Shining Steel

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Shining Steel Page 8

by Lawrence Watt-Evans


  John said nothing; he lay there, unable to awaken and convinced that it was all real after all, trying to gather up the shattered fragments of his thoughts.

  “Hey, are you all right?"

  He did not answer.

  She said something totally alien; John was not even sure it was words. He closed his eyes, straining to think.

  “The computer says that you're okay, just upset. I can't wait around all day, Joel; that wouldn't be any fun at all. I think you can find your way out if you try; I'll leave the door open.” He heard her moving about, heard the rustle of clothing.

  “Wait,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Where are you from?"

  “Me? Ho Chi Minh City. Why?"

  “No, I mean, where are the People of Heaven from?” He opened his eyes and saw her ankles; a skirt hung above them, cut like the one she had worn before, but this one was a different color, a deep rich brown.

  “Earth, mostly; they're a wholly-owned subsidiary of the New Bechtel-Rand Corporation. It was fun, Joel.” She walked away; her ankles vanished from his field of vision.

  He lay there for a few seconds more, then uncurled and got slowly to his feet. As she had promised, the door to the corridor stood open. He walked unsteadily out into the passageway, chose a direction at random, and began looking for the exit.

  From Earth? As far as John was concerned, such monsters of decadence could only be from Hell, and he had every intention of destroying them before they could harm Godsworld any further.

  And the woman who had seduced him and used that infernal spike on him-if that whore was merely a “stockholder", which he guessed to be something like the Satanic equivalent of a deacon, then this America Dawes could be no less than the Great Whore of Babylon herself.

  Could the spike have been poisoned after all? He felt weaker than mere emotional distress would seem to account for. But then, he had just… raped? Attacked? He had just had a woman, and he had been drugged; the unknown aphrodisiac might have side-effects.

  If he had been poisoned he would fight it off. He drew strength from his fury. His uncertain walk became his usual firm stride, and ten minutes later, after a few false turns, he found the lobby he had entered through. He left the building and marched toward the inn.

  Chapter Nine

  “Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?"-Job 38:2

  ****

  Lazarus Speaker-of-Gospel cocked his head sideways and stared at his nephew in annoyance.

  “You're sure of all this?” he demanded.

  “Yes, Elder,” John replied, “I am. You've heard Matt's testimony as well; I'm sorry that the heretic Miriam Humble-Before-God won't speak, and that we couldn't find any of the other surviving scouts, but you have the sworn word of two good men, good Christians, and good soldiers. Isn't that enough?"

  “I'm not sure; by your own admission you were drugged by this woman, and Matthew never heard anyone claim to be from Earth, nor saw any of the shameful perversions you insist took place."

  Hiding his own annoyance, John said, “He saw the guns, though, and rode this airship of theirs, and can swear that these people are strangers to Godsworld who live in sinful luxury and decadence. Three years ago the Citadel of Heaven was just another heretic community, up in the hills-now it's the home base of this growing protectorate that uses Earthly weapons and preaches against evangelism. Even if these strangers aren't Satan's minions sent from Earth-and I believe that that's exactly what they are-they are an evil force we've got to destroy.” Beside him, Matthew nodded agreement.

  Lazarus sighed.

  At the end of the council table Jacob Blessed-Among-Men barked impatiently, “Enough of this! These people are obviously a threat, and we have to destroy them; John's right about that. So what are we going to do about it?"

  “Can't it wait until after we've fought the Chosen?” Simon Called-to-the-Truth whined.

  “Their power is growing steadily,” John said. “Marshside was on the verge of joining their protectorate when we captured it; if we'd been a month later, we might've faced not just one machine gun, but a dozen."

  “And that's something that troubles me,” old Isaac Fisher-of-Men said, shaking his head unsteadily. “What could you and your men-fine as they are-do against the weapons you say these people have? John, you lost what-thirty men against that one machine gun?"

