Chapter 3: The Emperor and the Boy with No Clothes
"They weren't really cannibals, were they?" Nelos asked pensively.
"No, you were the only cannibal tonight," James answered petulantly. "Or you would be, if you were human, and it was still night," he amended weakly.
"The filed teeth, the necklace, the nun, even the quips about supper—it was all plausible until I cut your throat and everyone had a cow. You lied to me," admonished Nelos.
"Sometimes it's necessary. Why did you eat Clara's boob?" asked James disapprovingly.
"I was hungry," lied Nelos flippantly. "You know," he propped himself up on his elbow facing the boy in the steaming spring, "you have no reason to treat me with such contempt, little master. I did everything you wanted. I gave everyone a common enemy, and Father Eucharist really stepped up and rallied the troops. They're all war buddies on a mission for Christ's sake now, and no one perished." He considered his patience to be legendary, but he couldn't keep the peevishness from his voice. He was not accustomed to being criticized, especially by humans who owed him their lives.
"I thought it was because of the tumors," said James. "I mean, the mastecomy," he flushed and climbed from the hot pool, reaching for his dirty clothes.
"Mastectomy," Nelos corrected, casually teleporting the pile of clothes three feet further from James. "Don't put those back on, you silly goose, or I'll toss you right back into the water. I know a young prince your size; we'll take his best silk kimono."
"We're going to steal from a prince?" James asked with mixed awe and opprobrium.
"Well, unless you'd like to ask him for a change of clothing in your inimitable, charming way," Nelos replied with a wink. Standing, he put his hands together and opened a mini portal. "Let's just see if he's home."
"Where are we now?" James asked, admiring the lush vegetation and overhanging cliff walls.
"Kauai," replied Nelos. "It's one of the Hawaiian Islands," he explained, noting James's blank look. "There's no fallout here, but there are zombies, dragons, and some unsavory natives."
"It isn't polite to call them zombies," said James severely. His hands were covering his privates as he waited on Nelos. "They like to be called ghouls."
Nelos scoffed and smiled at the modest, precocious boy. "Not these ones—they're not mutants. They're the walking dead. A necromantic offshoot of Gruemanuel's Wracks, I think, that vile homunculus. They feast on the living. A single bite will infect you and then you'll die too and walk amongst them knowing nothing but hunger; and, like ghouls and knobs, you cannot compel them. In most places, their populations are efficiently culled by vampires, but here there are none due to the sage Avallac'h. Let's go, young master."
Nelos half knelt, holding out his hand to James. James looked around once more at the dramatic beauty of the landscape surrounding them. He exulted at this news. Not able to compel ghouls and knobs, he thinks? he silently mused. To conceal his pride, he mimicked wonderment, "Dragons and vampires?" eyeing Nelos with mistrust. "You're fibbing me." Then he put his tiny hand into Nelos's.
Like before, there was no sensation of moving, no rushing wind as he expected, but the sudden cold air on his naked wet skin, the surrounding sounds of talking and laughter, and the cloying smell of incense jolted him. He scanned his surroundings with growing humiliation and felt betrayed.
They had arrived in a majestic Japanese palace hall filled with half-naked attendants and richly dressed courtesans, nobles, magistrates and children. His resentment toward Nelos stewed as half the court oohed in astonishment, while the other, younger population giggled and pointed. He could not understand their language, but he felt their derisive amusement and read their concupiscent thoughts all too well. Do not look at me! he commanded everyone silently, and with sounds of dismay and anguish, they obeyed. He struggled on his toes to keep from hanging from towering Nelos's grasp while keeping his privates shielded from sight with his free hand.
Nelos pulled him awkwardly through the crowd toward a stepped dais where a pallid fat man in splendorous silken garments and regal headdress reclined in a nest of plush cushions with two comely young boys. His posture tensed and his expression stiffened in dread as he noticed Nelos's approach. James could easily guess why, but he read him anyway. This man was wondering how Nelos survived a nuclear detonation set off by an Elder friend of Nelos's under compulsion and whether Nelos knew if he was the one who compelled the pusher that compelled the elf. A fellow pusher, then, he mused interestedly, also wondering if Nelos knew of this convoluted scheme and if things were about to get ugly.
"Konichiwa, Hasaki-sama," Nelos said to the astonished man and continued to speak amicably in fluent Japanese. Then he gestured to James and said, "The young master Michaelis here would like to have one of your finest silk kimonos. Will you oblige him?"
