The repeated efforts of Yon Brahtz to impose his control on the New Belfast Diamonds, by planting stooges like the late Trigvy Darling in their hide committees, had aroused some resentment. Park decided that he could trust his most active supporters, and the six thingmen, to back him in a gigantic double-cross: to desert the Diamond Party altogether and join the Rubies. The goats would be, not merely Brahtz and his squirearchy, but the local Ruby politicians of New Belfast. However, as these had never accomplished anything but draw some patronage from the Althing in the periods when the Rubies were in power there, Park thought he would not find much resistance to their sacrifice on the part of the Ruby leaders. And so it proved.
Twenty men, though, seldom keep a secret for long. The morning of June 9th, Park opened his paper to find the report of a defiant speech by Yon Brahtz, in which he announced bluntly that “the thanes of the Cherogian March of Vinland will defend the ricks they inherited from their heroic forebears, by any means needful, and moreover the means for such defense are ready and waiting!” Park translated this to mean that if the Scoglund amendment were passed by a coalition of Rubies and insurgent New Belfast Diamonds, the squirearchy would secede.
But that would mean civil war, which in turn would mean postponement of the elections. What was even more serious, the Diamond thingmen from the seceding provinces would automatically lose their seats, giving the Rubies a clear majority. Since the Rubies would no longer need the support of Park’s insurgents, they would be disinclined to make a deal with him to appoint a mayor of his choice.
Park privately thought that, while in theory he supposed he believed in the Scoglund amendment, in practice both his and the Ruby leaders’ interests would be better served by dropping it for the present, despite the growls of the Dakotians and Cherogians. However, the Ruby leaders were firm; that huge block of Skrelling votes they would get by emancipating the aborigines was worth almost any risk.
As for such questions as the rights of the Skrellings as human beings, or the unfortunate Vinlanders who would be killed or haggled up in a civil war, they were not considered at all.
Park, holed up in the Isleif Street apartment with a couple of bodyguards, answered a call from Dunedin. “Haw, Hallow? Thane Callahan is here to see you.”
“Send him over here. Warn him ahead of time who I-” Park remembered the guards, and amended: “warn him about everything. You know.”
Lord, he thought, all this just to get hold of Noggle, still shut up in the Psychophysical Institute! Maybe it would have been simpler to organize a private army like Brahtz’s and storm that fortresslike structure. A long-distance call for the mobilization of his Sons of the Vikings, as he called his storm troopers. Kedrick, the Bretwald of Vinland, had refused to mobilize the army because, he explained, such an action would be “provocative”… Maybe he secretly favored the squirearchy, whose man he was; maybe he was just a pacific civilian who found the whole subject of soldiers, guns, and such horrid things too repulsive to discuss; maybe he really believed what he said… Callahan arrived with a flourish. Since MacSvensson was no longer boss of New Belfast, the Sachem went openly about the city without fear of arrest and beating-up by the police.
He told Park: “It would be worth my life if some of my fellow Skrellings knew I’d told you. But the Dakotians have an army secretly assembled on the bounds. If the Vinlanders start fickting among themselves, the Dakotians’ll jump in to grab the northwestern provinces.”
Park whistled. “How about the Cherogians?”
“They’re holding back, waiting to see how things are turning out. If the war seems to be fruitbearing, they’ll try a little rickting of the bounds themselves.”
“And what will your Skrellings do then?”
“That depends. If the Scoglund changelet is lost, they’ll join the foe to a man. If it goes through, I think I can hold most of them in line.”
“Why do you tell me this, Callahan?”
The Sachem grinned his large disarming grin. “Two reasons. First, the bishop and I have been friends for years, and I’ll stick to his body no matter where his soul may be. Twoth, I’m not fooled, as some of my Skrellings are, by talk of what fine things the Dakotians’ll do for us if we help them overthrow the palefaces. The Dakotian realm is even less a folkish one than the Bretwaldate’s. I know a thing or two about how they treat their ain folk. So if you’ll stick to me, I’ll stick to you.”
Park would have liked to appear at the opening of the Althing as Bishop Scoglund. But, as too many people there knew him as Allister Park, he attended in his mustache, hair dye, and spectacles.
The atmosphere was electric. Even Park, with all his acumen, had been unable to keep up with events. The risks were huge, whichever way he threw his insurgents’ votes.
He kept them shut up in a committee room with him until the last possible minute. He did not yet know himself whether he would order them to vote for or against the amendment.
The clock on the wall ticked around.
A boy came in with a message for Park. It said, in effect, that the Sons of the Vikings had received a report that the amendment had already been passed; had mobilized and seized the town of Olafsburg.
Who had sent that mistaken message and why, there was no way of finding out. But it was too late for anybody to back down. Park looked up and said, very seriously: “We’re voting for the Scoglund Amendment.” That was all; with his well-trained cogs no more was necessary.
The bell rang; they filed out. Park took his seat in the visitors’ gallery. He said nothing but thought furiously as the session of the Althing was opened with the usual formalities. The chairman and the speaker and the chaplain took an interminable time about their business, as if afraid to come to grips with the fearful reality awaiting their attention. When the first motions came up, a dead silence fell as Park’s men got up and walked over to the Rubies’ side of the house. Then the Rubies let out a yell of triumph. There was no more need of stalling or delicate angling for marginal votes. Motion after motion went through with a roar. Out went the Diamond chairman and speaker, and in went Rubies in their place.
In an hour the debate had been shut off, despite howls from Diamonds and their sympathizers about “gag law” and “high-handed procedure.”
The amendment came up for its first vote. It fell short of the two-thirds required by eleven votes.
Park scribbled a note and had it delivered to the speaker. The speaker handed it to the chairman. Park watched the little white note drift around the Ruby side of the house. Then the Ruby leader got up and solemnly moved the suspension of thingmen Adamson, Arduser, Beurwulf, Dahl, Fessenden, Gilpatrick, Holmquist… all the thingmen from the seceding area.
Most of those named didn’t wait; they rose and filed out, presumably to catch airwains for their home provinces. The amendment passed on the second vote.
Park looked up the Ruby leader after the Althing adjourned. He said: “I hear Kedrick still won’t order mobilization. Talks about ‘Letting the erring brethren go in peace.’ What’s your party line on the matter?”
The Ruby leader, a thin cool man, blew smoke through his nose. “We’re going to fick. If Kedrick won’t go along, there are ways. The same applies to you, Thane Park.”
Park suddenly realized that events had put him in a suspect position. If he didn’t want himself and his cogs to be damned as copperheads, or the Vinland equivalent, he’d have to outshout the Rubies for unity, down with the rebels, etcetera.
Well, he might as well do a good job of it.
That afternoon the guards at the Psychophysical Institute were astonished to have their sanctuary invaded by a squad of uniformed knicks with the notorious Allister Park at their head flourishing a search warrant. The charge was violation of the fire ordinances — in a building made almost entirely of tile, glass, and reinforced concrete.