The king sighed deeply. “Save the teachings for the fecund masses, Minister. Why don’t you give the peasants some land in the Orbive Hills.”
“There is no arable land left in the Orbive. There has been widespread erosion … ”
The king nodded slowly. “Oh, yes. Because your father chose to allow firewood cutting in the Orbive instead of providing solar stoves. Because his father permitted unlimited herd growth among the Chalcites to woo their votes. Just as his father, your great-grandfather, first Kamirian convert to the Firster cause, defeated the attempt by the Green Party to limit human population upon Kamir. And so sealed our fate forever.”
The minister flushed angrily. “As Your Majesty says.”
“My grandfather told your grandfather that the herds would die and the people would die.”
The minister’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “Your Majesty’s grandfather is remembered for his sagacity. Now that the herds are dying and the people are dying, however, there is a public outcry which will not be stanched by mere laying of blame on persons long dead. Hungry people do not care what our grandfathers did. So long as one inch of Kamirian soil remains, the people will believe that using it will solve their problems. Only when all the land is gone and destroyed will they permit the next step in homo-norming, and Your Majesty knows it as well as I.”
The king uncrossed his legs and put them flat upon the throne, his hands flat beside them, wondering if by will alone he could sink into that stone, obliterate himself, become nothing. He said, sighing deeply, “Do as you will. I do not approve. Take that as written, and let me abdicate.”
“The Scroll of Establishment of Kamir-Shom-Lak specifies a hereditary king, Your Majesty, and it has no provision for abdication.”
“I have a younger brother. Several, in fact.”
“So long as Your Effulgence is alive … ” The threat in this was implicit. Kings might die, but they could not run away. Kings had died, as a matter of fact, under more or less mysterious circumstances. He did not mind dying. He did mind what they would no doubt do to him first, to make him say something they could use for a reason. Conspiracy against the welfare of Kamir. Kamir, that he loved as some men love women!
“How many more of you are there today?” asked the king. “How many more ministers out there in the anteroom, crouched slavering over the few remaining fragments of our planet.”
The minister stiffened. “Seven, Your Highness.”
“Tell them they may go. I don’t approve of anything they’re doing.”
Angered, the minister growled: “The Firster godmongers pray for you daily in your blindness, Majesty. Man is meant to procreate! We were given the universe to fill. What are a few animals, a few trees in the face of our destiny?”
“Tell the rest of them to go home,” the king said desperately. “Tell them in future they must condense their reports to something less than five minutes. In future, I will listen to nothing longer. I will set a timer.”
“But Your Highness can not possibly comprehend the ramifications of the problems from a condensed—”
“Why should I comprehend?” he cried, pressed past endurance. “I don’t comprehend. I will never comprehend. I see a different world than you ministers see. On ascending to this throne, I took an oath to rule the world of Kamir. That world, though much diminished, still had seas and forests and animals. You are destroying that world. Greater comprehension would only increase my sense of futility.” The Lost King rose from his throne, turned his back upon his minister, and stalked to a nearby window that stood open to let in the fresh breezes of early spring.
He had escaped on a day much like this—it had been late fall, not spring, but on a similar day—slipping out this very window in the darkness before dawn, across the velvet lawns, into the trees. Once Tarnen was gone, this royal park would contain all the trees left on Kamir. He had thought of that as he had walked through them that day toward his cache of clothing and money and documents, hidden away bit by inconspicuous bit over a long, long time of preparation. He had emerged on the far side of the trees dressed as an Elithan, and he had slipped into the crowd that always stood there, staring at the palace, to stand for a time himself, staring at the palace, before he went away.