Beautiful Blood

As dusk gave way to night, the lingering afterglow of the sun reduced to a ragged band of indigo at the edge of the world, torches were lit, lending an air of barbarity to the encampment. Insects sizzled, frogs bleeped and belched up deeper sounds, the river gurgled placidly, a night-blooming cereus yielded its soft perfume, and Rosacher drank most of a second bottle of wine, and not because he was desperate—he had bypassed desperation and gone straight to an acceptance of his lot. If this was to be all of life, so be it. He’d had enough of striving, of contending against the forces of man and nature (he was convinced that the two were hopelessly at odds), and he surrendered happily to the kingdom of wine, the nation of tipsiness, and whatever constituency those entities embodied. The night was exceptional in its clarity. Stars like wildfire orchids sparked in the overhanging boughs of the great trees and the color of the sky, a rich, deep blue, a royal blue, seemed the product of a curdled mass of light behind it, as if a small galaxy had been brought close to the earth but was held just out of view, so as to illuminate an intimate scene on the riverbank, a pocket of tranquility at the heart of a diseased and trembling world.

“Richard…” said Carlos. “May I call you Richard?”

Rosacher froze and before he could think of a clever lie, something that could extricate him from a circumstance he had only begun to comprehend, he realized that his reaction had already given him away—yet still he made the effort and said to the king, “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you aware, Mister Rosacher, that there is no such bird as a golden caique?” Carlos asked.

“I assumed you spoke out of ignorance,” Rosacher said. “I didn’t think it my place to correct you.”

“I might believe you if you were not Richard Rosacher, but since you are…” Carlos made a comically sad face. “I don’t?”

Rosacher rummaged about for an escape, some trick of words to persuade Carlos that he was not this Rosacher; but he had drunk too much and was too far gone along the road of surrender. “What are you going to do with me?” he asked.

“It’s as I said. You’ll be my guest at the palace.”

“But what will be my punishment?”

“Why should I punish you? Have you committed some crime? True, you operate a business of which I disapprove, and you are the de facto representative of a government that has been no friend to Temalagua. And I suppose you and Mister Cerruti have entered the country illegally—but the penalty for that is a fine and expulsion from Temalaguan soil.”

“Your predecessors have chosen to interpret ‘expulsion from Temalaguan soil’ rather liberally. The sentence of expulsion has frequently been carried out post-mortem.”

“I am not my predecessors,” Carlos said firmly. “You will return with us to the palace and be given quarters among my guards. Your movements will be circumscribed, but no other restraints will be placed upon you. You may eat and drink what you wish. A variety of women will be made available. These conditions will continue until you disclose the reason for your presence in Temalagua. After that you may do what you will. Leave. Stay. I have no intention of harming you. Should you decide to stay, well, I’m aware of your accomplishments—I’m certain you will have much to teach me, particularly as regards managing a business. And I’m equally certain that we will identify areas of common interest and have a great deal to discuss. You’ll be a welcome addition to my court. Of course…” The king’s smile seemed an article of complacent self-assurance. “You may choose to confess your motives here and now, and thus make all this unnecessary.”

“What leads you to think that I would ever reveal my motives?” Rosacher asked.

Carlos’ placid smile resurfaced. “We are much alike, Richard, you and I. In fact, I think we may be very nearly the same person. However, I have the advantage over you in that I have been this person since birth, while you have been forced, either by circumstance or some more powerful agency, to acquire the skills that have shaped our mutual character. Having this advantage, I know things that you do not, and one of these things is that eventually you will become bored with the unchallenging life I offer and will reveal your secrets if for no other reason than to create a dramatic episode.”