The Brave Free Men (2 page)

Sajarano nodded without emphasis and sipped his tea. Etzwane left his cup untouched. "These considerations," Etzwane continued, "forced my friends and myself to extreme lengths, as you know."

Sajarano nodded once more: a kindly reassuring nod. "These friends: who are they?"

"Certain persons who are shocked by the acts of the Roguskhoi."

"I see. And your position: you are the leader?"

"I?" Etzwane gave an incredulous laugh. "By no means."

Sajarano frowned. "Would it be fair to assume that the others of your group are known personally to me?"

"It is a matter which really has no bearing on the issue," said Etzwane.

"Perhaps not, except that I like to know with whom I am dealing."

"You need deal with no one; you need only muster an army and drive the Roguskhoi back into Palasedra."

"You make it sound so simple," said Sajarano. "A further question: Jurjin of Xhiallinen spoke of a certain Ifness, who demonstrated remarkable abilities. I confess to curiosity regarding this Ifness."

"Ifness is a remarkable man indeed," said Etzwane. "As to the Roguskhoi: what do you propose to do?"

Sajarano ate a slice of fruit. "I have considered the matter carefully, to this effect. The Anome is what he is only because he controls the lives of all the people of Shant but is himself exempt from such control. This is the definition of the Anome. It no longer defines me; I wear a torc. I can take no responsibility for acts or policies not my own. In short I propose to do nothing."

"Nothing whatever? What of your normal duties?"

"I resign them all to you and your group. You wield the power; you must bear the burdens." Sajarano laughed at Etzwane's glum expression. "Why should I go into a hysteria of effort over policies whose wisdom I doubt? What nonsense this would be!"

"Am I to understand that you no longer consider yourself Anome?"

"That is correct. The Anome must work anonymously. I can no longer do this. You, Jurjin of Xhiallinen, others in your group know my identity. I am no longer effective."

"Then who is to be Anome?"

Sajarano shrugged. "You, your friend Ifness, another member of your group. You control the power, you must accept the responsibility."

Etzwane frowned. Here was a contingency for which he had not prepared. Obduracy, threats, scorn, anger: yes. Supine relinquishment: no. It was too easy. Etzwane became wary, Sajarano's subtlety far exceeded his own. He asked cautiously, "You will cooperate with us?"

"I will obey your orders, certainly."

"Very well. First, a state of national emergency is to be proclaimed. We will identify the danger, then make it clear that an effort of major proportions must be made."

Sajarano made a polite sound. "So much is easy. Remember, however, that the population of Shant is over thirty million souls; to cry emergency to so many is a serious affair."

"Agreed; no dispute here whatever. Second, women must be evacuated from all areas adjacent to the Wildlands."

Sajarano gave him a look of polite bewilderment. "Evacuated to where?"

"To the coastal cantons."

Sajarano pursed his small mouth. "It is not all so simple. Where will they live? Will their children accompany them? What of their homes, their ordinary duties? The cantons affected would number twenty or thirty. That is a large number of women."

"Which is precisely why we want them moved," said Etzwane. "That number of women impregnated by Roguskhoi means a vast horde of Roguskhoi!"

Sajarano shrugged. "What of the other difficulties I mentioned? They are real."

"Administrative detail," said Etzwane.

"To be handled by whom? Me? You? Your group?" Sajarano's tone had become patronizing. "You must think in terms of practicalities."

His strategy becomes clear, thought Etzwane. He will not oppose, but he will not help, and will do all in his power to induce indecision.

"Third," said Etzwane, "the Anome, by executive order, must call into being a national militia."

Etzwane politely waited for Sajarano's objections; Sajarano did not disappoint him. "I regret the role of the carper, the defeatist; nevertheless I must point out that it is one matter to issue Hats; it is quite another to implement them. I doubt if you realize the full complexity of Shant. There are sixty-two cantons with nothing in common but language."

"Not to mention music and color-lore.
^[1]
Additionally, every citizen of Shant, with the seeming exception of yourself, hates and fears the Roguskhoi. The cantons are more united than you think."

Sajarano gave his little finger an annoyed jerk. "Let me recite the difficulties; perhaps then you will understand why I have drawn back from an intolerable confusion. To integrate sixty-two distinct militias, with sixty-two versions of life itself,. is a stupendous task. An experienced staff is necessary. There is only myself and my single Benevolence—a girl."

"Since you consider my proposals inept," said Etzwane, "what were your own plans?"

"I have learned," said Sajarano, "that not every problem requires a solution. Many apparently urgent dilemmas dwindle and disappear if ignored. . . . Will you drink more tea?"

Etzwane, who had drunk no tea, signaled in the negative.

Sajarano leaned back in his chair. He spoke in a reflective voice: "The army you propose is impractical for yet another reason—perhaps the most cogent of all. It would be futile."

"Why do you say that?"

"It is really obvious. When any problem must be solved, when some irksome duty must be performed, it is referred to the Faceless Man. When folk complain of the Roguskhoi—have you heard them?—they always call on the Faceless Man to act! As if the Anome need only issue an ordinance to abate all and any nuisances! He has maintained peace for two thousand years, but it is the peace of a father upon a household of children."

Etzwane was silent for a period. Sajarano watched him with peculiar intensity. His gaze dropped to Etzwane's cup of tea. An idle thought drifted into Etzwane's head, which he rejected; certainly Sajarano would not attempt to poison him.

