The Usurper

31

“How kind of you to visit me in my humble quarters,” purred Sidonicus, Exarch of Telnar.

“I thought it unwise to decline your invitation,” said Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol.

“You may kneel, and kiss my ring,” said Sidonicus.

“I think not,” said Iaachus.

“As you wish,” said Sidonicus. “You were somewhat late. Did you have difficulty negotiating the streets?”

“They are dangerous,” said Iaachus. “The riots.”

“Civil disturbances are most regrettable,” said the exarch.

“Perhaps you might resist the temptation of fomenting them,” said the Arbiter of Protocol.

“I assure you,” said Sidonicus, “I know nothing of them.”

“The temple of Orak, father of the gods, has been burned,” said Iaachus.

“A false god, of course,” said Sidonicus.

“A large and beautiful building,” said Iaachus. “Similarly, shrines, temples, and chapels have been rifled, offerings stolen, images defaced; devotees beaten; scroll houses have been forced, and scrolls torn apart, taken outside, and burned.”

“What is needful,” said Sidonicus, “is contained in the scrolls of Floon, in the holy books of Floon, in the canon. If what is in such scroll houses duplicates what is in the canon it is superfluous; if it contradicts what is in the canon, it is pernicious, and should be destroyed.”

“Statues have been pulled down, broken, and defiled,” said Iaachus, “those of Umba, Andrak, Foebus, and many others, even that of Kragon, the god of war.”

“We of the conversion of Floon,” said Sidonicus, “are gentle folk, lovers of peace, and holiness.”

“Two priests of Orak were killed in the streets,” said Iaachus, “torn apart, cut to pieces.”

“Better they had been converted,” said Sidonicus.

“What do you want?” asked Iaachus.

“Peace and holiness,” said Sidonicus.

“Worlds have fallen,” said Iaachus.

“Would you care for kana?” asked Sidonicus.

“We have called men to arms,” said Iaachus. “Old men, boys, beg for weapons. But many men decline service. They despair. They wait. Cowardice is hailed as patriotism, treason as service to the empire. Generals are threatened. Admirals have no ships. Aristocrats wallow in their luxuries, commoners hide, foundering in their comforts. Thousands of your Floonians not in the streets gather to sing hymns, will not touch a weapon.”

“Do not be surprised,” said Sidonicus. “Floon was a prophet of peace, of holy substance, indeed, identical with that of Karch, but different.”

“What do you want?” asked Iaachus, again.

“What we will have,” said Sidonicus. “The empire.”

“I think your private quarters,” said Iaachus, “are less humble than one would suppose for a ministrant, the drapes, the silken hangings, the silver and gold vessels, the golden candelabra, the paintings, the objects of art, the rich carpets, from Beyira II, if I am not mistaken, the giant replica, in gold, it seems, of a torture rack, covering a wall.”

“I pay no attention to such things personally,” said Sidonicus, “but I find them useful in impressing secular visitors.”

“Of a given station?” asked Iaachus.

“Certainly,” said Sidonicus, “lesser men expect simpler arrangements.”

“I am impressed,” said Iaachus.

“I expected you would be,” said the exarch.

“I see there is no tortured figure of Floon, portrayed in gold, on that rack on the wall,” said Iaachus. “I gather that is because when the current was turned on there would soon be little left but scraps of flesh clinging to the heated metal.”

“No,” said Sidonicus. “It has to do with the many species.”

“Floon was an Ogg,” said Iaachus.

“Strictly, in a sense,” said Sidonicus, “but we must remember that he was identical with Karch, as well as different. Thus, we think it best for every species to think of Floon as being of their own species. In this way it is easier to spread his holy teachings.”

“You are astute,” said Iaachus.

“The faith is astute,” said Sidonicus.

“You want the empire?” said Iaachus.

“And will have it,” said Sidonicus.

“You know my reputation?” said Iaachus.

“Of course,” said Sidonicus. “A master of intrigue, a subtle and unscrupulous monster of duplicity, an almost invisible mover of men and shaper of policies, such things.”

“And yet,” said Iaachus, “I could not even bring myself to think in your terms, let alone act in them, to lie, to trap minds, to promulgate superstition, to incite cruelty and violence, masquerading as right and justice.”

“Where the koos is concerned,” said Sidonicus, “one must not vacillate or compromise.”

“There is nothing in the teachings of Floon to condone or legitimize what you are doing,” said Iaachus. “He eschewed institutions. He preached simplicity. He seemed to love all things, rational creatures, irrational creatures, stars, moons, pebbles, weeds, all things, living and dead.”

“His teachings must be properly understood, of course,” said Sidonicus. “Also, there is unfolding revelation.”

