Orion Shall Rise (56 page)

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Authors: Poul Anderson

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BOOK: Orion Shall Rise
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Silence prevailed for a space. It was not that these individuals did not know each other. Members of leadership classes normally do. Rather, it was as if nobody wished to speak out, lest that make every restraint crumble.

Talence Hald Tireur, who had traveled the farthest, broke through: ‘The question is simple. How much more outrage are we going to tolerate from that usurper?’

‘Hold, hold,’ said Dykenskyt Zhan Hannes in some alarm. ‘I realize you at Beynac have a special grievance –’

‘Not only us. Ask anywhere in Dordoyn. We could not have turned Jovain’s appointed lackey away if we didn’t have the whole country behind us.’

‘But outright rebellion –’

‘I am not talking about that, sir. I am talking about a convention of the Clan Seniors, to vote Jovain out of office.’

Lundgard Simo Ayson thumped the table. ‘Will the swine allow a convention to meet? Will he obey if it does? He has Skyholm.’

Vosmaer Tess Rayman gave him a look partly cynical, partly compassionate. After all, he was a cousin of Jovain’s cast-off wife, Irmali. ‘He does not necessarily have the military,’ she said. ‘In fact, isn’t that what this meeting is about?’

Arnec’s colleague, Sozen III, Mestrogoat of eastern Brezh, shook his troubled head. ‘Not so, Colonel,’ he replied. ‘The problem goes deeper. I listen to my commoners. Bad enough that Ileduciel means to support a cause away off in Angleylann that they see as pagan, subversive of rightness. They can suffer it as a move in a political game they have never wanted or pretended to understand. But an impeachment – the saints falling out among each other – that would shake them to the heart. They would ask why Ar-Goat should stay in the Domain.’

‘Unless they had an acceptable successor, someone who ought to have been Captain after Toma,’ said Kroneberg Stef Lanier excitedly; and he was the brother of Rosenn, who was the foster mother of Talence Iern Ferlay. ‘Wherever he is – Or if he’s dead, as seems too likely, well, then, won’t your pysans agree to punishing his murderers and installing a righteous new Captain?’

‘Who should that person be?’ Dykenskyt Zhan Hannes gave Talence Hald Tireur a dour glance. ‘We’re seeing what amounts to mutiny, if not outright secession … thus far.’ In haste: ‘Mind you, I agree we should not allow the mobilization to occur. We need a united front to get that order countermanded. But neither can we let regionalism get out of hand.’

A portly groundling, who was a well-traveled merchant prince, rumbled: ‘I’m naturally concerned about a disruption of trade, but believe me, I’m more concerned about the possible disruption of the Domain.
Can
the military cadre refuse to assemble their units and meet “if negotiations fail,” as I understand the order says? If
they do, isn’t that the true rebellion?’

‘Maybe things won’t go so far,’ suggested the Grand Mayor of Elsass. Her tone was more wistful than hopeful. ‘Maybe our best course at present is simply to temporize, do nothing.’

Vosmaer Tess Rayman cleared her throat. ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ she answered. ‘You see, matters are already in train. We’re already being used, as a menace to Devon. If we acquiesce – Well, but let’s think a minute. Who are “we”? Of course, I can’t speak for every soldier, sailor, and flyer, but I know that they are not a few who’d rally around for a curbing of the Captaincy. We are the professionals, the skeleton and minimal muscle of the services. We depend on our reservists for the real flesh, when they’re called up in an emergency. Now, they’re not many either; the Domain hasn’t faced a serious threat for centuries. And they have their homeland ties and loyalties, the same as most of the cadre do. And they’re not stupid.’

She looked around the table. ‘It seems plain to me,’ she said, ‘Jovain is less interested in protecting a handful of Gaean preachers – less interested in “the sanctity of treaties,” however many words he
issues
about how our commerce and safety depend on it – less in any of that, than in providing a diversion. Bring the services, the men and women trained in fighting, together. If he can send them off on a foreign adventure, fine. If not, at least they’ll be assembled, vulnerable to Skyholm – not scattered among their folk, potential nuclei of guerrilla bands. Meanwhile, his Terran Guard and political agents will tighten his hold on civilians everywhere.’

