The King's bottom slid off the windowsill with alarming speed. Desperately clutching at the draperies, he flung himself against the wall, and slid down until he hit the floor more forcefully than he would have preferred.

"There's no one here!" he barked before he could stop himself.

Eker closed his eyes and groaned, but the knock didn't sound again. He cracked one eye open, peeking hopefully at the door. Just when he was about to sigh in relief, a series of soft gear mechanisms purred to life and the wooden panel by the mantlepiece swung open to admit a tall man with a delicate constitution and a slightly puffy face.

Hanadan Jebril strode confidently into the royal bedchamber, turned around to assess his disorderly surroundings, and grinned when his eyes landed on Eker's curled-up figure.

"Good day, Your Majesty," he trilled mockingly.

"Sod off, Jebril."

Shrugging at the invective, Hanadan sought the plush settee by the foot of the bed and sat down with overt satisfaction.

"You're looking worse for wear," he commented.

Eker glared at him, and at last ventured to disentangle himself. There was no point in standing up, so he merely stretched his legs in front of him and settled against the wall.

"They're out there," he grumbled.

"Who?"

"The women!"

"Ah," said Hanadan sympathetically. "Strange species, that."

"What are you doing here?"

Hanadan sighed, and his eyes shuttered for an instant before meeting his gaze again.

"I've had an eventful few hours," he confessed. "So I was hoping to make you cheer me up."

Eker snorted, shaking his head.

"There's nothing funny going on here. You know they're picking a queen for me."

"I was made aware, yes."

"They're not supposed to be here! Their first trial ended hours ago, but now some of my father's concubines have invited them for tea. In the pavilion right under my windows!"

"I'm sure they have a good excuse."

"It's like they're taunting me!"

"Enticing is what I think they actually have in mind. Temptation, if you like."

"They expect me to build my own harem before I've even gotten rid of the old one!"

"Your father may have exaggerated in that respect, but there are plenty of men who envy your position."

"Then let them come here and be king," snarled Eker. "One man in particular, if I'll have my wish. Why, if I ever get my hands on Essar, I'll-"

He cut off, considering.

"You'll what?" prompted Hanadan, thin eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity. "Chop him up and serve him for supper?"

Eker let his head fall limply between his shoulder blades. The reminder was as unwelcome as it was accurate.

"He should be the one doing this," he mumbled, staring dejectedly at the deceptively innocent gourd on the table by the mantlepiece. "I'm just a placeholder."

He reached out to finger the folded-up hem of his robe, feeling it come apart again. His own clothes were falling off of him, because they hadn't been made for him in the first place.

"I mean, look at him!" He gestured at the gourd. "Even as something you might serve for supper, he still outclasses me!"

Hanadan closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. When he next spoke, he might as well have been addressing a recalcitrant toddler.

"For the millionth time, Eker, that is not your brother."

"You don't know that!"

"And now that he has disappeared," continued Hanadan, heedless of his friend's protests, "you're idealizing him. Yes, he was big, yes, he was strong, but would he have been a capable leader? You know he wasn't always there, not in the way that he should have been."

"He's right here now, and I don't know that he can't hear you," mumbled Eker. "Not to mention, a lot of kings and princes have their own preoccupations and interests."

"But not ones that take up their time to the exclusion of performing their official duties. At least, not if they want a functioning state. Your brother may have had the charisma, but he was a truant. A good profile to have printed on your coins, but not to inspire actual reform. Make no mistake, that is the sort of weakness your enemies love to exploit."

"So your family was ecstatic when Father died."

"Absolutely."

"But they are also happy that I inherited?" asked Eker doubtfully.

"They wouldn't be if they knew the real you. And they will, once you'll be granted full authority."

Eker groaned and tipped his head back to hit it rhythmically against the wall.

"Maybe we'll make Essar turn back by then," he said hopefully.

