The Magician King Read Online Free PDF Page B

map painted on the table. “I don’t see it.”
    Quentin studied the map too. On his first visit to Fillory he’d sailed deep into the Western Sea, on the other side of the Fillorian continent, but his knowledge of the east was pretty sketchy.
    “It’s not big enough.” She pointed to Julia’s lap. “That’s where it would be if we had a bigger table.”
    Quentin tried to imagine it: a little slip of white tropical sand, embellished with a decorative palm tree, embedded in an ocean of blue-green calm.
    “Have you been there?” Eliot said.
    “No one’s ever been there. It’s just a dot on the map. Somebody started a fishing colony there after his ship collided with it like a million years ago. Why are we talking about the Outer Island?”
    Eliot went back to his papers. “Looks like they haven’t paid their taxes in a couple of years.”
    “So?” Janet said. “Probably that’s because they don’t have any money.”
    “Send them a telegram,” Quentin said. “DEAR OUTER ISLANDERS STOP SEND MONEY STOP IF YOU HAVE NO MONEY THEN DO NOT SEND MONEY STOP.”
    The meeting flagged while Eliot and Janet tried to outdo each other in composing the most useless possible telegram to the Outer Islanders.
    “All right,” Eliot said. The turning tower had rotated to where the flaming Fillorian sunset lit up the sky behind him. Ladders of pink cloud were stacked up above his shoulders. “I’ll lean on the Fenwicks about Jollyby. Janet will speak to the Lorians.” He waved vaguely. “And somebody will do something about the Outer Island. Who wants scotch?”
    “I’ll go,” Quentin said.
    “It’s just there on the sideboard.”
    “No, I mean to the Outer Island. I’ll go there. I’ll see about the taxes.”
    “What?” Eliot sounded annoyed by the idea. “Why? It’s the ass end of nowhere. And anyway, it’s a treasury matter. We’ll send an emissary. That’s what emissaries are for.”
    “Send me instead.”
    Quentin couldn’t have said what the impulse was exactly, he just knew that he had to do something. He thought of the circular meadow and the broken clock-tree and the film clip of Jollyby dying started up again. What was the point of all this when you could just drop dead, just like that? That’s what he wanted to know. What was even the fucking point?
    “You know,” Janet said, “we’re not invading it. We don’t need to send a king to the Outer Island. They haven’t paid their taxes, which by the way is like eight fish. They’re not exactly powering the whole economy.”
    “I’ll be back before you know it.” He could already tell he’d gotten it right. The tension inside him broke as soon as he said it. Relief was flooding through him, at what he didn’t even know. “Who knows, maybe I’ll learn something.”
    This would be his quest: collecting taxes from a bunch of backwater yokels. He had skipped the adventure of the broken tree, and that was fine. He would have this one instead.
    “Could look weak, with the Jollyby thing.” Eliot fingered his royal chin. “You taking off at the first sign of trouble.”
    “I’m a king. It’s not like they’re going to not re-elect me.”
    “Wait,” Janet said. “You didn’t kill Jollyby, did you? Is that what this is about?”
    “Janet!” Eliot said.
    “No, really. It would all fit together—”
    “I didn’t kill Jollyby,” Quentin said.
    “All right. Fine. Great.” Eliot ticked the item off on his agenda. “Outer Island, check. That’s it then.”
    “Well, I hope you’re not going alone,” Janet said. “God knows what they’re like out there. It could be Captain Cook all over again.”
    “I’ll be fine,” Quentin said. “Julia’s coming with me. Right, Julia?”
    Eliot and Janet both stared at him. How long had it been since he surprised those two? Or anybody? He must be on to something. He smiled at Julia, and she looked back at him, though with her all-black pupils her expression was unreadable.
    “Of