by Hugh Cook
"You mock my passions?" said Oliver in anger.
"Mock?" said Hatch, struggling to control himself. "No. But – but – my sister? You? In love?"
"What else did you think?" said Lupus.
"Oh," said Hatch, grinning in the dark, "I thought you might want her as a slave, you know, to take to bed and ravish. But – well – marriage?"
"It's what I want," said Lupus fiercely.
"Yet your father opposes it."
"Yes."
"But he'd let you have Penelope as a slave?" said Hatch.
"I would presume so," said Lupus.
"Then take her thus," said Hatch. "She's legally burdened with debts she can't pay, so you can buy up her debts and have her tomorrow."
"That's not what I want!" said Lupus vehemently. "You – you want to see your sister a slave?"
Something had made young Lupus Lon Oliver extremely angry, but Hatch could not for the life of him fathom out the cause of the Ebrell Islander's rage. They were a very passionate people, these Ebrell Islanders, and sometimes quite unreasonable in their emotional outbursts.
"Why," said Hatch, "I want, well, I want what any man would want for his sister. To see her kept in one bed and made pregnant.
I'm sure you could bed her and bring her to child, though you might lose a testicle or two in the process. Well then, if that's what you want, go to it! If she's your slave she's your responsibility, and I've troubles enough of my own without trying to maintain that woman in discipline."
"You – you – how can you say these things?" said Lupus.
"You're of the Nexus, you've trained, you – there's no slaves in the Nexus."
"Not as such," said Hatch agreeably. "But this is not the Nexus. Cultural relativity applies. I'm sure your father will be happy enough for you to have my sister as your slave. Come on, let's ask him."
With that, Hatch set out for the Brick.
"But," said Lupus, standing fast in the dark, "I've already asked Penelope to marry me."
Hatch stopped short.
"You what!?" said Hatch, turning. "You've asked her what!?"
"I've asked her to marry me. She said she would."
"When was this?"
"A month ago."
"But – but when – but how – this is…!"
Hatch, unable to find words for his astoundment, quite staggered into silence.
"I have asked Penelope to marry me," said Lupus, with the clear-voiced heroism of a young man drugged and deluded by the flux of his own hormones. "I have asked her. She says she will.
But my father denies the match. Persuade my father to our party and you can have your scorpions, and more."
"If this was the Nexus," said Hatch, "would you let your father stand between you and the woman of your wish? The law permits you to marry as you wish. So, if the woman be willing – why, what then stands between you and the consummation of your folly? If this was the Nexus, you'd be married already!"
"As you have observed already," said Lupus, "this is not the Nexus. If I deny my father then I am drummed out of the Free Corps, I'm – I'm dead to my people."
"But you're in love," said Hatch. "So dare such a death."
"If I have to, I will," said Lupus. "But if I become instructor, then – then – I think my father will allow me what I want, yes, when I'm winner, when I've won."
"Then give me some three hundred scorpions and you'll have your victory by Dog Day's dawn," said Hatch.
"But," said Lupus, "But I've no gold, not a bit. My pay gets tithed by the Brick, of course, and I've, ah | | "
"You," said Hatch, intuiting the probable course of Lupus's relationship with Penelope, "have in the past year or so made substantial donations to a certain Edgerley Eden, an Evolutionist of Hepko Cholo."
"It is so," said Lupus, acknowledging the folly to which Penelope had persuaded him. "So – so I have no gold, and even if I'd saved I'd never have had three hundred, that's a lot of money, my father can raise it but not me, not when my father's against me. No Ebrell Islander would think it wise – "
"All right, all right," said Hatch, who did not want to stand there all night listening to Lupus detail out his financial plight. "Let's head for the Brick and talk to your father."
So the two men covered the last hundred paces to the Brick.
Exterior lanterns lit the door of the Brick, which was flanked by weathered jawbones which had once belonged to a whale.
In the freshness of their death, those jawbones had been white, but now, like the lanterns, they were red with dust. As for the Brick, that had been red to start with, since its squarebuilt blockwork had been erected using bricks deliberately chosen for their likeness to the sanguinary tint of an Ebrell Islander's fireskin. The guards who stood at the doors of the Brick carried the harpoons which Ebrell Islanders traditionally used to slaughter those improbable sea monsters known as whales. For though the Brick was ostensibly a monument to the ideals of the Nexus, in point of fact it was also a monument to the superiority complex of the Ebrell Islanders.
