A shame Jilsomo never married, he told himself wryly. He'd be an excellent father.
A question nudged him then: why had he asked Jilsomo about Thoga? He'd surprised himself with that. The reason struck him: Thoga's newly found courage and integrity. With Kargh's light, the little exarch had had the courage to examine and question his entire mode of life and thought, his very motives. And then had had the integrity to accept what he found. If Thoga had signed the letter, it would have been that much more damning.
Well, he would not ask Thoga. He'd ask Kargh, as Thoga had, and accept what Kargh showed him.
The Kalif left his bodyguards, forbidding them to follow, telling them he needed privacy, and walked alone across the grounds to the chapel. The Chapel of the Exarchs had a number of small private rooms, not much more than closets, each with its padded kneeling stool, and to one side, a narrow stained glass window that admitted a limited amount of colored light. He went into one of them, set the lock behind him, and knelt.
He prayed to Kargh to help him, then waited. Thoughts formed, proliferated, were banished. More came into being. After a little he itched. Despite the pads, his knees and shins began to hurt, not severely but enough to distract. Grimly he stayed, back straight, hands on thighs, in the prayer posture he'd been taught as a boy.
The light rays shifted with the wheeling of the sun, till finally, darkening, they spent themselves on the side of the stone window casing. Slowly, stiffly, the Kalif got to his feet. Kargh had not come to him, had not chosen to show him anything. Perhaps he'd been abandoned.
Unnoticed, he left the chapel. He'd have to do and see Right for himself as best he could. He remembered what SUMBAA had said about humankind having to solve its own major problems. Perhaps Kargh had placed the same responsibility on him.
At least Riisav and Jilsomo had cast light on his actions for him. Perhaps Kargh had had something to do with that. He decided, though, to give the credit to the two exarchs, whether or not they were tools of Kargh.
Forty-six
When the Diet met again, the Kalif was there, sitting among the exarchs and swept by the glances of the nobles, some of them hostile, some cold, some merely grim. Seemingly none were sympathetic toward him.
He wasn't there to promote his invasion or anything else. He'd come this day to face the fire.
It was Lord Agros, not Rothka, who proposed a formal denunciation of him-definitely not an encouraging sign. Agros had been against an invasion all along, but seemingly hadn't been hostile toward the Kalif himself. Now, thought the Kalif, it seemed he was. It was hard to know for sure, though. Agros was motivated far less by emotions than by practicality. Or more accurately, by principles which were limited and distorted by expediency and opportunity.
In the oratory-it was no debate-the points brought up by the House were much like those that Riisav had listed, but phrased and rephrased with greater animosity. And almost no one, nobles or exarchs, seemed prepared to argue with them. Only Roonoa Hamaalo spoke in the Kalif's behalf, pointing out his unwillingness to actually begin the fight, and once the fight began, his reluctance to end it with his challenger's death. Roonoa's words made little difference to what followed, however, merely gave the more hostile something further to fang and claw.
The delegates of the Pastorate had stayed out of it entirely, until their leader's hand went up. Alb Tariil, who was chairing the meeting, recognized him, and Dosu got to his feet.
He waited just long enough to draw their eyes, then began. "Your criticisms," he said, "have a certain validity. One might indeed have hoped for more composure, greater forbearance from the Successor to The Prophet. But no mention has been made of the extreme, the truly astonishing provocation he underwent." The old man looked around him. "Has everyone forgotten that old saw attributed to the wise man, Shamaragoopal? 'It is better to tell a man that his father mates with sheep than to tell him his wife's nose is too wide.' The shocking, indeed the stunning insults to the kalifa, shouted within the hearing of hundreds the other night, were far worse than that. They were public insults unprecedented in their coarseness."
Dosu paused to stare around as if challenging them to gainsay him. " Almost unprecedented. There has been one to equal it. A vile and evil precedent committed by a member, a late member, of the House of Nobles! I refer to the disgusting book of Lord Nathiir's, which also targeted the kalifa, and which served to greatly sensitize the Kalif, make him react more strongly to additional insults."
Again he paused, then shocked them further by shouting with a force incongruous to his aged frame. "An act which shamed the House of Nobles and threatened the very concept of nobility! Something that none of you seemed able or willing to recognize! Let alone publicly lament!"
Once more he paused, his sweeping gaze fierce, his old mouth clamped like the beak of a reef dragon. "All you could think of to do, that earlier time, was attack the Kalif for his unfortunate response. While today-today you've attacked him like a pack of wild dogs! In my youth in the pulpit, if one of my peasants had acted as shamelessly as most of you have, here today, I'd have laid a penance on him to bring tears to his eyes and a groan from his lips. I trust and recommend that your chaplain serve you similarly."
His voice shifted tone and volume, became less loud but scathingly sarcastic. "In case you have failed to notice, in your noble self-righteousness, this Kalif has been forebearing beyond most of his predecessors. Yet when Gorsu perpetrated his atrocities, there was no outpouring of indignation in this chamber, from either College or House. You lacked the courage, most of you who served here then! Your fear of impalement lent caution, if not cowardice, to your lips. But today your sense of justice has been totally inadequate to temper your words. The lesson seems to be that in your noble house, fear is more compelling than justice. Certainly integrity has been a virtual stranger among you today.
"You repay your Kalif's long record of civility with attacks you wouldn't dare make if he were truly what you accuse him of. With one exception, your performance here today has been without principle, without insight, without justice. Your hypocrisy is an embarrassment to the empire!"
Once more he paused, a pause that seemed to stem from tiredness, but when he spoke again, his voice was hard. "The people of every estate, when they hear of your poor display today, will judge you. They will judge you harshly. And who will suffer from it? This nation. This empire. Because their respect for you will have dropped-again. A process that can only go on so long before you are bankrupt with them."
His hand went to the mark of nobility on his own forehead. "I disdain you all!" he finished. "Except for Lord Roonoa. I can only hope that Kargh will open your eyes."
When he sat down, no one said a word for perhaps a long half minute.
Great Kargh but old Dosu's an orator! the Kalif told himself. I had no idea! In a way he was as stunned as the nobles, and not simply by the Elder's eloquence. Historically the Pastorate was-if not jealous of the Prelacy, at least touchy at the Prelacy's seniority, and of their own lack of a vote in the Diet. Too, they'd often proven bristly at the behavior of a Kalif.
As for himself, he'd tried always to treat their delegates with care and respect. It seemed to him that if the Kalif and the College acted as the mind of the Church, the Imperial Assembly of Elders spoke for its soul. And too few nobles, or Kalifs, had appreciated sufficiently the influence the Pastorate had on the people-both gentry and the nobility at large.
Roonoa stood. "I call for a roll-call vote on Lord Agros's proposal," he said.
Thoga seconded. Tariil called their names, one after another. Only six voices answered yea, four of them the delegates from the LRP. Agros voted against his own proposal. Riisav voted nay without hesitating.