“Gentlemen,” he said, “take a seat and we shall commence.”
He was anxious to start. This council meeting had been delayed long enough. The Diggers were ready to begin work on the fall-back fence, though shortly, if all went as it should, he would be changing their orders.
The twelve council members sat, following the Administrator’s lead as he settled back on the throne. He adjusted his position and sipped from the glass of water on the table in front of him. He would not rush. He could not let them see the impatience he felt; this was a matter of state, not one that should appear personal.
He lifted the gavel and tapped it on its base. “I call to order this meeting of the Council of the Central Territory. Our first business is the continuing preparation for the defense against the ghouls.”
“Very good, Your Honor,” said Minister Bourke. “Surely the Diggers must have started on the fall-back fence?”
“Indeed, preparations are well under way and the Diggers are awaiting the go-ahead order,” the Administrator said.
“You must have given them the order already, Your Honor,” Ocean Bourke said. “The Council has voted in favor, the Church has given its blessing. We should not delay.”
“I have withheld the order until today because I wish to once again raise the motion of recalling the Diggers and launching a full-scale attack against the ghouls as one unified force.”
A tense silence followed.
“With all due respect, Your Honor,” said Sid Mintabie, Minister for Public Religion, timidly, “you raised the motion of committing the entire Digger force previously and it was not passed.”
The Administrator leaned on the table in front of him, drumming his fingers on the wood.
“That is correct, Minister Mintabie.” The slippery voice of Knox Soilwork joined the conversation. “But that was a different council. Colonel Hermannsburg, rest his soul, sat at the table then.”
“Yes, and now he doesn’t,” said Minister Bourke, “and he was the most vocal voice against committing the entire force—”
“Yes,” said the Administrator, “and now he is no longer with us. It’s a shame, isn’t it.”
Minister Bourke fell silent. The Administrator smiled at him.
“New information has come to light,” the Administrator said. “We have received word from the boundary riders that the number of ghouls is significantly less than initially suspected. We also received word that a patrol led by General Connor himself encountered ghouls roaming ahead of the main group. The general and a handful of his men survived. They made it back to an outpost and sent word yesterday. The general believes the main horde was not far behind and will begin moving toward the outermost towns with increasing speed, too soon to establish a fence far enough out to keep those towns safe.”
“Where is the horde presently, Your Honor?” asked Armstrong Lyndhurst, Minister for Propaganda.
“They are still in the desert, moving slowly with the lack of water, but I am told they will soon strike the first town in the Territory’s lands.”
“And what town is that, Your Honor?”
“A dirt-lifting town called Cameron, and then after that they will move further inward. All these outer towns are at risk if we do not strike now.”
There was a pause.
“Ministers,” the Administrator said, rising from his seat. He approached the portrait of his grandfather hanging on the wall nearby. He stared at the fine brush work, the small protruding lumps of paint left on the canvas by the artist’s brush. He spoke without turning around. “My grandfather’s rule was prosperous and peaceful but what will he be remembered for?” The Administrator looked down the rows of portraits stretching down the wall. “In the end he is just a picture on the wall. Is that what I am destined to become? Is that what you want to be?”
No one answered.
“Though what is worse than not being remembered at all?” the Administrator continued, turning to face the ministers sitting at the table again. “I’ll tell you what is worse. Being remembered as the council that lost towns to the ghouls. For that is what will happen if we do not strike in force against our enemy. They will overrun our towns and it will be because we did not take the necessary action.”
The Administrator looked at Colonel Woomera, Colonel Hermannsburg’s replacement on the council.
“Colonel,” the Administrator said, “your predecessor did not believe this could be done. You have seen the revised numbers the boundary riders have sent through and you know what is at stake. What is your military opinion?”
“Colonel Hermannsburg was a good man,” the Colonel said. “No, a great man. But he was conservative. Having seen the report from the boundary riders, and considering the strength of the Digger force if all units are recalled, I believe an all-out offensive would be successful.”
There were murmurs around the table.
The Administrator smiled. He had known Colonel Woomera would side with him. He was the perfect replacement for Colonel Hermannsburg.
“Colonel,” Minister Mintabie said, “even if the number of ghouls is less than we first thought, how can you take such an opposing view to that of Colonel Hermannsburg?”
“Colonel Hermannsburg, like General Connor himself, was a warrior, a true fighting Digger who earned his stripes ranging beyond the fence and fighting ghouls. I personally cannot say I share that heritage. I have, however, risen through the ranks of the army as an expert in strategy. I have studied every recorded battle with the ghouls and spent my career becoming a master tactician. That is why I was selected to sit on the council. I believe the Administrator’s plan will save the outer towns.”
The ministers around the table looked at each other without comment but the Administrator could tell they were convinced. In the end they always listened to the military advisor when it came to these matters, even, it would seem, if he had the opposite opinion to his predecessor. Things had changed, though. This new information about the size of the horde meant they could save the outer regions. He could sense, with a happy eagerness that he managed to keep inside, that he would get his way after all.