In Dalar ken Halvar, the Ebrell Islanders were renowned for that superiority complex. They claimed to be a master race – stronger, fiercer, harder and more courageous than other men. it was the commonest boast of the Ebrell Islanders that they could out-drink, out-fight and out-endeavor any three or four men of any other race put together; and, if the accounts of ethnologists were to be believed, on their native islands the Ebrell Islanders devoted much of their spare time to feasts at which they endeavored to both celebrate and prove their inbuilt superiority.
The Ebrell Islanders of the Brick thought of the Frangoni as a decidedly inferior people – the unfortunate resemblance of the Frangoni to some of the Wild Tribes featured in the entertainments of the Eye of Delusions was in part responsible for this attitude – and Hatch was conscious of entering into enemy territory as he stepped between the harpoon-carrying guards and entered the lantern-lit Brick.
The Frangoni warrior found himself expected, and was shortly admitted into the presence of Manfred Gan Oliver, father of Lupus Lon Oliver, master of the Brick and head of the Free Corps.
Asodo Hatch and Manfred Gan Oliver met together in the privacy of Gan Oliver's office, which was tricked out in a crude imitation of the bureaucratic style of the Nexus. There was a Nexus-style desk of fine-grained wood, and there were Nexus-style chairs on either side of the desk, one for Hatch and one for Gan Oliver. Hung on one wall was the certificate which vouched for Gan Oliver's graduation to the status of Startrooper.
There were however a number of things which marked this room as the preserve of an Ebrell Islander, for by the light of oil lanterns Hatch saw two black-bladed harpoons posed as trophies on the wall opposite Gan Oliver's graduation certificate – though Gan Oliver had been born in Dalar ken Halvar, and Hatch doubted that the man had seen either the Ebrell Islands or a whaling ship in his entire life.
"So," said Gan Oliver, when Hatch was brought into his presence. "Did my son say what I wanted you for?"
Manfred Gan Oliver did not speak in his native Dub, which was just as well, as Hatch had only the merest smattering of the Ebrell Island tongue. Like his son, Gan Oliver spoke in the Code Seven of the Nexus Ninetongue, which was the language in which all members of the Free Corps conducted their daily dealings.
The Code Seven Commonspeech was a tolerably smooth-voiced tongue, but Manfred Gan Oliver positively barked it as he sat on guard behind his desk, a very thog in his muscled belligerence, his strong-jawed suspicion.
"Young Lupus," said Hatch, "he called me out of House Jodorunda on pretext of wanting to speak to me about Son'sholoma Gezira, but I've no heard so much as a word from him on the subject since."
"That," said Gan Oliver heavily, "is because it's myself who wants to do the talking. About Gezira, I mean. Who was with you in House Jodorunda when Lupus called?"
"Lupus didn't go into the house," said Hatch carefully. "I was in there talking with my brother. About Son'sholoma Gezira –
I think I told Lupus as much."
"Your brother!" said Gan Oliver, sounding surprised. "You were talking about Gezira with your brother! Has the Gezira boy converted him, then?"
"Oboro Bakendra," said Hatch, "still remains a loyal priest of Temple Isherzan. It'll take a lot more than Son'sholoma's preachings to convert my brother from the worship of the Great God Mokaragash."
"Yet it would seem," said Gan Oliver, "that Gezira's teachings of the Nu have converted many already."
"What makes you say so?" said Hatch.
"Why, haven't you heard? Rumor says this Nu-chala nonsense has been running rife amongst the Yara for the better part of a three-month."
"I had not heard," said Hatch.
This was scarcely surprising. In the last three months Hatch had been too busy with study, examinations and his personal problems to pay much heed to gossip. Furthermore, though he was a captain of Dalar ken Halvar's Imperial Guard, he had long ago received a dispensation from the Silver Emperor allowing him to absent himself from routine security briefings and the like while he prepared for his examinations. Of late, he had made full use of that dispensation.
"There is even talk," said Gan Oliver, "that this Nu-nonsense will lead to revolution amongst the Yara. Certainly there have been incidents."
