In the Palace of the Khans by Peter Dickinson Read Free Book Online

been doing something sneaky, behind your back …”
    He ran out of words and waited. His right hand was trembling. He couldn’t stop it.
    â€œMy daughter appears to like you,” said the President. “She has asked you to return tomorrow?”
    (How …? Oh yes, of course. Mr. Dikhtar must have told him.)
    â€œâ€¦ er … Yes, sir … If that’s all right.”
    â€œI asked you to play chess with me to see if you knew enough about the game to teach her. She is anxious to learn and I do not have the time.”
    â€œI’ll try if you like, sir.”
    â€œAnd what do you propose to tell your parents about our game?”
    â€œI’ll say … I’ll say we were still slogging it out when something came up and you had to go.”
    The President nodded and turned to the door, but paused with his hand on the doorknob.
    â€œWe will play again soon,” he said. “And you will play your best. No ‘cheating’. And I will beat you.”
    Nigel sighed, shuddered, and finished putting the pieces back in the box. Jet-lag swept over him with a rush, but by the time Mr. Dikhtar came to take him down to the car his hands had almost stopped trembling.
    He got his favourite meal for supper, grilled lamb chops, with chips and French beans and mushrooms. His mother had cooked it herself, to make sure the embassy’s Dirzhani chef didn’t mess it up with spices and sauces, but it all seemed to be subtly different from what it would have been in England. Surely a French bean is a French bean wherever you eat it, but these seemed to be French with a Dirzhani accent. His father was working late downstairs and didn’t come in to supper till Nigel was well into his second helping.
    â€œAt last!” said his mother. “I’ve been bursting to know how Nigel got on at the palace, but it didn’t seem fair to ask him to tell us twice.”
    â€œSuits me,” said his father. “Reheats are seldom as good as the original dish. Well, Niggles, what did you make of the girl?”
    â€œNo, start at the beginning,” said his mother. “Rick dropped you at the door and saw you taken inside, he says. Then what?”
    Nigel took them through it in detail. His mother interrupted with questions and comments, about the eagles, for instance: “That’s an outrage! Those magnificent birds, shut up in a mews!”
    â€œIt’s probably the most effective way of protecting them,” said his father. “Shepherds are going to think twice about putting out poison bait for the Khan’s birds. Go on, Niggles. No, wait. I take it that apart from that interesting comment about the video you didn’t discuss much by way of matters of state.”
    â€œHe isn’t there as a British spy, Nick! Absolutely not! I’d never have agreed …”
    â€œAs you say, absolutely not. But neither is he there as a channel through which the President can pass on information, or more likely misinformation, to me. If anything of that kind were to come up, I don’t want to know about it. I think in fact the President will co-operate.
    â€œAnd since we’re on the subject, about your blog—odious word—Niggles, I think you’d better not say anything about your visit to the palace.”
    â€œOh, but.…”
    â€œIt isn’t just that there’s a lot of people back home who wouldn’t be happy about the idea of the British ambassador cosying up with a ruthless dictator …”
    â€œThat’s how I feel,” said Nigel’s mother.
    â€œâ€¦ I’ve a fine line to tread right here. Because of the dam project it is important that I should be on reasonable terms with him, but it is equally important that I shouldn’t give the Russians the slightest excuse for claiming that I’m in any way close to him. Since the war in Georgia they’ve become increasingly hostile to anything that