by Hugh Cook
Oboro Bakendra sat. Glowering. He saw the dreadful necessity of choice which was upon them. But. He had made his commitments to the Great God Mokaragash. He had made his commitments to the priesthood. He had won status there – of a kind. A position there – of a kind. A place there – of a kind. If he threw in his lot with the Nu-chala-nuth, then he would have to give up that position, that place, that status.
Still, he had made such a change once. Three years earlier, Oboro Bakendra had left the Combat College, automatically excluded from its corridors when he reached the end of his years of training. At first he had been very despondent, but then he had got religion, and had found in religion a consolation for what he had lost.
Which raised an obvious question. Oboro Bakendra had known for years that his life in the Combat College would automatically end when he was 34 years of age. So why hadn't he started laying the groundwork of an alternative career earlier? Paraban Senk, the Teacher of Control who ruled the Combat College, thought for some bizarre reason that Asodo Hatch had murdered Hiji Hanojo, the previous Combat College instructor.
Asodo Hatch had been possessed of motive.
But Oboro Bakendra, on the verge of being exiled from the Combat College, had been possessed of a much stronger motive.
Oboro would have stood a good chance of winning the instructorship had not Senk postponed the examinations for three years.
And…
"The Great God Mokaragash is my life," said Oboro Bakendra.
"Is that so?" said Hatch, choosing his words with care. "If religion is your life, is it also to be your death? There was a man, once. Lamjuk Dakoto."
"That man has nothing to do with me," said Oboro, who had long ago renounced his father.
Lamjuk Dakoto Hatch, father of Asodo and Oboro, had killed himself on the sands of the Season. Lamjuk Dakoto had killed his own brother in gladiatorial combat. With the killing done, Lamjuk Dakoto had fallen upon his own sword in full view of Dalar ken Halvar.
"Our father, hence our fate," said Hatch remorselessly. "For what is the son if not the reflection of the father?"
"He renounced his religion," said Oboro. "He renounced his people, his god."
It was true. Lamjuk Dakoto had turned away from the Frangoni faith, the worship of the Great God Mokaragash. A bitter dispute over this renunciation had led to Lamjuk Dakoto fighting and killing his own brother.
"He remains our father," said Hatch.
"He's dead, Hatch," said Oboro, speaking with a wrench-note of agony, of grief.
So the son who had spurned the father still mourned him.
Oboro was racked by concealed grief – grief unreconciled. Tears unwept. Laments deep-stocked in silence.
"He's dead, yes, dead," said Hatch. "And you as his son will die for the same reason, because death is your choice."
"If I must die," said Oboro, "then I die for my god and my people."
"It is the common wisdom of all who study such matters," said Hatch, "that any man who kills himself hands a sharp sword to his son. If you die, then you die because your father killed himself.
And for no better reason."
"My god," said Oboro. "My people."
"Then what," said Hatch, flaring, "what was your god to you when you murdered Hiji Hanojo? Your people, what, you killed him good, you killed him clean, you murdered because you wanted the Nexus, you wanted to stay!"
There.
It was out.
Hatch had accused his brother Oboro Bakendra of killing Hiji Hanojo to open up a chance of winning the instructorship.
Oboro breathed slowly.
Breathed deeply.
Then said:
"Are you accusing me of murder?"
"It is Paraban Senk who accuses you," said Hatch coldly.
"Yesterday I was victorious in battle. I won the instructorship.
My first move was to consult all those files which had till then been hidden from view. Naturally I wanted to know who had killed Hiji Hanojo."
"So Senk says…"
"You should have been able to work it out for yourself," said Hatch, riding the dynamic of his bluff, taking it through to its logical conclusion. "Paraban Senk knew full well that you murdered Hiji Hanojo. You had motive. Means. Opportunity. I saw your psychological profile, there's no secrets hidden. So. Senk decided to punish you.
"So.
"Senk denied you the chance to compete for the instructorship. Senk declared a three-year moratorium on the competitive examinations. Because. Because Senk knew. Senk knew that I would win. And Senk knew. Senk knew that would be the greatest punishment. For you to see your younger brother succeed where you failed.
