Tonoro said, “The Lermencasi will never do it.”
And now the smile was very broad indeed. “The Lermencasi? No. That’s true. They never will. But, you see, despite your great foreign gorum, there are still things which you don’t know.” The light shifted, advanced, receded. The smile was still broad, but it still had no warmth. “The foreign help I’m talking of isn’t coming from the Lermencasi, ah, no.
“It’s coming from the Bahon … .”
• • •
“You’ll think about this,” Cominthal had said, after eating, before departing. He had eaten heartily, hungrily, with only now and then a pretense of courtly courtesy when a servant entered with another course. “You’ll think about it,” he said, confidently, brightly.
“ — But you won’t talk about it.”
And then he was gone.
The offices of the Commercial Deputation were maintaining their usual air of museum-like calm as Tonorosant walked down the corridors. The jewel-like settings seemed unreally beautiful. Could they actually have been the product of the same civilization which could — could? had! did! — sink so suddenly and so frequently and so utterly into savage coercion? And was it actually, need it actually be doomed: that same civilization which in them and by them demonstrated its title to be so called? He found his arms and legs were beginning to tremble. He walked faster. Then he slowed again. He did not know by whom he was likely to be seen, and it would not do to give his notice, by openly displayed agitation, that he knew more than he was generally known to know.
As he approached the screen of the Deputy’s office he heard a familiar voice. “My dear Mothiosant, how much I sympathize with you … how exceedingly tedious your conscript duties can become.”
The Pemathi clerk rose at Tonorosant’s entrance; he waved the man back to his seat and passed on in.
“It is true, Sarlamat, but I will not remain in this place of duty forever, I must hope. These bothersome contracts, for example — well, and is it my fault if there is not enough resin? Can I secrete it myself, like a tree? For — ”
His voice ceased and his face changed, pretense dropping from it, as he saw Tonoro. Sarlamat swerved about to look at him. There was a moment’s silence. Then Mothiosant continued, “For if there is not enough resin to fulfill the terms of the contract, thus it is, and indeed, what can I or any of us do? Boy!”
“Master?”
“You may go out to your food-chop, now.”
A polite mumble from the clerk, slight noises of departure, and then again silence. Sarlamat’s face now looked neither jovial nor ironic. Insofar as it bore a discernible expression, the expression was one of slight fatigue. Mothiosant, on the other hand, looked keyed-up and intent. He held out his hand now, palm up, fingers moving impatiently.
“Here is a hypothetical situation which may just possibly, if we can resolve its problems, throw some light on an actual situation,” Tonoro said. Mothiosant at once became a trifle wary. But still his fingers moved restlessly, demanding his visitor to talk.
“Suppose there is a world called, oh, not Orinel, its name would not matter, but very much like Orinel in its physical and its social make-up. Unlike a number of worlds, this one’s population is not confined to one ethnos or one kith — or race, or people; choose your own preferred term — nor has it only one planetary governance. The nations and people it does have are of varying types of social structure. Some are heavily industrialized, some are actively commercial, some are so overpopulated that they have slid downwards. Others are not only underpopulated but rather isolated and are still largely what we may call ‘backward’ in most things.
“Let’s concern ourselves with one of these in our hypothetical situation. Culturally and economically, this nation is not merely backward; it is archaic. Let’s pretend it’s Tarnis. Its potential as a producer-nation has not barely begun to be exploited. But the potential is there.
“Do you follow me, my brothers’ brothers?”
Sarlamat’s mouth had tightened just a bit. He was rotating his left forefinger between his right forefinger and thumb, around and around and back and forth, and gazing at it with a slight frown of concentration. Mothiosant’s expression had not changed at all. “Go on,” he said. His tone said, Be quick. His own fingers repeated their own urgent motion.