  “Thirty-one,” John admitted. “And two more who died later. But Elder, we were taken by surprise; we were charging down an open hillside, making ourselves perfect targets. We wouldn't be doing that against the People of Heaven; we know what we're facing this time."

  “Do we? John, you may be a good soldier, but you don't know everything; there were weapons back on Earth that make machine guns look like children's slings. What if these people have them?"

  “Why should they? They didn't come here to fight a war; they came to subvert us, lead us into the temptations of material wealth and sensual pleasure. If they have other, mightier weapons, why have they kept them secret? Why not let it be known, so that we would be more frightened than ever? Maybe Earth has lost some of its wonders, just as we have; maybe they couldn't bring that much with them. I don't know their reasons, but I don't believe they have any of these miracle weapons."

  “Still,” Lazarus pointed out, “you'd be leading men with swords up against machine guns."

  “I would be leading men with swords and rifles and bombs and whatever shields we can devise up against machine guns-men armed with steel and with steel in their backbones, the steel of the one true faith, against guns manned by soft and decadent weaklings!"

  “We don't need speeches,” someone muttered; John did not see who had spoken.

  “The men of Marshside fought well,” Lazarus said. “They weren't weaklings."

  “They weren't the People of Heaven, either-they hadn't even joined the protectorate yet."

  “So you want to take all our guns and ammunition and men, all the explosives in New Nazareth, and attack the Citadel of Heaven with them, sneaking them in where the roads are so bad travellers ride this ungodly airship,” Simon said derisively. “Fine-what are we supposed to do if the Chosen attack while you're leading your men up through these hills?"

  “I hope to have the armies of the Chosen with me,” John replied.

  “What's he talking about?” Simon demanded, looking back and forth at his fellow Elders.

  Lazarus sighed again. “I hadn't told them about that part yet, John,” he said. “I figured we'd best start with the easy part."

  “Elders, I want to make a truce with the Chosen of the Holy Ghost. After all, they're as threatened by the People of Heaven as we are; I think we should put aside our differences until this greater threat has been destroyed. You've pointed out yourselves that our army, fine as it is, might not be enough against these diabolical weapons the Heaveners use-but if we had the Chosen marching beside us, our numbers doubled, nothing on Godsworld could stand against us."

  “I don't like this,” Simon said, “I don't like it at all. They're heretics."

  “They're still Christians, though,” John insisted. “The People of Heaven aren't."

  Old Adam Bearing-the-Cross, who had sat quietly beside Jacob Blessed-Among-Men throughout the entire session until now, spoke up. “Our ancestors put aside their doctrinal differences in order to come to Godsworld in the first place,” he said. “They hoped for a miracle that would show them how to resolve those differences permanently, and that miracle never came-but can we do any less to preserve Godsworld than they did to create it? I don't say that I believe every word John has said about these people-it's hard to imagine offworlders sleeping a hundred years to come here and make trouble-but John obviously believes it, and he's a good man, an intelligent man. If he tells us these people are a real threat, and that stopping them is more important than showing the Chosen the error of their heathenish ways, then he's probably right. I say we make the treaty." />
  “I agree,” Jacob said. “After all, we can always take care of the Chosen later; this way we'll know more about how they fight."

  “And they'll know more about the way we fight,” Isaac pointed out.

  “We know enough about how they fight now,” Simon said. “Can't we deal with them first, and then attack the Heaveners?"

  “We need their strength,” John said.

  “Vote!” Paul Bound-for-Glory called.

  “All right,” Lazarus said, “All those who favor treating with the so-called Chosen of the Holy Ghost to form an alliance to attack the so-called People of Heaven, vote ‘aye'. Paul?"

  “Aye."

  “Thaddeus?"

  “Aye."

  “Simon?"

  “No."

  “Isaac?"

  “I'll abstain."

  “Tom?"

  “Aye."

  “Jake?"

  Simon objected, “You're not taking them in order."

  “I don't have to,” Lazarus replied. “Jake?"

  “Aye."

  “Adam?"

  “Aye."

