There Will Be Dragons tcw-1

by John Ringo

  “So how do you know Herzer?” she asked, looking around at the gathering and ignoring his crowding. She snorted as a faint blue luminance appeared in the air between them as he leaned forward. “And you seem to be encroaching on my space, Dionys. That is most inconsiderate.” She took a surreptitious breath, feeling security in the shield. He was trying to intimidate her, but she had been intimidated by the best of them and even his size was not going to throw her off.

  “So sorry,” he said in his deep, lilting voice again. “Surely we don’t need shields between us?”

  “But, lah, sir, we have hardly met,” she simpered again, fluttering the elaborate fan that had come with the outfit. She now wished she’d worn something more suitable for running. Or fighting.

  “Herzer is a recent acquaintance,” Dionys said, giving the boy a clout on the shoulder. It looked like a friendly hit, but it still staggered Herzer. And there was very little friendliness in McCanoc’s eye.

  “I met him at a reenactor meeting,” Herzer said with a grin. “Do you know that he was nearly the King of Avalonia!”

  “And I would have been, were it not for the judges,” Dionys said darkly.

  “Yes, I’m familiar with your… rise in the ranks,” Rachel said, trying not to let any humor enter into her voice. She had heard enough about McCanoc to know how viciously vindictive he could be. She had no interest in starting a war; it just wasn’t worth the effort it would take.

  He regarded her for a moment trying to discern if there was anything to that simple statement. “Are you part of the reenactor movement?” the giant finally said.

  “Oh, you know,” Rachel dissembled. “Dad was forever dragging me off to those things. It wasn’t really my sort of thing and once I could put my foot down I quit going. Some people love it and more power to them. But all that dressing up in tabards and bell-bottoms… not me.”

  “But that’s a reenactor outfit,” Herzer said. “Manchu Dynasty, right? And you used to love to study history.”

  “Well, study,” Rachel said with an honest chuckle. “Not live. And the period Nazis are the worst. I mean, the ones who go around with their clothes washed in urine, or not washed at all. Trying to replicate the ‘authentic life of the period.’ I mean, why?”

  She almost started as she drew what was apparently a real chuckle out of McCanoc. “Good point. But they were good times, times for the strong.” He grinned tightly and shook his head. “Not like these fallen times.”

  “For the strong?” Rachel said with a grimace and a chuckle. “I suppose. But if being ‘strong’ means fighting a battle while dealing with dysentery, I’ll take these ‘fallen’ times.”

  “Well…” Herzer said just as a languid hand brushed him to the side.

  “What in the Seven Hells are you doing here, McCanoc?” the elf said.

  “Why, Gothoriel, why ever shouldn’t I be?” McCanoc replied with a thin smile. “Friends and acquaintances, don’t you know. Yourself, of course, included.”

  “Because you were instructed to remain at least one hundred meters from any of the Eldar,” the elf said, ignoring the jibe. “I note, also, that you have made further adjustments towards the Eldar. They shall not be permitted.”

  “I can change myself as I choose,” McCanoc suddenly shouted, his voice echoing across the square, caught in one of those odd moments of silence. “Stay out of my genes.”

  “Not using Eldar Changes,” Gothoriel said mildly. “You know the law. You of all people should remember the law.”

  McCanoc breathed deeply through his nose for a moment and then spat on the ground in front of the elf. The spittle flicked off of the shield just short of the elf’s feet. “Fisk you.”

  “I tire of this. The Council will be informed of your further transgressions. For now, you have two choices. You can be leave or be banished.”

  “I have as much right,” McCanoc started to say as Gothoriel raised his hand.

  “Begone,” the elf snapped, then snorted in satisfaction as the air in front of him was suddenly vacant. “Like the demon you so wish to be…” he added so softly that Rachel was sure that only she had heard.

  He turned to the five who had arrived with McCanoc and shook his head. “Begone as well. You have no purpose here.”

  He turned to Herzer and frowned, the first expression that had crossed his face.