"And that's why you chose your god, your Great God Mokaragash, because you wanted a career, power, status, position, something to replace the Combat College. And that's why you, you wanted me to leave, no more College, no, come to the Great God, little brother, you wanted to wreck me down, you were jealous, you saw I'd win, you couldn't stand it, as soon as you were out of the College you wanted my training wrecked and ruined.
"So.
"So that's how it is, Oboro, and if you, death, if it's death, if you're going to die then it's because that's what you want, your father handed you a sword, spite and jealousy, jealousy and thwarted ambition. That's all there is, Oboro. Well. Make your choice. Stand by your Great God and die. But know why you die. Not from piety but from selfish spite. Your Great God is a sword. If you want to fall upon that sword, then do so. But I – I will not die just because my father killed himself!"
Thus Hatch.
Then silence.
Then, very slowly, Oboro Bakendra's face buckled. His shoulders began to shake, and he wept. Hatch watched him, watched him weep. Then went to his brother's side and comforted him in the agony of his grief.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Chasm Gates: the transcosmic junction which once linked the local universe to the rest of the Nexus. Some 20,000 years ago, the Chasm Gates collapsed, isolating the local cosmos from the rest of the Nexus. War followed. Even after twenty millennia, dim memories of that war persist in the form of those legends concerning what is now known as the Days of Wrath.
But if from their steps of stone in flesh The gods should step – And sliding from the clouds unseat – And grapeskin humans with their feet – "What do you think?" said Oboro Bakendra.
"It's a bluff," said Hatch. "Of course it's a bluff. It would be too much of a coincidence for any such thing to happen now."
The two brothers were in the kinema, the natural amphitheater outside the lockway. The Eye of Delusions, the big entertainment screen set above the lockway, was screening the image of a strangely mutated human with insectile mandibles. This thing was – or so it alleged – the current ruler of the Nexus. It claimed that the Chasm Gates had opened, and that the Tulip Continuum which contained the city of Dalar ken Halvar and its Combat College was again reunited with humanity's grandest transcosmic civilization.
"You will surrender your authority to that of the Combat College," said the human-insect thing.
Not for the first time.
It had said as much a full three dozen times already, without moving either Asodo Hatch or his brother Oboro Bakendra in the slightest.
"You have to admit," said Oboro Bakendra, "the thing looks almost authentic."
"Admit?" said Hatch. "Brother mine, you forget my imperial status! I have made myself emperor, and an emperor admits nothing."
Nevertheless…
The accents of the presumptuous mandible-equipped human which dominated the Eye of Delusions did suggest some of the distortions which might reasonably have been expected to befall the Nexus Ninetongue in the course of twenty millennia. Though of course the Ninetongue had been designed to be impervious to linguistic drift – divided up into nine separate task-specific dialects and supported by the standardizing resources of an affluent machine culture.
To that degree the thing was authentic.
But Hatch wa
s not prepared to publicly admit even that much.
"Senk's improvising," said Hatch, "but the improvisation is fairly desperate."
Hatch was right. The insect-human which was trying to menace Dalar ken Halvar, and to bring that city to order by exercise of terror, was a tenth-rate derivation of one of the standard monsters of the Nexus entertainments so commonly screened by the Eye of Delusions. Paraban Senk lacked the imagination required to think up something new. A human in authority who was characterized by tact, sensitivity and flexibility, for example – that would have been something new. Hatch might even have been impressed by it.
"So what will you do?" said Oboro Bakendra, elder brother conceding initiative and authority to the younger.
"Do?" said Hatch.
"About Senk," said Oboro Bakendra. "About the Combat College.
Do we ignore it? Or what?"
"I'll go in there soon," said Hatch. "I have to. Senk still has my wife, my daughter…"
"And your whore," said Oboro Bakendra, unable to restrain himself from making this unfavorable observation.
"The Lady Iro Murasaki still enjoys the protection of the Combat College," said Hatch agreeably.
Asodo Hatch had lately been through far too much to get upset simply because someone chose to impugn the honor of the Lady Murasaki.
