So, Michael de Sandoval's office was unmistakably the office of a Dorsai. At the same time it owned a strange difference from any other Dorsai's office, that almost shouted at us. The difference was a basic one, underneath any comparison of this place with the office of a Dorsai who had his walls hung with weapons, or with one who kept a severely clean desktop and message baskets, and preferred no weapon in sight.
"He's got these musical instruments displayed as if they were fighting tools," I said.
Ian nodded. It was not necessary to put the implication into words. If Michael had chosen to hang a banner from one of the walls testifying to the fact that he would absolutely refuse to lay his hands upon a weapon, he could not have announced himself more plainly to Ian and myself.
"It seems to be a strong point with him," I said. "I wonder what happened?"
"His business, of course," said Ian.
"Yes," I said.
But the discovery hurt me - because suddenly I identified what I had felt in young Michael from the first moment I had met him, here on Ceta. It was pain, a deep and abiding pain; and you cannot have known someone since he was in childhood and not be moved by that sort of pain.
The orderly stuck his head into the room.
"Sirs," he said, "the Bandmaster comes. He'll be here in one minute."
"Thank you," said Ian.
A moment later, Michael came in.
"Sorry to keep you waiting - " he began.
"Perfectly all right," Ian said. "The Conde made you wait yourself before letting you speak with him, didn't he?"
"Yes sir."
"Well, is he available now, to be met by me and Captain El Man?"
"Yes sir. You're both most welcome."
"Good."
Ian stood up and so did I. We went out, followed by Michael to the door of his office.
"Amanda Morgan is seeing the Governors, at the moment," Ian said to him as we left him. "She may want to talk to you after that's over. You might keep yourself available for her."
"I'll be right here," said Michael. "Sir - I wanted to apologize for my orderly's making excuses about my not being here when you came - " he glanced over at the orderly who was looking embarrassed. "My men have been told not to - "
"It's all right, Michael," said Ian. "You'd be an un usual Dorsai if they didn't try to protect you."
"Still - " said Michael.
"Still," said Ian. "I know they've trained only as bandmen. They may be line troops at the moment - all the line troops we've got to hold this place with - but I'm not expecting miracles."
"Well," said Michael. "Thank you, Commander."
"You're welcome."
We went out. Once more Ian led me through a maze of corridors and lifts.
"How many of his band decided to stay with him when the regiments moved out?" I asked as we went.
"All of them, "said Ian.
"And no one else stayed?"
Ian looked at me with a glint of humor.
"You have to remember," he said, "Michael did graduate from the Academy, after all."
A final short distance down a wide corridor brought us to a massive pair of double doors. Ian touched a visitor's button on the right-hand door and spoke to an annunciator panel in Spanish.
"Commander Ian Graeme and Captain El Man are here with permission to see the Conde."
There was the pause of a moment and then one of the doors opened to show us another of Michael's bandsmen
"Be pleased to come in, sirs," he said.
"Thank you," Ian said as we walked past. "Where's the Conde's majordomo?"
"He is gone, sir. Also most of the other servants."
"I see."
The room we had just been let into was a wide lobby filled with enormous and magnificently-kept furniture but lacking any windows. The bandman led us through two more rooms like it, also without windows, until we were finally ushered into a third and finally window-walled room, with the same unchanging view of the plains below. A stick-thin old man dressed in black was standing with the help of a silver-headed cane, before the center of the window area.
The soldier faded out of the room. Ian led me to the old man.
"El Conde," he said, still in Spanish, "may I intro duce Captain Corunna El Man. Captain, you have the honor of meeting El Conde de Nahar, Macias Francis co Ram6n Manuel Valentin y Compostela y Abente."
"You are welcome, Captain El Man," said the Conde. He spoke a more correct, if more archaic, Spanish than that of the other Naharese I had so far met; and his voice was the thin remnant of what once must have been a remarkable bass. "We will sit down now, if you please. If my age produces a weakness, it is that it is wearisome to stand for any length of time."
We settled ourselves in heavy, overstuffed chairs with massively padded arms - more like thrones than chairs.
"Captain El Man," said Ian, "happened to be on leave, back on the Dorsai. He volunteered to bring Amanda Morgan here to discuss the present situation with the Governors. She's talking to them now."
"I have not met..." the Conde hesitated over her name, "Amanda Morgan."
"She is one of our experts of the sort that the present situation calls for."
"I would like to meet her."
"She's looking forward to meeting you."
"Possibly this evening? I would have liked to have had all of you to dinner, but you know, I suppose, that most of my servants have gone."
"I just learned that," said Ian.
"They may go," said the Conde. "They will not be allowed to return. Nor will the regiments who have deserted their duty be allowed to return to my armed forces."
"With the Conde's indulgence," said Ian, "we don't yet know all the reasons for their leaving. It may be that some leniency is justified."
"I can think of none." The Conde's voice was thin with age, but his back was as erect as a flagstaff and his dark eyes did not waver. "But, if you think there is some reason for it, I can reserve judgment momentarily-"
"We'd appreciate that," Ian said.
"You are very lenient." The Conde looked at me. His voice took on an unexpected timbre. "Captain, has the Commander here told you? Those deserters out there - " he flicked a finger toward the window and the plains beyond, "under the instigation of people calling themselves revolutionaries, have threatened to take over Gebel Nahar. If they dare to come here, I and what few loyal servants remain will resist. To the death!"
"The Governors - " Ian began.
"The Governors have nothing to say in the matter! " the Conde turned fiercely on him. "Once, they - their fathers and grandfathers, rather - chose my father to be El Conde. I inherited that title and neither they, nor anyone else in the universe has the authority to take it from me. While I live, I will be El Conde; and the only way I will cease to be El Conde will be when death takes me. I will remain, I will fight - alone if need be - as long as I am able. But I will retreat, never! I will compromise, never!"
He continued to talk, for some minutes; but al though his words changed, the message of them remained the same. He would not give an inch to anyone who wished to change the governmental system in Nahar. If he had been obviously uninformed or ignorant of the implications of what he was saying, it would have been easy to let his words blow by un heeded. But this was obviously not the case. His frailty was all in the thin old body. His mind was not only clear but fully aware of the situation. What he announced was simply an unshakable determination never to yield in spite of reason or the overwhelming odds against him.
After a while he ran down. He apologized graciously for his emotion, but not for his attitude; and, after a few minutes more of meaninglessly polite conversation on the history of Gebel Nahar itself, let us leave.