Act One, Part Three

Jim and Artie took a swift but much more thorough look around the room now, and this time they spotted the guards. There were plenty of them scattered about the room, but dressed unobtrusively in evening clothes rather than the fanciful garb of the previous set of guards. The new group also bore no weapons, or at least no visible ones. And probably the most interesting detail about these guards, at least in the opinions of Messieurs West and Gordon, was the fact that not one of these guards was paying the least bit of attention to the most recent arrivals.

Artie shot a doomed glance toward Catalina. She smiled feebly in return, then sidled away.

"She turned us in!" Artie muttered to Jim. "How could she do that? I thought she was our friend! I broke my rule for her: I trusted a woman!"

Jim didn't get a chance to respond, for now the king spread out his arms and called merrily, first in Pterovnian, then in English, "My friends, our guests of honor have arrived! Let us greet them!" And at that point, a great cry of "Surprise!" rang out as the other guests smiled broadly and tossed streamers and confetti into the air, while from the ceiling dozens of brightly colored balloons rained down.

Jim turned to look at Artie. "Guests of honor?"

"Surprise party?" Artie said, returning the look.

Once the great hullabaloo had died down to a low roar, Jim and Artie found themselves the objects of an impromptu receiving line as nearly all the guests they had never met before lined up to greet them personally. The king stood proudly by, introducing them to such luminaries as "Count Filifko Beshko, an old friend from my childhood" and "Zernkje Modje, my Great-aunt on my mother's side." And the guests, most of whom spoke at least a passable version of English, twittered on at them delightedly, enchanted to meet the American lawmen who had foiled the evil plan against their king and brought to justice those who had assassinated his dearly beloved late father.

At long last — long long last — the receiving line was over. The king then led his guests of honor to the bar for drinks. "We succeeded, did we not?" he beamed at them. "You were indeed caught completely by surprise, true?"

"Oh, we were surprised all right," Artie said, accepting a very welcome snifter of brandy.

"Then the arrest in the throne room was all a sham," Jim said.

The king chuckled and waved that away with a hand. "Dasda — yes. Had you not escaped, my lancers would have led you here to the party. Slowly, of course, to give me time to precede you."

"And your lancers were aware that they weren't supposed to hurt us?" said Jim.

"Yes," Artie added, "some of your men who fought Jim here certainly put a lot of realism into their act!"

The king chuckled some more and took a sip of his brandy. "Oh, you were perfectly safe the entire time, my friends! Which is more than I can say for some of my lancers, I might add. Some of them, my dear Mr West, I had to send off to the infirmary my cousin Anje prevailed upon me to open."

Jim only eyed Stepanko sternly.

"And you, Mr Gordon," the king went on. "Two smoke bombs? Do you always carry such a concealed arsenal on your person, even to an audience with a king?"

"Always," Jim assured him.

"Oh yes," Artie added airily. "After all, one never knows!" He smiled winsomely — and perhaps a touch sarcastically.

The king looked at each of his guests of honor sharply, as if becoming aware that something was not being said and wondering just what that might be. "Well," he said at length, "if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must have a word with my majordomo." He nodded to them cordially, then set off toward a man with graying hair and an impressive mustache, the man with whom Catalina was conversing. That couple plainly fell silent as the king approached, and the woman curtsied and stepped back.

"Her husband," Artie observed, noting how closely the man matched both the description of him Catalina had given them and the way Don Pablo Martínez had looked. But then Artie turned away and shook his head. "You know, Jim, I still can't believe it. Cat tricked us!"

"What, by leading us to our own surprise party?"

"Well…"

"And remember what she said just before she opened the door," Jim added.

"Yeah, yeah. She assured us that once we passed within it, we would no longer need to fear the king's wrath. It's just… I don't know, Jim. I'm still not sure we should particularly trust His Majesty."

Jim took a sip of his own drink. "You worry too much, Artie. He pulled a practical joke on us, a pretty sharp one. And now he's giving us a party. I don't think he's really mad at us."

"Yeah? You're sure?"

"No. The arrest could be the reality and this party the trick. But for now, let's enjoy ourselves. I see a few lovely ladies around who might just like to get better acquainted with at least one guest of honor." He caught the eye of one such lovely lady and gave her a smile.

Artie, knowing better than to fish for a date now that he was a married man — knowing that somehow, Lily would find out, and then he'd be in worse trouble than he'd thought he'd been with the king — glanced around the room. "You know, Jim, I don't see Mireje. That's curious. You'd expect the prospective bride to be here."

"True. But here comes…"

Jim didn't get to finish his sentence. He was drowned out by an enthusiastic cry of "Djenkozí!" as a vision of loveliness came wafting up, smiling gladly. She embraced Jim and kissed his cheek, then did the same for Artie. "How good to see you both!" she exclaimed.

