Plod himself fastened the tent closed again-it would have been improper for Moozh to do it, with a junior officer present who could do it for him. So Moozh had a few moments to study the stranger. He was no soldier, not really-his breastplate was sturdy, his blade sharp, his clothing was fine, and he bore himself like a man. But his skin was soft-looking and his muscles lacked the hardness of a man who has wielded a sword in battle. He was the kind of soldier who stood guard at a palace or a toll road, bullying the common people but never having to face a charging horde of enemies, never having to run behind a chariot, hacking to death any who escaped the blades that whirred on the hubs of the chariot wheels.
"What portal do you guard?" asked Moozh.
The man looked startled, and he glanced back at Plod.
Plod only laughed. "No one told him anything, poor man. Did you think you could face General Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno and keep anything secret from his eyes?"
"My name is Smelost," said the soft soldier, "and I bring a letter from Lady Rasa of Basilica."
He spoke the name as though Moozh should have heard of it. That's how these city people were, thinking that fame in their city must mean fame all over the world.
Moozh reached out and took the letter from him. Of course it was not written in the block alphabet of Gorayni-which they had stolen from the Sotchitsiya centuries ago. Instead it was the flowery vertical cursive of Basilica. But Moozh was an educated man. He could read it easily.
"It seems this man is our friend, dear Plod," said Moozh. "His life isn't safe in Basilica because he helped an assassin escape-but the assassin was also our friend, since he killed a man named Gaballufix who was in favor of Basilica forming an alliance with Potokgavan and leading the Cities of the Plain in war against us."
"Ah," said Plod.
"To think we never guessed how many dear and tender friends we had in Basilica," said Moozh.
Plod laughed.
Smelost looked more than a little ill at ease.
"Sit down," said Moozh. "You're among friends. No harm will come to you now. Find him some ale to drink, will you, Plod? He may be a common soldier, but he brings us a letter from a fine lady who has nothing but love and concern for the Imperator."
Plod unhooked a flagon from the back tentpole and gave it to Smelost, who looked at it in puzzlement.
Moozh laughed and took the flagon out of Smelost's hands and showed him how to rest it on his arm, tip it up, and let the stream of ale fall into his mouth. "No fine glasses for us in this army, my friend. You're not among the ladies of Basilica now."
"I knew that I was not," said Smelost.
"This letter is so cryptic, my friend," said Moozh. "Surely you can tell us more."
"Not much, I fear," said Smelost, swallowing a mouthful of ale. It was far sweeter than beer, and Moozh could see that he didn't like it much. Well, that hardly mattered, as long as Smelost got enough of the drug concealed in it that he'd speak freely. "I left before anything had come clear." He was lying, of course, thinking that he ought not to say more than Lady Rasa had said.
But soon Smelost overcame his reticence and told Moozh far more than he ever meant to. But Moozh was careful to pretend that he already knew most of it, so that Smelost would not feel he had betrayed any secrets when he thought back on the conversation and how much he had told.
There was obviously much confusion in Basilica at the moment, but the parts of the picture that mattered to Moozh were very clear. Two parties, one for alliance with Potokgavan, one against it, had been struggling for control of the city. Now the leaders of both parties were dead, killed on the same night, possibly by the same assassin, but, in Smelost's opinion, probably not. Accusations of murder were flying wildly; a weak man now controlled one group of hired soldiers who would now wander the streets uncontrolled, while the official city guard was under suspicion because this man, Smelost, had let the suspected assassin sneak out of the city two nights ago.
"What should we expect of a city of women?" said Moozh, when the story was done. "Of course there's confusion. Women are always confused when the violence begins."
Smelost looked at him warily. That was the sweet thing about the drug that Plod had given him-the victim was quite capable of believing that he was still being clever and deceptive, even as he poured out his heart on every subject. Moozh, of course, had immunized himself to the effects of the drug years ago, which was why he had no qualms about taking a mouthful of ale from the same flagon. He was also sure that Plod had no idea that Moozh was immune, and more than once he had suspected that Plod had given him some of the drug, whereupon Moozh always made a point of sharing a few harmless but indiscreet-sounding revelations- usually just his personal opinion of a few other officers. Never anything incriminating. Just enough to let Plod think the drug had worked its will on him.
