstairs, until we can decide what to do next. How does that sound, chancellor?”

  “Most gracious and merciful,” answered that venerable person. “Possibly too much so,” he added in a whisper to Shoe.

  A middle-aged servant bowed deeply to Lumi. “Would you like me to draw you a relaxing bath before you prepare for your evening meal, O Exalted One?”

  “A bath!” Lumi sighed. “I can’t just yet, until these, er, traitors are dealt with, but a bath before bed would be heavenly tonight. If you’d fill it for me, this time, I’d be grateful.” Lumi stepped over Baxa’s ankles as the bedchamber guards tied his wrists. “After today, I’ll try to do it myself. And if you could just give me a small refresher on what one does with soap…”

  Mumsy slipped her arm around Begonia’s waist. “He’s truly helpless, isn’t he?” she whispered in her daughter’s ear.

  “Pretty much,” Begonia said. “But in his own strange way, he grows on you over time.”

  32

  SQUABBLING VISITORS, AND MATTERS INVOLVING NAMES

  The traitors were taken off to be locked in
their rooms, and Baxa’s soldiers trudged off to the palace kitchens for a dinner of fish soup and crusty bread served with a steaming plop of guilty remorse, while the servants filed out to return to their duties. The keeper of the aviary returned to his remaining birds.

  The rest of the group dissolved into puddles of exhaustion. Tree and Song curled up on a couch, oblivious to all else, while the baby slept in Song’s arms. The chancellor sat down. Shoe, the butler, flopped facedown in a giant cushion and began to snore. Chrysanthemumsy led Begonia to a sofa, where she began stroking her daughter’s hair. Alfalfa and Lightfoot stood ankle-deep in one of the fishponds, with Lightfoot blinking at the room at large and Alfalfa blinking coyly at her tall, handsome bird-beau. Emperor Lumi sank into a soft chair and stretched out his feet with a moan of relief. After all the chaos and danger, a moment of peaceful silence was bliss.

  But it was not to last. Voices, seemingly coming from the ceiling, pierced the stillness.

  “… told you I had it all under control.”

  “Pigeon feathers! You made a colossal bungle of it all. It was my cow that saved everything.”

  Begonia, Mumsy, Lumi, and Key scanned the room for the owners of the voices.

  “Your cow!” sputtered the first voice. It sounded like an older man. “My ostrich is the true hero.”

  “Begonia,” whispered Key. “What’s going on?”

  “Mumsy,” whispered Begonia, “those voices sound just like…”

  Mumsy placed a finger over her lips, and nodded. Master Mapmaker, she mouthed silently. Madame Mustard-maker.

  “But how?” whispered Begonia.

  They waited, but the voices had gone silent.

  “Now you’ve done it,” grumbled Master Mapmaker’s voice. “They heard us.”

  “I? I haven’t done anything. And if you can’t keep your voice down, you’ve got no one but yourself to blame.”

  “Look!” Begonia whispered. She pointed toward a gilt chandelier. Two shadowy figures seemed to hover behind its ornate lamps, jabbing fingers toward each other in a full-out spat. Realizing the people in the room were staring at them, they froze, mid-jab.

  “They see us!” the woman’s voice hissed.

  “Madame Mustard-maker!” Begonia cried. “How did you get in here?” She gulped. “I mean, up there?”

  The old woman peeked out from behind the chandelier, then descended in a flutter of scarves. Her face crinkled with pleasure. “I’m here and I’m there, child. How nice of you to remember me.”

  “But why are you here?” She blinked. “And how were you … up there?” Then the impossible, unthinkable truth became obvious. “You’re … an immortal? An ancestor?”

  “Right as rhubarb,” the woman said. “Not, as some have said, ‘just a bunch of stories.’”

  Begonia went down upon one shaky knee. That was what she’d told Key not long ago.

  “And … Master Mapmaker?” Begonia inquired. “Why are you here?”

  “Taking stock of the damage he’s caused,” said Madame Mustard-maker.

  An old man with a gray braided beard hanging down his blue-vested belly floated downward, landing next to a harp.

  “There wouldn’t have been damage,” he cried, “if you hadn’t barged in.”

  “Without my help, this charade would’ve ended in ruin!” Madame Mustard-maker winked at Begonia. “We’re old friends. Very old friends.”

  “Do you know these persons?” Lumi asked Chrysanthemumsy.

  Begonia’s mother wrapped an arm around her daughter. “I thought they were from Two Windmills,” she said. “Now, I don’t know what to think.”

  Master Mapmaker addressed Lumi. “Do you remember me?”

  Lumi nearly dropped his droopy pants. “Should I?”

  The mapmaker snapped his fingers. In a puff of smoke, he vanished. A scaly red creature appeared in his place, with curving horns, cruel teeth, and devil’s eyes, hovering high in a pillar of fire. He arched his back and roared. “Cower before me, mortal!”

  “He’s come back for me!” Lumi shrieked. He dove behind his ostrich, who hissed at the apparition.

  “A demon!” cried Key. He threw himself in front of Begonia.

  “Now do you remember me, quisling emperor?” The voice sounded like final doom.

  “Save me! Make him go away!” cried Lumi.

  “Oh, stop it, you great bully,” Madame Mustard-maker told the demon. She hopped down from her perch and yanked on the demon’s pointy tail. “‘Cower before me’? Pathetic! You’re no better than he was, you know that? You’re two yolks in the same egg.”

