“Folimun’s heading for Amgando, yes,” Theremon said. “But he doesn’t intend to harm those who have gathered there. He wants to offer them posts in the new government.”
“Gods almighty, Theremon, do you believe—”
“Yes. Yes, Siferra!” Theremon held his hands out, fingers spread wide in an agitated gesture. “I may be a mere coarse journalist, but at least grant me that I’m no fool. Twenty years in the newspaper business has made me an excellent judge of character, at the very least. Folimun impressed me in a strange way from the first time I met him. He seemed very much the opposite of crazy, very complex, very sly, very sharp. And I’ve been talking with him for the past eight hours. Nobody’s been sleeping here this evening. He’s laid his whole plan bare. He’s shown me his entire scheme. Would you grant, for the sake of argument, that it’s possible for me to get an accurate psychological reading on someone during the course of an eight-hour conversation?”
“Well—” she said grudgingly.
“Either he’s completely sincere, Siferra, or he’s the best actor in the world.”
“He could be both. That still doesn’t make him someone we’d want to trust.”
“Maybe not. But I do. Now.”
“Go on.”
“Folimun is a totally ruthless, almost monstrously rational man who believes that the only thing that’s of any real importance is the survival of civilization. Because he’s had access, through his age-old religious cult, to historical records of previous cycles, he’s known for many years what we’ve all just learned in the hardest possible way: that Kalgash is doomed to be shown a view of the Stars once every two thousand years and that the sight of them is so overwhelming that it’ll shatter ordinary minds and give even the strongest ones a bad time for days or weeks.—He’s willing to let you see all their ancient documents, by the way, when we’re back in Saro City.”
“Saro City has been destroyed.”
“Not the part of it controlled by the Apostles. They made damned well sure nobody would be setting any fires within a mile of their tower on all sides.”
“Very efficient of them,” Siferra said.
“They’re efficient people. All right: Folimun knows that in a time of total madness the best hope of pulling things together is a religious totalitarianism. You and I may think the gods are just old fables, Siferra, but there are millions and millions of people out there, believe it or not, who have a different view of things. They’ve always been uneasy about doing things that they consider sinful, for fear the gods will punish them. And now they have an absolute dread of the gods. They think the Stars might come back tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, and finish off the job.—Well, here are the Apostles, who claim a direct pipeline to the gods and have all sorts of scriptural passages to prove it. They’re in a better position to set up a world government than Altinol, or the little provincial overlords, or the fugitive remnants of the former governments, or anyone else. They’re the best hope we have.”
“You’re serious,” Siferra said in wonder. “Folimun hasn’t hypnotized you, Theremon. You’ve managed to do it to yourself!”
“Look,” he said. “Folimun’s been working all his life toward this moment, knowing that his is the generation of Apostles on whom the responsibility for ensuring survival will fall. He’s got all sorts of plans. He’s well on his way to establishing control over enormous territories north and west of Saro City, and next he’s going to take charge of the new provinces along the line of the Great Southern Highway.”
“And establish a theocratic dictatorship that will begin its rule by executing all the atheistic, cynical, materialistic university people like Beenay and Sheerin and me.”
“Sheerin’s already dead. Folimun told me his people found his body in a ruined house. He was apparently killed some weeks back by a band of anti-intellectual crazies.”
Siferra looked away, unable for a moment to meet Theremon’s eyes. Then she stared at him more angrily than before and said, “There you are. First Folimun sends his goons crashing into the Observatory—Athor was killed too, wasn’t he?—and then he eliminates poor harmless Sheerin. And then all the rest of us will be—”
“He was trying to protect the Observatory people, Siferra.”
“He didn’t go about it very well, did he?”
“Things got out of hand. What he wanted to do was rescue all the scientists before the rioting started—but because he was operating under the guise of a wild-eyed fanatic, he had no way of persuading them to hear what he was offering, which was to give them safe-conduct to the Apostles’ Sanctuary.”
“After the Observatory was wrecked.”
“That wasn’t his first choice either. The world was crazy that night. Things didn’t always follow his scheme.”
“You’re very good at making excuses for him, Theremon.”
“Maybe so. Hear me out, anyway. He wants to work with the surviving university people, and the other sane and intelligent ones who have gathered at Amgando, to rebuild humanity’s pool of knowledge. He—or the supposed Mondior, rather—will be in charge of the government. The Apostles will keep the unstable and superstition-ridden populace pacified by religious domination, at least for a generation or two. Meanwhile the university people will help the Apostles assemble and codify the knowledge they’ve managed to save, and together they’ll guide the world back to a rational state—as has happened so many times before. But this time, perhaps, they’ll be able to begin the preparations for the next eclipse a hundred years or so in advance, and head off the worst of the upheaval, the mass insanity, the torchings, the universal devastation.”
“And you believe all this?” Siferra asked. There was the bite of acid in her voice. “That it makes sense to stand back and applaud while the Apostles of Flame spread their poisonous irrational totalitarian creed throughout the world? Or what’s even worse—that we should join forces with them?”
“I hate the idea,” Theremon said suddenly.
Siferra’s eyes widened. “Then why—?”
“Let’s go outside,” he said. “It’s almost dawn. Give me your hand?”
“Well—”
“It wasn’t just a line, when I told you I love you.”
She shrugged. “One thing has nothing to do with another. The personal and the political, Theremon—you’re using one to muddle the other.”
“Come,” he said.
44
They stepped from the tent. The early light of Onos was a pink glow on the eastern horizon. High overhead, Tano and Sitha had emerged from the clouds, and the twin suns, now at their zenith, had a radiance that was strange and wonderful to behold.
There was one more. Far off in the north the small hard red sphere that was the little sun Dovim was shining like a tiny ruby set in the forehead of the sky.
“Four suns,” Theremon said. “A sign of luck.”
All about them in the Apostles’ camp there was the bustle of activity. The trucks were being loaded, the tents were coming down. Theremon caught sight of Folimun far across the other side, directing a team of workers. The Apostle leader waved to Theremon, who nodded in return.
“You hate the idea that the Apostles will rule the world,” Siferra said, “and yet you’re still willing to give your allegiance to Folimun? Why? What sense does that make?”
Quietly Theremon said, “Because there’s no other hope.”
“Is that what you think?”
He nodded. “It began to sink in, after Folimun had been talking with me for a couple of hours. Every rational instinct in me tells me not to trust Folimun and his crew of fanatics. Whatever else he may be, there’s no doubt that Folimun’s a power-hungry manipulator, very ruthless, very dangerous. But what other chance is there? Altinol? All the petty little bosses along the highway? It could take a million years to weld all the new provinces into a global economy. Folimun’s got the authority to make the whole world kneel to him—or to Mondior, rather.—Listen, Siferra, most of mankind is lost in madness. There are millions of crazies loose out there now. Only strong-minded ones like you and me and Beenay have been able to recover, or very stupid ones; but for the others, the mass of humanity, it’ll be months or years or never before they can think straight again. A charismatic prophet like Mondior, much as I loathe the idea, may be the only answer.”