"Oh, you know what I mean," said Moozh. "Nothing against the women, but they can't help their own biology, can they? It's the way they are-when the violence begins, they must rush to a male to find protection, or they're lost, wouldn't you say?"
Smelost smiled wanly. "You don't know the women of Basilica, then."
"Oh, but I do," said Moozh. "I know all women, and the women I don't know, Plod knows-isn't that right, Plod?"
"Oh, yes," said Plod, smiling.
Smelost glowered a little but said nothing.
"The women of Basilica are frightened right now, aren't they? Frightened and acting hastily. They don't like these soldiers running the streets. They fear what will happen if no strong man is there to control them- but they fear just as much what will happen if a strong man does come. Who knows how things will turn out, once the violence starts? There's blood on the street of Basilica. A man's head has drunk the dust of the street through both halves of his neck, as we say in Gollod. There's fear in every womanly heart in Basilica, yes, there is, and you know it."
Smelost shrugged. "Of course they're afraid. Who wouldn't be?"
"A man wouldn't be," said Moozh. "A man would smell the opportunity. A man would say, When others are afraid then anyone who speaks boldly has a chance to lead. Anyone who makes decisions, anyone who acts can become the focus of authority, the hope of the desperate, the strength of the weak, the soul of the spiritless. A man would act"
"Act," Smelost echoed.
"Act boldly? said Plod.
"And yet ... you have come to us with a letter from a woman pleading for protection." Moozh smiled and shrugged.
Smelost immediately tried to defend himself. "Was I supposed to stand trial for having done what I knew was right?"
"Of course not. What-to be tried by women?" Moozh looked at Plod and laughed; Plod took the cue and joined in. "For acting as a man must act, boldly, with courage-no, you shouldn't stand trial for that."
"So I came here," said Smelost.
"For protection. So you could be safe, while your city is in fear."
Smelost rose to his feet. "I didn't come here to be insulted."
In an instant Plod's blade was poised at Smelost's throat. "When the General of the Imperator is seated, all men sit or they are treated as assassins."
Smelost gingerly lowered himself back into his chair.
"Forgive my dearest friend Plod," said Moozh. "I know you meant no harm. After all, you came to us to be safe, not to start a war!" Moozh laughed, staring in Smelost's eyes all the time, until Smelost also forced himself to laugh.
Smelost clearly hated it, to be forced to laugh at himself for seeking protection instead of acting like a man.
"But perhaps I've misunderstood you," said Moozh. "Perhaps you didn't come, as this letter says, just for yourself. Perhaps you have a plan in mind, some way that you can help your city, some strategem whereby you can ease the fears of the women of Basilica and keep them safe from the chaos that threatens them."
"I have no plan," said Smelost. "Ah," said Moozh. "Or perhaps you don't yet trust us enough to tell it to us." Moozh looked sad. "I understand. We're strangers, and this
is your city at stake, a city that you love more than life itself. Besides, what you would need to ask of us is far greater than a common soldier would ordinarily dare to ask a general of the Gorayni. So I will not press you now. Go-Plod will show you to a tent where you can drink and sleep, and when this storm dies down you can bathe and eat, and by then perhaps you'll feel confident enough of me to tell me what you want us to do, to save your beautiful and beloved city from anarchy."
As soon as Moozh finished talking, he gave a subtle hand signal and then leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, pretending to be a bit saddened by Smelost's reluctance to help. Plod caught the hand signal, of course, and immediately rushed Smelost out of the tent and back out into the storm.