"Hai, Nelos-sama," Hasaki croaked through painted lips and frantically issued orders to the cowering attendants at his back. They looked up, searching blindly for James and chattering in Japanese. The exchange erupted into an unbecoming fit of yelling and face-slapping on Hasaki's part. The attendants dropped to their knees and pushed their faces into the dais floor. With barely concealed chagrin, Hasaki finally addressed Nelos in English, "Nelos-sama, please forgive us," he bowed magnanimously, "but we do not understand your meaning—there is no young master with you," he apologized.
Nelos glanced down at James and understood. "Ah, I see. You are not permitted to defile the young master's chastity with your lecherous eyes. Well then, for the purpose of fitting him, I estimate his proportions to be equal to those of your young prince gaishan—or perhaps twelve times smaller than your fat ass, if it pleases your Corpulent Virtuosity," he stated, without a hint of impropriety. At Hasaki's blank look, he explained, "Verily, a young human boy stands naked at my side yet none can behold him! Do you see the water pooling onto the floor here—he's just come from a bath. Turn your head and you may discern his white skin in periphery. He is, if nothing else, a hundred times the psycher you imagine yourself to be, and he is beautiful," Nelos smiled. "Can you imagine why he's concealed himself?" he asked. Then he whispered conspiratorially, "I bet you've never fucked an invisible psycher, have you, Kato?"
Hasaki's face went livid with impotent fury and the gathering court began to murmur and mill in embarrassed confusion. He pressed his forehead to the varnished wooden floor to hide his face. It was a posture, like that of his attendants, of absolute submission. Nelos grimaced at the display with impatience. Four samurai surrounding the dais put their hands on their weapons and assumed fighting stances. Seeing this he said, "Compel your guard to stand down, Hasaki-sama, or suffer dismemberment." Hasaki complied hesitantly, barking at each samurai individually, and resumed his obeisant posture.
"Please let go," James begged Nelos—he had been trying to wriggle free from Nelos's grip. His hand was immediately relinquished, and James fell awkwardly onto his butt. "Why are you embarrassing me like this," he hissed, rubbing his sore bottom.
"My young lord," Nelos exclaimed innocently, bending to look squarely into James's flinching face, "What an unfair accusation! It is not my intention to embarrass you, but to dress you as you deserve—as befits an unrivaled young psycher in a land ruled by despotic compulsion. Besides," he smirked, "I'm apparently the only one here who can see you."
How? James searched Nelos's beaming eyes and whispered, "How can you can look at me?" He frenetically attempted to enter Nelos's thoughts without success. It was as if he wasn't there, though he could empathically sense rising annoyance emanating from him. For the first time, he feared the eldritch sorcerer, but he could not compel him—would not compel him for fear of ruining his plans. Tears of stress welled in his eyes. The humiliation they brought broke his composure.
"Hmph," Nelos had straightened and was looking down his nose at James. He polished his elegant white nails on his lapels, and stated with arrogant aplomb, "I am Nelos, of course I can look at you." Seeing James's tears, however, he softened and confessed, "I'm quite fond of you, young master, and I'd be remiss not to take precautions before setting foot in this den of iniquity. And it would shame me if I failed to protect your entrancing blue eyes from any retaliatory mutilation I might wantonly wreak upon them—purely in self-defense." He tisked, regretting the counterproductive effects of his ministrations. "I expected you'd be the one I had best defend against. Dry your tears, young lord. Your offense was minor and no punishment is warranted. Come, let's attend to business."
Nelos turned and beckoned to one of the children adorning Hasaki's opulent throne of cushions. A wide-eyed boy in a half-open kimono reluctantly rose and approached Nelos with trepidation. His neck and legs showed dark bruises. Speaking in Japanese, Nelos asked the shy boy's name—Kei—and bade him to find Akira. "Follow Kei and get some clothes on, then return with Akira," Nelos ordered James. "Do not tarry and do not use your magic again unless you are in mortal peril. And James," he admonished sternly with a hand on his shoulder, "do not tempt my wrath with deceit as Emperor Hasaki has done." He turned James toward Kei's receding figure and gave him a little push. "Now hurry along—it's already well past your bedtime."