Etzwane said, "Your opinions are interesting, but they argue only for passivity. My group insists that definite steps be taken: first, a declaration of national emergency; second, women must be evacuated from regions surrounding the Hwan; third, each canton must mobilize and train a militia; fourth, you must designate me as your Executive Aide, with all the authority you yourself command. If you are finished with your breakfast, we will issue these proclamations now."

"What if I refuse?"

Etzwane brought out the metal box. "I will take your head."

Sajarano nibbled at a wafer. "Your arguments are convincing." He sipped his tea and indicated Etzwane's cup. "Have you tasted it? I grow it at my own plantation."

Etzwane pushed his cup across the table. "Drink it."

Sajarano raised his eyebrows. "But I have my own cup."

"Drink it," said Etzwane in a harsh voice. "Otherwise I will believe that you have tried to drug me.

"Would I attempt so banal a ploy?" demanded Sajarano in a brassy voice.

"If you believed that I would discount such a trick as banal, then it becomes subtle. You can refute me by drinking."

"I refuse to be hectored!" spat Sajarano. He tapped his finger on the table. From the corner of his eye Etzwane saw the dark green ivy tremble; he glimpsed a glinting trifle and jerked back. From his sleeve he brought the broad-impulse tube he had taken from Sajarano and pointed it at the ivy. Sajarano emitted a terrible screech; Etzwane pushed the button. From behind the ivy sounded an explosion. Sajarano sprang across the table at Etzwane. "Murderer, murderer! Oh, the horror, the murder, the blood of my dear one!"

Etzwane struck Sajarano with his fist; Sajarano fell to the rug and lay moaning. From under the ivy a red puddle began to well out across the jade.

Etzwane fought to control his stomach. His mind twisted and reeled. He kicked Sajarano, who looked up with a yellow face and a wet mouth. "Get up!" cried Etzwane hoarsely. "If Jurjin is dead, the fault-is yours; you are her murderer! You are my mother's murderer as well; if you had controlled the Roguskhoi long ago, there would not be this trouble!" He kicked Sajarano again.
"Get
up! Or I take your head in the bargain!"

Sajarano uttered a sob and staggered
to his feet.

"So you instructed Jurjin to stand
behind
the ivy and kill me at your signal!" said
Etzwane
grimly.

"No, no! She carried an ampoule gun, to-drug you."

"You are insane! Can you imagine I would not have taken your head? And the tea—poisoned?"

"A soporific" "What purpose does drugging me serve? Answer!"

Sajarano only shook his head. He had totally lost his poise; he pounded his forehead as if to subdue his thoughts.

Etzwane shook his shoulder. "What do you gain by drugging me? My friends would kill you!"

Sajarano mumbled, "I act as my inner soul dictates."

"From now on I am your inner soul! Take me to your office. I must learn how to communicate with the Discriminators
^[2]
and the cantonal governments."

Sajarano, round shoulders slumping, led the way through his private study to a locked door. He touched code-keys to open the door; they climbed a spiral staircase to a chamber overlooking all Garwiy.

A bench along the far wall supported a number of glass boxes. Sajarano made a vague gesture. "This is radio equipment. It sends a narrow beam to a relay station on top the Ushkadel, and cannot be tracked. I press this button to transmit messages to the Office of Proclamations; by this, to the Chief Discriminator; by this, to the Hall of Cantons; by this, to the Office of Petitions. My voice is disguised by a filtering device."

"What if I were to speak?" asked Etzwane. "Would anyone know the difference?"

Sajarano winced. His eyes were dull with pain. "No one would know: Do you plan to become Anome?"

"I have no such inclination," said Etzwane.

"In effect this is the case. I refuse all further responsibility."

"How do you answer the petitions?"

"This was Garstang's job. I regularly checked his decisions on the display board. Occasionally he found it necessary to consult; not often."

"When you use the radio, what is your routine? What do you say?"

"It is very simple. I say: 'The Anome instructs that such an act be accomplished/ That is the end of it."

"Very good. Call now the Office of Proclamations, and all the rest. This is what you must say:

'In response to the depredations of the Roguskhoi I proclaim a state of emergency. Shant must now mobilize its strength against these creatures and destroy them!"

Sajarano shook his head. "I cannot say that; you must do so yourself." He seemed disoriented. His hands twitched; his eyes jerked from side to side, his skin showed an ugly yellowish tint.

"Why can't you say it?" asked Etzwane.

"It is contrary to my inner soul. I cannot participate in your venture. It means chaos!"

"If we don't destroy the Roguskhoi it means no more Shant, which is worse," Etzwane said. "Show me how to use the radio."

Sajarano's mouth trembled; for a moment Etzwane thought that he would refuse. Then he said, "Push that switch. Turn the green knob until the green light glows. Push the button of the agency you choose to call. Press the purple button to signal the monitor. When the purple light flashes, speak."

Etzwane approached the bench; Sajarano drew back a few steps. Etzwane pretended to study the equipment. Sajarano darted for the door, passed through, swung it shut. Etzwane hurled himself into the opening; the two struggled. Etzwane was young and strong; Sajarano thrust with hysterical frenzy. Their two heads, on opposite sides of the opening, were only inches apart. Sajarano's eyes bulged, his mouth hung open. His feet slipped, the door swung back.