“And who unfolds it?” asked Iaachus.

“Qualified ministrants,” said Sidonicus, “after prayer and fasting.”

“And who qualifies these qualified ministrants?”

“Other qualified ministrants.”

“And who qualifies them?” asked Iaachus.

“Surely you do not think this has anything to do with Floon,” said Sidonicus.

“No?” said Iaachus.

“No,” said Sidonicus, “Floon has nothing to do with this.”

“I see,” said Iaachus.

“I thought you would, eventually,” said Sidonicus.

“You shall not have the empire,” said Iaachus.

“I understand that your influence with the empress mother is waning,” said Sidonicus.

“Call back your people,” said Iaachus. “Free the streets.”

“Dogs, once unleashed,” said Sidonicus, “are often difficult to restrain.”

“I will have troops fire on them,” said Iaachus.

“And create a thousand martyrs?” asked the exarch.

“They are arsonists, looters, murderers,” said Iaachus.

“Floonians welcome martyrdom,” said the exarch. “It assures one a place at the table of Karch.”

“Perhaps you could become one such,” said Iaachus.

“As a humble man,” said the exarch, “I dare not aspire to so exalted a fate, so noble an end.”

“Even so,” said Iaachus.

“Touch me,” said the exarch, “and not only Telnar will burn, but the empire.”

“And how will you have the empire?” asked Iaachus.

“How would you like a million Floonians, on a hundred worlds, to take up arms on behalf of the empire?”

“I do not understand,” said Iaachus, “Floonians, as gentle, loving Floon, repudiate weaponry. They will die rather than bear arms. It is against their faith. They reject matters of the world. They live as parasites within walls built by, and defended by, others. They will not even look upon a standard or flag. They decline civic responsibility. They will not even participate in the councils of villages. They live for the koos, whatever that may be. They repudiate the gods of the empire, the ways of the empire. They have no love for the empire, no loyalty to the empire. They will not even burn a pinch of incense on the altar of the emperor.”

“A million Floonians on a hundred worlds,” smiled the exarch.

“You could do this?” asked Iaachus.

“Surely,” said the exarch. “Unfolding revelation.”

“I do not understand,” said Iaachus.

“You cannot expect Floonians to die for your empire,” said the exarch, “but, properly enlightened, suitably guided, they will die obediently, gladly, and unquestioningly for theirs.”

“For yours,” said Iaachus.

“If you wish,” said the exarch.

“Men will believe anything,” said Iaachus.

“Most,” said the exarch.

“The empire is to declare for Floon?” said Iaachus.

“The true faith,” said the exarch, “is to be the only faith. False faiths are to be banished.”

“Your views are to be spread by fire and sword?” asked Iaachus.

“Only where recalcitrance is met,” said the exarch.

“I see,” said Iaachus.

“It is a great wrong to spread a false faith by fire and sword, by the garrote and burning rack,” said the exarch, “but right to do so for the true faith. One must not risk men being misled. Superstition is pernicious. It places the koos in jeopardy. One must not, in so far as possible, risk the loss of a single koos.”

“And what is the relation of the state to the true faith in these matters?” asked Iaachus.

“It exists to do the work of the faith,” said the exarch. “The civil sword is to be unsheathed on behalf of the koos.”

“Soldiers are to gather faggots and ignite fires,” said Iaachus, “to hunt men like filchen, to redden blades you are too holy to touch.”

“You cannot expect ministrants of Floon to shed blood,” said the exarch.

“Only to have others do so, as they will have it done,” said Iaachus.

“There must be an order in things, a hierarchy,” said the exarch. “One must be first; one must be second. Accordingly, as the koos is highest, most holy, and supreme, it is to be first, and the state second. The secular sword is to be subordinate to the koosian sword.”

“There is no koos,” said Iaachus.

“It does not really matter, does it?” asked the exarch.

“I suppose not,” said Iaachus.

“Then go forth and conquer in the name of Floon,” said the exarch. “Go forth bravely, slaughtering and burning, singing hymns, doing righteous destruction on a thousand worlds.”

“And if we decline to accept this madness?”

“There are others who will,” said the exarch.

“Barbarians?” asked Iaachus.

“Possibly,” said the exarch.

“You will have the empire, even if it falls?” said Iaachus.

“Yes,” said the exarch. “Either way.”

“I shall return to the palace,” said Iaachus.

“Be careful in the streets,” said the exarch.

“I shall,” said the Arbiter of Protocol.

“Before you leave,” said Sidonicus, “you may kiss my ring.”

“I think not,” said Iaachus.

“Perhaps later,” said the exarch.

“I think not,” said Iaachus.

“As you wish,” said the exarch.