“Let go of him!” Galvus ordered, jumping forward and throwing his hands to the Kendian’s shoulders. “Let go of him, Bors!”
“Why?”
“We don’t need this!” Galvus nearly yelled.
Bors didn’t look at him—he was staring evilly at Rhin—but the light of rage in his eyes faded. With the sticky sound of damp flesh parting, he released his hold on the aristocrat’s throat and shoved him away.
Lord Rhin, gasping, crumpled into the arms of Falen and the others.
“I—knew it!” he groaned, wiping frantically at his sore neck. “I knew it! You’re animals! Animals! You’ll get nothing from us, nothing! See what happens now, you—filth! Nothing Elad decrees can stop us from— Nothing!”
Bors growled and threateningly curled his hands into fists. “Get out of here, you pig vomit, or I’ll finish what I started!”
“You’ll regret that you ever—!”
“Get out of here, now, cockeater! Now!”
Still regaining his breath, Lord Rhin turned and hastened from the garden. The others followed him—only Lord Falen paused long enough to warn Galvus and Bors, “That was very stupid. You have no idea whom you’re dealing with.”
After they had gone, the group of them said little. Bors was greatly upset. “I should have just strangled him right here!” He was convinced that their appeals in council had come to nothing. “We’ll be back in the streets in a week or two,” he said despondently, and then: “I don’t blame you, Galvus.”
Adred made some remark about “half a revolution” and then said, “It’s no good pretending that we’re accomplishing anything when the same people are in control now that were in control before.”
But Galvus was impatient with this pessimism. “It’ll work,” he declared, “because it’s the only choice the country has. The more tightly they try to hold it as it is, the faster it’ll come apart. The only hope we have is the cooperatives and the workers. They’ll fight us—but they’ve already lost. The nation has been sucked dry by these vampires; there’s nothing left for them to bleed anymore!”
* * * *
When, two days later, Lord Rhin presented an unanticipated proposal in the hall of the High Council, he appeared resigned to the fact that, despite all his efforts, the Athadian economy would develop in a fashion counter to his own interests. Deferring to King Elad’s decree, he announced, “I disagree in principle, but in practice, I must adhere to the policies our king dictates. However, to guarantee that the rights of all those involved be protected to the utmost, I submit that the institution of the workers’ sirots, and their operation on a national scale, be overseen by a formal Coalition Ministry, to be set up under the guidance of representatives from each of the assemblies involved—the aristocratic business concerns, the Public Administration Congress, and the workers’ representatives. This Coalition Ministry will act as a board of final arbitration on any matters developing—”
Galvus was astonished; when he was recognized by Elad, he took to the floor and promised the council that this proposal by Lord Rhin was a ruse and a subterfuge designed to check any real advances made by the institution of the sirots.
But Elad did not agree with his nephew; concurring with Lord Rhin and the Congress of Nobility that such a Coalition Ministry was a practical and useful advance, he affixed his seal within the week to papers outlining its formation.
“They gave us what we wanted,” Adred complained afterward, as he and his friends sat in the palace gardens, “and now they’re going to take it back, piece by piece.”
“I should have strangled him when I had the chance,” Bors growled.
When he and the other Kendians left, at the end of that week, on board a merchanter bound for Sulos, they took with them copies of the initial draft of Galvus’s proposal for economic redistribution, as well as copies of documents explaining that the sirots, once organized, would be answerable to a tripartite coalition in the capital, wherein any proposals, grievances, and referendums would be endlessly debated by parties mutually antagonistic to one another. The Coalition Ministry—the Khilu—was obviously nothing more than another stratagem devised by the bankers and the business interests to defraud the working people.
“Within a few weeks,” Bors had reminded Galvus, as he boarded ship, “they’ll be back on the streets. You’ve done the best you can, but I’m afraid we’ve run out of time. You can’t compromise principles. Adred was right; you can’t have…half a revolution.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Count Adred, because he was nervous and had nothing better with which to occupy himself, was sitting in a chair in Lord Abgarthis’s office, cracking his knuckles and bouncing one leg on the knee of the other. Abgarthis glanced at him occasionally out of the corner of his eye as he sifted through the morning’s box of dispatches.