‘How long can he maintain such an obviously unstable situation?’ Arnec inquired.

Tess shrugged. ‘Until he can think of the next thing to do, sir. I’d say he’s as off balance as we are. I’d also say we should find a balance ourselves, soon. Take a firm stance. We’ll have legal and historical precedents, the ancient rights of the states and their peoples.’

‘He has popular support of his own, especially in the South,’ Sozen warned. ‘Remember, he claims to be restoring and protecting traditional ways. Those are not so much the traditional ways of Brezh or of most of our lands – but –’ He hesitated before speaking it: ‘Civil war? Not overnight, not for years, but eventually?’

‘Impossible,’ growled Lundgard Simo Ayson. ‘That’s part of our problem. He controls Skyholm.’

Talence Elsabet Ormun spoke softly. She was a young woman,

from a minor family in the Caiptain’s Clan, invited on her kinsman Bram Gunhouse’s recommendation because she was a technician in the aerostat. ‘He … he need not control it always,’ she said.

4

Snow had fallen heavily a few days before and was imminent again. Thus moisture in the air made the earth a gift of warmth. Vanna Uangovna could walk in the Library garden wearing simply a robe and boots.

She was alone. The twelve days of Solstice were not over, and most folk were celebrating – at home, among friends, in regimental ceremonies – quietly., noisily, desperately, however their moods were after the news that had come.

Vanna’s was … elegiac, she supposed. She did not share the common belief in astrology and cycles; Gaea’s embracing dance with planets and stars was subtler than that, and ultimately stronger. Yet she could not help feeling it appropriate that this interval, when debts were paid, ushered in the Year of the Rattlesnake. Destruction, decay, millennial winter sleep, and renewal – but what was the life like, that flowed through time toward the hour of its birth? Would it remember her schoolchildren?

The sky hung almost black, as if just above her head. With no leaves astir against them, the patterns of stone and timber in the garden walls had become a stiff calligraphy in an unknown language. Attendants had cleared the paths – gravel mumbled underfoot – but otherwise there was little here save naked trees, rocks, steles, sculptures, fishponds emptied and frozen over. An occasional evergreen bonsai should have been an affirmation of endurance, but today, for her, it could not.

She came to a slab bench facing a circle of stones and a coral mass. Seashells thrust their tips above snow; the next fall would quite bury them. For a moment she stood irresolute, then smiled the least bit at herself and sat down on the side Iern had once used.

She had brought a clipboard and writing equipment. When they were ready, she first contemplated the coral, let her thoughts sink far down into tides and depths, before she put brush to paper. Though she wrote in Unglish, she took pains to make each letter beautiful.

Vanna Uangovna Kim of the Ardan Polk, in Dulua of the Krasnayan Gospodinate, to Talence Iern Ferlay of the Domain of Skyholm, wherever he be, upon the last day of that year when we met:

Greeting and well-wishing.

It
is
not sure that this letter will reach you. I will send it while traders still ply between Mong lands and the Northwest Union, accepting incidental mail for a small fee. You may recall my asking where I could write to you, if occasion arose, and your lady Ronica Birken
giving
me an address, a trading post somewhere in the Yukon. She said that certain persons who stop there will know where to carry such a message.

Doubtless it will be inspected along the way. Well, I have nothing secret to tell you.

Indeed, my reason for writing
is
equally unsure. I cannot think that you will be granted any opportunity to reply, even if you desire to. Where are you, what are you doing, how do you fare? I have often wished to know since we said goodbye, but told myself that it would be foolish to attempt communication. So now, when an answer seems impossible – why?

To this I can only say that it
is
not impossible. You would have to be a Gaean, an adept at that, feeling the wholeness of the universe, to understand fully what I mean. However, think of how you recall, reach out to, those you care about who are absent or dead. Coming as you do from an old society, think of the communion you have with your forebears. While you cannot respond, I can speak, and that
is
more than you perhaps realize.

After you and your companions left, we returned to the everyday here in Dulua. Oh, yes, the strangeness of the episode kept us bemused, but less and less as the weeks passed. I was exceptional, trying to regain serenity and never wholeheartedly succeeding. I could not forget the ominousness of your coming and going, nor how your decency shone against it. Pity me not, for I had my work and my world. May you too have been inwardly calm and glad.

