Magnus Mills - A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In

When my turn came, Smew accidentally introduced me as Principal Conductor to the Imperial Court.

‘Principal Composer, actually,’ I said, shaking hands with Grosbeak, ‘although I do conduct from time to time. I’m in charge of the imperial orchestra.’

Grosbeak raised his eyebrows.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘the philharmonic host.’

This phrase struck me as being rather dismissive, and my initial assumption was that Grosbeak had no interest whatsoever in music. Yet plainly he was aware of the orchestra’s existence. Then I remembered Greylag’s report about the two men who’d turned up at the cake asking all sorts of questions. It sounded to me as if they were ‘taking stock’ of the orchestra, preparing an inventory so to speak, and vaguely I wondered if Grosbeak had anything to do with it.

Meanwhile, the spotlight had turned on Brambling.

‘Financial matters are dealt with here at the counting house,’ declared Smew, ‘so if you have no objection I’ll leave you in Brambling’s care; and hope to see you afterwards for tea?’

Evidently Smew believed he had done all he needed to do. He gave each of us a courteous nod, then strode off in the direction of the great library. Wryneck went with him, but I decided to stay and provide Brambling with some moral support. His chosen approach was seemingly one of openness.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ he began, ‘we’ve received your invoice and we’re prepared to offer an immediate deposit.’

‘Indeed?’ said Grosbeak.

‘The balance to be settled within seven days,’ Brambling added.

Grosbeak conferred briefly with Gadwall and Merganser before replying.

‘This is not our normal way of doing business,’ he said. ‘Seven days is a long while to withhold such a large sum, especially when you’ve had twelve days already.’ He paused. ‘However, it so happens we have further matters to address which could arguably take another week. In consequence we agree to accept your deposit. I presume it’s cash?’

‘Yes it is,’ replied Brambling, ‘so if you’d just care to step inside?’

We filed into the counting house and Brambling led us to the iron-bound treasure chest.

‘Here we are,’ he said.

He then made a bit of a performance out of finding the key, which he pretended to have lost on his person. I guessed that the idea of this jape was to lighten the general mood, but it failed to raise even a smile from the three creditors. Instead, they merely stood watching his antics with sober expressions on their faces. Finally he located the key and unlocked the chest.

The hoard of sixpences, shillings and half-crowns certainly looked impressive as it gleamed in the fading afternoon light. I was therefore surprised by the collective reaction of Grosbeak, Gadwall and Merganser. The sound they uttered, apparently in unison, was difficult to describe. It was part guffaw, part smirk and part sneer; and was so unexpected that Brambling and I glanced at one another warily. Without invitation Grosbeak scooped up a handful of coins, examined them momentarily, and allowed them to trickle between his fingers.

Then he turned to Brambling.

‘We can’t accept this,’ he said.

‘Why not?’ asked Brambling.

‘It’s worthless.’

‘How can it be worthless?’ protested Brambling. ‘This is the imperial currency!’

Grosbeak raised his hand.

‘I should correct myself,’ he said. ‘This money is no longer recognised as international exchange.’

‘Since when?’

‘For at least a decade.’

‘So we can’t use it to settle the debt?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Grosbeak. ‘There is only one valid means of payment nowadays.’

He dipped into his pocket and produced a coin, which he held flat in the palm of his hand. It was identical to the ‘sixpence’ I’d received from Merganser.

‘We call this the anvil,’ Grosbeak announced, ‘although its proper designation is the “currency unit of the City of Scoffers”.’

‘Also known as CoS,’ I ventured.

‘Quite so,’ said Grosbeak.

There was a brief hiatus as Brambling sank on to a chair. He was clearly shaken by this unheralded turn of events and needed to catch his breath.

In the meantime, Merganser went over to the table and peered down at Brambling’s ledger. Then, slowly and deliberately, he began turning the pages. He was soon joined by Grosbeak, and the two of them spent several minutes scrutinising the contents.

‘Is this a full record of the empire’s financial affairs?’ asked Grosbeak.

‘Yes,’ Brambling replied, ‘it’s all there in the finest detail.’

‘Then you won’t mind if we borrow it to see if we can find a way out of this impasse?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Very well,’ said Grosbeak, closing the ledger again. ‘I’ll send my men to collect it later.’

Brambling nodded despondently.

‘Right,’ I said in my brightest tone, ‘now that’s settled we can all go and have some tea.’

I bustled around and tried to make light of the entire matter, as though we officers-of-state were accustomed to dealing with such crises. Seizing Grosbeak by the arm I led him out into the open air; we were followed by Gadwall and Merganser, and quickly we set off towards the great library. Brambling came trailing along behind.

When we entered the reading room we discovered that elaborate preparations had been made to ensure this ‘tea party’ was a success. It was too late in the season to furnish a spectacular sunset through the bay window. Nonetheless, the room looked quite resplendent. The chandeliers had been lit, the imperial flag hung from the ceiling, and the walls were decorated with garlands. Smew had dispensed with the ceremonial crown and was now wearing his lounge suit, presumably to make the guests feel more at home. Dotterel, Garganey and Whimbrel were standing around in relaxed poses, while Sanderling helped Shrike serve the tea and toasted soldiers.

Smew was geniality itself.

‘Everything satisfactory?’ he asked, when we’d all assembled around him.

‘More or less,’ Grosbeak replied.

‘Then I must show you around the library.’

There had been no real opportunity to explain the situation to Smew, but when I thought about it I realised it wasn’t particularly urgent. After all, he was under the impression that in the past half hour the imperial reserves had been reduced to nothing. The fact that they’d been rejected as worthless was hardly better news. For this reason it was probably wiser to let him carry on playing the host uninterrupted. He would doubtless learn the truth later.

His intimate knowledge of the library was now coming to the fore. He obviously delighted in showing the three visitors around, occasionally lifting down odd volumes for them to look at more closely, and generally acclaiming the quality of the vast collection.

‘Who owns all these books?’ enquired Merganser at one point. ‘The citizens of Greater Fallowfields?’

‘No,’ Smew answered, ‘they belong to the emperor.’

Grosbeak raised his eyebrows.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘the imperial truant.’

‘Truant?’ repeated Smew, visibly startled. ‘How so?’

‘Your esteemed emperor enrolled at our university last term,’ said Merganser. ‘He ceased attending lectures after only a few weeks and we haven’t seen him since.’

‘Did you try his board and lodgings?’

‘Naturally,’ said Grosbeak. ‘It seems he left without paying the rent.’

With this stunning revelation ringing in our ears we resumed our tour of the library. Ostensibly the empire was disintegrating beneath our very feet, yet all we could do was wander along the shelves looking at books. In due course we arrived back in the reading room, where more tea was waiting to be served. By now Smew appeared to have gathered his thoughts.