“Why don’t you go out to the games?” he suggested.
“No. I don’t feel like doing that. Fighting the crowds…nothing but noise and temperamental people.…”
“Then go buy yourself a new pair of boots. Those are so old, they’re ready—”
“Well, these have a strong sentimental value for me.”
“Or go to a bookstore. You’re always good for browsing in bookstores.”
“All the good books have been written.…”
Abgarthis glared at him, friendly but exasperated.
“Am I making you nervous, Abgarthis?”
“Very. Why not go out into the gardens and count the leaves on the trees?” He returned his attention to the pile of documents and scrolls. “Invite Orain. She doesn’t know what to do with herself these days, either.”
Adred sighed. “Doesn’t it affect you, Abgarthis? The council, I mean. Elad’s decision?”
“I’ve worked in government all my life—long enough to know that by the time men in office finally get around to accomplishing what needs to be done, the reason for it has long since—” He stopped abruptly, held up the letter he had just opened, and examined it carefully.
“What is it?” Adred asked him.
The minister set down the sheet. “This is very strange. Very interesting, indeed. Remind me, Adred—what was the name of that ikbusa you told me had scared the wits out of Cyrodian? In Ithulia?”
“His name?” Adred dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward in his chair. “I know Cyrodian told me…but I can’t recall—”
“Asawas?”
Adred stared. “Yes.” He glanced at the letter Abgarthis held. “Why?”
“If it’s the same man, he’s been arrested in Hilum by Governor Abadon. This letter is from the Church Inquisitor there, Seraficos.”
“Why was he arrested?” Adred stood and approached the desk, leaned over Abgarthis’s shoulder, and scanned the letter. “For sedition?”
The advisor nodded quietly and pursued his lips. “Isn’t this intriguing?” he commented in a low voice.
“It’s absurd.” Adred took the letter from him and read it through. “He wants to send this priest here to stand trial before the government? This is ridiculous!”
“Of course it is, of course it is,” Abgarthis agreed, tapping his index fingers on the edge of his desktop.
“Who the hell does Seraficos think he is?”
Abgarthis chuckled. “He thinks he’s still living in the fourteenth century. That doesn’t matter. He’s a powerful Church politician and carries much weight in Hilum; he’s a mosquito. But he doesn’t worry me; it’s this priest.”
“Surely you’re not going to bring an ikbusa here to stand trial for civil disturbance?”
Abgarthis eyed Adred decisively. “Wouldn’t you like to talk to the man who put such a fright into Cyrodian?”
“Yes, absolutely. But how do we know it’s even the same man?”
“With a name like ‘Asawas’? I’ve never heard that name before in my life; obviously it’s been made up by him. How many men by that name are there in that corner of the empire? No…if he’s
disturbed Seraficos this greatly—” Abgarthis nodded at the letter “—then this ‘Asawas’ must have a great deal going for him.”
Adred studied the missive again. “‘He claims that the world is going to be destroyed by the gods and that therefore men must revolt against their government and their Church. I myself witnessed him perform a sorcerous miracle. The people flock to him. He is a direct and immediate threat to the stability of the country, and I deem it a necessity of the first—’”
“More likely,” Abgarthis interrupted, “this prophet is a direct threat to Seraficos himself. The Prophet help anyone who tries to get people to think for themselves when Seraficos is around!” He shook his head and set the letter aside.
An abrupt knock on the door brought him up. A Khamar stepped in, slapped his chest, and bowed. “Lord Abgarthis—a visitor wishing an audience with the king. He has just come here from Erusabad.”
The minister lifted an eyebrow. “Show him in.”
The Khamar backed out but held the door open. Abgarthis rose to his feet while Adred, curious, stepped away. Into the adviser’s office came a strongly built man sporting beard and mustache and an intense expression. He was dressed in civilian clothes although his bearing was clearly that of a soldier of long military training. Abgarthis recognized him on the moment.
