The faces that looked back at him were sober.
"You may have wondered," he went on, "when I was going to propose an invasion of the Confederation. Or if I'd decided not to. Before my wedding, I discussed it at length and in confidence with the General Staff. By then of course, they'd digested the available information on the Confederation.
"They consider an invasion entirely practical, and have no doubt they can carry it off with complete success-if given sufficient forces." He smiled wryly. "Their idea of sufficient was all the forces, imperial and planetary, that could feasibly be assembled and sent, given three years' preparation.
"I'd anticipated that: They were exercising a very ancient principle, not taught in any academy but learned early in every officer's career. It's called 'cover your ass.' But when I pressed them on details, they admitted that such an invasion could, in fact, reasonably be launched with forces substantially less than they'd enumerated in their draft report. Though with not so great a margin for unforeseen contingencies.
"We can expect unforeseen contingencies, of course, but by definition we can't identify them in advance. A skilled fighting commander will meet them with what he has at hand, and unless they're overwhelming, he'll overcome them. That's a principle taught in each academy, and by the history of battles from time immemorial. But by most officers it's taken less to heart than 'cover your ass.' And it's natural, and no doubt desirable, for a commander to want as much available strength as he can get. Certainly he should not be sent off ill-equipped, except in dire necessity.
"After reminding them of certain economic and political facts of life, I gave them some guidelines, some practical constraints, and ordered Bavaralaama and Siilakamasu jointly to prepare a revised report, something SUMBAA can base a draft operating plan on. They were to have it ready on my return. I'll meet with them tomorrow and see what they've produced. If I'm satisfied with it as a broad statement of operational considerations and solutions, I'll review it with the full College the day after tomorrow. Then, depending on our discussion, I'll probably voice my intention to the Diet on the day following."
He paused. "The first battle of the war will be fought in the Diet. You're in session almost daily with the House, and while this has not, or should not have been discussed on the floor, lacking a formal proposal from myself, I presume you've heard the subject discussed in the corridors and dining room. I'd like your assessment of attitudes, and the factions taking shape around it. Bijnath?"
The exarch stood. "Your Reverence, the subject has not been particularly prominent among the members of the House or ourselves. Everyone seems to be waiting for your proposal. But it is talked about. So far I've detected only two factions-what might be termed factions. They don't seem well defined, and neither seems large. The Land Rights people are all against it, of course, while most of the industrial nobility, not all of them, like the idea. My impression is that the outer-world delegates generally have not begun to line up as planetary factions. Most haven't yet gotten input from their home worlds.
"My overall reading of their attitudes is that misgivings outweigh favorable interest. Substantially. They're worried about costs and the stability of the classes."
He sat down then, and the Kalif thanked him. Others gave views which did not differ much from Bijnath's. Finally the Kalif asked if anyone had further subjects to bring up, and Alb Thoga raised a skinny hand.
"Your Reverence," he said, "there is something that none of these others seem willing to tell you. About reactions to your marriage. There are those who are outraged by it."
"Outraged?"
"Your wife is not noble, she is not a citizen of the empire, and she has not even accepted Kargh as god! Also there is-question about her suitability. Her-history before she came here to Varatos from Klestron."
The Kalif flushed, and for ten long seconds held off answering. When finally he did speak, it was quietly, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "No member of the House, or of this College, knows whether or not she has accepted Kargh as god." His voice roughened. "What do you regard as questionable about her suitability, Thoga?"
"My views in this are not important."
Abruptly the Kalif's face contorted, and his voice struck like an electric lash, shocking them all. "Your views have just been asked for! And you will, by Kargh, answer my question!"
They sat stunned. None had ever heard this Kalif lose his temper in meeting before. Nor remembered, most of them, any anger so paralyzing, so devastating, like some psychic sword. Thoga had wilted before the blast, his expression dazed, and when he spoke, it was little more than a whisper. "I do not question her suitability, Your Reverence."
The Kalif stood glaring, his red cape seeming to flare, his eyes fixed on the offending exarch. Then, after a moment, his rage deflated. "Thank you, Alb Thoga," he said quietly. "I appreciate that you do not much approve of the kalifa or of myself. That is your prerogative. But you have sworn respect for the throne, and that much I do require."
He looked around at the others and drew a deep breath. "Is there something further that should be brought up here?" he asked quietly.
No one came forth with anything; they still were stunned. The Kalif spoke again, with a certain bleakness in his eyes and voice, for he was shocked and shamed by his rage, his loss of self-control.
"Then I will say one thing more: I wish to be the friend of each of you, regardless of differences. But more important to me, I intend to be a good Kalif. Finding myself on the throne, it would be a sin not to achieve as much good with it as possible. Thus I will not back away from what must be done, regardless of opposition.
"And now, exarchs, friends, this meeting is adjourned."
Still standing, he watched them leave, then stared unseeing at the door. Only Jilsomo remained; the Kalif had said earlier he wanted to have lunch with him. After a minute he shook free of his distress and they fell in together, walking slowly down the hall with neither talking. In his study, the Kalif rang his serving man and they gave their orders. When the servant left, the Kalif turned to Jilsomo.
"I made an impression this morning."
"Indeed you did, Your Reverence."
"Usually when I do something, it's deliberate. That was not."
"That was my impression."
"And now I need somehow to repair Thoga. He was cowed! Something I'd never thought to see. I don't know whether he'll stay that way, or if he'll hate me worse than ever. Maybe become more treacherous."
"More treacherous?"
"Someone leaked my marriage plans to the House, a few weeks ago. After I particularly ordered silence. I'd told no one outside the council; I've assumed it was him."
Jilsomo nodded. "Probably. It could have been a slip by someone else, though, perhaps to someone in the College who then didn't realize…" He shrugged.
"Umm. As his usual self, simply antagonistic toward me, Thoga provides a counter-viewpoint. Treacherous, he could be destructive with leaks and lies." The Kalif shook himself slightly. "And cowed… It's indecent to leave him like that. How would you suggest I deal with this?"
Jilsomo frowned thoughtfully. "For now-For now I suggest you treat him as usual, with basic courtesy, as if nothing had happened. And see how he responds."