The Usurper

39

“Ah,” said Iaachus, “my noble friend, Julian! How wonderful to see you again, dear fellow, and, too, cousin to our beloved emperor! How often I have thought of you!”

“My dear friend, sweet Arbiter, prop of the empire, defender of the throne,” said Julian, “I, too, have often thought of you.”

“You will forgive me, I trust,” said Iaachus, “if I do not rise to greet you. There is a certain tightness in my knee, a fall.”

“Certainly,” said Julian.

“And, if I am not mistaken,” said Iaachus, “you are accompanied by the noble Ottonius, captain in our esteemed Auxiliaries.”

Otto did not speak, but looked about the room.

“And king of Otungs,” said Julian.

“I trust not a tribe of the Aatii,” said Iaachus.

“No, of the Vandal peoples,” said Julian, “a confederation commonly hostile to the Aatii.”

“There are so many of these barbarian nations,” said Iaachus. “It is very confusing.”

“The chamber, outside, is heavily guarded,” said Julian.

“Yes,” said Iaachus. “Times are trying.”

“Doubtless,” said Julian.

“It is my understanding,” said Iaachus, “that you wished to see me, privately.”

“Yes, dear friend,” said Julian, “privately.”

“I see,” said the Arbiter.

“We are not alone,” said Otto.

“I left my pistol outside,” said Julian. “You may close your center desk drawer.”

“Tyrus, Arsus,” said the Arbiter, “you might go and see if our friend’s pistol is safe.”

Two men stepped from behind drapes and went, briefly, to the chamber portal. “It is secure, Lord,” said one of the men.

“Excellent,” said Iaachus. “You may now leave, both of you.”

“Yes, Lord,” said one of the men, and they both exited.

“The drawer,” suggested Julian.

“Of course,” said Iaachus. He then slid shut the drawer.

“Perhaps you are surprised to see my friend, Captain Ottonius,” said Julian.

“Pleasantly, of course,” said Iaachus. “I had thought him engaged on Tangara, recruiting allies.”

“And I?” asked Julian.

“At your villa, I supposed, on Vellmer.”

“I, too, was on Tangara,” said Julian.

“Interesting,” said Iaachus.

“Abrogastes, king of the Drisriaks, of the Alemanni, the Aatii, blockades Telnaria,” said Julian.

“Briefly,” said Iaachus. “Even now imperial cruisers rush nigh, from a hundred worlds.”

“And leave a hundred borders undefended,” said Julian. “Through abandoned gates stream unwelcome guests.”

“Telnaria comes first,” said Iaachus. “It is the seat of the senate and empire.”

“Surely,” said Julian, “you do not think these developments unrelated.”

“How do barbarians think?” asked Iaachus. “Perhaps we should ask one, our friend, noble Ottonius.”

“Noble Lord,” said Otto, “let us conjecture that Abrogastes, called the Far-Grasper, though a barbarian, is not a fool. Clearly his blockade cannot win him an empire, even bring a world to its knees. Therefore, it has another purpose, or other purposes. It is not a blockade, truly, or at least not a blockade for its own sake, even something as negligible as demonstrating the possibility of intrusion or the performing of a trivial, superficial act of annoyance, but rather a tactic, one already successfully executed. The empire is like the egg of a varda, a hard shell, and, within, a soft center. Now the shell is shattered and the center at risk.”

“At less risk, noble Ottonius, than you imagine,” said Iaachus. “Telnaria has conserved mighty weaponry, which may be employed in its defense.”

“The batteries,” said Julian.

“Of course,” said Iaachus.

“Which may not fire,” said Otto.

“I do not understand,” said Iaachus.

“In many districts of the city,” said Julian, “there is unrest, civil disorder, rioting, looting and burning.”

“Unfortunately,” said Iaachus.

“The blockade?” said Julian.

“That is the pretext,” said Iaachus. “More is concealed.”

“Guardsmen are few,” said Julian. “They do not interfere.”

“They have been forbidden to interfere, save to defend their own safety,” said Iaachus.

“What madness is this?” said Julian.

