6. The Confederation has its own ways of thinking and doing things. Its human population numbers in the scores of billions, at least-far, far more than the colonists we might send. Even after they have embraced Karghanik, they will think and act more or less differently than we do. And these folkways will influence the people we send there, particularly as intermarriage proceeds. The colonies will become more and more different from ourselves, even in the face of continuing immigration. And at such a great distance, in a generation or two they will cease to recognize imperial authority. Counter-argument: They will be children of Kargh, and perhaps that should be enough for us. Even if we cease to rule them, we can be pleased to have brought Karghanik to scores of new worlds, and to a hundred billion or more people.
The Kalif mused on the concept of colonies on those distant planets, and of children born to colonists, children who would never see the sector, the worlds, their parents came from. Children to whom the eleven worlds would be only stories, stories they might not even be interested in at such a far remove.
He also mused on the Confederation's myriads embracing Karghanik. Of intermarriages, and populations that in a few generations would be unlike anything that now existed. A new people. Somehow it both troubled and excited him.
He went on to read Tariil's reasons for not proposing an invasion to the Diet.
1. The proposal is almost sure to fail in the Diet.
2. The failure of such a major and radical, one might say revolutionary proposal will make the kalifate, and by extension the College, look incompetent, and weaken them in the eyes of the nobility for a long time. It probably would not result directly in civil disturbances, but given conditions in parts of the empire-indeed on parts of Varatos itself-such a political conflict within the Diet can result indirectly in civil unrest.
The Kalif raised his eyes from the report and gazed thoughtfully across the nightbound city. In the distance, thunderheads pulsed with internal lightning and sent megavolt discharges flickering groundward like bright threads. For a minute or several minutes he half watched, half cogitated.
Civil unrest. What Tariil actually meant was insurrection; civil unrest was always present somewhere in the empire. Serious insurrection occurred only every century or two, growing mainly from conflicts between the two great estates-the Prelacy and the nobility. Or actually between the College and the House of Nobles, which invariably had the interest of the Greater Nobility in mind instead of the nobility in general.
Insurrection could drastically disrupt law, order, and the economy for a decade or longer, and no estate wanted it. But on occasion someone played too close to the brink. Insurrection was always a possibility, but it was hardly a present danger.
He continued reading.
3. If invasion is proposed to the Diet, nothing will get done this session except arguing. Some of the arguments may become so bitter as to seriously hamper deliberations on any subject for years to come. Counter-argument: At best, much that the Diet does is not very useful. A few years of it getting little done may not seriously harm the empire, so long as a budget of some kind gets passed.
The Kalif grinned anew. At first reading he'd been surprised at such an observation by Tariil-he still was-and wondered if the exarch found any humor in it.
He laid the report aside and picked up another. On Sixday he'd chair a session of the Diet; he made a point of chairing the last one of each week. He wouldn't drop a bomb on them yet, though; let them wonder. He'd settle for dropping one on his inner council tomorrow.
Nineteen
In council next morning, the Kalif waited till routine business had been completed before dropping his bomb. Alb Tariil had brought up the subject of invasion, but the Kalif had declined to discuss it, saying that he hadn't made up his own mind yet. That when he had, there would be time enough.
"There is other new business I need to bring up just now." He looked them over. Their interest was tepid; they were ready to leave, get to their other duties. "I'm not ready to make it public yet, but I thought you should know." He paused, teasing their attention. "You'll keep it confidential, of course." Another pause. "I plan to be married."
The response was immediate, and as nearly enthusiastic as the inner council ever became. "Splendid!" said Alb Bijnath, beaming. "Good! Good!" said Alb Drova. Even Alb Tariil smiled, broadly. "Well!" he said, "there's hope for you after all!"
Alb Thoga said nothing, didn't smile; his chronic hostility toward the Kalif disallowed such responses. And Alb Jilsomo's smile was not spontaneous; the bride-to-be, it seemed to him, had to be the alien.
"Who's the lucky woman?" Bijnath asked. "I had no idea you'd been negotiating with anyone."
"Her name is Tain Faronya."
Smiles were replaced by frowns. "Faronya? A gentry name, is it?" asked Tariil. "Or Maolaaru? It's not familiar."
"She's the young woman who was brought back as a prisoner by Rashti's expedition."
The moment of silence, the sense of suspended animation, was broken by Thoga's angry response. "You can't! She is not a citizen!"
"I'm not aware that that's a prerequisite."
Alb Tariil spoke then, more quietly than usual. "Your Reverence," he said, "there is one requirement."
Every eye turned to him.
Tariil's eyes were on his hands, folded on the table. He took a deep breath; this was not easy for him. "According to the reports we were given, the young woman has no memory of her life before her captivity. Or more correctly, of her life before an accident on board the Klestronu flagship. So then, apparently no one knows, even she does not know, whether, for example, she was married-or anything."
His eyes raised, met the Kalif's.
"I invariably read the weekly report of kalifal edicts," he went on. "As do some few others, both in the Sreegana and the House of Nobles. One of those edicts was the annulment of a marriage-the marriage of a Klestronu marine colonel." He looked around at the others, and except in Jilsomo and the Kalif, found only puzzlement. "That surprised me. It's not the sort of thing one expects as a kalifal edict. So I called up the accessible information about the colonel."
Tariil's eyes fixed on the Kalif's again, not in antagonism but with unhappy concern. "It seems he had maintained the female prisoner privately in an apartment in Khaloom. He admits, though, to his wife's charge that he was and is impotent, the basis of the annulment. And under ordinary circumstances, people would accept that. Though they might be skeptical, unless in fact the colonel had a reputation for altruism.
"But the circumstances are not ordinary. First, rumor has it that the young woman is remarkably beautiful. Second, the annulment edict was yours, not Rashti's. And now you intend to marry the young woman that couldn't have been his mistress because of his stated impotence."
Alb Tariil shrugged. "Your Reverence, the question will surely arise as to what went on between them in that apartment."
The council room was silent for a moment. Finally the Kalif responded: "Do you have such questions?" he asked, and his eyes were hard.