Chasing the Phoenix Read Free

jumbo.”
    â€œThen I shall simply stand out of your way.”
    The soldier raised his spider’s cab to its full height and it strode down the road.
    In its wake, a second spider topped the hill, and behind that a third. One by one, over forty such vehicles sped lightly past Surplus and Capable Servant, who stared after them until all had disappeared in the distance.
    â€œHave I seen what I saw, or was it all a dream?” one of them asked.
    â€œA dream, surely,” said the other. “And yet it seemed so real.”
    Marveling, they resumed their journey.
    *   *   *
    IN THOUGHTFUL silence Surplus and his new servant made their way through the countryside to the edge of a small but tidy village. There they were directed to a thatched hut with a single flowering magnolia in the dirt dooryard. Chickens scratched about among the sparse weeds. It seemed a highly unlikely place to find an illustrious man of medicine.
    At a nod from Surplus, Capable Servant knocked on the door.
    A white-bearded man, bent over with age and leaning on a stick whose support he clearly needed, answered the knock, frowning. “Go away,” he said, and slammed the door.
    The two excludees looked at one another. Then Capable Servant knocked a second time.
    Again, the ancient opened the door.
    â€œBrave news, oh renowned Infallible Physician!” Capable Servant said, beaming. “My master, the Sir Blackthorpe Ravenscairn de Plus Precieux of the Land of the Green Mountains of the West, has come to consult with you and to avail himself of your considerable and accomplished skills.”
    From the corner of his eye, Surplus saw neighbors peering out of their windows and children climbing up on fences to gawk. He raised his head to emphasize his canine profile and twitched his tail so that all might see it was real.
    The Infallible Physician stepped aside from his door. “Very well,” he said. “Enter, if you must.”
    *   *   *
    â€œBRIGHT PEARL!” the old man shouted into the darkness. “Guest! Make tea! My daughter,” he said to Surplus. “Almost useless. Very lazy.”
    A middle-aged woman appeared in the kitchen doorway, bowed quickly, disappeared again.
    Infallible Physician sat, and Surplus followed suit. After a polite pause to give his host the opportunity to speak, Surplus said, “Sir, I have come seeking your—”
    â€œI am the best doctor there is,” the Infallible Physician said. “But I cannot help you.” He laughed sharply. “You look like a dog! No cure for that.”
    Careful not to let his annoyance show, Surplus said, “I have no desire to deny my ancestry, sir. Your services are required not by me but by my friend. In Mongolia, he caught one of the war viruses that still linger from the mad times following the fall of Utopia. To save him, the doctors there swiftly and painlessly put him to death. Then, before putrefaction could set in, they wrapped around his body a silver exoskeleton, a revenant of antiquity, which (and this may sound incredible, but I saw it with my own two eyes) sank beneath his skin like butter melting into toast, leaving neither scar nor incision behind. Finally, they injected him with drugs and packed his body cavities with herbs. Together, these things preserve him in perfect stasis, dead but not deteriorating. One week in this state, they assured me, would be enough to starve the virus, thus destroying it. Unfortunately, while they could preserve his body, they had long ago forgotten how to resurrect it.”
    â€œI see,” the Infallible Physician said.
    â€œSir, your fame has spread far from the Abundant Kingdom. The Mongolian doctors told me that what they could not do, you and you alone assuredly could. This is why I have sought you out. Will you help me?”
    â€œAh.” The old man nodded and fell into silence again.
    â€œSir? Please tell me that my long