The General’s eyes flashed a lightning-flicker of anger, and Margaret realised that she had almost overstepped her bounds here; despite his pretensions toward politeness and gentleness, this was a man who did not appreciate his authority being challenged. However, as quickly as his rage had flared up it seemed to retreat and subside.
‘As I said,’ he replied with a stony face, ‘all will be explained to you in good time. We will need your medical expertise soon. Until then, do not try to push me for explanations.’
The General did not need to say anything else; he had delivered his message with just enough of an edge of menace to drive home the solidity of his threat. They walked into the palace and entered what must once have been an expansive stone courtyard or parade ground, but which had now been converted into a lush garden, rich with life. A variety of exotic flowers and fruits added resplendent splashes of colour to the bountiful greenery, and iridescent hummingbirds, garishly coloured parrots, and other beautiful birds flitted freely about amongst the dwarf trees and shrubs.
‘This is really quite beautiful,’ Margaret murmured, genuinely impressed.
The General smiled and paused to admire the garden.
‘It is one of my hobbies, growing things; I do love plants, Dr Green. Well, I love all life, all living things, of course, but I do find it especially calming and therapeutic to work in this garden. Yes, this is my refuge, my sanctuary, my place of retreat from the myriad pressures and stresses I must deal with on a daily basis. I spend as much time communing with the plants here as I can, but sadly, I am mostly occupied with … other … affairs.’
The General led Margaret through the garden, which featured many maze-like paths, and took her along a winding trail up a gentle slope. At the end of it they came to a thick wooden door, reinforced with steel, which was guarded by a teenage soldier armed with an AK-47. The boy saluted stiffly to the General and opened the door for them. Inside was a steep spiral staircase that seemed to go up forever, and Margaret was quite out of breath by the time they reached the top of it.
‘Are you all right?’ the General asked, genuinely concerned as Margaret huffed and puffed her way up the last of the stairs before stumbling onto the landing, which led to a long, broad corridor with many doors.
‘I’m just … unfit,’ she gasped. ‘I-, I haven’t been able to keep up with my y-, yoga and jogging since I’ve been out here in the C-, Congo. I’m fine though … I’m fine.’
‘If you are sure of this,’ the General said, raising an eyebrow, somewhat unconvinced. ‘Well, we are almost there anyway. Follow me; it’s just down here.’ He led her to one of the doors about halfway down the passage and stepped inside. ‘Come Dr Green, it’s this room.’
A wide window provided a spectacular view of the half-forest, half-stone city without, illuminated all over by the rainbow hues of the bioluminescent fungi, while ancient aqueducts piped water all throughout the city, including directly into her room. From brass fittings shaped like hippopotami and crocodiles fresh water gushed into a smooth basin carved from the same black river rock with which the roads were paved. There was also a large bed, and a closet, a desk and a chair, and an iron bathtub. The General pointed out a bookshelf, packed with a range of books, near the bed.
‘You will find a great number of interesting books in there. There is both fiction and non-fiction, and all of it has been hand-picked by myself. As you may notice while perusing the titles, I have a great love for the classics, yes, a great love for stories and characters that transcend history! I do, however, appreciate some more modern works as well; I am not a literary snob by any means, although I do draw a line at the dross that constitutes the majority of today’s commercial fiction. Still, I hope I have provided a broad enough range to keep your interest piqued and your mind stimulated.’
‘Thanks,’ Margaret murmured.
All of the furniture in the room was quite modern and new, except for the bathtub, which looked like a relic from the Victorian age.
‘I apologise for the inconsistency of styles,’ the General said. ‘The K’Nganwa did not bathe privately, as is customary in our times, and thus there were no bathtubs in this city. They all washed communally in the river, which is what my troops and I do. I have made some concessions to our customs, however, to accommodate foreign visitors such as yourself.’
Margaret almost said something when she heard the word ‘visitor’, but she forced herself to hold her tongue.
‘Thank you,’ she replied cautiously. ‘I, I appreciate this.’
She was careful to suppress any thoughts of discontent or anger, for she remembered how, when she had first met the General, he had slipped inside her mind with such effortless ease; she had to be extremely cautious around him, which was unsettling and quite frightening to say the least. Indeed, she felt utterly naked before him, in a way that she never had with any other person. Person. She wondered if that was the correct term to use, for it had become blatantly clear that neither he nor his child soldiers could be considered entirely human. What they were, exactly, she still did not know – and this bothered her, a woman of science and medicine, immensely.
‘Please, lie down and relax,’ the General said, breaking Margaret’s spell of contemplation. ‘I will send one of my troops up to fill the bath and heat the water. She will also bring you a change of clothes. I am aware of how you feel about soldiers and anything to do with violence and war, but I am afraid that the only clothes that I can spare for the moment are
