In which Basil gets his nails done
T
he Magus threw his hands up. “We’re going to die.”
“I will protect you, ma’am,” said Luigi, wrapping Rannie completely in his arms.
“Basil, please stop and reconsider,” said the Magus, grabbing the leader by his arm.
“Got an alternative plan, have you,” said Basil. “Out with it, man; never let it be said that Basil the Burglar Slayer didn’t listen to his top advisors.”
“We should talk. We have invaded Blurgar territory. They are naturally going to be a bit difficult.”
“We charge. It’s what they least expect.”
“Then why are they levelling their spears at us?”
“Surprise?”
The ranks of tribespeople began to advance.
“They don’t look surprised,” said the Magus.
“Keep going.” Basil turned to rally his men. “Oh.” The soldiers had deserted and were wallowing in the border ditch, trying to climb up the Basilopolis side. The steep bank was making things difficult, as was Maurice the Other Bastard, walloping their fingers with a stick, and pushing them back down into the water.
“They are sensibly trying to save themselves,” said Rannie. “And Maurice is stopping them. What a bastard.”
“He is only giving the cowards what they deserve,” said Basil. “Are you still with me?”
“They do have a point,” said the Magus. “Perhaps we should follow them. Too late!”
The Blurgars had arrived and the quartet were now surrounded by a wall of spear points. Luigi lifted Rannie on to his shoulders. “I will make a break for it,” he said. “Hold tight.”
“Come out and fight,” shouted Basil, swiping ineffectually at the spears. The end of his sword broke off.
“Stop it. We surrender.” The Magus shouted at a smirking man in an intricately-carved groin-plate, standing at the back.
“No, we don’t,” said Basil, wrenching a spear from one of the enemy. He whirled it around his head and drew his arm back to throw. One of the soldiers behind him grabbed the blunt end and politely took it back off him.
“Move.” A soldier jabbed the Magus as a pathway opened up in the spear wall towards the groin-plate. “As leaders of our enemy, you will make fine hostages, or at least a good hot-pot. The Empire of Out is finished. Long live the domination of the Blurgar hordes.” He jabbed the Magus again, harder this time, and drew blood.
“Oy, watch it!” The Magus gave a shout and turned angrily.
There was a sound of wet trampling and angry bellowing. The soldiers around the Magus disappeared under a stampede of enraged doku. The barbarians tried to fight back with their spears, but the thick hair simply deflected or bent them. The enemy army scattered in panic.
“My beasts!” The Magus clapped his hands as more of the opponents disappeared, trampled under mud and hooves. “I knew they wouldn’t let anyone harm me!”
“Did you really?” said Rannie disbelievingly, as Luigi jogged through the mud towards the tribe leader.
“Well… I hoped.” The Magus splashed along beside her.
“And you’d be advised to call your men off.” Luigi put a choke hold on the leader’s neck. Rannie was now banging the man on the head with her royal umbrella.
“Enough!” The Blurgar shouted. “Men, lay down your arms.”
“Had abundance then?” Basil paddled up, and menaced him with the rusty hilt of his sword.
“Of course. You win. Please don’t slay any more of my men. Basil, you are truly the slayer of Blurgars, ruler of this planet. I, Len Swipes, leader of the seven tribes and part time optometrist, can but only declare fealty and free eye tests. My co-ruler and dear sister, Faye, does likewise, even though she likes a fight. Faye, where are you? Come out and declare allegiance to our new leader.”
Basil looked thoughtfully at the trampled barbarians and then checked a soggy notebook. “I suppose that is my slaying quota complete for today,” he said, and put a tick at the side of the item on his list. “What’s next? I see: reincarnation, tick, paddling with card sharks, tick, plunder, no, pillage, maybe, rebuild the army, perhaps, get married, possibly.”
Len fell to his knees, offering up his sword in surrender. Basil took it and tested it with a few trial swings, one of which removed the crest from the barbarian’s helmet. “Nice and sharp; good. I accept your surrender. So be it, Len, I give you your life, on the condition that you will now work for me. I may have a problem with trespass theft back in Basilopolis, since I’ve been away so long, so I need some trained people to police that.” He pulled out his imperial looking-glass and grunted at his appearance. “I also seem to have a bit of an acne problem, probably caused by being in suspended animation for a thousand years or so. Do you know anyone who can help?”
“I, my liege,” said one of the soldiers, who, now that one looked more closely, was considerably less hirsute than the others, even though she was wearing identical armour, and had a muddy hoof-print on her stomach.
“And who are you?” Basil leered at her, and extended his hand for her to kiss.
“Faye, sister to Len the Mighty,” she said, rubbing hand cream into Basil’s skin, “and part-time dermatologist. Look at these cuticles. I can see you need my help. Now, will you stop those fay beasts trampling our soldiery? We cannot swear fealty properly if we are compacted in mud.”
“Good point,” said Basil, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the upper body of his captive. “Call the animals off, Magus.”
“I don’t know how,” said the Magus, watching more of the Blurgar soldiers being tossed in the air by angry bovines.
“You could try whistling,” said Rannie, with a grin. “You know how to whistle, don’t you? You just put your lips together, and blow.”
The Magus’ face went red with the effort.
