The Elder Leader shrugged. Doubtlessly they had chosen the oldest men to constitute the honor guard. Evidently they were still clinging to the outmoded idea that age in itself was enough to make a man more honored.
Well, that was none of his business; he wasn't interested in the honor guard. The Director could keep his old men here in Tammulcor; Nibro wanted the young fighters.
The Elder Leader and his men dismounted in front of the building. A ridiculously potbellied man in the black uniform of the Hundred stood there, bowing politely.
"We are honored by your visit, Elder Leader. The Director has asked me to show you to your rooms so that you can cleanse yourselves. The dust of the road—"
"I'll bathe later," Nibro peSyg snapped. "The business I have with the Director is too important to wait. Tell him I'll see him at once."
The officer bowed again. "He suspected as much. Come with me, please."
He turned, walking with a clumsy pigeon-toed tread, and Nibro peSyg followed him into the Directorate Building.
They went down a long hall to a large bronzewood door at the rear. The Directorate's offices, thought Nibro peSyg, were not unduly magnificent.
The officer rapped on the door. "The Elder Leader is here," he said.
"Let him come in," said a curious-sounding voice from within.
Nibro opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was large and ornate. On the far side, a broad desk stood beneath a wide window. And behind it sat an old man.
Nibro was actually shocked. Ganz peDel should be in his late forties or early fifties, but he looked older—much older.
"Sit down, Elder Leader," said Ganz peDel in a husky, tired voice. "Sit down. Tell me what it is you have ridden so far to say."
Nibro peSyg took the indicated seat, feeling rather awkward in the presence of the old man. He had to remind himself that Ganz was only fifteen—perhaps twenty—years older than himself.
"Director," he began, "I'll come to the point at once. As you may have heard, the northern province of Sugon has rebelled—or, at least, several of its leaders have committed an act of treason against the Council."
The old man smiled. It was an odd smile—kindly, understanding, and yet—somehow—it was bitter.
"I have heard. It's not the first time there have been rebellions in Nidor—nor will it be the last."
"You have heard? And yet you have done nothing?" Nibro was startled; the Director's calm, unquestioning acceptance of the fact of the Sugonese rebellion took him totally by surprise.
"I could have done something," Ganz said. "I still could, I suppose. But I won't, because it will make no difference in the long run."
Nibro scowled. "No difference? I'm afraid I'm not following your train of thought."
"There was a time, Elder Ghevin," the Director said, "when you would have wasted the first ten minutes of our conference making the proper forms of obeisance to me, because I happen to be older than you. Or, contrariwise, I would have been making the ceremonial speeches to you because, according to custom, the Elder Leader was always the oldest priest on Nidor. But those times have gone forever."
Nibro peSyg flexed his shoulders beneath the blue cloak. "Not forever, Director," he said. "I intend to see that Nidor returns to the Law of the Scriptures and the Way of our Ancestors. That's why I've come to you. The Council needs the Hundred Men; Sugon must be shown who rules in Nidor." Nibro peSyg clenched his fists. "Kris peKym Yorgen, the Great Martyr, showed the devil Earthmen that they could not interfere with the Way. I intend to do the same with the rebellious Sugonese! We shall have order and the ancient Way again!"
The chuckle that came from Ganz peDel Vyless was soft but sardonic. "I have never heard so many mistakes in one set of sentences. Kris peKym may have been a martyr, but he was also a fool. He fancied himself the only dangerous man on Nidor. I fear you are making the same mistake."
Nibro's face darkened, and the Director patted the air with a hand. "Oh, no, Elder Leader. Not I. I am not in the least dangerous. I have seen the futility of action. I merely wait. Please—let me continue.
"Neither did Kris peKym, as you put it, 'show the devil Earthmen that they could not interfere with the Way.' He was far too late. They had already done their work. They had not only interfered with the Way—they had completely, utterly, and absolutely smashed Nidorian culture forever!"
Nibro peSyg's sudden wave of anger at such a stupidly ridiculous—almost blasphemous—statement was quickly suppressed by the realization of what had happened to the Director. Lie had tried to put Nidor to rights again and had failed. He had failed because he was weak and incompetent, and that failure had made him old before his time. He was to be pitied, not vilified.
But Ganz peDel was smiling again, his patient, tolerant, bitter smile. "I know what you think," he said. "I know what I thought at your age. Shall I tell you a story?"
The sudden change of subject caught Nibro by surprise. He blinked. "A story? Uh ... well ... go ahead."
Ganz folded his hands and settled back in his chair. He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then, abruptly, he began: "Perhaps you know of my secretary? Yes—Norvis peKrin Dmorno—dead these five years and more.
"For twenty-five years, he had dropped hints now and then about an unusual experience—as though he knew something that no other Nidorian had ever learned. I think he told his children—perhaps his wife, though I doubt it. But he told no one else.
"But he was an old man when he died, and delirious towards the end. He didn't know I was around most of the time. He babbled. Sometimes he made no sense at all. But part of what he said very definitely did make sense.
"He saw the Earthmen after they had supposedly been driven from Nidor. They took him up to the sky—past the sky and beyond. He saw the Great Light Himself."
He paused, as though expecting some sort of reaction from Nibro. But there was none forthcoming; the Elder Leader had already made up his own mind.
Ganz peDel shrugged almost imperceptibly and went on. "The Earth-men told Norvis that they had deliberately smashed Nidorian civilization. It had been static and unchanging for too long, so they forced us to change. As long as Nidor had a relatively unchanging and homogeneous population, we could remain as we were—stable, but static. But the Earthmen concentrated our best minds in the Bel-rogas School of Divine Law for a hundred years—more than six cycles. The concentration upset the balance. Our society toppled and broke. It can never be rebuilt."
Nibro smiled at Ganz peDel's words—a half sneering smile. "Am I to understand," he said slowly, "that you have based your theory of inaction on the mad ravings of a dying underling—a man who claimed to have had some mystical experience with the Great Light Himself? Ridiculous!"
Ganz peDel's steady smile did not change. "Perhaps. But bear in mind that I tried for twenty-five years to repair the damage—and I only succeeded in doing more. Now I have ceased to act, and the damage increases at the same rate. The deterioration of Nidor has proceeded steadily, unchanged, whether I act or not."
Nibro said nothing, but his expression was easy to read.
"I may have been incompetent," Ganz peDel confessed. "I am old enough now so that I do not flinch at realizing that I have limitations.
"But I, too, thought of rebuilding the Temple. In my youth, I hated the priesthood, but later I realized that the priesthood could weld the people together again. And still later, I realized that nothing would do any good."
He paused, and his smile vanished as he looked directly into the Elder Leader's eyes. "No man likes to be told he is a puppet, helpless in the grip of forces he cannot control. But let me warn you, Elder Grandfather: you cannot change the flow of the tide! I won't say you can do nothing; I'll simply say it doesn't matter what you do.