“Much has transpired since Tangara,” said Iaachus. “New games are afoot, and new players move unfamiliar pieces.”

“I shall tell you what I have learned,” said Julian, “and you may tell me what you know.”

“Proceed, dear friend,” said Iaachus.

“Recruitment amongst Vandals, once promising, is imperiled,” said Julian. “Loyalties are uncertain and confusion reigns. By tradition, Vandals, in all their tribes, will follow the wearer of a given medallion and chain, a war lord’s emblem of office. Drisriaks, a tribe of the Aatii, or Alemanni, by custom hereditary enemies of Vandals, obtained that token, and threatened plausibly to use it to unite the Alemanni and Vandal nations in an alliance which would portend doom to the empire. But many such medallions and chains were smithed and distributed, this casting doubt on the authenticity of any such device.”

“Excellent!” said Iaachus.

“Now,” said Julian, “that alliance is forestalled, but Vandals, even Otungs, hesitate to declare for the silver standards.”

“There is much here,” said Otto, “which I do not understand. I do not see in this matter the thinking of Drisriaks. There is a subtlety and an astuteness here, a narrow slyness and cunning, which seems unlikely to have sprung from camps and halls. What is here speaks rather to me of cities, of sheltered colonnades and sealed chambers.”

“Let us suppose,” said Julian, “as my colleague suspects, that machinations are herein involved, and machinations originating in, or supported by, forces within Telnaria itself.”

“Yes,” said Iaachus, “let us suppose that.”

“Then what I cannot understand is the possible motivation for such an act. What could be gained? Why would one tear down walls? Why would one open gates in the presence of an enemy?”

“Clearly there would be something to be gained,” said Iaachus.

“Surely nothing in the interest of the throne,” said Julian.

“No,” said Iaachus.

“Then, what?” demanded Julian.

“I fear I know,” said Iaachus.

“What?” said Julian.

“You have noted the unrest in the city, the rioting, the looting,” said Iaachus.

“Yes,” said Julian.

“What you are unlikely to have noted, or understood,” said Iaachus, “is that the temples of the gods, and the temples of Floonians, save for one such cult, have been attacked, despoiled, and burned, by zealots, supposedly in the holy cause of propagating a particular faith, one of the several supposedly one true faiths, only the other one true faiths, at least to date, have refrained from promoting their views by destruction, arson, murder, robbery, and such.”

“Surely the city is in turmoil,” said Julian. “There is general looting and burning. Many districts are unsafe, some devastated.”

“Some of this is spillage,” said Iaachus. “Fire spreads. One object of value appropriated leads to another. Who can resist the temptation to seize unprotected treasure? Is there no elation in stealing, burning, and killing? In a crowd small men are large, weak men are strong. The unhappy, envious, and resentful are liberated within the concealment of anonymity. Once the beast with many heads has tasted blood it longs for more. In what other country than the mob can hatred and violence, theft and greed, be unleashed with impunity? But there is more, as well, and intention, and calculation.”

“I do not understand,” said Julian.

“These riots are fomented with a purpose,” said Iaachus, “and the purpose is the acquisition of power.”

“I have been long from Telnaria,” said Julian.

“Do you know of Floonianism?” asked Iaachus.

“Very little,” said Julian.

“It is a demand of a particular Floonian leader, the leader of one of the several Floonian faiths, a man named Sidonicus, entitled ‘Exarch of Telnar’,” said Iaachus, “that the empire adopt his version of Floonianism as the official faith of the Telnarian empire, and that the empire should then use its power to supplant and exterminate all other faiths, of whatever sort.”

“Tolerance is the way of Telnaria,” said Julian, “even from the time of the village kings, even before the institution of the senate, even before the empire.”

“Sidonicus demands intolerance,” said Iaachus, “on behalf of his own views, of course.”

“He is insane,” said Julian.

“Perhaps, rather,” said Iaachus, “brilliant and unscrupulous.”

“Surely the empire will do nothing so cruel, heinous, and divisive,” said Julian.