  “You arrived with him?” the elf asked then shook his head. “No, separate. Are you with him?”

  “He’s with me,” Rachel interjected hurriedly, not sure why she did.

  “Rachel Talbot,” the elf said to her, bowing deeply. “It is good to see the Talbots are growing and thriving. A fine family, one that I have watched, and sometimes watched after for these many generations. What were you doing talking to that… filth?”

  “Trying to figure out how to break away, frankly,” she said with a sigh. “Thank you for interjecting.”

  “What is wrong —?” Herzer started to say.

  “Later, Herzer dear,” Rachel said, pinching him. “I didn’t quite catch your name Lord Eldar. And I forgot to welcome you, ethulia Eldar, cathane,” she said, crossing her hands on her chest and bowing slightly.

  “Ethul, milady,” the elf replied, bowing again in return. “I am Gothoriel, Rider of the Eastern Reach. I have known your father for much of his life. Your lady mother less. She is, however, a fine woman. And a splendid healer.”

  “Thank you, milord,” Rachel said, curtseying deeply. She was glad she’d decided to bring robes. “May you spend as many years in Dream as the most ancient trees and pass to the West in peace. And skip the purple protein strips.”

  “Too late,” the elf said with a small smile. “Do you know what…?”

  “Yes, I wasn’t sure at first but after the second try it was distinctive. I wonder whose idea it was?”

  “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Rachel?” Marguerite said from behind her. Rachel could tell from the tart tone that she was pissed.

  “Marguerite,” Rachel said, turning with a smile and getting her first good look at her friend since her Change. Marguerite had taken her normal form except for the slight translucence that was mandated of fully nannite entities. She could, of course, change form at will, but she seemed to prefer her baseline look for the time being.

  “This is Gothoriel, Rider of the Eastern Reach. That means he’s something like an ambassador to the people who live in eastern Norau.”

  “Hi Gotho… Goth…”

  “Gothoriel,” the elf said, bending to take her insubstantial hand and kiss it. He lifted it to his lips as if it were flesh and blood.

  “That was… how did you do that?” Marguerite gasped.

  “The Eldar are different in more than simple appearance,” the elf replied with a slight sigh. “We have some dominion over the world that intersects with the Real and the Unreal. And now that you, too, have joined us in Faerie, you will have the opportunity to join us in Dream.”

  “Oh,” Marguerite said, clearly unsure what he had just said. She turned to Rachel and waved her arms. “Rach! Isn’t it great!”

  “Wonderful,” Rachel replied, smiling and hoping her friend wouldn’t notice her disquiet. “But you didn’t tell me about it!”

  “Oh, Mom and Dad cooked this all up,” Marguerite said, gesturing around and at her semitransparent body. “It was, like, a total surprise!”

  “Ah.”

  “And they’re planning a separation ceremony for next month. They’re going to give me my Independence certification and do a contract dissolution at the same time. Mom wants to go be mer for a while. Dad doesn’t know what he’s going to do.”

  “What are you going to do?” Rachel asked, trying to absorb that her friend was going to be declared an independent adult when she, Rachel, still had at least two years to go. It just wasn’t fair!

  “Have fun, what else?” Marguerite said. “Rach, I’ve got to circulate some more, we’ll talk later? Hi Herzer, bye Herzer.”
/>   “Sure, any time,” Rachel said as she wandered off.

  She looked around and realized that Marguerite wasn’t the only one who was wandering off. Gothoriel had disappeared as well. Entirely, as if he’d ported or discorporated.

  But Herzer was still there. Of course.

  “Wow, that was intense,” Herzer said, letting out a breath.

  “I thought you and Marguerite got along better than a hi and bye,” Rachel said.

  “She started to get… less friendly when my illness got really advanced,” Herzer said, a muscle working in his chin. “Most people got more distant when it got bad,” he continued, looking down at her.

  Rachel nodded her head and looked at the ground. “I know, that includes me. It was just… too weird. I couldn’t handle it. And for that I’m sorry.”