“Now two other factors enter this hypothetical picture. For one thing, every land has its laws. For another, there are always men who break or who are accused of breaking these laws. And who, in consequence, wish to flee from punishment. Let us assume the existence of an organization set up to capitalize on the needs of such men — an organization set up for the sole purpose — ostensibly — of commercializing on that need, of enabling these men to disguise themselves physically and mentally. Of enabling them, for example, to come to the island-nation which — hypothetically, of course — we’ve agreed to call Tarnis. What shall we call this imaginary organization? Shall we call them the Craftsmen?”
One looked at him still, and one still looked at his own hands only, and neither one spoke.
Tonorosant continued. “I said, ‘ostensibly … .’ Suppose this organization was not after all in business to make a profit out of its clandestine activities directly. Suppose, in fact, that the factual cost of its services were such that the fees charged, however high, could not cover them. Suppose, in further fact, that it was actually but one arm of an ambitious and gigantic commercial combine which was underwriting its expenses as a form of investment. That these men were never intended to be made free, but were intended to serve the aims of the organization, wherever they might go. But this is perhaps too large a subject for our hypothetical discussion. Let’s confine it to our one hypothetical nation of Tarnis, and — again, for the purposes of our discussion only, of course — let us refer to this entire organization as … say … Commerce-Lermencas.
“The aim was to subvert the social structure and the governance of the imaginary Tarnis, and make it the servant of Lermencas. The vast Outlands would be subjected to scientific cultivation and agriculture and arboriculture would no longer be limited to the crude methods locally employed. And the Volanth, for example, would cease to be outlaws and would become … oh, various possibilities exist … employees … serfs … . Whichever, they would be better off than now.
“Now. Suppose that the ruling class of our imaginary Tarnis becomes aware, at least in part, of these plans for them. And suppose that another nation does, as well — ”
They looked up, then, abruptly, the both of them.
“What other nation?”
“Again — hypothetically and nothing more — say — oh … the Bahon.”
Mothiosant: “Why would the Bahon — ”
Sarlamat: “ ‘Why would the Bahon’ is not the question. There are many reasons why the Bahon would. The question is, ‘Are the Bahon — ?’ ” His full lips drew back from his even teeth. “An end to this nonsense, Jerred Northi. Your Bahon are not hypothetical. You are not conjecturing, you are speaking from actual knowledge. What do you know about the Bahon’s intentions at the present moment?”
He said, “The Craftsmen did not serve me for nothing and I am not going to serve the Craftsmen for nothing.”
“No one expects you to,” Sarlamat said, immediately. “By learning what you have learned, whatever it is, you’ve immediately become worth more to us than the whole amount you have cost us. Naturally, you have a price — and naturally, we’ll pay it.”
Mothiosant nodded instant and vigorous assent. They both listened, with total absorption and (so it seemed) total commitment. This remained unchanged even after Tonoro had finished speaking, as though, perhaps, his voice gave forth an echo which only they could hear … and which they dared not miss.
The Commercial Deputy shifted slightly, sighed slightly. He glanced at Sarlamat, who said, “I must confess that we were not expecting a price of that sort. An end to all offenses against Quasi and Volanth — that would be inevitable, eventually, i
n any case. But you want, am I correct, an immediate end? Full equality? A massive educational program to fit them for this, but this not to wait upon the completion of that? Inducements and concessions … yes … . I have it all, now. And I think — ” he turned to his associate.
“I think it can be done,” Mothiosant said. “Of course, we must get it confirmed; you would hardly want to take our word for it alone. Can this evening be soon enough? Then you will see us here again. Meanwhile, is not our almost certain conviction that it can be done enough to persuade you that you should tell us — ”
“No.”
The Deputy’s mouth twisted. He put his hand out as he spoke, it stayed, arrested, and he looked at it as though surprised at what he saw. Sarlamat got up. “Let’s waste no time, then. But just think of this: You lived most of your life in a world where more hungered than did not, and more died than survived. This island-land of Tarnis has lain on its richness and its riches like a toothless dog. It can produce enough to feed every hungry mouth in Pemath. Surely you aren’t naive enough to believe that the Bahon are concerned with the welfare of the Pemathi or the Tarnisi? Of the Quasi or Volanth? It must be made absolutely clear to you: Anything which Baho does vis-a-vis Lermencas is done as part of a power struggle. If we succeed here, of course it will advance us throughout the world! And the only thing about our plans here which concerns Baho is that we must be defeated in order that Baho is to be advanced throughout the world. Now go, and we will see you here this evening to confirm your demands.”