"Anushche!" said Artie fondly, returning the kiss.

"Or are we supposed to call you Lady Anje now?" Jim added.

"Technically yes, it is in fact Zernkje Anje now, but for such dear friends as you — not to mention that you are two of my djenkozí — to you of course I am still and ever your little Anushche."

"Oh, not so little, not anymore," said Artie. "You have manifestly grown up, droshinje muje." He leaned closer and whispered, "I do still get to call you my sweet little girl, don't I?"

She laughed and even blushed a bit. "As long as I may still call you droshtafko!" she returned.

Artie shot Jim a look, wondering if he'd heard that. There weren't a great many Pterovnian words Jim had mastered, but he had never forgotten how Anushche had enjoyed calling Artie "sweet old man" — and had even thrown the term around a few times himself, the rat.

If Jim had heard though, he gave no sign of it. He only commented, "You've become quite the patroness of modern medicine and higher education, so we hear."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ah? Who told you that?"

"Oh, a little bird…" said Artie.

Jim chuckled. "Yes, named Captain Andreshko."

She smiled. "Oh, kjushko Dreshko, of course."

"Kjushko?" Jim asked.

"Cousin," Artie translated as the young lovely went on with, "Yes, Dreshko tells me often how proud he is of my accomplishments, but I assure you, for the most part what has happened is that I have merely made sensible suggestions to the king, and he has chosen to act upon them. That is all."

"I see," said Jim.

And Artie, with a swift glance around the room, asked suddenly, "So where is he? When do we get to meet him?"

Anushche glanced around as well, puzzled. "Meet him? Meet whom?"

"Your fiancé. Jenko, wasn't it? Is he here?"

"Jenko Chelzumortko, yes. He will be here soon. As a lieutenant in His Majesty's Royal Guards, he has certain, ah, duties."

"But so do we, correct?" said Artie. "As your djenkozí — your advisors, mentors, protectors — we're expected to advise you when it comes to your choice of a fiancé, aren't we?"

Anushche looked so taken aback that Jim gave Artie a nudge. "Don't worry, Anushche, Artie and I aren't really planning to pass judgment on your young man. Artie's just dying of curiosity to meet him, that's all."

"Right, right. After all, I'm sure Dr Rodin has already approved of the young fellow," Artie assured her.

"And most importantly, you approve of him," said Jim. "As long as you're happy, we're happy, drosh… ah…"

"Droshinje."

"Right."

"After all," Artie went on, "not every Pterovnian girl follows the old custom of having a man to watch out for her interests. While you wound up having three djenkozí by accident, your cousin Mireje never had a djenko at all."

"Mm," she replied. "In fact, droshtafko, that is no longer true. It was her mother that frowned on the tradition, but now that, well…" A cloud passed over her eyes. "Now that her mother is, ah, no longer a consideration, Mireje has chosen a djenko."

"Oh, she has?"

"Who?"

Anushche grinned. "Oh, but who else? Who else is closer to her and most interested in assuring her happiness?"

Artie hesitated and was about to guess the king himself when Jim said confidently, "Of course. Her brother."

"Dasda. Yes, Dreshko was thrilled to be chosen, more so by that I think than at being named a captain in the Royal Caval… ry…"

Her voice trailed off as another's rose in anger. All chatter stopped, even the music of the chamber quartet ceased, as all eyes turned to watch the king venting his wrath at his majordomo. Stiffly the man bowed to his sovereign, then strode from the room. The king scowled darkly and tossed off some of his brandy, then growled out an order. Instantly the first violinist gave the beat and the musicians began to play once more. And as soon as the king's attention was elsewhere, the governess, white-faced, rushed from the room as well.

"What's all that about?" Artie asked Anushche. But instead of giving him an answer, she excused herself, leaving the Americans on their own.

"Well, what was that about?" Artie said to Jim, then noticed that Jim's eyes were riveted on something beyond Artie's shoulder. Casually, Artie took a sip of his drink, half-turning to do so. Ah, there was Anje just beyond a potted plant, whispering urgently to Andreshko.

"Mm!" said Artie. "Why, look at that painting there, James my boy! Isn't that a Gainsborough? You don't mind if I take a closer look, do you? I'll be right back." Suddenly a connoisseur of the arts, Artie wandered closer to the whispering pair and began to study the painting hanging on the wall near them.

By the time Artie returned, Jim was involved in a tête-à-tête with a lovely young lady of the court. Artie smiled and nodded as he wandered on past them and headed over to the buffet to help himself to the gourmet delights available to all.

Jim wrapped up his conversation shortly and joined him.

"Ah, there you are, James my boy! And what time is your rendezvous with the charming young lady, hmm?"