“Rewards would attend this concession,” said Iaachus. “Floonians, in their millions, on many worlds, as you probably know, have largely existed as inactive, benign parasites, living within the shelter of the empire they refuse to support and defend. They ignore state authority, flout law, eschew taxes, decline munera, refuse to bear arms, and so on. They are, I gather, primarily concerned with the welfare of their own koos, whatever that is.”

“Interesting,” said Julian.

“But,” said Iaachus, “in exchange for declaring Floonianism the official faith of the empire, and extirpating all other faiths, Sidonicus will bring his flocks into the fold of the empire, supposedly then a reformed, redeemed empire.”

“As committed, participating citizens, to support, defend it, and so on,” said Julian.

“Precisely,” said Iaachus. “You can see the potential value to the empire of additional millions of zealous patriots now defending an empire they regard as their own.”

“And what of our other citizens?” asked Julian.

“Over one or two centuries,” said Iaachus, “there may be no other citizens. The confused and hesitant, the opportunistic, can be converted, the recalcitrant killed, or, if any should survive, exiled, deported, forced into wastelands, driven into wilderness worlds, to eke out what livelihood they can in scattered, despised enclaves.”

“And if the empire does not so declare, as the exarch wishes?”

“Opposition, disruption,” said Iaachus. “Treason, inertness, treachery, betrayal of the empire. You have seen the streets.”

“Clear them,” said Julian.

“We dare not,” said Iaachus. “One would do no more than produce martyrs.”

“And thus the quiescence of guardsmen?” said Julian.

“What, in any event, would be a hundred guardsmen, or two hundred, against an avalanche of ten thousand?”

“What will the empire do?” asked Julian.

“I urge resistance,” said Iaachus.

“Because of the threat to your own power?” asked Julian.

“If you wish,” said Iaachus.

“What of the emperor?”

“He plays with his toys.”

“The empress mother?”

“She is receiving instruction in Floonianism,” said Iaachus.

“Your power in the palace wanes,” said Julian.

“Another has her ear,” said Iaachus, “Sidonicus, Exarch of Telnar.”

“The princesses, Viviana and Alacida?”

“They care for little but their jewels and gowns, and the flattery of spineless courtiers.”

“Surrender to Sidonicus,” said Julian, “and the empire survives?”

“In an unconscionable, unrecognizable form,” said Iaachus, “as an outrage to its former self, as a tyranny which far exceeds that of the sword, a prison of the mind, a citadel of oppression.”

“I would miss the openness and glory of the empire, its vastness and complexity, even with its faults,” said Julian.

“The empire has been shrewd,” said Iaachus, “it has calculated, plotted, and done war, but it has never flown the flag of fanaticism.”

“We spoke earlier,” said Julian, “of the matter of the medallion and chain, and the threat of uniting barbarian peoples under the aegis of that artifact, a threat, we trust, now muchly reduced in portent by a plentitude of competitive devices.”

“Nothing of this had reached the palace,” said Iaachus.

“I am not surprised,” said Julian. “But a puzzle lingers. If the scheme of the artifact originated in, or was supported by, forces in Telnar, what could be the motivation for such an anomaly? Who would multiply enemies? Would it not be a matter of throwing oneself on one’s own sword, before the battle had even begun? I am without an explanation. You said, as I recall, you feared you knew.”

“In this,” said Iaachus, “I see the hand of Sidonicus, Exarch of Telnar.”

“How so?” said Julian.

“Think, dear friend,” said Iaachus. “Barbarians desire the defeat of, or the possession of, the empire. Now they are approached by someone who will place in their hands the means for realizing that ambition. To be sure, such a gift is not bestowed without the expectation of receiving something of comparable value in return.”

“Surely not,” said Julian. “But, what?”

“I suspect,” said Iaachus, “the conversion of the victorious barbarian peoples, this another road to a familiar end, the imposition of a particular faith on countless worlds.”

“If the empire were seized?”

“Yes,” said Iaachus.

“But what,” said Julian, “if the empire was collapsed, broken in battle, communication lost, cities emptied, men divided, the state vanished, save for local law enforced by bandits?”

“Still,” said Iaachus, “the faith would be everywhere, and perhaps the more precious and stronger for the uncertainty and precariousness of life.”