As soon as they were outside, Moozh leapt to his feet and stood hunched over the table, studying the map. Basilica-so for to the south, but in the highest part of the mountains, right up against the desert, so that it would be possible to get there from here through the mountains. In two days, if he took only a few hundred men and pressed them hard. Two days, and he could easily be in possession of the greatest city of the Western Shore, the city whose caravanners have made their language the trading argot of every city and nation from Potokgavan to Gorayni. Never mind that Basilica had no meaningful army. What mattered was how it would seem to the Cities of the Plain-and to Potokgavan. They would not know how few and weak the Gorayni army would be. They would know only that the great General Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno had stolen a march, conquered a city of legend and mystery, and now, instead of being a hundred and fifty kilometers north, beyond Seggidugu, now he loomed over them, could watch their every move from the towers of Basilica.
It would be a devastating blow. Knowing that Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno would watch their fleet arrive and have plenty of time to bring his men down from Basilica and slaughter their army as it tried to land, Potokgavan would not dare to send an expeditionary force to the Cities of the Plain. And as for the cities themselves, they would surrender one by one, and soon Seggidugu would find itself surrounded, with no hope of succor from Potokgavan. They would make peace on any terms they could get. There probably wouldn't even be a battle-complete victory, at no cost, all because Basilica was in chaos and this soldier had come to tell Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno of his glorious opportunity.
The tent flap reopened and Plod came back in. "The storm is dying down," he said.
"Very good," said Moozh.
"What was all that about?" said Plod.
"What?"
"That nonsense you were saying to that Basilican soldier."
Moozh could not imagine what Plod was talking about. Basilican soldier? He had never seen a Basilican soldier in his life.
But Plod glanced at one of the chairs, and now Moozh vaguely remembered that not long ago someone had sat in that chair. Someone ... a Basilican soldier? That would be important-how could he have forgotten?
I didn't forget, thought Moozh. I didn't forget. God has spoken, God has tried to make me stupid, but I refuse. I will not be forced into obedience.
"How do you assess the situation?" he asked. It would never do to let Plod think that Moozh was actually confused or forgetful.
"Basilica is for away," said Plod. "We can give this man sanctuary or kill him or send him back, it hardly matters. What is Basilica to us?"
Poor fool, thought Moozh. That's why you're merely the dear friend of the general, and not the general yourself, though I know you long to be. Moozh knew what Basilica was. It was the city of women whose influence had castrated his ancestors and cost them their freedom and their honor. It was also the great citadel poised above the Cities of the Plain. If Moozh could possess it, he wouldn't have to fight a single battle-his enemies would collapse before him. Was this the plan that he had had before, the one that God was trying to make him forget?
"Write this down," said Moozh.
Plod opened his computer and began to press the keys to record Moozh's words.
"Whoever is master of Basilica is master of the Cities of the Plain."
"But Moozh, Basilica has never exercised hegemony over those cities."
"Because it's a city of women," said Moozh. "If it were ruled by a man with an army, that would be a different story."
"We could never get there to take it," said Plod. "All of Seggidugu lies between us and Basilica."
Moozh looked at the map and another part of his plan came back to his mind. "A desert march."
"During the month of western storms!" cried Plod. "The men would refuse to obey!"
"In the mountains there's shelter. There are plenty of mountain roads."
"Not for an army," said Plod.
"Not for a large army," said Moozh, making up the plan as he went along.
"You could never hold Basilica against Potokgavan with the size army you could bring," said Plod.
Moozh studied the map for a moment longer. "But Potokgavan will never come, not if we already hold Basilica. They won't know how large an army we have, but they will know that we can see the whole coastline from there. Where would they dare to bring their fleet, knowing we could see them from far off and greet them at the shore, to cut them apart as they land?"
Plod finished typing, then studied the map himself. "There's merit in that," he said.
Why is there merit in it? Moozh asked silently. I haven't the faintest idea why I have this plan, except that a Basilican soldier apparently came here. What did he tell me? Why does this plan have merit?
"And with the present chaos in Basilica, you could probably take the city."