"Incidents?" said Hatch.
"A killing at the silver mines. One of the supervisors. An officer of the Imperial Guard, vanished, believed dead. A few other things."
"I have been out of touch," said Hatch, admitting ignorance in frank and painless confession.
"But now you know," said Gan Oliver. "So your duty is plain.
You must kill the Gezira boy before he does more damage with his nonsense."
"Kill him?" said Hatch, startled by Gan Oliver's bluntness.
True, Gan Oliver had a reputation for being a blunt and straightforward man, but even so… usually questions of murder were approached with a little more delicacy.
"Of course you must kill him," said Gan Oliver. "You're the emperor's chosen killer, everyone knows that. So go to your emperor, get his permission, then cut down Gezira."
"If the emperor requires me to do such a thing," said Hatch, with all due formality, "then the emperor will inform me of his wishes."
"Aaagh!" said Gan Oliver, and hawked, and spat thick phlegm into his wastepaper basket, which bore a heavy burden of rubbish originally sourced in the Combat College. "Our great lord Plandruk Qinplaqus has been sunk in one of his glooms for the better part of a year. He hears no business and starts none. You must act, Hatch. He listens to you. He trusts you."
"Perhaps," said Hatch, studying Gan Oliver by lantern light.
"But right now I have other things to attend to."
"Other things?" said Gan Oliver.
"I am in contention for the instructorship," said Hatch.
"That naturally takes priority for the moment."
"You're being derelict in your duty," said Gan Oliver. "This talk of the Nu, it's a Nexus thing, it came straight out of the Combat College. You're a Startrooper of the Stormforce. So – "
"If I have a duty to discharge in the city of Dalar ken Halvar," said Hatch, coldly, "then the emperor will inform me of that duty. I am the emperor's soldier, the emperor's slave, training in the Combat College under the terms of the agreement between the Silver Emperor and that College. It is not for me to arrange the affairs of Dalar ken Halvar in accordance with the concerns of the Nexus. Furthermore, to be specific, it is not for me to arrogate to myself the imperial privilege of organizing selective murder."
Manfred Gan Oliver muttered something under his breath. Hatch thought he caught the words "lawyer", "arrogant bastard" and "Frangoni madman", but he could not be sure of it. Hatch presumed that Gan Oliver was trying to provoke him, but he was in no mood to be provoked. His earlier clash with his brother Oboro Bakendra had freshly awakened him to the dangers of anger, so now he was exercising a studied self-control.
"Hatch," said Gan Oliver, drumming his fingers on his desk, "I know you're fighting for the instructorship, but – but really, Hatch, we could have a revolution on our hands. Soon! And the emperor – the emperor does nothing."
"So I must act," said Hatch, probing for Gan Oliver's purpose, seeking to test his resolve.
"You must act," agreed Gan Oliver.
"Then free me for action," said Hatch. "I don't want the instructorship as such, only the money it would bring. I'm up to my neck in debt, and drowning. Give me three hundred scorpions and I'll walk away from the competition. What's more, I'll seek a death certificate for Son'sholoma, and when I've got it I'll execute him personally."
"It's a deal," said Gan Oliver promptly.
"Good," said Hatch, amazed at the swiftness of Gan Oliver's response. "You – you're very quick to do business."
"The Brick has had practice at doing such business," said Gan Oliver. "You don't think it's an accident that Ebrell Islanders have held the instructorship in unbroken succession for so long.
Do you? Well, in any case – it's a deal. If."
"If?" said Hatch.
"If you can persuade your sister away from this nonsense of marriage."
"Marriage?" said Hatch, pretending innocence.
"Oh, come on!" said Gan Oliver, slamming one his meaty hands on his desk. "You don't think me such a fool as all that, do you?
You've known about it for months. You must have! That mad purple bitch, that sister of yours, she's tempted my son to a proposal of marriage. I want it stopped!"
Hatch took considerable offence at hearing his sister referred to as a mad purple bitch. He might call her that himself on occasion, but such was a brother's privilege. The words were unseemly in the mouth of a stranger like Gan Oliver. But Hatch suppressed every evidence of offence and said:
"If you want the marriage stopped, then encompass my sister's envanishment. She's mortgaged and can't redeem the mortgage, so she's easily bought. So buy her and vanish her."