  “Try living it,” Herzer said with a sigh and no sign of forgiving her. “At least I have friends again. It’s been a long time.”

  “You talking about McCanoc?” Rachel asked warily.

  “Yes,” Herzer said. “He’s been a true friend to me, even when I was sick. Oh, he can be… sarcastic at times…”

  Rachel thought that there was probably more than simple sarcasm behind that quiet statement. From what she knew about McCanoc, he would have great fun with a crippled, emotionally wounded young man around. Every twitch, trip or limp would elicit a sardonic look or a snigger from one of his lackeys.

  “Herzer,” she said, not sure how to proceed. “You know, there are a lot of people who don’t… care for Dionys.”

  “I know,” Herzer said in reply. “He told me about it. There are always people that just want to keep the status quo and don’t want true genius upsetting the routine. All those stupid kings of this and barons of that, none of them were ready for the true revolution that Dionys represents! Do you know what his ultimate plan is?”

  “No,” Rachel said, “but…”

  “He wants to become King of Anarchia! He intends to raise an army among those in this world and train them to take over Anarchia. That way he can rule it in peace and plenty, as Charles the Great did nearly a century ago. But he won’t abandon the people back into anarchy!”

  “Herzer,” Rachel said, shaking his arm. “Listen to me. It’s not that he is a revolutionary. That’s not why people don’t like him. It’s because he’s an evil, bullying son of a bitch! And if you want to get on my dad’s side, you’d better forget you ever heard of Dionys McCanoc!”

  “That’s bullshit, Rachel,” Herzer said, setting his jaw. “Sure, he can be a bit sharp from time to time, but he’s a genius. And a visionary! People like that always tend to be a bit snappish. And it’s always considered to be rude until after they’re dead and then they are recognized for their genius. That’s all that’s going on.”

  “Herzer…”

  “You’re just trying to separate me from friends that accepted me when you threw me out!” Herzer snarled, warming to the subject. “These people didn’t turn back my calls or send messages giving me excuses why they couldn’t come over! They like me. They liked me when I was sick!”

  “So they could have a cripple around to torment!” Rachel nearly shouted. “McCanoc is evil, Herzer. He may act like your friend, but he just wants you for something.”

  “That’s it, I’m not listening to any more,” Herzer said. “You can think what you want. You’ll see!”

  “I’m afraid I will,” Rachel said softly as he strode away. “Genie, let’s go home.”

  * * *

  “Define ‘coup’ in this case,” Edmund said seriously.

  Sheida took some time explaining Paul’s position and plans. At the end of the explanation she shrugged and picked up her lizard, twining it around her neck.

  “He is… unpersuasible. He has decided that it is his life’s work to return the world to a condition of… growth. Both population growth and growth in thought and deed.”

  “And you think that’s he’s going to do… what?” Talbot said, taking a sip of wine. He half wished that it were water instead; this was definitely going to need a clear head.

  “I think that he intends to try to seize the Keys. At least enough to give him a voting block that is unbeatable. Then he’ll implement his Plan. And, yes, there’s a capital there.”

  “What fun,” Talbot said with a grimace. “The Keys are still under that archaic ‘finder’s keeper’s rule?”

  “Unfortunately. Whoever holds the Key, votes the Key. That’s locked in to the kernel coding of Mother.”

  “But you’re all protected by personal protection fields,” Talbot said. “So… how does he take the Keys away?”

  “The PPFs were implemented with a very small majority,” Sheida said worriedly. “If he has the Demon voting with him he can turn them off.”

  “But can’t he do that at any time?” Edmund asked. “I mean, they could already be off.”

  “Can’t, has to be an official Council vote. And all persons voting have to be present. Those protocols are not quite hard-wired, but strong enough that he can’t overcome them without a nearly full Council. Unless the Council is officially in dispute. And we’re not. Yet.”

  “And are you telling me there are no assassination protocols in place?”