“And don’t follow through.”
A loud, and sadly wet, fart sounded around the battlefield. The doku froze in mid-gore—the reverberation was something they all recognised, it being a vibration they produced themselves, rather well—and galloped back to the Magus. They milled around, all attempting to nuzzle him at the same time.
“They are invincible,” said Len, getting to his feet. “But how can we not defend ourselves against them?”
“My guess is that it is a feature of doku-hair,” said Rannie, climbing down from Luigi’s shoulders. “It seems to instantly adapt to its environment. As its environment at that time was one full of spears, it had to become impervious to those too.”
“I could use a coat of that,” said Basil.
“We could come to an arrangement,” said Rannie, ever the businesswoman. “I also have a fine range of stick-on tattoos which generate electricity from sweat. Judging by these lads here, you could use the created power for portable showers, and torches to see through the murk. And as for an impervious coat...”
The survivors of the tribes, and Basil’s meagre force, now returned from the border ditch, were standing sheepishly together, pushing and clapping each other across the back of the heads when they thought nobody was looking. There were murmurs of agreement concerning showers and lighting arrangements. Basil was holding the chief’s sister by the hand and gazing into her eyes. She was using a small spatula to improve his fingernails.
“You seem to have plenty of money back at the palace, so you could perhaps afford to pay all these guys, so they can buy my electricity generating ‘tats’,” continued Rannie. “Oh, and the other condition is that you let Magus and me go on our way, with our extremities intact.”
“Agreed,” said Basil absently, as Faye ran her fingers through his hair, and shook her head sadly.
“And the other condition is that you provide us with troops to throw off the repression of the car-parking junta,” continued Rannie.
“And you will get all your spectacles on prescription now,” said Len eagerly. “Did I mention I run a chain of opticians?”
“I will also have the hand of your sister in marriage,” said Basil, seemingly coming to a decision as Faye’s breasts brushed his face.
“It is your prerogative, if a little harsh,” said Len. “Come here, Faye. I’ll cut it off for you now, shall I? You are the victor on this dolorous day and I suppose that is a small fee to ask in exchange for our de-hoofing.”
“Leave the hand; I will take all of your sister, if that is okay with you,” said Basil. “Will you be best man? We shall be married as soon as we enter Basilopolis. Maurice, is the cathedral of Hiya Gloria still standing after all this rain?”
Maurice the Other Bastard had replaced the pontoon and now slunk up to Basil’s side.
“Still standing, if a little dissolved, my emperor,” he said, “and also the shrine of Clarkson the Always Right, if you wish to do homage at the Wet Wall before you are conjoined. You should also nibble together at the Holy Shallot of Basilopolis, preserved through the centuries by the Virgins of Depp.”
“Do we have to?” Basil and Faye were now gazing at each other.
“It is the process, my liege, to save the relationship on your first date, by balancing your respective halitosis problems… whereupon, you may kiss the bride... and she won’t lose her dinner.”
“I want to do it right,” said Basil. “And this onion will cement the union of the two most powerful forces on our sacred planet of Out. Are there any other requirements?”
“And another condition,” continued Rannie, “is...”
“I think that’s enough conditions in exchange for a coat,” said Basil. “I thank you for helping me defeat this burglar menace...”
“Blurgar,” said Len.
“Seriously?”
“Blurgar. We are barbarian tribes, of a nomadic nature, searching for a new place to call home.”
“Not burglar, then?”
“No, we don’t nick stuff. We invade, kill, pillage, rape and burn. We don’t need to steal it.”
“Then I think I may owe you an apology,” said Basil. “There has been a misunderstanding.”
“No problem,” said Len. “You have shown us the error of our ways. When you marry my sister, we will be officially civilised, and ready to take our rightful place in the new empire, and perhaps be allowed to wear shirts. Where do I sign?”
“We’ll be off then,” said the Magus. He reached the ditch, towing Rannie by her hand.
“You’re leaving?” said Maurice, “and still with your facial features un-mutilated?”
“You have a new rightful leader now,” said Rannie. “Unless you’d like to sign up for one of my Recalcitrance training courses.”
The vizier shook his head.
“That was a complete bastard thing to do to cut off our retreat when we were so outnumbered,” said the Magus.
“I only did it to keep the men focused, and prevent the enemy from crossing into our territory. I knew you would win.”
“Considerate as ever,” said Basil, joining them, with one arm around Len’s shoulders and the other around Faye. “Come on, relatives; I want to show you round my capital. As chief of police, and my new wife-dermatologist respectively, you will need to know it intimately.”
The Magus pulled the tarpaulin away from their parked Hynishota Superb. He opened the door, and a torrent of water gushed from the inside.
“Did you leave the window open?” said Rannie.
“Time to leave,” said the Magus, watching Luigi wiping the seat with a super-absorbent doku-cloth. “Perhaps the doku won’t follow us again. They seem to like the reed beds and boggy environment here, so maybe...”
“And this regime will last until Basil finds he has put the tigers in charge of the zoo, and Len forgets his promise of fealty. I hope the marriage goes through quickly; Empress Faye has a nice ring to it.”
“I should perhaps send Len one of the doku coats too,” said the Magus. “Might be wise to stay chummy with both sides.”