• • •
Tulan Tarolioth shook his head. His hands trembled, and, indeed, his whole trim, small body quivered with restrained emotion. Atoral, by his side, placed her hand on his shoulder.
“My whole life since I became a man has been devoted to securing justice for the wild people,” he said, his voice frequently escaping control. “What I have suffered, I and my house, you do not know and you will never know, I must hope. But I have never lost my faith that those who have the Seven Signs will become worthy of the traditional ethics, and grant that justice. Only last week I spoke of this to a young man, one of the most hopeful young men we have, and he admitted to me that he was impressed by what I told him on that point. You may know him: the Lord Tilionoth.”
Tonoro controlled his face and voice. “I do know him,” he said. How far the old man had retreated from reality, to accept what could have been no more than polite commonplaces for awakening conviction! Lord Tilionoth, of all possible people!
“And today he returned to tell me that it has been charged that the Lermencasi have agents thick as flies among the Volanth and that they have promised to drive us into the sea and divide our lands up and give them to the Volanth!”
“Rumors, Tulan — mere lying rumors that you cannot believe, I must hope — ”
The old man’s face quivered with the force of his shaking his head. “Rumors, once raised, never vanish without trace. This entire cause, to which I have devoted my life — my life! — is now tainted. I hope not forever. I must hope not forever. I must hope that my name counts for something. I am too old to begin all over again.”
He paused, striving to keep from weeping. He seemed too old, at that moment, to do anything much more. His sincerity, his devotion to the cause of justice for the Volanth was without question, although the success of his attempts had been almost nil. Still, still, his name did count for something. He was respected, he had some followers, he had many friends. His absurd attempts to base a pro-Volanth philosophy upon the ancient tenets of the Tarnisi ethic might not be so utterly absurd in a different sort of situation. Suppose that the Volanth were forcibly emancipated. Might not a comforting and familiar-sounding set of lies provide the only way of accepting the situation for the Tarnisi? And thus avoid the perhaps otherwise inevitable appeal to bloodshed … .
But things were moving so quickly, now. Things were moving too quickly, now. Here in this dusty old room, filled with bas-reliefs of ancestral tulans and unpublished pamphlets, ancient books and general clutter — even here the rushing present had entered, and was now driving all before it and upsetting and overturning all. How the fact of Lermencasi involvement had gotten out, he, Tonoro (“Jerred Northi,” they’d called him just a while ago; he’d almost forgotten Jerred Northi) did not know. And then that fool, Tilionoth, taking time off from his preoccupation with spear-throwers and violent sex, had somehow gotten hold of a fragment of the fact and gone flitting from place to place like a demented insect, distorting and allowing to be distorted the rumor as he proceeded on his heedless, dangerous, and by now probably deadly way.
Tonorosant had come here to Atoral’s home in hopes of sounding out her father about the possibility of enlisting his support to make as smooth as might be the change which was inevitable. He had thought that, properly presented, his appeal could not fail. Now he found it could not succeed. The mere mention of foreign intervention had almost unhinged the tulan; he would now not just lean backwards, he was almost standing on his head, to make it quite clear that he and his faction had, had had, and would have nothing to do with it. Too, and understandably, he had been terrified almost witless by the suggestion that the landed aristocracy would not only be reduced to the status of lacklanders, but would see their lands divided up among the Volanth. Tulan Tarolioth would, without question, give his life to see that “the wild people” were given justice — justice, yes: but not given the Tarnisi lands! He would gladly give the Volanth his own life, but he had never contemplated giving them his own land!