  The demon vanished, leaving the mapmaker in his place. “That,” he told Lumi’s posterior, which was all of him that could be seen at the moment, “is how I looked when last we spoke.”

  “Is he gone?” wailed Lumi.

  “He was a bully, you’re a bully,” scolded Madame Mustard-maker. “He was a tyrant, you’re a tyrant. He had a beastly temper, and you’re no better.”

  “Pig slop!” Master Mapmaker pointed an accusing finger toward Lumi. “He’s a coward with a spine of orange jelly. I was never like that.”

  “Is that so?” Madame Mustard-maker waved a wooden spoon in his face. “That’s not what I heard. When you were alive, your exploits at the Battle of Rees were praised to the skies! Set to music! Painted on porcelain pots! But later on, in the Heavenly Hall of the Ancestors, I met eyewitnesses who sang a very different tune. About a certain young emperor, cringing in the supply tents until the enemy army had the misfortune to blow up their own powder wagon.”

  Master Mapmaker’s face puffed a brilliant shade of orange. “Who told you that?”

  Lumi’s narrow face poked out from under Lightfoot.

  The chancellor spoke. “Do you mean to say … you’re Emperor Gowli the First?”

  Master Mapmaker said nothing. Behind his back, Madame Mustard-maker winked.

  “My … let me see…” Lumi used his fingers. “My great-great-great-great-grandfather?”

  Master Mapmaker stared at him piercingly.

  Lumi pointed indignantly toward a wall. “That tapestry depicts you winning the Battle of Rees in great triumph and glory!”

  “Fibs,” Madame Mustard-maker whispered loudly.

  “Will you be quiet?” roared Master Mapmaker. “Ahem. In my life, I was Emperor Gowli, yes. But now you may call me Grandfather Spirit.”

  Madame Mustard-maker beamed. “And I’m Grandmother Spirit.”

  “You’re married?” asked Key.

  Grandfather Spirit’s face wrinkled as though he’d bitten a lemon.

  “Marriage isn’t part of our lives now, dearie,” said Grandmother Spirit. “Grandfather Spirit and I met at Games Night in the Heavenly Hall of the Ancestors.”

  Begonia stood up. “Will somebody please explain?” she cried. “We’ve known you both for years as Master Mapmaker and Madame Mustard-maker. Now you’re venerable ancestor spirits?”

  “Not exactly, my sweet,” said Grandmother Spirit. “We are, yes. But your mapmaker and mustard-maker are still back in your village, making their maps and mixing their sauces. We just … borrowed them a bit. Their appearances, that is. Not their bodies! Heavens. Not that.”

  Begonia pointed to Grandfather Spirit. “Does our mapmaker make magic maps?”

  “All maps are magical,” Grandfather Spirit said, “but I gave your map a little extra help.” He coughed. “Once I saw she’d roped you into this”—gesturing toward Grandmother Spirit—“I knew you’d need help to find your way home. She leads people on wild-ostrich chases.”

  Lightfoot the ostrich wandered over to Grandfather Spirit and hooted at him.

  “Well done, well done, my fine fellow,” Grandfather Spirit told him, and stroked his neck.

  Alfalfa meandered over to Grandmother Spirit, lowing softly. Grandmother Spirit scratched behind the cow’s ears. “That’s a good girl! I knew you could save the empire.”

  “We’ve been through this,” Grandfather
Spirit said through gritted teeth. “Your cow didn’t—”

  “Her cow?” cried Mumsy. “That’s our cow. Make her stop following that bird!”

  Grandmother Spirit waggled a finger at Mumsy. “I never interfere with true love, dear. Not once it’s gotten going.” She gave her chin a thoughtful tap with her wooden spoon. “I have been known to give it a helpful starting nudge or two…”

  Servants began bringing in trays of fruits, vegetables, savories, cheeses, dainties, and sweets. Key dove across two plush chairs to be the first at the impromptu buffet.

  Lumi hitched his trousers. “What was all this about?” he cried. “Why did you do this? Terrorize me as a demon! Banish me! Make the people who know me best unable to recognize my face, or my voice! Gum up my mouth so I couldn’t say my title, my name, or my home to anyone! Why would you be so hateful to me?”

  Grandfather Spirit plucked the harp. “Don’t you know, son?”

  “To save the empire,” supplied Grandmother Spirit.

  “From what?” cried Lumi.

  Grandfather Spirit thumped him in the chest with his forefinger. “From you! The biggest crybaby ever to sit on the throne of Camellion! No courage, no kindness, no feeling for others whatsoever. The most selfish, spoiled, stuck-up—”

  “All right,” Lumi stammered. “I had some lessons to learn. But the empire was running fine before you kicked me out! You could’ve killed me!”

  Grandfather Spirit became a roaring red demon once more. “But I didn’t, did I?”

  “But what if you had?” demanded Lumi. “I nearly broke my neck jumping out that window to get away from you!”

  Smoke poured from the demon’s ears. “I sent the ostrich to catch you and protect you, you nitwit!”

  “Ostriches are the stupidest creatures on two legs!” cried Begonia.

  “That’s debatable,” said Grandmother Spirit. “I’ve known stupider creatures on two legs. Some of them courted me. But you’re right, my dear, you’re right, absolutely. It was a reckless, foolhardy plan. So I fixed it all by sending Alfalfa to the rescue.”

  “A cow?” cried Mumsy. “You sent our milk cow to save the empire?”