“Yes,” Magnus mused, “that was the century that was famous for the Renaissance revival fad of its last decade, wasn’t it? I remember Fess teaching us children that it was a prime example of mass silliness.”
“That was indeed the century, the decade, and the fad, though the silliness passed quickly enough everywhere else in the Terran Sphere. On Petrarch, though, it became permanent.”
The picture changed, though the dress styles remained. The background, though, was that of the low plasticrete buildings typical of any early Terran colony, with here and there the timber-and-stucco houses of the first phase of building from native materials. Magnus saw the occasional costume with wildly exaggerated shoulders, two-foot-high hats with crown upon crown, or veils that fluttered behind a lady for several yards of fluorescent color. “They seem to have made some very flamboyant developments.”
“They did indeed, but only within the Renaissance context. On Talipon, an inland in the center of an inland sea, dress styles fossilized—and so did architecture, painting, and all aspects of its culture.”
“An odd occurrence.” Magnus frowned. “Was there a cause, or was it merely a mass aberration?”
“The cause was the Proletarian Eclectic State of Terra’s coup d’etat. When PEST became the government of the Terran Sphere, it cut off contact and support for the outlying planets, and Petrarch was virtually frozen at its current cultural level.”
“It was fortunate that the colony had developed an economy and technology that could sustain that culture.” Magnus frowned. “I’m surprised that constant war didn’t force them back to the Stone Age, as it did on so much of the rest of the planet.”
“They seem to have formed alliances between resource-rich states and manufacturing states,” Herkimer explained.
“Alliances, or conquests?”
“Some of the one, some of the other. The more remote districts did regress, some even becoming rather primitive.”
“So there are three barbarian continents, two feudal continents, and an island of modern culture?”
“Definitely not modern—perhaps late medieval, even Renaissance.”
“How large is this island?”
“Approximately four hundred ninety kilometers by one hundred thirty-five. It contains a group of independent city-states, constantly feuding with one another—but their wars are limited, they share a common language, and there is a constant interchange of people moving from one city to another.”
Magnus smiled sourly. “It almost sounds like one nation with a great number of rival sporting teams.”
“A good analogy,” Herkimer said with approval. “Some of the sports are rather lethal, of course, and the different cities are adamant in not submitting to anyone’s law but their own—but they do indeed constitute one nation.”
“With no national government?”
“None at all. In fact, each city-state governs itself as it sees fit. There are monarchies, aristocracies, oligarchies—even a fledgling republic of more or less democratic tendencies.”
“It could be used as a center for enlightenment about the rights of humanity, then,” Magnus said thoughtfully. “I take it the city-states are agricultural?”
“Several are early industrial, and a dozen coastal cities are mercantile. Two have risen to prominence, establishing virtual trading empires—Venoga and Pirogia.”
“Ideal for spreading advanced ideas! Yes, I think Talipon will do nicely as a base of operations. Are there any obstacles to my efforts?” Magnus remembered the futurian anarchists and totalitarians who continually tried to defeat his father’s efforts to develop democracy.
“None except AEGIS,” Herkimer said helpfully. Magnus sagged. “No obstacle but an off planet do-gooder society trying some uplifting of its own! Only an unofficial branch of Terra’s interstellar government! Should I really bother?”
“Oh, yes,” Herkimer said softly. “AEGIS is not a prime example of good organization.”
That, Magnus reflected, was an understatement. AEGIS, the Association for the Elevation of Governmental Institutions and Systems, was a private, nongovernmental organization that nonetheless received hefty donations from the Decentralized Democratic Tribunal, the central government of the Terran Sphere, because its activities helped bring retrograde colony-planets back into contact with the civilized worlds, and prepared them for membership in the DDT. AEGIS was dedicated to raising the cultural level of the planets with which it worked. In order to do this, it tried to minimize war, improve the economy, and inject the fundamental ideas of civil and individual rights into the culture—it considered human rights to be prerequisite to education and development in the arts. Its members approached their work with an almost missionary fervor, but frequently didn’t realize what the results would be. Their efforts usually did tend to produce some sort of pre-democratic government, though. Usually. AEGIS had been known to come up with a monarchy or two. They didn’t care, as long as it promoted the development of the human soul.
“Amateurs,” Magnus said scornfully. “They’re incapable of seeing the results of their own actions. Bumbling, clumsy …”
“But well-meaning,” Herkimer reminded him.
“Well, yes, but we all know which path is paved with good intentions. Is AEGIS working throughout the whole planet, or only on Talipon?”
“Primarily on Talipon, but with the idea that the island’s influence will spread to the rest of the world, through its energetic merchants and merchant marine.”
“Well, they had one idea right, at least—the most obvious. I think I’ll see if I can augment their work in some unofficial manner. At least, if AEGIS is working there, I can’t do much more harm than they will.”
“There is that,” Herkimer agreed. “How do you intend to proceed?”
Magnus took on a contemplative look. “Given the incessant feuding, I would probably be most effective if I fell back on my former disguise—a mercenary soldier.”
“You will certainly have entree to any city you wish to visit.”
“I’d rather not wind up as an entree …”
Herkimer ignored the remark. “Will you use your previous pseudonym, too?”
“Gar Pike? Yes, I think I shall.” Magnus pursed his lips. “It would be a little too obvious if I simply showed up in the middle of Talipon, though. I had better land in one of the less developed kingdoms on the mainland, and work my way to the island more or less naturally.”
“That should disguise you from AEGIS’s scrutiny,” Herkimer agreed. “After all, you will rather stand out among the Taliponese.”
“Really?” Magnus frowned. “Why? You will give me a crash course in their language, won’t you?”
“Of course—but the average Taliponese man is five and a half feet tall.”
Magnus was nearly seven.
CHAPTER 1
Old Antonio pointed ahead and shouted. Young Gianni Braccalese looked up, saw the plume of black smoke ahead, and felt his heart sink.
Only minutes before, Gianni had run a finger around the collar of his doublet, wishing he could take off the cumbersome, padded, hot garment. The sun had heated the fields to baking by midday, and now, in mid-afternoon, the breeze had died down, so the only thing moving was the sweat from Gianni’s brow. If only they hadn’t been so close to Accera! It wasn’t much of a town, of course, but its two merchants were important sources of the grain and cotton that would fetch so high a price at home in Pirogia, and of the orzans that would make so beautiful a necklace for any lady who caught Gianni’s eye—so he knew he must not shame his father by appearing bare-chested, no matter how hot it might be. He scolded himself for not having thought to take off his doublet in midmorning, when the day began to grow hot—but it was the first time he had led a goods train in summer, and only the fourth time he had led a goods train at all. He had turned twenty after All Saints’ Day, so it was only a matter of months since his father had promoted him from his duties as a clerk, to actual trading. He was very anxious to make a good showing—but now this!