Kim Possible belongs to Disney.
THE MONKEY'S VALET
Chapter 1
"Bates, I think I will travel to Congo."
Bates didn't lift his eyes from the tea he was serving, but if he had, he would have seen his master sitting in a comfortable armchair, wearing the smoking jacket good old Aunt Clarissa had sent for Christmas and gazing absent-mindedly at the large portrait above the fireplace.
"Truly, milord? What for?" the valet asked as he put down the teapot.
Lord Monty Fiske reached out to take a cup, but he didn't drink. There was a small smile playing on his lips, an expression that Bates had often seen mirrored on the face of the man's late father. He couldn't help glancing up to the portrait, but the man he saw there had not been smiling when it had been painted.
"I was doing research for the museum when I came across an old text about four mystical monkey statues that, according to the legend, can give whoever possesses them enormous power. That is rubbish, of course, but there is practically nothing known about the culture that created them, and I think they would make a marvellous addition to the museum's collection," Fiske replied.
"Ah, monkeys," Bates said. That was another thing the father and the son shared and something he couldn't say he understood. Though the younger Fiske had not chosen to follow his father's footsteps as a zoologist, he had the same fascination with everything simian, much to Bates's occasional displeasure.
"Indeed," Fiske said, finally tasting the tea.
"I will make the proper arrangements, milord," Bates said.
"I trust you will be accompanying me, then?" Fiske asked, though they both knew the answer already.
"Of course," Bates replied.
His family had served the Fiskes for as long as they could trace back their history. The earliest records that talked about the Fiske family also mentioned their faithful servants, and there had been no disruptions in the lines over the centuries. A Fiske was always accompanied by a Bates.
Maybe that was why it felt so fitting that the two of them would probably bring this tradition to the end together. Bates's wife had died before they had had any children and he was now past his prime, and Lord Fiske had never shown any desire to settle down and start a family. It was a pity and Bates was certain that their fathers would have frowned upon them, but this arrangement of living alone with Lord Fiske had become such a normal routine that he couldn't imagine anything else.
"Good. I have already talked with the curator. We'll travel next week once we're done with the arrangements of that Nubian exhibition," Fiske said. He rose from the chair and walked over to the large window that gave them a view of the open landscape around the castle. There wasn't a single soul to be seen outside and while it was a rare sunny day for that time of the year, it didn't make their empty surroundings any more cheerful.
That was one thing that Bates immensely disliked about the old castle. He enjoyed the buzz of people and conversation around him, but the Fiske castle was located a fine distance away from the nearest town, leaving him and his master in almost complete isolation. The valet thought he faired rather well and his trips to the town contributed greatly to that effect, but he was sometimes worried that his master couldn't take the loneliness quite as well.
Lord Fiske was a hard-working nature and whenever he set his mind on something, he wouldn't have peace until he had achieved his goal, no matter the cost or strain. For most of his life, this quality had worked in his favour and let him become a respected archaeologist and expert on everything simian at a relatively young age, but as he grew older, the stress of being so passionate about something was starting to take its toll. His smiles had become rarer and he spent more and more time alone, too captivated by his research to notice the real world around him.
Bates was of the opinion that a holiday in some warm and sunny resort would have done wonders for his master, but Lord Fiske was very stubborn in that regard, only travelling when there was work, and thus he never got any rest. Despite this, Bates was happy to hear that they would be going to Congo. Africa had always been close to Lord Fiske's heart and he seemed a little happier and more relaxed there.
"Have you already discovered the location of the statues?" he questioned.
Fiske tore his eyes from the window to glance at him over his shoulder. "According to my research, the statues were separated and moved to hidden temples around the world. The first one should be somewhere in the Congolese jungles," he said.
"We're going exploring, then," Bates guessed. He didn't personally much care for that activity because it was exhausting, insects usually took a liking to him, and the fact that he couldn't keep their clothes spotless or cook a good meal every day was unnatural to him. His master liked it, though, which was why the valet endured the experience, even if he had to voice his opinion every now and then.
Fiske chuckled. "Yes. This time you should remember that bringing along a full saucepan set is not the most productive of ideas," he said.
"I'll keep it in mind, milord," Bates replied, not allowing himself to be pulled in to the joke.
"Do lighten up, Bates," Fiske remarked from the window and turned completely around. "When was the last time we set foot into the uninhabited thickness?"
"I believe it was last May when you discovered that buried temple and almost broke your arm, milord," Bates said. He lifted up the tea service to take it away.
"Ah, yes. That was a funny little adventure, wasn't it?"
"If I may be so bold, I'd ask you to be more careful next time. Finding these mystical monkey statues is hardly worth that much trouble," Bates said as he prepared leaving for the kitchen.