Chaos in Basilica. Good. So I wasn't wrong-the Basilican soldier apparently let me know of an opportunity.
"Yes," said Plod. "We have the perfect excuse for doing it, too. We aren't coming to invade, but rather to save the people of Basilica from the mercenary soldiers who are wandering their streets."
Mercenary soldiers? The idea was absurd-why would Basilica have mercenary soldiers running loose? Had there been a war? God had never made Moozh so forgetful that he couldn't remember a whole war!
"And the immediate provocation-the murders. The blood was already flowing-we had to come, to stop the bloodshed. Yes, that will be plenty of justification for it. No one can criticize us for attacking the city of women, if we come to save them from blood in the streets."
So that's my plan, thought Moozh. A very good one it is. Even God can't stop me from carrying it out. "Write it up, Plod, and have my aides draw up detailed orders for a thousand men to march in four columns through the mountains. Only three days' worth of supplies-the men can carry it on their backs."
"Three days!" said Plod. "And what if something goes wrong?"
"Knowing they have but three days' worth of food, dear Plod, the men will march very fast indeed, and they will allow nothing to delay them."
"What if the situation has changed at Basilica, when we arrive? What if we meet stout resistance? The walls of Basilica are high and thick, and chariots are useless in that terrain."
"Then it's a good thing we'll bring no chariots, isn't it? Except perhaps one, for my triumphal entry into the city-in the name of the Imperator, of course."
"Still, they might resist, and we'll arrive with scarcely any food to spare. We can't exactly besiege them!"
"Well have no need to besiege them. We have only to ask them to open the gates, and the gates will open."
"Why?"
"Because I say so," said Moozh. "When have I been wrong before?"
Plod shook his head. "Never, my dear friend and beloved general. But by the time we get the Imperator's permission to go there, the chaos in the streets of Basilica may well have been settled, and it will take a much larger army than a thousand men to force the issue."
Moozh looked at him in surprise. "Why would we wait for the Imperator's permission?"
"Because the Imperator forbade you to make any attack until the stormy season is over."
"On the contrary," said Moozh. "The Imperator forbade me to attack Na
kavalnu and Izmennik. I am not attacking them. I'm passing them by on their left flank, and marching as swift as horses through the mountains to Basilica, where again I will not attack anybody, but will rather enter the city of Basilica to restore order in the name of the Imperator. None of this violates any order of the Imperator."
Plod's face darkened. "You are interpreting the words of the Imperator, my general, and that is something only the intercessor has the right to do."
"Every soldier and every officer must interpret the orders he is given. I was sent to these southlands in order to conquer the entire western shore of the Earthbound Sea-that was the command the Imperator gave to me, and to me alone. If I failed to seize this great opportunity that God has given me"-ha!-"then I would be disobedient indeed."
"My dear friend, noblest general of the Gorayni, I beg you not to attempt this. The intercessor will not see it as obedience but as insubordination."
"Then the intercessor is no true servant of the Imperator. "
Plod immediately bowed his head. "I see that I have spoken too boldly."
Moozh knew at once that this meant Plod intended to tell the intercessor everything and try to stop him. When Plod meant to obey, he did not put on this great pretense of obedience.
"Give me your computer," said Moozh. "I will write the orders myself."
"Don't shame me," said Plod in dismay. "I must write them, or I have failed in my duty to you."
"You will sit with me here," said Moozh, "and watch as I write the orders."
Plod flung himself to his knees on the carpets. "Moozh, my friend, I'd rather you kill me than shame me like this."
"I knew that you didn't intend to obey me," said Moozh. "Don't lie and say you did."
"I meant to delay," said Plod. "I meant to give you time to reconsider. Hoping that you'd realize the grave danger of opposing the Imperator, especially so soon after you dreamed a dream that was contemptuous of his holy person."
It took a moment for Moozh to remember what Plod was referring to; then his rage turned cold and hard indeed. "Who would know of that dream, except myself and my friend?"
The Call of Earth Page 6