It was the next time he awoke that they called Jilsomo. He felt much stronger mentally, though physically, he knew, he was still very weak. While he waited, a doctor described Tain's condition. She'd been shot in the abdomen, and had gone much longer without medical treatment than he had. She was out of danger now, but it had been a very close thing. She would suffer no permanent impairment. She still had not wakened, but would before very long.
They volunteered nothing about the coup or revolt or whatever it had been, and he didn't question them. Jilsomo would answer his questions in detail and with certainty, he had no doubt.
His left arm was restrained and had two tubes attached to it. They'd left his right arm free, and he reached up to feel his face. His beard was perhaps three days old, but he'd had a day's growth awaiting the razor when the bombs had struck. Call it two days then, or two and a half, that he'd been here.
His arm had felt weak; it had taken an effort to raise it.
Jilsomo, when he came in, seemed to have shrunk somewhat. Surely, though, he hadn't. Even fasting wouldn't have worked that quickly. The left side of his face was purple and green, and his cheek wore a red scar two to three inches long.
"Good evening, Your Reverence."
"You wear a battle scar!" the Kalif said. His chuckle was weak.
"Indeed. And out where people can see and admire it." He paused. "I suppose you'd like to know what happened."
"And what's happening. Yes."
"Well. First things first. Tain has been awake, but she's sleeping again. Your wounds were somewhat alike, but she was shot at the very beginning, and had to wait much longer before being brought here.
"As for the coup attempt-" He told the Kalif all that he knew, which was most of it. Rothka's role, Songhidalarsa's surrender, Rothka's suicide.
"So Rothka suicided. The traditional thrust, I suppose." "No, Your Reverence. Poison. An extreme overdose of sleeping pills."
"Huh! I'm-surprised at him."
"Your Reverence, I suspect I'd have done it as he did. I doubt I could have made the thrust, or completed it anyway."
I wonder, my friend, if you'd have done either one, the Kalif thought. Likelier you'd have sat through the public hearings and then the impalement. As I would have. He grunted, and felt it in his abdomen. "But you're not a self-proclaimed traditionalist," he said. "Well, the result's the same.
"What-what's the status of the College? Who died? Who's injured?"
Jilsomo enumerated.
Six dead. It could have been worse. "And the House? What's their frame of mind?"
"They're adjusting. The Diet should finish its business nicely before closing. Finding that mask of you in the building Colonel Thoglakaveera led us to, seems to have convinced everyone that it wasn't you who released the video showing Dosu upbraiding them. They're tending to blame Rothka now; of course he can't defend himself. And Uthka's in the forefront, trying to distance himself and the party from his old friend."
"I suppose you've seated a committee of evidence, on the-coup? Uprising?"
"Coup. Yes. I'm chairing it, and Tariil in my absences. We should be done in about a week."
"And public hearings?"
"They'll begin when you're fit to hold them. Unless you want me to. I believe the public will prefer that you do it."
"I'll do it," the Kalif answered, then added dryly: "I hope they won't be disappointed in me."
"Sir?"
"I'll have no one impaled."
Jilsomo's eyebrows raised. "They needn't be disappointed. If you prepare them for it."
"Exactly. I'll give it some thought. Meanwhile, we'll say nothing about it, you and I." He paused, suddenly very tired. "Are we done now?"
"I believe so, Your Reverence."
"One last thing. There's a palace to rebuild, and a barracks, and much other damage to repair, I'm sure. That will not be done with public funds. It will come out of the estates of the officers involved. The hearings should assign liabilities proportional to responsibilities. A traitor should not expect his loyal countrymen to pay for the destruction he's wrought."
"A point well taken, Your Reverence, and a worthy innovation. The committee of evidence will take somewhat longer then; perhaps an extra week."
The Kalif let his eyes close. "Soon enough. I may be fit to hold hearings by then."
Sixty
The Kalif and kalifa were reclining on a hospital balcony shaded from the morning sun, facing toward the Anan Hills and reading. A soft tone sounded; one of the medical staff was at their door. The Kalif reached down and partly turned his chair, then touched a switch, signalling the person to enter. It was a nurse.
"Yes?" he said.
"Excuse me, Your Reverence, but a military gentleman wishes to see you, a General Bavaralaama."
"Hmh!" He didn't want to see the man, a feeling that took him by surprise. He filed the reaction. "I'll see him in my parlor." He straightened his chair, locked its brakes, and looked at Tain. "I won't be long," he told her, and carefully, leaning on a chair arm, got to his feet.
And what, he wondered, does the Imperial Chief of Staff want to see me about that can't wait?
Carefully he walked to his parlor, and was waiting, standing, when the general entered. "Your Reverence!" the general said. "I'm glad you could see me. It's good to find you on your feet."
"Thank you, Elvar." The Kalif waved him to a chair and lowered himself on another. "What brings you out here? I thought the committee of evidence would be meeting."
"We're taking the day off; we'll get together again after supper. Things have piled up-other duties that need to be taken care of-things you can't delegate, you know. And we're done calling in witnesses and depositions. I expect we'll have our report completed within the next three days."
He gestured at the guardsman. "Your Reverence, if we could have complete privacy…"
The Kalif's face hardened. "General, meet Honor Sergeant Ranhiit Candrakaar, the guardsman who rescued the kalifa. Guardsmen usually are present when I discuss affairs of government."
The general's mahogany face darkened. "I understand, Your Reverence. And I compliment Honor Sergeant-Candrakaar?-on his bravery and ability. But this matter…"
The Kalif turned to the guardsman. "Sergeant, I'll be alone with the general. Come back in when he leaves."
The guardsman saluted crisply, turned and left, the general and the Kalif watching him out the door. When it had closed behind him, the general turned to the Kalif again, his face earnest.
"Before long, Your Reverence, you'll be considering your decisions with regard to persons found guilty of treason or lesser crimes."
And you want to give me a viewpoint that will be different than the committee's. What could it be that you don't want the sergeant to hear?
"One of the things that is crystal clear," the general went on, "is that Iron Jaw got his officers to participate in the coup by pitching it to them as necessary to the invasion. The invasion you propose. His stated position was that the House would never vote you the funds, and that the invasion could only happen under a military dictator: himself. He's told us this quite openly, and his officers have given us the same story."
The Kalif nodded. "So Jilsomo told me. But their motives do not excuse their acts. Acts which killed many people, nearly killed the kalifa and myself, and caused much destruction. Including the palace, a building dedicated to the memory of The Prophet."