  “And reluctant as I am, I vote ‘aye', too,” Lazarus said. “That makes six for, and with an abstention that's a majority. God's will be done, amen. If you others want to go on record you can, but that's all we need. Anyone?"

  No one spoke up; after a brief pause, Lazarus continued, “All right, then-someone get John a white flag and a cross, and he can head out for Spiritus Sancti right now."

  “Thank you, Uncle Lazarus,” John replied.

  The party that had ridden full-speed from Marshside had been made up of John, Habakkuk, Matthew, and Miriam-John had brought Matthew and Miriam to support his testimony, and Habakkuk to report on the current state of the army at Marshside, reaffirming the soldiers’ faith in their leaders and their readiness to fight any foe. The party that gathered for the journey to Spiritus Sancti, an hour after the meeting of the Elders, included John, as spokesman; Habakkuk, as second; a civilian by the name of Peter Light-of-the-World to speak for the Elders; two soldiers as honor guard; and Miriam, because nobody had any better idea of what to do with her. Matthew was to return to Marshside with Lieutenant David Saved-By-Grace, who would be taking charge of the army there until John's return-John and Habakkuk had left a mere under-lieutenant running things, and the Elders deemed that unsuitable.

  It was the third of May when the party reached Spiritus Sancti under heavy guard and was led into the presence of the Anointed.

  When Peter had run through the required formalities and made introductions, John came directly to the point. “We have come here in hopes that we can convince your people to forget, temporarily, their differences with the People of the True Word and Flesh, and join with us against a common foe."

  The Anointed sat back on his cathedra; the chair creaked beneath his weight. “And who would this common foe be?” he asked.

  “The so-called People of Heaven, and their infernal pagan protectorate."

  “I don't know a thing about them; they're on the other side of the New Jordan, and I don't concern myself with anything over there."

  “Well, sir, whether you know it or not, they're a growing threat to all of Godsworld, on both sides of the New Jordan, from Asher all the way to Simeon."

  “Oh?” the Anointed said politely.

  “Yes, they are! They're from Earth, agents of Satan come to destroy us."

  “Oh?” the Anointed said again. “What makes you think so?"

  “I've visited their capital, and they told me as much. They have the lost arts-they have an airship, they have machine guns, and they're fabulously wealthy. They're expanding rapidly; it won't be more than two years before they start nibbling away at your own southeastern territories. They've already taken Little St. Peter, and St. Peter itself is a part of your domain, isn't it?"

  “It is-but if I were concerned with Little St. Peter we'd have taken that, too. Still… agents of Satan, you say?"

  “Their women are wantons, their men cowards; their leader is a woman. The towns they ‘protect’ become soft and decadent. They have no faith-they insist their client towns accept any sort of heresy."

  The Anointed nodded. “And your people intend to put a stop to these abominations?"

  “With your help, yes."

  “You propose to put an end to your plans for a war against my people?"

  “We propose an alliance until the last of the People of Heaven is destroyed; I can't promise any more than that."

  “And if I accept such an alliance, whose command would our armies fight under?"

  John glanced at Peter and Habakkuk, then turned back to the Anointed. “That remains to be negotiated."

  “I see.” He nodded again. “Is that everything?"

  The True Worders looked at one another. “I think so,” John said."

  “All right, then. You folks can wait in the yard; I need to pray and talk to my advisors. I'll let you know my decision before supper. God be with you.” He pushed his swollen body up out of the chair and plodded heavily from the room.

  The Chosen guards herded the True Worders unceremoniously out before they could protest, out to the yard in front of the Anointed's house where rows of benches were available for petitioners.

  After a moment of rebelliousness, John shrugged and sat down. He was in the enemy camp; he had no say here. He could not even use the standard diplomatic threat of war to demand better treatment, since what he wanted most of all was to avoid a war against the Chosen.

  Miriam sat beside him, pressing up close; startled, John turned and looked at her, even as Habakkuk and the others, noticing her actions, discreetly took benches well away from the pair. She smiled winningly.