“Lord Abgarthis.” He came forward, arm extended; Abgarthis shook his hand and nodded, then, to the Khamar, who left and shut the door.
“General Thytagoras. You are out of uniform. Were you recalled here without my knowledge?”
“No, sir. I have resigned my commission and come back here as a citizen—and with a warning for King Elad.”
Abgarthis’s expression was grave. “Tell me—” Then he glanced at Adred.
Adred coughed slightly and bowed to the two men. He politely excused himself and left the room.
As the door closed: “What has happened, General? Please…sit. There is wine…tea—help yourself.”
Thytagoras, placing himself in the chair before Abgarthis’s desk, leaned to unstopper a flask. He chose a decorated cup and, as he poured, told the minister, “I have resigned my commission, Lord Abgarthis, because I feel I cannot serve the government if our king is determined not to answer the direct insults and diplomatic violations committed against Athadia by the Salukadian Empire. I cannot with pride, sir, wear my uniform or discharge my duties if I feel that I can’t uphold our throne’s own policies and decisions.”
Abgarthis slowly sat, raised clasped hands to his chin, and stared. “This is…a harsh verdict that you deliver upon us.”
“I gave the matter much thought, my lord. A great deal of thought. But I love my country, and I cannot—as a matter of conscience—I cannot follow these dictates that only harm the prestige and the actual safety of our empire. I cannot do it.” He swallowed some wine. “Were I to refuse to do this while in the imperial service, I would be liable for a court martial. I did not wish that. Therefore—my resignation. And my journey here to alert my king of what I perceive to be profound dangers affecting our country from the East.”
“I see,” Abgarthis replied quietly.
“May I request an audience with the crown as soon as possible?”
“Of course, of course,” Abgarthis allowed, reaching into his desk and retrieving the book of schedules that he maintained for palace affairs.
As he wrote in it, Thytagoras told him, “I was given to understand by your man Lord Thomo that King Elad is sending an imperial representative to Erusabad to meet with the Salukadian government.”
“It is a diplomatic mission only,” Abgarthis assured him. “There is nothing untoward in it.”
“Has he not sent Queen Salia, Lord Abgarthis?”
Abgarthis set down his pen. “How did you come to know this, Thytagoras?”
“I beg your pardon. But in Hilum, during a layover, I chanced to notice a royal carrack in port just as my ship was sailing out. I saw the queen and several attendants and a retinue of guards with her.”
Abgarthis finished writing in his schedule, replaced it in his desk, and locked the drawer. He stood. “You would care to bathe and have a meal? Yes.… Please—I’ll show you to an apartment upstairs. Refresh yourself while I mention your arrival to King Elad.”
* * * *
Galvus and Omos were sitting on the balcony of Galvus’s apartment while Adred, as despondent as they were, slouched in a chair just inside the sitting room.
Adred said, “We have to do something more than just sit around and wait.”
Galvus glanced at him. “No, I disagree. That’s the best thing we can do right now.”
“Don’t you think Rhin’s going to try to get people in all these other cities to cause problems setting up the sirots?”
Galvus told him, irritably, “I don’t know, Adred.”
“We should at least try to find out.”
Galvus sighed heavily.
Damn. Adred knew that he was making the prince uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to anger his friend, but he was no happier than Galvus was with how things were going. He changed the subject—somewhat. “Did you tell Elad about that stunt Lord Rhin tried in the gardens?”
Galvus made a sound. “That sort of thing doesn’t concern him. Rhin was partly bluffing, but he was mainly afraid. They’re all weak and afraid because they’ve had things the way they want them for so long.” His tone changed, then. “We’ve done the best we can. We can’t wait around for these old dogs to just die off. I wish we had more time, that’s all. The Khilu!” he finished angrily, dismissing the Coalition Ministry simply by the way he pronounced its name.