But today – Censors, please note that I tell nothing which will not long have been general knowledge by the time this can arrive. Note as well, please, the words of a famous Norrman writer, ‘A fight is public, a love or a hate is private.’ Though Iern and I be opposed, if we are, we keep the right to remain friends.

Iern: Yesterday the word came. ‘Intelligence agents have
discovered actions in the Northwest Union which pose an unequivocal, immediate, and enormous danger. Governments of the Five Nations are in emergency conference at the highest levels. Diplomatic representations will be made, but it is expected that an ultimatum must be given. The nature of the threat cannot be divulged at present, for that might close the option of a peaceful settlement. Meanwhile, the Five Nations shall demonstrate their determination to avert the worst while praying for the best.’

Words to that effect, although, inevitably, much longer-winded. I cannot recollect them exactly, nor do they matter. What does matter
is
that the Soldati are being mobilized for joint operations.

I am not the sole person who can guess what this
is
about. Rumor of the uranium gleaners has flown widely around. I assume, myself, that it is the Maurai who have found something specific and terrifying, for traders do bring tales of how they are steeply increasing their presence in the Union. It would be logical for them to inform our leaders. They and we and all humankind have a common interest, a common peril.

Yes, all humankind, including those elements in the Northwest who are guilty. They must imagine themselves liberators. I do not, cannot believe that you are among them, Iern. I cannot believe that the vast majority of Norrfolk are. They may once have been misguided about ‘peaceful’ atomic power, but can they stand up while madmen light the torch for a new Death Time?

And this is the little I know today, this and my personal decision. I would wait to learn more, except that trade and mail could be cut off at any hour, so that I must write now.

As for myself,
if
you are interested, I will be getting in touch with Orluk Zhanovich Boktan, the noyon who took you down to his country and released you to the Northwest. My Aldan Polk and the Blue Star are both small and no longer very militarily oriented. They will doubtless come under the same Yuanese command as his Bison. He and I are friends, after a fashion, and have worked together in the past, after a fashion. He will welcome my presence as what you would, misleadingly, call a chaplain. Unless the crisis abates, I shall probably leave in another week or two. After that, it will certainly be impossible to write to you, for however long the conflict lasts.

What news comes in from your country is not good either, unrest, outbursts of violence, tensions abroad, and then I think how those
who love you must wonder and grieve. In this language I could say, ‘May life continue well with them as with you,’ but of course that is meaningless in Gaean terms. Gaea is in upheaval again. To the extent that we are reasoning and dutiful beings, we must open ourselves to Her Who is us, and
be,
as organelles of Her. That is all. It
is
everything.

[The brush slipped and made a blot.] But Iern, Iern, I do not wish to preach! I have only been trying to explain. Maybe someday we will meet and explain better, we two.

Please convey my regards to Ronica Birken and your friends.

The brush hovered. She started to write ‘Yours affectionately’ but changed it to ‘Yours in memory.’ Light was failing; she must hunch over the clipboard and squint. The first tiny snowflakes drifted down.

5

From behind his desk, Jovain returned his visitor’s salute. ‘Be seated,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Your Dignity.’ Talence Elsabet Ormun took the edge of a chair. Her hands clenched together on her lap. She was nervous, Jovain saw – nervous but determined.

He regarded her more closely. The technical staff of Skyholm had never intruded much upon his attention, what with everything else that did. They were simply there, like the machinery. When this electronician requested an appointment, declaring that she bore a message from a number of colleagues, the realization had jarred him that he should not have taken them for granted.

Her appearance was reassuringly undramatic, neat, skinny, homely except for lustrous dark eyes. Often she gulped, and her voice was strained. He proffered her a smile. ‘At ease,’ he said. ‘If we can’t be comrades in the stratosphere, where can we be?’

‘The Captain is … most gracious,’ she replied.

‘What can I do for you, mamzell?’

‘Listen. Just listen, we beg you.’

Warmth rose within him.
She needs something very badly, she and
the others she mentioned. They will allow me to be kind to them
. ‘Say on. The Captain is the premier servant of the people.’

‘That’s not the original idea of him –’ She broke off, as if
frightened by her impulse. ‘I pray pardon. Irrelevant.’

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