  “What do you think you're doing?” he asked quietly.

  “Oh, I'm just enjoying myself,” she replied in a near-whisper.

  “You are?"

  “Sure-I knew you were a coward and a hypocrite all along, and it's nice to have proof."

  John felt his face going red, and glanced at Habakkuk. Habakkuk politely looked the other way; he had seen the red and assumed that his captain was blushing at something the girl had suggested.

  “A coward?"

  “Yes, a coward. You claim that you command an army of the Lord's own men, the only followers of the true religion on all Godsworld, but before you go up against the Heaveners-men you called decadent weaklings-you want to make sure you've got the help of the biggest bunch of heretics around. The big brave warrior!"

  “They have machine guns,” he reminded her.

  “A lot of good that did Marshside!"

  Annoyed, he pushed her away and sat brooding silently.

  The sun was well down the western sky when a messenger summoned them back into the Anointed's presence.

  “I've decided,” the Anointed said without preliminaries, “that I can't afford to risk my people by getting them into a war that's none of our business. You may be right about the threat these heathens present, but we'll just have to trust in the Lord to protect us. We won't join your alliance.” He paused, watching the True Worders’ faces for reactions, then went on, “However, since these ‘People of Heaven’ may be a real threat someday, we will swear to remain neutral in any war you poor heretics may wage against them; we won't harm any of you so long as you fight the Heaveners.” He shifted in his seat and leaned forward. “In fact, we'd be glad to arrange a truce, whether you fight the Heaveners or not, so that our two peoples won't be weakened by fighting each other, such that the Heaveners could wipe us both out later."

  John said, “I hope you'll reconsider…"

  The Anointed interrupted him. “Boy, when I speak from this cathedra, it's final-I don't reconsider. You got that?"

  John opened his mouth, then closed it again and nodded.

  “Good. We've got a couple of rooms for you down the street; you stay there tonight, but be out of the city by noon tomorrow. Got that?"

  John nodded again.

&
nbsp; “Good. Thanks for coming; tell your Elders to send me a message if they want that truce, and I'll lay off you as long as you fight the Heaveners, truce or not. Now, get out of here, and God be with you.” He waved, then sat back and watched as the True Worders departed.

  The rooms were in a boarding house, but the matron refused to serve heretics, so that supper consisted of cold trail provisions. After everything was eaten and the food had had time to settle John, Habakkuk, Peter, and Miriam gathered in one room to talk-or rather, the three men were to talk; Miriam was just there.

  “I don't like it,” Habakkuk said.

  “Which part?” Peter asked.

  “Any of it."

  “The truce offer isn't bad."

  “It's interesting, certainly,” John agreed.

  “It's a trick of some kind,” Habakkuk insisted.

  “I don't think so,” John said. “The Chosen have been careful about treaties; they don't break them without provocation. I think that the Anointed means what he says."

  “Why? A few months ago the Chosen were practically begging for a war, blocking our trade routes, taking hostages… why would they want peace now?"

  “There's only one reason anyone ever wants to avoid a war, Hab; they think they'll lose. A few months ago the Chosen didn't know anything about our army; I would guess that they've learned a little since then. They may have spies, or maybe someone from Marshside talked to them. Or maybe it's something here in Spiritus; maybe there's been trouble in their army. Anyway, they think they'll lose if there's a war, that's plain."

  “You're right, John-that's got to be it. And that's why they want us to fight the Heaveners-so they can take on the survivor while he's still weak."

  John nodded. “I'd say so."

  “But in that case, we need to attack the Chosen first; after we're done with them we can worry about the Heaveners. The Chosen are a lot closer to home, John, and truce or not, they've been our enemies for years, while the Heaveners don't even know yet that we exist. If we take the Chosen now, then take a year to rebuild, we should still be able to take on the Heaveners; but if we take the Heaveners now, as soon as they're defeated the Chosen will take us from behind, before we can get our men back across the New Jordan."

 

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