So, now, he barely understood what purpose Tonoro had in coming, had barely given him time or leave to explain anything of his purpose. Clearly, it would be vain to remain.
“Insofar as I have disturbed you and the peace of your august house,” Tonoro said, bowing, and preparing to leave, “you will forgive me, I must hope.” He looked up at Atoral, slightly raised his eyebrows. Would she come with him? But she shook her head; though the gesture was slight, her expression was firm. So, then, he, Tonoro, would have to see his way through this, muddle his way, fight, dig, claw, whatever it was, his way through this … without her … alone.
Once more he bowed. Suddenly the tulan held up his hand. A hope flared in Tonoro’s mind. The old man came forward, again shaking his head, this time in evident self-reproach. “The cause is too important,” he said. “It is too important for me to allow you to leave without — No, my sister’s child. Ah, no. No, no.” He stopped and put his hand to his forehead. Then his face cleared. “Just so,” he said. “Allow me to present you with a small pamphlet which I happen to have written on the sacred subject we have just been discussing. It will interest you, I must hope … ”
• • •
The countryside and prospects of the not-very-distant city had perhaps never looked lovelier than they did now in the light of the latening afternoon. The low, spreading houses of the estates and all their beautifully kept grounds, the curving lines of trees which emphasized rather than concealed the sinuous lines of the lovely river, greensward and copses of flowering trees; and, in the town, the glittering spires and the occasional crowns of trees rising higher than the garden walls, with their hints and reminders: golden gardens, sunken gardens, night gardens. Flights of birds circled overhead, as though their song signaled their own pleasure in the sight.
But Tonoro felt a heaviness which was physical as well as mental and emotional. He had one more call to make before the evening, and as he proceeded in his trim float, the same thoughts passed through his mind over and over again, circling like the birds. But without singing.
The Lermencasi planned to exploit the Volanth, but the Volanth (and the Quasi as well) would eventually learn enough from them to replace them. The Tarnisi would be weakened by the Lermencasi take-over, and this was a good thing: gradually they would be obliged to adapt and improve their attitude towards the “lesser” peoples of the country. When the time arrived, the Tarnisi would have to ally themselves with Quasi and Volant for co
njoint action against the alien Lermencasi.
But if the Lermencasi accepted his, Tonoro’s plan, then all would be accelerated. No one need fight anybody. No one need —
Which did not mean that no one would —
Suppose, though, that the Bahon plan was the winning one, with its utterly abrupt change, and no chance of gradual adjustment. Likely, the Tarnisi would be utterly crushed, either destroyed or driven into exile. Could the Volanth manage the required upward climb … in a vacuum? Would it not be inevitable that they must then submit to be ruled by the inexperienced if somewhat more sophisticated Quasi — who moreover, in most cases, also loathed them? Might this not be just as bad?
Then, too: Tonoro himself. And Atoral. Sooner or later he must tell her that he himself was a Quasi. And what then? What then, what then, what then?
Still his thoughts circled and circled till they seemed to have taken on physical shape and form. It was only then that he blinked and looked and realized that he was hemmed in by at least a dozen other floats. Down — Down — They gestured to him to put down; gestured with hands containing charge-throwers. And he obeyed. Stepping out of his own craft, he said, “The answer, then, is ‘No’, Mothiosant?”
“The answer is ‘No,’ ” Mothiosant said, as they quickly bound Tonoro and placed him in another float. Getting in beside him, he repeated, “The answer is ‘No.’ ”
“Then you don’t wish to learn what the Bahon plan is.”
Mothiosant sighed. “Really, as Sarlamat pointed out after you left, the Bahon plan became obvious the moment you mentioned them. After all, there are only a certain number of possibilities. An outright invasion is out of the question — Orinel politics have passed that stage long ago. Subversion, conversion, disaffection: these are the only possibilities. Well — they could not have been working on the Tarnisi: we were working on the Tarnisi. It is a sum in simple subtraction and one easily made — you made it easier by mentioning the Quasi and Volanth.”
The Enemy of My Enemy Page 16