“Thank you, Colonel,” the Administrator said. “Shall we put it to a vote?”
“Do you believe men can overcome the vengeance of God?”
The faces of all the ministers turned toward the door to the hall. Standing there, framed in the doorway, was the High Priestess Patricia. Every minister in the room scrambled up from their chairs to stand, as if she were a headmistress and they her students.
“Your Holiness,” the Administrator spluttered, “what are you doing entering the Council Room?”
“I am the High Priestess,” she said silkily. “I go where I please.”
“I’m sorry, Your Holiness, but no one is permitted to enter while the council sits.”
“That is precisely why I am entering,” the High Priestess said. “No one else would disturb you to inform you that I have been waiting for you for almost two hours.”
“I am in a council meeting. You shall have to continue to wait.”
“Not,” the High Priestess said, “for too much longer, I should think.”
How he hated this woman, but her tone and her position—not to mention the fact that the council’s eyes were on him—were enough to force his hand. Ensuring that the populace showed proper respect for the Sisters had its uses, of course, but when he had to deal with the most powerful of them and the onus was on him to grovel and scrape, it grated.
“I will be there directly, Your Holiness,” the Administrator said through clenched teeth and a forced smile.
The High Priestess waited a moment, obviously wanting to see the Administrator crack, but he maintained his cheek-aching smile and she turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her the Administrator’s smile dropped.
“What say you then!?” he demanded. “Do I go to meet the High Priestess with the backing of the council?”
“In regards to what, Your Honor?�
� asked Minister Sweet.
In his frustration the Administrator made a sound somewhere between a roar and a bleat as he slammed his hand into the table. “In regards to sending the Diggers in full force!” he snapped. His anger, now freed, flowed out in unstoppable waves.
“Oh.” Minister Sweet cleared his throat. “Yes, quite, quite.”
There was general agreement from around the table. Send the Diggers in full force, yes, quite, quite.
CHAPTER 26
The Administrator walked swiftly along the corridor toward the small sitting room that received most of the afternoon sun. This was where the High Priestess would be waiting for him. It was where she always waited for him. He had been Administrator for forty-four years; why should he have to drop whatever stately matters he was attending to so that he, the leader of this land, could bend a knee to this ragged old scarecrow and beg permission from long dead ancestors to raise an army to defend the Territory’s borders? Of course, he knew the answer to this question: it was the law and he had sworn an oath to uphold the law. But in fairness, he had only been eight years old at the time. Whether the Administrator liked it or not, the Church of Glorious God the Redeemer, as ancient and secretive as they were, held sway over this land in a way that he could only dream of.
The Administrator approached the door of the sitting room. It was closed. He ran his hands over his shirt, flattening out any creases; first impressions always seemed to matter to Patricia. He took hold of the thin door handle and turned it, pushing the door inward. The room was hot and stuffy. She hadn’t opened the windows. The High Priestess sat in profile, silhouetted against the bright sun in the window. She turned to look at him, taking her time, deliberately, the Administrator thought, to rise from her chair. It would be easy to assume that this was due to her advanced years—she was well into her seventies—but the Administrator knew better. She was old, but she was far from frail. She stood slowly to prove a point. The Administrator closed the door behind him and bowed his head, a little too shallowly. The tall and crooked woman smiled and bent her knees into an equally shallow curtsy.
“Your Honor,” High Priestess Patricia said in a voice like steel wool, “lovely to see you again.” She ran her fingertips through her wiry gray hair, stiff as a horse’s mane. Her fingernails moved over her scalp with a disturbing scrape.
“And you, Your Holiness,” the Administrator replied. So they were just going to pretend she hadn’t interrupted a sitting of the council, it seemed.
“Please take a seat.” High Priestess Patricia indicated the seat opposite her as she sat back down.
“I’m sorry to come and drag you away from your important duties at such short notice,” the High Priestess continued, “but I’m afraid now was the only time I could fit you in.”
The Administrator clenched his teeth. High Priestess Patricia made no response, but it was unlikely that anything escaped detection by those ancient eyes. They were a blue so light as to be gray, and a stare from them was felt physically, like being jabbed in the eyes with the end of a quill.
“Thank you,” said the Administrator, “for making the time.”
“Anything for you, Your Honor. How was your council?”
“Fine.”
“Is there any business that requires my attention?”
“Well,” said the Administrator, “as a matter of fact there is.”
“Oh,” said the High Priestess knowingly, “please go on.”
“I intend to send the Diggers against the horde.”
“Indeed,” the High Priestess said, “but have we not already discussed this? I have given the Church’s blessing to your plan to erect a fall-back fence.”
“Yes, you have.”
“Then should this not be under way?”
“The Diggers will be marching shortly, Your Holiness,” the Administrator said. “Though I intend to change their orders.”
“Do you?”
The Administrator ground his teeth together and squeezed his hands into fists. “Yes, we have received updated information that the horde is smaller than we were first informed. I believe that sending the full force of the Diggers against the ghouls will defeat them without us giving up land and losing towns in the east.”