  “Timing Edmund, timing,” she sighed. “The personal protection technologies came about when there were still physical threats, and secondary defenses. But in time things became so… safe, so placid that the other defenses were removed as unnecessary and even… uncomfortable. And there used to be checks and balances, governments and police forces that were independent of the Council and the Net who could overcome such a threat; if the Council ever tried to assert real and direct authority when, say, the IU was still around, it would get slapped down fast enough.”

  “I sort of stopped paying attention to history when the last B-4 was decommissioned,” Edmund said with a laugh. “It was the official end, wasn’t it.”

  “Well, we might be ready to restart it. But, I mean, we’re all there is left of government. Most people don’t realize how impossible that is, historically, but you do! God knows we’ve had enough rows about it.”

  “I know,” Edmund said, his jaw flexing. “A bunch of self-appointed dictators. I’ve never been happy with it. But I didn’t realize that the margin of security was so thin. That’s insane!”

  “No one has tried to… there have been no conflicts, Edmund,” she sighed. “We’re all so smug and happy and warm and cozy that there’s no threat. Oh, yes, at a personal level there are still threats. People have fights. But that gets resolved with the fields. Or two people agree to drop them. But that sort of thing is for… children, either physically or mentally. We don’t have physical fights at the level of the Council and have not since… well there used to be guards and… weapons and… things…”

  “Christ,” Edmund sighed. “So you think that Paul is going to try to, what, kill you? Then take your Key and give it to someone else to vote? He’ll have to have people ready to take the Keys and vote them, right? He can’t vote them himself.”

  “One person, one vote, no influence,” Sheida said. “Yes, Mother would know if they were being controlled and simply count it as a non-vote.”

  “So is dropping the PPFs the only way that he could attack you? What about outside the Council area? What about… I don’t know… assassinating you right now?”

  “We’re… being careful,” Sheida said. “Let’s just say that Paul doesn’t know where I am at any time, including right now.”

  “There are ways, Sheida,” Edmund said, gesturing around. “Even for a Council member. There’s more than just the Net. And you know that even the Council doesn’t have full control of it. Only Mother does.”

  Sheida smiled and shrugged, chuckling. “Edmund, we’re both old. And I hope, to an extent, wise. I have protectors.”

  Edmund paused and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged in agreement. “Don’t we all.” He took a sip of his wine and swished it around, loo
king at the ceiling. “In a way I almost agree with Paul.”

  “Surely not,” Sheida said, eyeing him carefully.

  “Well, not the method,” Talbot added with a grimace. “But we are lotus-eaters. And even waiting until the gene pool gets down to only women who are programmed to want babies won’t help that. But I have to admit that his method truly sucks so many ways I don’t think even you have worked it all out.”

  “It’s bad, but how bad?”

  “Well, damn,” he thought about that for a moment composing his thoughts. “Okay, increasing population growth ‘naturally’ requires all sorts of factors. First of all, you have to have natural childbirth and no contraception.”

  “Ugh,” Sheida said, looking down. “I don’t think so!”

  “Furthermore, you have to have women who are more or less ‘owned’ by males, otherwise after the first one or two children the majority of women decide they don’t want to do that again!”

  “What about societal conditioning?” Sheida asked. “Taking the devil’s advocate position.”

  “Generally requires religion for widespread utility,” Paul said, shrugging. “But the point is that the technological and economic conditions for population growth are contrary to technological development. There are occasional times in history where that has been violated, for a generation or so, but over the course of history, over the growth period that Paul is talking about, then you’re talking about a society that has to be in preindustrial conditions. And that means that there can’t be technological development.”

  “Special groups?” Sheida asked.

  “Most real advancements grow from… an environment that supports development. If all you have is serfs and a few technology wizards then the technology wizards are working in a research vacuum. So Paul can have technological development or population growth. But in a postindustrial, postinformation society, you very rarely get both.” He paused and looked thoughtful but then shook his head. “There has been exactly one society historically that has combined both over more than a generation. And it was an… enormously odd unlikelihood that would be impossible to recreate under these conditions.”