John stared at the map. Blessing was right, he knew. He had still been thinking in the terms of old Godsworld, where wars could be fought without interference, and where trained men, horses, and steel blades decided battles. He had not considered either the heightened firepower or the presence of aircraft.
“Besides,” Kwam? said, “what's the point in killing potential customers?"
Reluctantly, John pulled his eyes away from the map and nodded.
“However,” Blessing said, “I think you may be right in choosing our next target. The agreement that your former people signed upon joining the protectorate-was it an exclusive contract?"
“I don't know,” John admitted, “I never thought about it."
“Well, Captain, if you're to go on working for ITD you need to think of such things. Just because Bechtel-Rand has trading rights in New Nazareth and holds the contract to defend the tribe, doesn't mean that we can't trade with them as well."
John stared at him.
“In fact, Captain, I think that tomorrow morning you'll be leaving for New Nazareth, to see if you can't open trade there."
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him; but I will maintain my own ways before him."-Job 13:15
The airship dropped him and his party at the border; he and Blessing had decided that it would be unwise to fly directly into New Nazareth until they had a better idea how matters stood there. John had a small metal device that was supposed to signal the airship to come and get him, wherever he might be at the time, when he was ready to leave and return to Savior's Grace.
He had wanted Kwam? along on this expedition, but the Australian had refused; in fact, John noticed that he no longer left the ITD headquarters except to go aboard the ship for one reason or another. He had obviously lost interest in Godsworld.
Besides, as Blessing pointed out, it was reckless and wasteful to send both of his local experts-only Kwam? used the official term, “on-site consultants"-on a single expedition.
Premosila Kim, however, was available; once the opening rounds of negotiation were out of the way Blessing had replaced her in Spiritus Sancti with a man, someone that the Chosen could deal with more comfortably.
John found himself thinking the worse of the Chosen for their prejudice against women, even while he realized that he, himself, had not been much better for most of his life. He was still not ready to concede women full equality with men, as the Earthers did, but he certainly respected some of the Earther women far more than he ever had any Godsworlder women.
For one, he respected Kim, despite her occasional awkwardness with the details of everyday life on Godsworld; he accepted her inclusion gladly.
He also took along a deacon from Savior's Grace, to lend the group some official status by Godsworlder tribal standards, and a young male Earther in case the True Worders refused to deal with Kim.
The four of them walked from the border as far as the outskirts of New Nazareth, a journey lasting about a day and a half, before anyone stopped them or asked their business. Finally, only a hundred yards from the city's open gates, a patrol marched out to meet them, apparently alerted by a lookout somewhere.
John introduced himself by name only, since his titles had been revoked, and explained that he had come to speak to the Elders on behalf of himself and his companions. He did not offer any explanation of who his companions were.
Two of the six men in the patrol obviously recognized him immediately; he was unsure of the others, and did not himself recognize any of them well enough to call by name.
“Captain John,” the patrol leader said, “we thought you were dead."
He felt an unreasonable warmth at simply being addressed by his old familiar title, rather than just “Captain", as the Earthers called him, or by a civilian name, as the Chosen did now that he no longer had an army.
“No,” he said, “I came close once or twice, but God's not ready for me yet."
“Either that, or the Devil thinks you're more use here than there!” The patrol leader smiled, but John did not laugh at the jibe; he was too uncertain of his reception among his own people.
“I need to talk to the Elders,” he said. “Can that be arranged?"
“I reckon we might get a couple of them to see you,” the soldier answered. “Old Captain Habakkuk's an Elder now, and I'm sure he'll be eager to see you again, sir!"
John smiled. “I hope so."
“He's up at the garrison, sir; would it be all right if I brought you and these others there?"
John nodded. “It'd be fine with me-you know what your orders are better than I do, now. Don't break them just because it's me."
“Oh, they don't get very specific about it, sir; we're to use our own judgement, so I'll take you to Captain-Elder Habakkuk."
“Good,” John answered. “We'd like that."
In practice, however, they were not taken directly to Habakkuk, but rather to one of his aides, in a small, cluttered office at one end of the garrison barracks. There they were kept waiting at swordpoint-John noticed that all six soldiers carried revolvers on their belts, but two swords were the only weapons drawn to guard the foursome-while the aide went to consult with his commander.
They sat on the floor for almost an hour before the aide finally returned.
“Mr. Mercy,” he said, “the Captain-Elder will see you now."
The civilian address struck John as a bad sign as he got to his feet. He said nothing, but followed the aide up a flight of stairs to Habakkuk's office-an office which had once been his own.
It had changed very little, he saw when the door swung open. Habakkuk, too, had changed very little-except he did not stand up when John entered the room. That was a mark of respect to a superior officer; whatever form of address the patrol leader might have used, Habakkuk obviously no longer saw John as his commander. He sat behind his desk, his heavy body squeezed into the familiar chair, his square face expressionless, and said nothing. The initial warmth John felt at the sight of his old comrade quickly faded before that lack of response.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“J'sevyu, Captain-Elder,” John said at last.
“J'sevyu, John,” Habakkuk replied. “I never expected to see you again."
John nodded and was about to say something when Habakkuk added, “I never wanted to see you again."
John's mouth, opening in preparation for speech, continued to open, but no sound came out for the first few seconds. “What?” he managed at last.
“You heard me."
“Yes, I heard you, but I don't understand you. I thought we were friends."
“Maybe we were once, but we aren't now. You betrayed your own people; how can I be friend to a traitor?"
“I'm no traitor!"
“No? You prevented our people from conquering the Chosen when we had the chance; you led our army into a trap and saw it destroyed instead. When we had found an ally in the People of Heaven to protect us from the Chosen, you waged a guerrilla war against them. Now you've come here openly as an agent of the Chosen. What did they pay you for all this, John? Was it worth it?” John could hear the bitterness in Habakkuk's voice.