"And what about our sister?" said Oboro Bakendra.
"Our sister?" said Hatch absently.
"Yes, yes, our sister, our sister Joma, otherwise known to the world as Penelope. Penelope Flute. Remember her? A girl, Hatch, a big girl, a girl as tall as a man, purple in her skin and turbulent in her temper. What have you done with her, Hatch?"
"I don't know that I've done anything with her!" said Hatch.
"Well, she certainly went into the Combat College," said Oboro Bakendra. "There's plenty of proof of that. You must have seen her yourself."
"I – I have some recollection of that," said Hatch.
Yes. Hatch dimly remembered seeing Penelope at some time during the turbulent period when refugees of all descriptions were boiling into Forum Three.
In the lead-up to Hatch's series of duels with Lupus Lon Oliver, Paraban Senk had asked Hatch to name those guests whom he chose to invite into the Combat College to watch him fight. Hatch had been in no mood to trifle with such trivia; and so, rather than drawing up a guest list, Hatch had simply told Senk to admit anyone who asked for admission in his name.
Consequently, when riots had broken out in Dalar ken Halvar, numerous refugees had been able to find sanctuary inside the minor mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash by quoting Hatch's name. Hatch's wife, daughter and mistress had won admission to the mountain, and, yes, Penelope too.
But.
"But," said Oboro Bakendra, driving home the point remorselessly, "that's the last that anyone knows of her. You appear to have lost her."
And in the end Hatch had no option but to confess that he had indeed mislaid his sister, which was doubtlessly very remiss of him. He had excuses, of course, for the recent past had been turbulent – and, while dueling his enemy and commandeering a religious revolution, Hatch had not found it possible to keep track of the delinquent Penelope. But Oboro Bakendra made it clear that he thought this no excuse.
"You don't seem concerned," said Oboro Bakendra.
"Frankly," said Hatch, "I'm more concerned with the absence of Lupus Lon Oliver than with Penelope. We've made a great heap of corpses, but Lupus is not to be found on that heap."
"His face may have been disfigured," said Oboro Bakendra.
"Perhaps he lies incognito beneath the sun."
"There is the matter of stature," said Hatch. "Lupus was built quite close to the ground, as you remember. Had the rat's flesh been in amongst its companions, I'm sure I would have recognized it by the length of its legs and the modest bulk of its torso. I've had occasion to watch it closely of late."
"It may well be that Lupus and Joma have fled the city together," said Oboro Bakendra. "In which case they are of no account. Lupus is no danger once detached from his warforce, and thus detached he is – for I warrant that very few Ebrell Islanders of military age are left alive in Dalar ken Halvar."
With this said, the two brothers left the kinema, where the Eye of Delusions was still making dire threats about the wrath of the Nexus.
Under a hot and dusty sky, the two brothers made their way down Scuffling Road through a day which was possessed of something of the traditional clamour of Dog Day. Naturally the festivities were muted somewhat by the events of the recent past, for it was hard to be truly festive in a city which had recently suffered many bereavements and a great deal of burning. Still, a fair few people were giving it their best shot.
The traditional Dog Day drums were pounding; the traditional scuffles were taking place as various teams tried to make their chosen dog the dog-king for the day; and a fair few unfortunate dogs were being barbecued and eaten.
Actually, on Dog Day it was against both law and tradition to slaughter and eat any dog until evening, which was traditionally the time for the start of an enormous blood-glutting feast; but both law and tradition had broken down under the pressure of the latest events.
Asodo Hatch and his elder brother Oboro Bakendra went down Scuffling Road, crossed its intersection with Zambuk Street, continued down Scuffling Road, and so after a walk of some considerable distance came upon the scene of the battle which had that day given them victory over the Free Corps.
Hatch had deceived Senk, knowingly, and with malice aforethought; and then Senk had unwittingly deceived the Free Corps. Thus setting the stage for the Free Corp's destruction.
Within the minor mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash, the Startroopers and Combat Cadets of the Free Corps had been briefed by Paraban Senk, the diligent Teacher of Control. The unembodied Senk had told the Free Corps that the announced "opening of the Chasm Gates" had been but a ploy to lure them into an imprisoning trap.