“That does not sound like a strategy the Diggers would agree with.”
“On the contrary, based on our new information Colonel Woomera believes it to be a viable plan. Do not concern yourself, Your Holiness. I have been Administrator for long enough to be well aware of what we must do in order to protect the Territory.”
“Yes, and I have given my life to the Church, ever since your grandfather had my father exiled.”
“Come, High Priestess,” said the Administrator, “I would not think a woman of faith such as yourself would hold a grudge so long.”
“The sins of the father are visited upon the son, Your Honor.”
The Administrator stared across the small, ornamental sitting table between them. He looked at the High Priestess, the embodiment of the Ancestors and the word of God, and faced down the quills stabbing into his eyes with all the strength of the Rock Throne. It was like two great, thrashing storms colliding and annihilating one another.
“We will march the entire army to battle,” the Administrator said.
“With the blessing of the Church, you mean,” said the High Priestess.
“You are here, High Priestess, and I believe I am asking.”
“That was not a question.”
The Administrator sucked in a long, deep breath and exhaled loudly to ensure that the High Priestess would hear.
“High Priestess, embodiment of the Ancestors and the word of God, the Council of the Central Territory has met and agreed that to face—”
The Administrator was interrupted by the High Priestess clearing her throat suggestively. She was pointing at the ground. The Administrator ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth and tried in vain to glare in the way that she could. He stood, brushed down his clothes and knelt before her.
“High Priestess, embodiment of the Ancestors and the word of God, the Council of the Central Territory has met and agreed that to face the coming horde we must raise an army and go to war. The threat we face is unprecedented but smaller than we first suspected. The council believes we can save the outer towns if we march the entire army against our enemy. Will the Ancestors bless the Territory in this endeavor?”
“Absolutely not,” the High Priestess said, almost before the Administrator had even finished his sentence.
The Administrator stood. “The council has agreed to this.”
The High Priestess stood to match him. “The Church cannot give you this blessing. You would take every Digger to war. Who would defend the Territory with them gone?”
“They would be defending the Territory, and the soldiers of the Holy Order will be here if defense is needed closer to home.”
“They serve only the Church.”
“And does the Church not serve the Territory?”
“You are not taking the entirety of the Diggers to war. It is a risk I am not willing to take.”
The Administrator’s voice rose and was now edged with anger. “I thought you spoke on behalf of God. This sounds like your own opinion, and it is not welcome in the strategies of war.”
“You do not have my blessing.”
“When has a High Priestess ever not given their blessing to the council on matters such as this? Do not presume that your role in the decision to go to war is anything but entirely ceremonial!”
The High Priestess didn’t reply. The Administrator felt anger boiling within his chest. “This land does not need your blessings, it needs the swords of the Diggers ready to march. Not only will we save the Territory but we could crush this horde and continue east to retake much land!”
“Your Honor,” the High Priestess said, in a way that still made the fifty-two year old Administrator feel eight. “As every High Priestess before me, I traveled into the east
, past the Black Stump and out into the badlands.”
“Yes,” said the Administrator, “I know about this ridiculous Trial of Sarah you perform. What has that got to do with destroying the ghouls?”
The High Priestess continued as if the Administrator had not spoken. “I have been beyond where even the Diggers dare to tread. I defended myself against ghouls until I reached the Temple of Sarah among the buildings of the Ancestors, long abandoned and left to rot. As you know, this is a most holy place where the first High Priestess Sarah lived to bring God back to the ghouls. I cannot speak of what I found in this place but it reveals much about the Reckoning and about the world of the Ancestors.”
“Why does your order keep its secrets like this?” asked the Administrator. “Your knowledge could help us defeat our greatest enemy.”
“You cannot defeat them,” said the High Priestess. “I have seen the truth. You cannot defeat them no matter how many Diggers you throw in their path. You must repel the ghouls to save our people, but you will never defeat them. Leave some of the force behind. Be content with keeping the ghouls at bay and protecting the citizens of the Territory.”
“The Ancestors declared that one day we would regain the world we have lost. I can destroy our enemy and help retake some of that world!” the Administrator roared.
The High Priestess leaned forward and pointed at him. Yelling in a way he had never seen before, her usually calm exterior was suddenly torn asunder by a fiery demon within. “I have seen the truth of the world of the Ancestors and I can assure you that we will not, while I am High Priestess, regain that world!”
The Administrator was silent. As they stood with words of anger still floating in the air in front of their eyes the storm began to settle, debris dropping around them without sound.
“What?” the Administrator said. “The Sisters of the Church of Glorious God the Redeemer exist so that we will keep our faith and one day regain the lost world, and yet you say that you do not wish this.”
High Priestess Patricia took her time. She composed herself, sutured together the great tear down her usual persona, and then spoke. “I wish only for the pure of the Territory to be protected. You will not send the entire force of the Diggers to war. Leave at least one-quarter behind, then you may march. This is the word of the Ancestors and the word of God. Do not disobey the Church; even you are not above its law.”
A Town Called Dust: The Territory 1 Page 15