“Baaaaaaaaaaraaaaaag!”

― Table Elephant

“Ruuuurrrr!”

― Pocket Ferret

Martin materialized between the first and second syllables of his name and said, “How may I be of assistance, mein fraulein?”

“Where can I find Von Schmidt?”

“I am not currently at the liberty to divulge this information. However, I can convey your concerns to my master for consideration, whereupon he will schedule a conference in his study at the earliest convenient juncture.”

“Very well. Let him know that I’d like to have a word with him. Urgently, if you will.”

“Very good, mein fraulein.” Martin made a few brief motions with his palm in the air and then tilted his head like a hound that had caught a scent. “The master will meet you in his study in five minutes.”

Martin turned on his heels and started towards the elevator door at a brisk pace that forced the Princess to half-walk and half-run to keep up. Audric, possibly laboring under the misapprehension that he was a sheep dog rather than a glorified weasel, ran back and forth between Martin and the Princess anxiously. Moving at such a speed was extraordinarily rude of Martin, not to mention anatomically impossible. Was this a petty revenge for the Princess’ earlier threat to beat him with a spoon? It didn’t matter. The Princess bore him no malice. Only lowbred nouveau riche bore malice towards servants. Aristocrats reserved their hatred for those who could fully appreciate it.

Not wishing to huff and puff, the Princess remained silent until the two reached an elevator. Martin repeated the strange hand dance, nearly slapping the Princess in the process, and the elevator came to life.

After several awkward minutes of staring into her reflection in the mirror, the Princess spoke simply to end the silence. “What are you feelings towards your master?”

“I fear that we lack a common frame of reference that would enable me to provide a meaningful reply to your enquiry,” Martin replied, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

“You must be really fun at parties,” the Princess commented.

“It is my uttermost ambition to be adequate to any given situation.”

“You have very small dreams.”

“Dreams are a trait typical of persons facing a multitude of choices of equal value, thus lacking logical tools to evaluate the respective merits of said choices. They are, in essence, a random decision generator. Since I am my master’s man and thus have no function but to facilitate the realization of his dreams, I find the cultivation of my own redundant.”

“And what are these grandiose dreams?” the Princess asked. She wished some part of her uniform or hairdo would be out of order so she’d have something to fiddle with, but alas, both were in perfect state, leaving her hands with nothing to do but brush a perfectly smooth jacket. Martin, contrastingly, didn’t even bother with blinking.

“I am not at liberty to divulge this information. It is my strong recommendation that you address this concern to his person.”

“I will do that. I will also recommend that he jettison you into space.”

“Very good, mein fraulein.”

The Princess suspected that if she declared her intention to gut Martin and serve him as the main course at a diplomatic mission to rozovoi space, his reaction would be the same. Furthermore, she suspected that if she actually went on and did this, he’d still maintain this air of haughty servility.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a waiting room with landscape scenes from exotic locations such as the Oort Cloud and South America. In one image, a group of men and one sinii with a top hat stood over the body of a slain triceratops against the background of a smoking volcano. With a start, the Princess realized that one of the men was her father, appearing to be in his late teens. The Princess approached the picture to examine it more closely. Was that—

“The master is waiting for you,” Martin said, breaking her concentration.

Making a mental note to study the picture for clues after the meeting, the Princess stepped towards the door, which opened to reveal a spacious study with a deep blue carpet made from the hide of a particularly large krasnii, with holes left by plasma discharges plainly visible. The walls were covered with framed pictures of bizarre alien organisms and various celestial objects. Not surprisingly, there were no ancestral portraits. Pictures of porters and paddlers wouldn’t look very well in the lavish chamber, the Princess imagined.

