Gallen looked up into Maggie’s eyes. “Do you know how many people you’re talking about killing? There may be a half million or more Tekkar in that city.”
Maggie leaned back, and her hair fell behind her shoulders, accentuating the impassive lines of her face. “Gallen, when we talked to Ceravanne, you must have noticed that she has no idea how to run a war. She wants to go to Moree and ‘talk to’ the Harvester, for God’s sake! Well, that’s not how we’re going to do it. The dronon brought technology here to use as a weapon, and the Inhuman is tearing these people apart. I think we should cram these weapons down their throats and let them know just how monstrous a war can be.”
“We’re talking about killing innocent women and children,” Gallen said. And he surprised himself by saying “we’re,” for he knew that he had to consider it.
Maggie shrugged. “So hit them where they least expect it. Play on the Harvester’s weaknesses, and on the Inhuman’s inexperience. We can’t afford to be nice. We can’t afford to fight cleanly. I keep … I keep thinking about something my uncle Thomas told me just before we left Tihrglas. When he came into the inn, he planned to move in and use me badly. He lay on one of the beds in my inn, wearing his dirty boots, and he said something like, ‘If you ever have to play the villain in someone’s life, play your part well. Savor it. It’s one of the greatest joys in living.’ He hinted that you should stab the fellow in the back, and twist the knife with glee.
“Well, the Inhuman tried its best to make our last two weeks on this planet a living hell, and I for one don’t think we should pull our punches. When you see the Harvester, Gallen O’Day, I’ll not have you making any nice kissy faces at her just because she’s Ceravanne’s clone. If you don’t blow her head off, I will!”
Gallen stared at her in wonder. “Jesus, you Flynns are a bad-tempered lot! It’s a wonder the priests don’t catch on and drown the lot of you when you’re born!” Gallen leaned back, and his mantle was already considering the approach it would use when they attacked. He could trace the battle lines in his imagination.
He considered the carnage they would wreak on Moree, wondered about alternatives. Maggie was right. Her diabolical ideas did have the virtue of offering them the best chance at success, but Gallen couldn’t bring himself to seriously consider such a plan. In some ways, he realized, Maggie was tougher than he was. She’d been the one who first put her life on the line when battling the dronon, and now she was willing to wage a full-fledged war with the Tekkar.
He looked back down at the holographic image hovering over the floor, his legs rising like giant tree trunks from the land. But the image of the land transposed over Ceravanne’s map gave him an idea.
* * *
Chapter 31
That morning, after Gallen and Maggie announced their battle plans, Ceravanne took Gallen aside and argued against his method long and vigorously. Neither she nor the Bock could countenance the kind of attack he proposed. They were standing in the Vale of the Bock, beside the hot pools, which shone emerald in the morning light. It was a bright day, and fair here, and it seemed to Maggie somehow odd to be talking of such things in the bright sunlight. Around Maggie, Gallen, Ceravanne, and Orick, dozens of the Bock had gathered, and they stood nearly motionless in the morning sun, their hands upraised as if they were some strange priests gathered in convocation, offering up their prayers to Tremonthin’s double suns. But Ceravanne’s favorite Bock stood beside Gallen and Ceravanne, as if to referee the dispute.
“Remember, Gallen,” Ceravanne warned him, her voice shaking from emotion, “I want no violence, if we can avoid it. Not all of those infected by the Inhuman are evil. Like you, they are people, just people who were infected-by something they did not understand and something they lacked the ability to fight!”
Ceravanne’s eyes blazed, and Maggie was surprised, for she’d never seen a Tharrin show anger. “But if we fail here today, this world may not get another chance at freedom.”
“And I would rather lose my freedom than destroy one innocent life!” Ceravanne argued. She looked like only a young girl, with her pale green eyes blazing and her platinum-blond hair. For the first time since they met, Maggie sensed that Ceravanne was losing control, speaking openly of her deepest feelings.
“But you cannot make that choice for others,” Gallen shouted. “I won’t let you! I’ve already modified my plans so that I spare as many of the Tekkar as I feel safe in doing. If that does not gratify you, then I will leave you displeased! Perhaps I should take your mantle and fight this battle without you!”
“No, please!” Ceravanne said, and her voice faltered, as if she’d never considered the possibility that Gallen would go into battle without her. She begged, “I must come. Don’t deny me that. I’ve already seen all of my own people destroyed in this conflict. And far too many people of other races have been maimed or slaughtered. If I can save only one life, then it will be worth it. I’ve convinced the Bock to come with us. He too may offer some help.”
Gallen’s voice became softer. “Your Tharrin compassion does you merit, but it also is your greatest weakness. I wish you would stay out of this.”
“This world is my home,” Ceravanne said, and she knelt forward a little, almost as if bowing to Gallen, pleading. “I must serve it as I can. There are children in the Tekkar’s warrens. Innocents. Be gentle with them. Please, let me speak to the Harvester. Perhaps between us we can resolve this.”
Maggie watched Gallen, and though both she and Gallen had known that Ceravanne would argue for this, and both of them had agreed that they should leave her behind, such was the quality of Ceravanne’s voice, her ability to persuade, that Maggie suddenly found herself unable to argue against the woman. Indeed, to have done so would have been cruel.
Maggie knew that it was only a combination of pheromones, body language, and the use of voice that made them give in. And perhaps it was their own desires that Ceravanne was working on. But as Ceravanne leaned forward, looking like little more than a child herself, the sunlight falling on her golden hair, her words seemed to weave a powerful spell, so powerful that Gallen’s voice was stopped almost in mid-sentence. And suddenly Maggie saw why Ceravanne had been admired for millennia on this world. She’d helped bring peace to warring races for thousands of years, and such was the power of her presence that Maggie felt almost compelled to throw down the Dronon pulp gun she’d stowed in her waistband.
Ceravanne took Gallen’s hand. “Do you not think that the Harvester argues for peace against the Tekkar, even as I sue for peace with you now? Why else do you think they have not attacked Northland yet? We see now that they could easily take it,” Ceravanne said. And Maggie knew that it must be true. Ceravanne’s other self was suing for peace two thousand kilometers away. “Once we reach her throne room, there will be no need for weapons or battle. The Harvester will not let her people hurt you, if she sees me and the Bock in your retinue. That much, I feel confident, I can promise you.”
“Ceravanne is right,” the Bock urged in his slow voice, the brown-tinged leaves at his crown rustling in the morning wind. “She has experience with many races, even the Tekkar. I do not hesitate to put my own life in her hands.”
Gallen studied the Bock, his face still set and implacable. “All right, then,” he said. “I will give you a moment with the Harvester-no more. If you do not succeed in persuading her, I will kill her.”
Ceravanne closed her eyes gratefully, and sighed. She took Gallen’s hand and kissed it. “I-thank you,” she said, too overcome with gratitude to speak more, and Maggie wondered then if perhaps they had not given in too easily.