The Eyes of the Dragon - Stephen King [56]
Let us instead think of Thomas for a while, and see what happened when he recovered his wits and discovered that he was King of Delain.
No," Thomas whispered in a voice that was utterly horrified.
His eyes had grown huge in his pale face. His mouth trembled. Flagg had just told him that he was King of Delain, but Thomas did not look like a boy who has been told he is the King; he looked like a boy who has been told he is to be shot in the morning. "No," he said again. "I don't want to be King."
It was true. All his life he had been bitterly jealous of Peter, but one thing he had never been jealous of was Peter's coming ascension to the throne. That was a responsibility Thomas had never in his wildest dreams wished for. And now one nightmare was piled on top of another. It seemed it wasn't enough that he had awakened to the news that his brother had been imprisoned in the Needle for the murder of their father, the King. Now here was Flagg, with the appalling news that he was King in Peter's place.
"No, I don't want to be King, I won't be King. I I refuse!
I UTTERLY REFUSE! Ť
"You can't refuse, Thomas," Flagg said briskly. He had decided this was the best line to take with Thomas: friendly but brisk. Thomas needed Flagg more now than he had ever needed anyone in his whole life. Flagg knew this, but he also knew that he was uniquely at Thomas's mercy. He would be wild and skittish for a time, apt to do anything, and care would have to be taken to establish a firm hold over the boy here at the outset.
You need me, Tommy, but it would be a very bad mistake for me to tell you that. No, you must say it to me. There must be no question about who is in charge. Not now, not ever.
"Can't refuse?" Thomas whispered. He had jerked upright on his elbows at Flagg's awful news. Now he fell weakly back on his pillows again. "Can't? I feel weak again. I think the fever's coming back. Send for the doctor. I might need to be bled. I-"
"You're fine," Flagg said, standing up. "I've filled you full of good medicine, your fever's gone, and all you want is a little fresh air to finish the job. But if you need a doctor to tell you the same thing, Tommy" (Flagg let the smallest note of reproach creep into his voice), "then you need only to pull the bell."
Flagg pointed at the bell and smiled a little. It was not a terribly kind smile.
"I understand your urge to hide in your bed, but I wouldn't be your friend unless I told you that any refuge you sense in your bed or in trying to stay sick, is a false refuge."
"False?"
"I advise you to get up and begin working at getting your strength back. You're to be crowned with royal pomp and ceremony in three days' time. Being carried up the aisle in your bed to the platform where Peyna will stand with the crown and scepter would be a humiliating way to start a kingly reign, but if it comes to that, I assure you they will do it. Headless kingdoms are uneasy kingdoms. Peyna means to see you crowned as soon as possible."
Thomas lay on his pillows, trying to absorb this information. He was rabbit-eyed with fear.
Flagg grabbed his red-lined cloak from the bedpost, swirled it over his shoulders, and hooked its gold chain at his neck. Next he took a silver-headed cane from the corner. He flourished it, crossed his waist with it, and made a large bow in Thomas's direction. The cloak the hat the cane these things scared Thomas. Here had come a terrible time when he needed Flagg more than he had ever needed him before, and Flagg looked dressed for for
He looks dressed for gaveling.
His panic of a few moments ago was only a minor scare in comparison with the frightful cold hands which seized Thomas's heart now.
"And now, dear Tommy, I wish you a healthy disposition all of your life, all the cheer your heart can stand, a long, prosperous reign and goodbye!"