Senk had then informed the Free Corps that it was in the long-term interests of the survival and functioning of the Combat College that Dalar ken Halvar – and indeed the entire Empire of Greater Parengarenga – be united under the militant religion of Nu-chala-nuth. For the Combat College was breaking down; and, unable to rely upon the ancient machinery of probabilitymanipulation, Senk must necessarily enlist religion for support.
Senk had announced to the prisoners that they would be held within Cap Foz Para Lash indefinitely if they were not prepared to co-operate with this new plan. If however they chose to ally themselves with Asodo Hatch and with the Nu-chala-nuth, then they could look forward to playing a leading role in a great and prosperous future.
After some discussion, the members of the Free Corps had agreed to make those rather painful adjustments to the new reality which had opened before them. And so it had come to pass that, as the Dog Day celebrations began to get underway, the Free Corps had been released from the minor mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash.
The Free Corps had set off down Scuffling Road, marching in a body from the Combat College toward the Grand Arena. The plan was that in the Grand Arena they would take an oath of allegiance to Asodo Hatch in particular and to the Nu-chala-nuth in general.
However, the Free Corps had never reached the Arena.
Along the way, the Frangoni had taken the Free Corps in a classic ambush, attacking from the west – bursting out from ruined houses, from unruined houses, and from bamboo screens hastily erected and made to look like windbreaks. Every Frangoni man, woman and child capable of holding a blade had joined that ambush.
Those of the Free Corps who had not been cut down immediately had fled to the east – only to fall victim to pit-traps and to sharpened bamboo spikes planted in carefully concealed holes.
The slaughter had been almost universal.
Manfred Gan Oliver had been accounted for, and on discovering the corpse of Gan Oliver the valorous Asodo Hatch had – but, enough! There is no need to be saying what Hatch did to the unfortunate Gan Oliver on
ce Gan Oliver was dead! Suffice it to say that all of Dalar ken Halvar soon heard of the fate of that corpse; for terror is a potent weapon, and the niceties of Hatch's position were such that he could not afford to let any weapon lie unused.
But while Gan Oliver had been definitely (and definitively!) accounted for, no sign of the corpse of Lupus Lon Oliver had been found anywhere, and nobody could be found who had seen that young man escaping.
The ambush had taken place before midday, and it was now late in the afternoon. As Asodo Hatch and Oboro Bakendra returned to the scene of the slaughter, they found some of the Pang engaged in putting the turd of a dog into the mouth of every corpse – this placement of turds being a form of defilement which was traditional amongst the Pang.
There on the field of battle stood the beggars Grim, Zoplin and X'dex Paspilion, holding forth in witness of the mighty deeds of Asodo Hatch, Saint Hatch, savior of the people, upholder of the Way, beloved of god. They told of how Saint Hatch had, in days long gone and days yet recent, dispensed an equal justice to beggars, never shunning to give them the mercy of his wisdom.
With an even greater enthusiasm, the beggars told of how, in a time of dire trouble, the mere mention of the name of their beloved Saint Hatch had been sufficient to win them admission to the mountain halls which had ever previously been barred to them.
They told of how, in the ever so recent past, Saint Hatch had captained a ship crewed by the Nu-chala-nuth in a mighty war against the godless Ebrell Islander Lupus Lon Oliver.
Saint Hatch was greeted by those who had been listening to the beggars, and he was acclaimed by them.
Hatch accepted this acclaim, then continued his tour of Dalar ken Halvar. In due course, he came to the banks of the Yamoda, the slow and shallow river which wended its way through Dalar ken Halvar, which slushed through the swamps of the Vomlush and then wasted its substance in the huge and heat-vomiting pit known as the Hot Mouth.
Here Hatch paused on the site of his father's funeral pyre.
On the far side of the river, smoke was rising from present-day fires which were aflame in that quarter of the city known as Hepko Cholo. There the Pang and the Frangoni were united in making short work of those few Evolutionists who had not yet fled the city.