Hatch did not necessarily want any such thing to happen to his sister, but made the suggestion in order to probe for the truth of Gan Oliver's intentions.
"You think I haven't thought of that?" said Gan Oliver, taking Hatch's suggestion at face value. "You think my son hasn't thought of me thinking as much? He's sworn he'll kill me if the woman leaves the city. Or if she otherwise vanishes. He'll hold me responsible however it seems to happen."
"So what did you say when he told you that?" said Hatch.
"I smacked his head, of course," said Gan Oliver. "If he wasn't so busy with his examinations I'd have broken his jaw. But – Hatch, the boy's serious. He means it! If the woman goes, he'll – he'll do something I wouldn't like to think about. This is serious, Hatch! I don't want to lose my son."
"Then perhaps," said Hatch, trying to find a delicate way to put it. "Perhaps you – you might – well, the boy has to marry someone."
Gan Oliver looked at Hatch then said, with great deliberation:
"Get out of here."
"What?" said Hatch.
"Out!" yelled Gan Oliver, roaring with world-sundering fury.
It was a yell designed to content against the bellowing fury of an angry whale – such a yell that Hatch's ears positively hurt from the blast of it.
"Very well," said Hatch, as cool as a slunk at ease in the wallow of its slime.
And without bothering to pass any comment further, the Frangoni warrior arose from his chair and departed, leaving Manfred Gan Oliver sitting alone on the high and lonely peak of his apocalyptic blood pressure.
As soon as Hatch had escaped from Gan Oliver's office, he was accosted by Lupus.
"What did he say?" said Lupus. "What did he say?"
"It's a deal," said Hatch. "That's what he says. But only – Lupus, it's in your hands now. He's wants you to call off your plans for this – this marriage with my sister. He thinks I can talk some sense into her head, but – Lupus, I can't. Only you can persuade Penelope that – well. Will you do it?"
&nb
sp; "I'd rather die," said Lupus defiantly.
"You'd rather die?" said Hatch, somberly measuring the weight of the words. "You'd rather die? Then… Lupus, my friend, it may well come to a matter of dying before we're through with each other."
With that half-veiled threat, Hatch departed from the Brick and turned his steps toward Cap Uba, the Frangoni rock.
As Hatch was climbing the Frangoni rock on the way to his home, he was met by Son'sholoma Gezira and half a dozen of Son'sholoma's supporters, each of them carrying a lantern suspended from a stick. Like the cheap and primitive oil lanterns of the buffalo carts, these were powered by the grease of the slunk, and stank with a similar stench like unto that of the burning of a woman's crowning beauty.
"What do you want?" said Hatch, wondering why he was thus being accosted by those who were preaching the alien doctrines of Nu-chala-nuth in the city of Dalar ken Halvar.
"Just to give you a little news," said Son'sholoma.
"What news?" said Hatch.
"Your daughter Onica has mortgaged herself to the moneylender Polk," said Son'sholoma.
"Get out of my way," said Hatch.
"Hatch," said Son'sholoma, "you're bitterly in debt, and – Hatch, Nu-chala-nuth is the death of all moneylenders."
This is one of the claims almost inevitably made by any revolutionary movement, whether the rhetoric of that movement be religious, or racial, or ideological, or a combination of all three. Every society has its moneylenders, and every society has a half-acknowledged hatred of those moneylenders; and, while most citizens would claim that they are opposed to robbery on principle, one of the great attractions of revolution is that by the overthrow of moneylenders and the cancellation of debts it effectively allows a great mass of citizens to realize the longdesired opportunity to rob a bank.
"My blade is at the command of my emperor," said Hatch soberly, "and I do no killing for cash."
"Hatch," said Son'sholoma, "Hatch, it's your daughter, I've spoken in truth. Polk holds a mortgage. Do you surrender your daughter? Do you make her your sacrifice to – what? The law? What law? What law is it that makes slaves and rules by murder? Hatch, we need your support."
Hatch hesitated. Manfred Gan Oliver had spoken of a possible revolution. If there was a conspiracy afoot, then Hatch had a duty to find out about it.