"I suppose you're correct," Lord Fiske replied, but he did it in such a carefree and reassuring way that Bates knew his master wasn't being serious. He sighed inwardly as he exited the room and closed the door behind him. Something was telling him that this trip would be just like all the others; endless problems and looking after Lord Fiske when he got so excited about something that he forgot to be careful.
In that one regard, he supposed his master would never grow up.
"These beasts must have acquired a taste for cranberry jam," Bates said as he tried to shoo a dozen mosquitoes away from his face, but they always came back in a blink and filled his ears with intolerable buzzing.
"Good. We ate the last of it this morning, so we shouldn't have to worry about them tomorrow," Lord Fiske replied from ahead of him.
Bates only grunted at that and let his hand fall to his side, realising that there was nothing he could do about the constant bother but accept it. He looked enviously at his master who didn't seem affected by the insect bites at all. Lord Fiske could be a very impatient man sometimes, but when it came to something he was passionate about, he could endure anything.
The jungle around them was thick with undergrowth and the trees didn't let much sunlight through, leaving them in constant dimness. They had left the latest village almost a week ago and had travelled south, deep into the jungle. Apart from the mosquitoes, their journey had been rather uneventful, even boring, though they had encountered a group of chimps but hadn't had the time to take a closer look at them.
Bates thought longingly back to the simple beds they had been offered in the village. He hadn't thought much of them back then, but now he would have given anything to be back there instead of here where it was hot, where he was being eaten alive and where every part of his body ached and was sweaty.
"How far do you think we still have to go?" he asked.
"Not far, I suppose. We already passed the marker stone that was mentioned in my papers," Fiske said. Though his master had to be tired as well, Bates couldn't detect any wariness in his voice. The man's quality to be so cheerful when facing trouble was only equalled by the dry frustration that always took over him when he encountered a disappointment. Bates could imagine that if they didn't find the monkey statue, the trip back home would become even more bothersome with Lord Fiske sulking to himself.
"That was two days ago, milord," he pointed out.
"Well, the map was drawn by a Belgian general who was also a habitual drunkard. We can't expect it to be very accurate," Fiske said.
Bates grumbled something about how the two of them were getting too old for this kind of misadventures, but as much as he would have rather been anywhere else, he was glad for that his master finally having fun again. For almost the entire past year, Lord Fiske had been busy dealing with the bureaucracy of the British Museum and some nations that were demanding them to give back the treasures that had been taken from them in the past.
"It is a difficult situation," Fiske had told him one evening. "Our fathers did steal them and destroyed quite a lot of local culture in the process, but the museum cannot afford to give them back. Then everyone would start demanding their own, and where would that leave us?"
Bates didn't even pretend that he knew anything about the morals connected to archaeology, so he hadn't taken any stance on the issue, merely remarked something about how he was certain the situation would resolve itself soon enough.
"I suggested that we could borrow the items and give the original owners a small sum of the entry fees, but I don't think anyone will be happy with that. Having them at the museum is a matter of personal status for everyone, and for the Nigerians they're an essential part of their identity," Fiske had blabbered on, tapping his chin with his pipe and not caring that Bates wasn't actively taking part in the conversation.
These stressful matters had had a part in that Lord Fiske had been more tired than usual for the past few months, but there was no evident sign of that now. He was striding on with long confident steps, forcing the shorter Bates to hurry up and never giving him enough time to catch his breath. The valet hadn't seen his master frown or stare into distance even once after they had set foot on African soil.
"Then what if he imagined the whole thing?" he asked.
"Hardly possible, as d'Hert was not an expert on anything but drink and how to best ruin his family's reputation. His description of the statue, however, is quite vivid, so he must have seen it himself," Lord Fiske said.
"What if it's not there anymore? Anyone could have gone and taken it," Bates pointed out.
"We'll see that in a minute," Fiske said, and at first Bates thought it was merely a counter comment, but then he saw what his master had already spotted. About fifty feet away from them stood something that looked like a small hill at the first glance but was in actuality a small shrine, so covered in vines and leaves that it was almost impossible to detect. A massive tree had broken through one wall with its roots.
It didn't look like a very promising sight to Bates. Even if the statue was still inside, their chances of finding it and bringing it out were rather slim. He glanced at his master, but Lord Fiske's face showed none of his own doubts. Instead, he was staring at the temple with the excitement of a child, and Bates had to shake his head. Sometimes he thought Fiske's passion bordered on obsession.
"It doesn't look like it'll be safe to enter it. The temple could collapse any minute," he observed.
"Nonsense. It has stood here for centuries, it's not going to fall now. And besides, the undergrowth that has penetrated it is also supporting the walls," Lord Fiske said.
"I'm not sure about that. I still think it's too dangerous," Bates insisted.
"Now, which one of us had the degree in Archaeology again, Bates?"