"As much as it pains me to admit, I've looked into the vegetable occult, and there is very little chance of that happening. And consider: what if he does come back? He'll just shirk his responsibilities again. I can assure you, whatever he'll be occupying himself with won't be agricultural reform, foreign policy revision or ... what were you working on last time?"

"Central tariff administration," said Eker.

"I doubt he even knows what that means."

"Your family will really come after me then," said Eker mockingly.

"No, dear friend, they won't." Seriousness crept back into Hanadan's tone and his lingering smile vanished completely. "They'll come after you now."

Eker blinked in confusion. After a pause, Hanadan sighed.

"That's what I really came here to say. My father's dead."

"What?"

It had been less a question and more a yelp. If he'd been nervously plucking at his robe before, now he was clutching it tightly, holding on for dear life.

"What..." he whispered "What does that mean?"

"It means he fell into his porridge and would not get up again."

"Oh. So he drowned?"

"What?" Hanadan scowled. "No."

"I imagine," commented Eker, "that whoever did him in was in no hurry to pull him up again."

"He did himself in. Heddam Jebril had finally had enough of Heddam Jebril. I can relate to that sentiment, though I'm sure it could have been postponed if he'd only listened to my advice."

"Are you... sad?"

Eker wanted to take the foolish words back as soon as he had spoken them. He cast his mind back to when his own father had perished, in a senseless accident on the training ground. The drunken idiot had entered a wrestling match with the adult pakumi bear gifted to him by the Iskarian ambassador, and would not be dissuaded from his chosen course of action. Remarking upon the man's feeble mental capabilities had in fact been Eker's first reaction when hearing of the tragic news, but he'd been sensible enough not to share his thoughts out loud. Afterwards, he found himself upset at the change that death had brought with it rather than the loss of the man himself.

Returning to the present moment, Handan seemed to echo the feeling.

"We have lost a known quantity and are now forced to deal with unpredictability. Other than that..."

Hanadan spread his palms open in a helpless gesture.

"Should I feel sad?" he wondered.

"I mean," began Eker hesitantly, "he was your father. You're naturally inclined to feel some form of attachment. On the other hand, you disagreed in most respects, he let you figure it all out by yourself and even tried to have you killed. Twice."

Hanadan smiled fondly as the memories came rushing back.

"Being around him was a constant challenge," he mused. "It forced you to pay attention. And he always said that what didn't kill you made a prime target for revenge. I think he wanted me to take a stab at him."

"And... did you?"

Hanadan shook his head.

"I didn't plunge a dagger in his back, if that's what you're asking. I merely threatened him with the prospect of a healthier lifestyle." Handan glanced questioningly at him. "Do you think that was enough?"

Eker shrugged and shuffled around a bit, seeking a more comfortable position. His undergarments were chafing and the massive folds of his official garb seemed designed to hinder his every movement.

"A challenge from one of his concubines was enough for my father, but I don't think you should worry about your situation. It's just that..." He frowned, screwing up his brow in concentration. "Aren't you in danger as well? They'll surely go after you for the title."

Hanadan shook his head.

"I'm not nearly as important as you. Why should they concern themselves with a lowly house name when they have a kingdom for the taking?"

"No, they don't. This is my kingdom."

Hanadan chuckled and Eker frowned at his own words.

"So you'll leave your place at a moment's notice if Essar turns up again, but you won't concede before whoever manages to dethrone you by either force or guile? At least with that sort of person, you can be sure they'll be interested in ruling."

"Yes, but what kind of ruling? We really shouldn't bring back the despot era."

Hanadan traced an imaginary mustache across his upper lip, then steepled his fingers in a pose identical to what Heddam Jebril used to do whenever he took the floor in the Inner Council.

"Some people would argue bad guys have a penchant for administration," he declared in a low voice.

"Not your bad guys," countered Eker, struggling for composure. "By your own admission, they're a bunch of brain-addled, narrow-focused, gratuitous pretenders, so what can they do but run our country into the ground and bring our neighbors upon us to feed on what's left?"

