Monkey Wars by Richard Kurti Read Free Book Online

subordinate.
    They both looked at Mico, who was desperately trying to hide his nausea. For one dreadful moment, he thought he had betrayed his doubts.
    “You got a problem with that?” the lead elite said darkly, looming toward Mico.
    “Epic,” mimicked Mico, snapping to his senses. “Epic.”
    It was enough to assuage their pride. The lead elite bent down and patted Mico on the head. “Now run along and eat your fruit. One day, if you grow big enough, you can be just like us.”
    Mico nodded obediently, then turned and hurried away.
    He had his answers all right, but they had only made everything worse.
    Now Mico knew for sure that what he’d witnessed was murder. Cold-blooded murder. And somewhere a rhesus family had been left without a father.

B uilt around a long, formal pool, the Great Vault was the largest and most luxurious mausoleum in the cemetery. As soon as the sun climbed over the walls and the shadows of the tamarind branches retreated, the waters warmed to the perfect temperature for bathing.
    Several seasons had passed since the langur had occupied the cemetery, and in that time the Great Vault had become not just Gospodar’s personal residence, but also the heart of his empire. Monkeys came here to receive orders and to volunteer for service; they gathered to celebrate births and to honor retiring soldiers; sometimes they simply came to share gossip. Gospodar had even instructed Trumble to draw up a rota so that twice a moon, every monkey in the troop could bathe in the soothing waters.
    At certain times, however, the pool was set aside for the exclusive use of the Ruling Council. They were meant to discuss “big strategy,” but in practice the leaders were quickly seduced by the relaxing waters and wonderful fruits from Gospodar’s private store.
    The Ruling Council was small but powerful, comprising of Lord Gospodar, the Deputies Tyrell and Hani, General Pogo, plus one ordinary monkey whose job was to voice the concerns of the common langurs. Between them, these monkeys controlled the troop.
    General Pogo was responsible for the military (cadets, footsoldiers and elites). Deputy Hani looked after internal affairs, ensuring the efficient organization of the troop’s resources and the quick resolution of disputes, while Deputy Tyrell was in charge of external affairs. It was his job to find out what was going on in the world outside the cemetery, and he seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.
    Tyrell was good at his job, but there was a personal price to pay. He was not a popular monkey, which explained why he now found himself alone in the shady waters of the pool. While Gospodar, Hani and General Pogo laughed and joked as they were served fruit by two pretty young monkeys, Tyrell sat silent and tense, watching.
    There was something disconcerting about the way Tyrell observed his fellow council members. He looked at them the way the street chess players looked at their pieces, assessing which could be sacrificed and which had to be protected, endlessly running through the permutations of power.
    It was an intellectual killer instinct that Tyrell had honed in his infancy. Because he had been born small, other youngsters spurned him—even his parents were disappointed in him. But scorn was fuel for the young Tyrell, powering a ruthless determination to prove everyone wrong. By skillfully wielding his sharp mind, he had been able to outmaneuver rivals, win the trust of those in power and make himself indispensable, until the day came when Gospodar promoted him to deputy.
    It had been a long, tricky climb to get a seat in this pool, and Tyrell was determined to hang on to it.
    Summoning one of the young females, he took a papaya from her and waded over to where Gospodar sat bathing in the sunshine.
    “Ripened to perfection, my lord,” he said as he offered Gospodar the fruit. The lord ruler smiled and started eating.
    “Mmmm. As always, your analysis is perfect.” Gospodar took a few more