"My apologies," Bates said, giving in under the annoyed glare of his master's blue eyes. Knowing that it was impossible to talk with Lord Fiske at a moment like this, he stepped back and slipped his bag of his shoulders, grunting in relief at the lifted weight. He stretched his hurting back and wondered how many similar escapades it could take.
The jungle was a bit more open near the temple so they had a clear view at the sky which was already showing brushes of yellow and orange. Bates knew it wouldn't take more than a couple of hours before they were engulfed by darkness, so he started building a camp and preparing something to eat while Lord Fiske inspected the temple.
He was so caught up in these mundane tasks that he failed to keep a proper eye on what his master was doing, so he did a surprised jump when he suddenly heard his name being called out. He turned towards the temple, but Lord Fiske was nowhere in sight.
"Milord? Where are you?" he asked as he got up on his feet and walked to the temple. He could see that vines had been moved out of the way and that a curiously shaped doorway had been revealed. Half of it lay collapsed, but with disdain he measured that the hole inside was big enough for his master to crawl through.
"I decided to take a look inside. Hand me a torch, will you?" came a voice from inside the temple. A few moments later, Fiske appeared.
"Right away, milord," Bates said, but he couldn't quite keep the irritated tone down. Lord Fiske could have at least told him what he had been up to. What if the temple had, or would collapse? He shouldn't have entered it before they had secured it properly.
If Fiske noticed how annoyed his servant was, he said nothing about it. He took the electric torch into his eagerly awaiting hands and crawled back inside, leaving Bates alone again. The valet eyed the temple warily, only now noticing that it was built into the shape of a monkey's head.
What a thrill it must be for him, he thought dryly. Monkeys and archaeology together!
"Do you see anything, milord?" he called out.
Fiske's voice sounded muffled as he replied, "I think I've found some ancient death traps, but they seem to be out of order because of the damage. My, I think this poison is still lethal! Fascinating!"
"Please be careful," Bates said, though he knew there was no point. His master wouldn't listen anyway.
Though he called out again, there was no answer for the next fifteen minutes, and for a brief moment Bates thought his master had discovered a trap that did work after all these years, but his fears were put to rest when a triumphant cry reached his ears.
"I found it!"
"Do you need help, milord?" Bates asked and peered into the monkey's mouth. He could see the faint light of a torch in the distance, and he didn't feel very confident about stepping in.
"No, I think I can take care of this myself," Fiske replied from the depths of the temple.
He emerged a few moments later, dragging something large and heavy behind him. Bates offered a hand and together they got the statue out. Fiske pointed the light of the torch at it.
"Marvellous, isn't it?" he asked.
"Quite," Bates said, though he wasn't very impressed by the statue and the mad smile on its face. It didn't look like very valuable or special to him, and he could easily imagine similar ones being sold at every tourist attraction all over Africa.
"It was a stroke of luck that the traps were out of order, or getting this would have been very difficult," Fiske said. He was covered in dirt and scratches all over, but he was wearing an almost goofy grin as he looked at the statue, as if it was the greatest achievement of his life.
"And the museum will be interested in this?" Bates asked doubtfully.
"As soon as I'm done researching it, I'm sure they will," Fiske replied.
They moved to the camp Bates had built and the valet made a small fire. He was still annoyed by that his master had gone ahead and taken needless risks without telling him about it, so he kept silent as he started boiling water for them. Fiske didn't seem bothered by this, and his attention was completely captured by the grinning statue.
After a while, the silence started getting on Bates's nerves. He was used to Lord Fiske babbling away and boring everyone to death with historical details whenever he discovered something, and this unnatural sulking made his irritation turn into worry.
"Is there something wrong, milord?" he asked.
Fiske hesitated for a moment and then replied, "When I was inside, I noticed something odd about the statue."
"What, milord?"
Fiske rubbed his chin, never turning his eyes away from the subject of their conversation. "I don't know. It was almost as if there was someone else there, or maybe something, and for a moment I thought our friend here was watching me," he said.
"Your senses must have played a trick on you. Maybe this will make you reconsider your cousin's offer about that weekend at his seaside manor," Bates said. He eyed his master carefully, wondering if it was possible that he was cracking under the stress.
Lord Fiske chuckled at that. "I'm afraid spending more than a minute with Cecil would drive me insane," he said.
Bates could agree on that, but he didn't want to start a discussion that would make him say anything negative about a member of the family.
"What was the myth about this statue again? That it could give you some Magical Monkey Power?" he asked.
"Mystical Monkey Power," Fiske corrected him. He turned his eyes back to the statue, frowning to himself. "Mystical Monkey Power," he said again, lowering his voice in thought.
Bates said nothing to that, but he found that his eyes were also drawn to the statue, and for a moment he could only watch as the flickering fire made shadows dance on the monkey's face.
In case someone is wondering, this is not the end. Stay tuned for more.