Silence—until Omos said, “If that isn’t bad enough, there’s the war.”
That caught Adred’s ear; he asked Galvus, “War?”
“Didn’t you hear? About Emaria?”
“Oh. That.” He seemed to dismiss it as no threat.
“It’s a very grim possibility,” Galvus affirmed. “Elad’s been getting a great many reports over the last two weeks from the border forts and from the governors of all the cities inland. The Emarians are serious. The spring floods destroyed their croplands; their army is a wreck because of that stupid war they started in the Low Provinces; and their treasury is empty, apparently. I don’t King Nutatharis can meet his interest payments to our banks, let alone anyone else’s. He’s going to go into default. Watch and see what happens after that.”
Adred hadn’t realized it was so serious. “Even we can’t afford to write off that much money, can we?”
“Of course not. We’re spread too thin as it is.”
“When did this happen? Didn’t our people there know?”
Galvus smiled cruelly. “All they knew is what Nutatharis told them. But they all came home from Lasura two days ago—and they’re not going back.”
“That’s a very bad sign,” Adred agreed.
“What clearer signal do you want that we’re going to start sending men down the Ussal?” Galvus said.
“Because of the provocations in the lowlands?”
“We’ve got to get back at least some of what we gave to them. If it has to be plunder, then we plunder them. Nutatharis claims he didn’t actually order his soldiers to attack Athadian villages and grain silos and steal Athadian grain. We came up with some trick to discredit him.”
“He’s been a liar from the crib.”
“Of course. But this is becoming critical. Abgarthis told me this morning that Emarian infantry wiped out a village of ours just southeast of the border. Sixty-three people killed, the village burned, food and horses and cattle stolen. If anything’s going to start a real war, that will. I spoke briefly with Captain Uvars—he confirms it. He’s just waiting for the official signal.”
Adred stood and crossed the room, then walked back to his chair and sat again with a disgusted look on his face. “So much for the revolution. Anyone caught in the streets will just have a uniform slapped on him and find himself in the front-line infantry.�
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“Just watch and see how quickly it’ll happen,” Galvus sneered. “I’ll tell you something else, too. I won’t say who told me, but Rhin and some of his friends are selling weapons to Nutatharis—secretly.”
Adred cursed.
“Any money Nutatharis can scrape up—and he can do it, even if he has to steal it, because people will invest in war—he’s using it to buy all the weapons and supplies Rhin can send him. I think it’s wonderful. Our own money going into Emaria so that Emaria can use it to hurt us—Lord Rhin sucking the blood of his own country. And try to stop him. He’s much too crafty. Did you know that he actually has bodyguards now?”
“I saw him in the street yesterday, yes,” Adred nodded. “Two soldiers with him.”
“They’re mercenaries out of Pylar.”
Galvus, looking disgusted, looked out across the city and crossed his arms heavily over his chest.
Orain came into the room unannounced; at the sound of her footsteps, Galvus looked back toward her.
“Join us!” he called to his mother. “Omos…please.” He picked up an empty goblet sitting on the table before him and passed it to his friend; Omos filled it from a flask on a nearby stand.
Adred rose and walked to Orain and took one of her hands; she looked very tired and upset. “What is it?” he asked her.
“Ogodis!” she said wearily, allowing Adred to lead her to a small couch. “He just makes me feel so— I don’t know what.”
“He’s leaving, isn’t he?” Adred sat beside her.
“No, no, not anymore, he isn’t.” To the expressions she received: “He was preparing to return to Sugat, yes. But this afternoon a General Thytagoras arrived from Erusabad with some bad news. Do you know him, Adred?”
“No. But I was with Abgarthis when he received him. I left—don’t know why he’s come back.”
“Apparently he and Elad talked for quite a while. Thytagoras hates the Salukadians. Ogodis heard about his arriving here and so, of course, he had to interfere and drag Thytagoras off and talk to him in private. Idiot. So now the imbur isn’t leaving. He’s just going to stay here and continue making our lives miserable.”
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