“Woe,” said Julian.

“Perhaps the future belongs to those such as your friend,” said Iaachus. He slid the center drawer of his desk partly open. “And perhaps to those who are their friends,” he added.

“I do not understand,” said Julian.

“It might be politic for successful barbarians, if they wish to preserve the empire, to place a tool upon the throne, one which might preserve the illusion of continuity and stability.”

“One of high family, such as the Aureliani?” said Julian.

“Such things are not unknown in statecraft,” said Iaachus.

“In the forest,” said Otto, “such an insult would call for knives, and entry into the circle of death, from which only one contestant might leave alive.”

“My dear Ottonius,” said Iaachus, “I fear, in any such contest, I would be ill matched even with dear Julian, let alone with one such as yourself. In any event, we are not in the forest, but in the imperial palace in Telnar, with several guards within easy summoning distance, and, even if we were in the forest, I think I would prefer not a knife but a pistol, much as the one I now draw from the desk.”

“I came here in good faith,” said Julian, “that I might inform and be informed, and that we might engage in consultation. I assume that we both, in our ways, care for the empire.”

“I, at least,” said Iaachus.

“I, as well,” said Julian.

“You are spies,” said Iaachus, “testing resolve, assessing defenses, scouting for Abrogastes.”

“No,” said Julian.

“Clearly you are in league with him,” said Iaachus. “That is made evident by your presence here. No ship has penetrated his blockade.”

“One did, mine,” said Julian. “We were fired on in our passage, and disabled. We crashed in the delta of the Turning Serpent. We came west on a keel boat.”

Otto tensed.

“Do not move,” said Julian.

“I place you under arrest,” said Iaachus, “as enemies of the throne. As for your lord and ally, Abrogastes, he will be shortly destroyed, or in custody, as imperial cruisers approach from all quadrants.”

“Abrogastes is not our lord and ally but our common enemy,” said Julian. “If you were more familiar with barbarians you would know they are complex and diverse. Do not expect them to run about in skins and drink bror. Some speak several languages. Some design weapon systems. Some are at home on the bridges of Lion Ships. Abrogastes is the king of the Drisriaks, a tribe of the Aatii, or, as they know themselves, the Alemanni; Ottonius is the king of Otungs, a tribe of the Vandal peoples, and the Alemanni and the Vandals are hereditary enemies.”

“Where did you conceal your ship?” asked Iaachus.

“In the courtyard of the palace,” said Julian. “In the emperor’s play garden. In the wardrobes of the imperial princesses. In the private quarters of the empress mother.”

“Come now,” said Iaachus.

“Look for it in the marshes of the delta, where it crashed,” said Julian.

“As you will, dear traitors,” said Iaachus. “Quarters will be arranged for you. I trust they will be to your liking. I shall now summon guards.”

At this moment there was, far off, a series of explosions.

“Do not move!” said Iaachus.

There was a heavy, frenzied pounding on the door of the chamber, and then it was thrown open, and a courtier, distraught and wild-eyed, was framed in the portal. “Exalted Lord,” he cried, “barbarians are in the streets, they approach. Guardsmen, poorly armed, flee. Rioters and looters, in their crowds, at first at ease, noncognizant, and complacent, fearing nothing, then startled, terrified, running, are fired on. Hundreds lie bloody in the streets.”

“Resistance?” cried Iaachus, standing, dazed, lowering the pistol.

“Little or none,” said the courtier. “What are bows and blades against the rumbling engines of war?”

“It cannot be!” said Iaachus. “The batteries!”

“The city batteries did not fire!” said the courtier.

Iaachus looked wildly at Julian and Otto.

“We know nothing of this,” said Julian.

“One can hire loyalty,” said Otto, “one can hire disloyalty.”

“Put away your pistol,” said Julian. “See to the safety of the emperor, the royal family.”

Iaachus raised the pistol, leveled it at Julian and Otto, and then lowered it.

“Hurry!” urged Julian.

There was another explosion, this one much closer.

“Hurry! Hurry!” said Julian.

“They are at the gate!” cried the courtier.