Jim just smiled back and started filling his own plate. "Well?" he said.

"Well, indeed!" Artie reported. "The two of them were speaking together in Spanish when I got within hearing range. And as soon as they saw me lingering, they switched over to Russian."

"You speak Russian," said Jim.

"Da, moy tovarishch, a fact of which they were apparently unaware."

"And?"

"And…" Artie glanced toward an empty table and they both took their refreshments over to it. Once they sat down, Artie continued, "It seems that Mireje is in the habit of not putting in an appearance at parties or even state functions until quite late."

"What, fashionably late?"

Artie rolled his eyes. "Not according to the king's definition of fashion. He sent Ruvenko Duzko, Catalina's husband, off to fetch her."

"But not before giving him a good chewing out for not making sure she was already here, I take it. But what about the señora? Why did she sneak out?"

Artie shook his head. "The cousins didn't say anything about that. I can only presume Cat thought she might be of some help, considering she was Mireje's governess." He took a bite of a beautiful but mysterious Pterovnian hors d'oeuvre, closed his eyes in rapture, and turned to his partner. "Oh, Jim, you have got to try one of these! Ah, Jim?"

Jim didn't answer; his attention was riveted on the door by which they had entered. Artie swiveled to have a look for himself.

There was Cat, just closing the door. Before her was her husband the majordomo accompanying a handsome young lieutenant of the king's personal guard — and between the two men swayed the sylph-like figure of…

"That's Mireje?" exclaimed Artie, aghast.

"The past three years haven't been very kind to her, I think," Jim commented.

"That's an understatement!"

It wasn't that Dreshko's sister was no longer beautiful; she was still as lovely as the two agents remembered her. It was the way that she stumbled along leaning on her two attendants, the way she giggled and grinned at everyone around her, waving and hiccupping, nearly losing her balance. Add to that the way she blinked owlishly at the king as he stormed over to her. "Oh, hi, honey!" she exclaimed all too loudly as she went to fling her arms around him.

And missed.

Artie winced as the king recoiled from her, while Ruvenko Duzko and his handsome young companion endeavored to keep the king's bride from falling on her pretty face. "Oh my stars and garters, the girl is drunk as a skunk!" Artie muttered to Jim.

With the exception of the members of the chamber quartet, who gamely played on, silence fell over the guests as they watched the scene play out between the king and his betrothed. With a giggle of "Whoopsie! Oh, Lieutenant Jenko, do be a dear and fetch me a glass of something bubbly," Mireje very nearly toppled over again. The king, seething so furiously he practically had steam pouring out his ears, said something to Mireje through his gritted teeth. Precisely what he said could not be heard by the crowd at large, but his bride-to-be only laughed and said, "Oh, Panko honey, don't be an ol' duddy-fuddy… er, fuffy-duffy… oh, a stick in the mud! I came to the party, didn't I?" Again she giggled, taking the glass that her attendant brought to her. "I jus' started my party a lil earlier than yours, that's all." She came nigh to dropping the glass as she lifted it to her lips.

Then there was a shriek, for His Majesty King Stepanko dashed the glass from her hand. "Take her back to her rooms!" he growled. "And you!" He rounded on Lieutenant Jenko and chewed him out thoroughly for the condition in which Baroness Mireje had arrived at the party.

The young officer stood stiffly at attention and took the abuse. At length the king ended with, "Now get out of my sight before I decide to relieve you of this duty and assign you to guard the royal pig sty!" He flung a hand at the lieutenant in dismissal and stormed over to the bar to help himself to yet more brandy. The lieutenant for his part snapped off a salute to his sovereign, then made a precise turn and marched out the door, following in the footsteps of the majordomo and his wife as they escorted the somewhat liquid Mireje from the party.

Artie gave a low whistle and winced. "Never would have thought that sweet little lady would turn into a lush!"

"Apparently that's what Andreshko was doing his best not to tell us when he said his sister was 'very nervous.' "

"Yeah. If I had nerves like that, I'd be a puddle on the floor!"

Jim nodded towards the door, and Artie followed his glance just in time to see Anushche slip out. "Going to see about Mireje, I suppose."

"Mm. Or about the young lieutenant. Mireje called him Jenko, so apparently guarding the bride-to-be is the 'certain, ah, duties' to which Anushche's fiancé is assigned." Artie sampled some caviar, then added, "Can't say I envy the young fellow, caught between trying to please the king by keeping Mireje sober and trying to not make her angry by cutting her off from her booze! What a life, huh, Jim?"

"For a girl about to have the happiest day of her life, she certainly seems to be pouring the bulk of her happiness out of a bottle," Jim mused.

"Yeah," Artie agreed. He raised his own glass to his lips before taking a sudden sharp look at it, then set it down again untasted.