"To begin with, they can send assassins after you. Bad ones, granted, but you'll still have to bolster your protection and be even more careful than before."

Eker raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands above his heart.

"Dearest friend, are you saying you'll no longer mock me for hiding myself in linen wardrobes?"

"Hardly," chortled Hanadan. "That's still ridiculous. But if it means you'll stay safe, I suppose I can keep my opinions to myself. Though I pray I will never succumb to that level of fear where women are concerned."

"Oh, you've no idea!" groaned Eker. "They harry, and hassle, and needle, and chase me down when they see me. They push on every female relative imaginable, and sometimes even themselves!" He shuddered. "I can't possibly imagine how Father found their company bearable, let alone agreeable."

"How's it going on the 'getting-rid-of-them' front?"

"I've tallied the funds and I can't do more than four a month," complained Eker. "They're so expensive! They all want something. Property, jewelry, money... There's a couple who've asked me to send them to the Terevansian King."

"So now you're a procurer?"

"Absolutely not!" bristled Eker. He narrowed his eyes at Hanadan. "Any help is welcome, you know."

Hanadan's sigh turned into a prolonged yawn.

"I'll ask Mother to look into it," he mumbled at last.

"Does she know? About..."

"Oh, yes."

"Oh. Who else?"

When Hanadan made no response, Eker leaned forward to stare at his friend. Just when he was about to ask if everything was alright, Hanadan blinked and seemed to regain his focus.

"Karuss...knows."

Of course. There had been a time when Eker had doubted Hanadan's choice of bodyguard, but that was no longer the case. Whatever faults the man had, he'd proven himself in his line of duty.

"Sorry, I..."

Hanadan trailed off as he struggled to sit up.

"...thought I had another hour to go..."

Eker tangled himself up in his robe, but managed to stand up as well. He darted forward to support his swaying friend as he headed back for the secret door.

"I don't think..." began Hanadan, then toppled forward onto the small table by the mantlepiece.

"Wait!" squeaked Eker. "You're crushing Essar!"

The gourd was made of sterner stuff, however, and Eker breathed a sigh of relief when he retrieved it from beneath a snoring Hanadan. Placing the vegetable on the mantelpiece, he eyed the supine form of his friend slung across the low table, knuckles brushing the floor. He didn't think Hanadan would appreciate waking up in this position, so he headed for the panel and knocked against it.

"Karuss!" he called out. "Are you there?"

Silence answered him at first, but then he was treated to a veritable litany of curses, accompanied by the metallic protests of unyielding hinges.

Eker sighed, turned on his heels to walk towards the room's proper door, unlocked it, and yanked it open. Thankfully, he'd dismissed all the servants from the back rooms of his apartments, and so there was nobody around to witness a menacing armed man bearing down on their king. It was too much to hope for any sort of polite acknowledgement from Hanadan's bodyguard, so Eker made no protest when the man pushed past him to enter the room. Karuss halted a few steps away from the table, beholding his master's state with his hands on his hips.

"You can put him in the bed," suggested Eker. "I was leaving for a gathering anyway, and no one will be around here until nightfall."

Karuss turned around to cast him an accusatory glare. Eker had never been quite sure what he'd done to offend him, but there was no getting on his good side. If he even had one.

"I'll leave you to it, then."

He closed the door behind him and ran his sweaty palms down the front of his robe. He'd forgotten his headdress, but that hardly seemed to matter considering everything else that was going on. Jebril dead, plots afoot to select his new queen, increasing pressure from the ambassadors, instability from within, and he'd just left his brother alone with a foul-tempered man with a sword.

Eker shuddered and forced himself to step away. There was nothing he could do for Essar now, but he could try to do his best for his countrymen. Despite mounting concerns and trepidation, Eker hoped to be remembered as a competent king, not a short-lived one. He'd have to survive somehow, and then he'd get to do at least a little bit of good for those around him.