Von Schmidt was sitting behind a massive redwood desk, smoking a pipe almost a meter long and flipping through some ancient tome that sighed mournfully each time a page was turned. An elephant the size of a large cat was ripping leaves off a bonsai tree. Audric bared his teeth at the table elephant. The miniature beast paused thoughtfully for a second before returning to its assault on the tree. On the other end of the table there was a decorative model of the solar system, with a sun, ten planets and the better known satellites. Saturn’s upper half lay on the table. Its lower half, which was connected to the sun with a transparent rod, was filled with dried mushroom and colorful pills. The Princess assumed all other planets were containers as well.

“There is something,” Von Schmidt said by way of greeting, “in a poorly written book that fails to be great and is painfully aware of its failure. An intangible quality that is sorely lacking in a simply great book. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Princess ignored the peculiar statement and went straight to the tirade that she’d been rehearing in her head for a while. “Von Schmidt, I am here to report a grave transgression against your hospitality that requires your immediate action.”

“How considerate of you,” Von Schmidt said, carefully placing the giant pipe on the table before joining his hands in front of him in a pose unimportant people use to appear important. “To see virtue under such duress brings joy to this old cynic’s heart. Would you care for some refreshments?”

“No,” the Princess said curtly. “I have evidence that the Jeans are responsible for at least one death in your mansion.”

“And you’re concerned they might break your record?” Von Schmidt asked sympathetically.

“I am talking about assaults against members of your staff,” the Princess went on, ignoring the jab.

“Like the young man you and Tanaka killed because he failed to run into certain death quickly enough for your liking?”

Not having anything to hurl at Von Schmidt, the Princess stomped angrily, the thick carpet absorbing the shock, making her gesture appear even more childish than it was. Nevertheless, terrified by the prospect of impending violence, the table elephant went to the edge of the desktop and jumped into a drawer

Von Schmidt laughed heartily. “Now there was a better proof of royalty than any pea under the mattress. Coincidentally, I did place a pea under your mattress. Well, not so much a pea as a recording device, but the effect is much the same. Did you feel it?”

The truth was that last night the Princess was so exhausted she wouldn’t have felt an angry rhinoceros under her mattress, let alone a tiny pod. Peas. She hardly noticed the bloody things in her soup, how on Earth would she notice them under a thick mattress?

“Are you so callous as to ignore the willful assassination of one of your employees?!” the Princess asked, angered by his constant deflections, and using the anger to stay on course. However, all her rage only seemed to further amuse the old libertine.

“I’d argue that you are the one who is callous for cynically using this tragedy simply to get a minor advantage over another bidder without actually increasing your bid in any way,” Von Schmidt said. “Speaking of which, do you have a new offer to present me with?”

“Unless you act now, another maid will die; my own lady’s maid as it happens.”

Von Schmidt shrugged and stifled a yawn. “Very good. Will there be anything else?”

“Please.” The Princess said very quietly, the word feeling odd in her mouth.

Von Schmidt waved the Princess away. “This conversation has ceased to be of any value to either of us. Please leave and do not bother me unless it is in order to present a real bid as opposed to making empty threats or throwing infantile tantrums. I have lived for too long to find it charming and have done too many great and terrible things to find it touching.”

The Princess was grasping for words, desperately looking for that one piece of rhetoric, that one laser-proof argument that would make everything fine as opposed to kill another small bit of what faith in humanity she still possessed. As she gasped like a beached fish, Von Schmidt spoke again. “Martin, please escort our guest to her room. You have my permission to apply mild physical coercion should she resist”

“Very good, mein herr,” Martin said and pointed towards the open elevator door. He tried to place a hand on the Princess’ shoulder, but she squirmed away and, defeated, walked out of the room, regretting not having had a chance to better study the painting that had caught her eye earlier. Martin followed her.

Emboldened by the departure of the aggressive newcomer, the scaredy table elephant climbed out of the drawer and went back to its elephantine duties.

“You’re a silly little beast, aren’t you?” Von Schmidt asked the elephant.

The elephant wasn’t offended. How could it be? It was, after all, a silly little beast that spoke no German at all.