As he hastened on his way, James looked back at the sorcerer to see him sigh and place his shining boot on Hasaki's well-appointed head. Hasaki had listened to Nelos's exchange with the invisible boy and had lifted his prostrate head to determine where he might be, but he was incapable of overcoming James's compulsion. Hasaki's thoughts were reeling and James read them easily: There is someone there, but it is too late! Nelos is angry. He wants heads now. All I can do now is try to redirect his anger unto an appropriate target and appease him with a grandiloquent display of submission. Surely that will placate his notorious temper. Hasaki couldn't imagine how Nelos could have determined his culpability in the meticulously executed coup he had devised against him, and he therefore considered himself to be genuinely innocent. He was actually glad of Nelos's imperious assistance in forcing his face to the floor with his boot. It was a good sign, it was something he himself did when punishing Akira. But, when Nelos spoke, he did not hear the abuse he craved. His heart sank with the appalling conviction that Nelos knew, and his ignominious supplication became surprisingly genuine.
"You believed I would not return, did you, Hasaki-sama? Well, here I am. You should have chosen your enemies better." The entire court was in Nelos's thrall—no one leapt forward and offered to defend or die for the emperor. He picked up a flask of sake and took a deep swig from it, casually noting a pretty young geisha who was eyeing him seductively from behind her fan. "I've had a long day chasing the sun, and I'm ravenous," he said, licking his lips libidinously for her. He tore his eyes away and looked down at Hasaki, prodding the emperor's head with his boot. "Are you hungry, your Excellency? I'll make a deal with you: If you pluck out your own eyes and eat them, I promise to chop off your head with a single stroke. Otherwise—if you make me do all the work—I'll eviscerate you and strangle you with your own intestines."
Hasaki cowered and blubbered, turning over awkwardly on the floor to kiss the sole of Nelos's boot. He begged pathetically for his life as he had seen many others do, offering Nelos his empire, his possessions, his undying fealty, information—even Akira and his soul were bid. Nelos cut him off, "Is that a no?" He looked incredulous. "You're kidding me!" he exclaimed and sighed long-sufferingly. "Very well. Unlike you, I'm not afraid of hard work."
All this James heard as he followed Kei—neither could resist looking back at the groveling emperor. As he exited the grand hall, the last thing he heard was the metallic song of Nelos's sword leaving its scabbard and the screaming of the court.
The imperial palace was impressively expansive and it took almost five minutes of stairclimbing, running pell-mell down wide avenues, through gardens, over bridges, around porches, and through exquisite room after room—all while trying to shield himself from the sights of passersby—before Kei finally entered Akira's chamber and began speaking rapidly to him in Japanese. I will have to master reading the language parts of people's brains, James thought, because it was obvious Kei couldn't have been saying what he was thinking: That he hoped the emperor was dead and he hoped it was a gruesome, painful, prolonged, and humiliating death.
James ran to a great wardrobe and took a folded garment from it. Swaddling himself in the robe, he spoke into Akira's mind: Where is your underwear? Up to this point, Akira was not surprised in the least by James—apparently it was normal here for kids to run around naked and steal each other's clothes. Akira looked at him now with reverence and answered, "In this drawer." He showed him the drawer and handed him a light pair of linen shorts, bowing as he did so.
"Oh good, you speak English," James said and pulled on the shorts, considering the fact that Akira had green eyes and blond hair, and—despite what Nelos said—he was at least a head and shoulders taller than him. How did he become a prince here? he wondered. Kei was still chattering in rapid Japanese punctuated by dramatic cries, grunts, and other humorous sounds—his demeanor completely altered from the shy boy at the emperor's side—when Akira stopped him with regal forbearance and gestured toward James wondering who he was.
James rolled his eyes and removed his compulsion from Kei. Kei looked at him blankly, seeing him at last. "Huh?" he exclaimed.
Kei approached him and began questioning him in Japanese. "I don't speak Japanese," James said wearily, fending off the increasingly excited boy and feeling at a loss for the first time in for as long as he could remember—until he remembered Nelos. He looked at Akira and asked, "Do you know Nelos?" Akira's eyes widened and he nodded solemnly. "Well, Nelos wanted me to borrow your clothes and take you to meet him where Hasaki-sama is," he explained, suddenly worried that Akira was in danger.
"Oh! In that case, let me get you a better kimono," Akira said and, noticing James's wet hair, added, "I'll get you a towel too." He pulled a huge silk tassel and a distant bell rang. James was marveling at his chosen robe—how surreal the luxury and cleanliness of these people—as they waited when Akira pronounced, without a shred of emotion, "The emperor is dead." He repeated this to Kei in Japanese, who screamed with delight and began dancing around the room in a silly manner.
"Really? How do you know?" James asked, sincerely interested, but diverted by his reverie and Kei's joyous gallivanting.
"Because I don't love him anymore," Akira breathed with a tremulous sigh of relief.
