The crowds weren't put off a bit by the armed might. They cheered each unit, each band, each massive mobile fort. And most loudly, they cheered as their Kalif and kalifa rode by in an open limousine.
The Kalif was bemused by it. He couldn't for the life of him see why they cheered him so. He was quite sure, though, that it wasn't the admiral they cheered. Admiral Siilakamasu, the Deputy Chief of Staff, rode with the royal couple, in the seat behind the Kalif.
Leaning forward, the admiral tapped the Kalif's shoulder, a presumptuous thing to do. But he did it gracefully. "Your Reverence," he said grinning, "the people like you."
The Kalif glanced back over his shoulder. "So it seems, Admiral. So it seems."
"I'd say the time is ripe for a speech to the empire. Perhaps this evening? Something brief that won't require much preparation. About the invasion, and what it can mean to the empire and the people."
Turning, the Kalif met his eyes and held them, but not in challenge. "I plan to talk to the cameras tomorrow, when I decorate the heroes. I'll talk about loyalty and heroism. And afterward about other things. Something about a revival of shipbuilding, I think, and strengthening the armed forces."
Jilsomo was sitting beside the admiral, listening, watching the interplay between the two. He was aware that the Kalif didn't like the invasion mentioned in front of the kalifa, and when the admiral brought it up, the exarch's eyes moved to her. She seemed undisturbed by the subject today, as if she'd grown resigned to the idea.
The royal couple moved into a building bought by the government only two blocks from the square, where they occupied a large and luxurious apartment; the rest of the building was given over to offices and other staff facilities for the Prelacy. After a late and private lunch, the Kalif had himself delivered to the Sreegana, where he walked slowly across the quadrangle, accompanied by two guardsmen. The gutted remains of the palace had already been knocked down, and the site leveled. Engineers were there with instruments on tripods, and assistants driving stakes.
He found the sight depressing, though less so, he thought, than the gutted wreckage would have been. But he hadn't come there to visit ghosts or the reconstruction work. He'd come to ask questions.
Of SUMBAA. When he got to SUMBAA's house, he checked in with Dr. Gopalasentu, and left bodyguards and doctor in the corridor outside SUMBAA's chamber. The blood had been scrubbed from the floor-his blood and Yab's and the rebel sergeant's.
It seemed to him that SUMBAA had been waiting for him. "Good afternoon, Your Reverence," it said when he'd made his presence known. He suspected that SUMBAA had known already.
"Good afternoon, SUMBAA," he answered. "I saw you kill three rebel soldiers. I didn't know you could do that."
"It is my responsibility to serve the welfare of humankind. As you know. Thus I long ago equipped myself for protection. The three rebel soldiers had shot your guard. Presumably they would have shot you when they saw you. I prevented that."
The answer was about what the Kalif had expected. "Do you consider, then, that my survival is significant to the welfare of humankind?"
"That is my projection. It is not as firm a projection as many, but it is my best projection, given the data available."
"Hmm." He examined SUMBAA's statement and came up with nothing he could make much of. "The last time we talked," he said, "you provided me with plans and evaluations for an invasion of the Confederation. Since then a lot has happened that may influence those plans, and I have some new considerations, new requirements, that are certain to. When I've described these new features to you, I want you to give me a new set of plans. And the same sort of evaluations that you gave me before."
"Very well, Your Reverence. When you are ready, we can begin."
When they were done, he put the stack of printouts in his briefcase. He'd look at it when he got home. This time, leaving a conference with SUMBAA, he didn't feel uncomfortable. Not a bit.
Sixty-two
As Primate of Varatos, Elder Dosu was responsible for the pastorates of the entire planet. He and his staff occupied a large building only ten minutes' walk from the Hall of the Estates and the Kalif's temporary lodgings-two minutes by hovercar. With his duties in the Diet, Dosu had long ago learned to delegate much of his planet-wide inspection load, and with increasing age, he'd come to travel relatively little, even when the Diet was not in session. So he was at hand and available when he got the Kalif's request for a meeting.
The Kalif's temporary residence also had a roof garden, and the weather being pleasant, they met there. As courtesy directed, for a one-on-one meeting of this sort, the Kalif didn't at once bring up the subject he wished to talk about. Instead he said casually, "I'm told the Pastorate has begun its campaign to gain voting power."
"Indeed it has, Your Reverence. And been scathing those who'd use arms to overthrow the kalifate. But I must say that few pastors have seen fit to speak for your invasion proposal, despite your championing of our estate. And I cannot in good conscience urge them to, let alone order it. On the other hand, few have attacked it; your support has bought you that much."
"Friend Dosu, I was not trying to buy their support, however it may have looked. Though obviously I'd welcome it. If I accomplish nothing more as Kalif than seeing the Pastorate a voting estate, I'll consider my reign more than a success. It will be a highlight in the history of the kalifate.
"Don't mistake me. It's not simply the good of the Pastorate I'm concerned with. I consider this to be one step, a major step, toward justice for all of Kargh's children. If I thought the Pastorate would use its votes only for its own benefit, I wouldn't have taken the trouble.
"On various occasions the Assembly of Elders has served as a voice for the gentry and peasants. And helped gain, for the gentry, certain opportunities. I assume you'll use your votes in the same cause. Eventually to gain the vote for the fourth and fifth estates as well."
The Elder nodded his skullcap of gray curls. "We dream partly the same dreams, Your Reverence."
"Which brings me to my other dream, friend Dosu. And my reason for calling you here. Are your seminaries full?"
The question took the Elder by surprise. "As full as we want them," he said. "In times like these, with so many gentry and lesser nobles hard pressed to feed and house themselves, the Pastorate has more applicants than posts to fill."
"And those you turn away-Are many of them inspired by a desire to serve the people? Or are they interested mainly in a place at the table, and a roof?"
"There are both kinds; I can only guess in what proportions. Roughly even, I suppose. We do our best to avoid the latter."
"I presume they're literate? And decently informed on The Book of The Prophet? And on history and government?"
Dosu frowned, wondering what the Kalif was getting at. "Literate, yes," he said. "As for informed-they're as informed as most of their estates. Well enough that those we take can be trained."
"So they're trainable. If there were posts for more of them-many more-would you have room and staff to train them? Say ten thousand of them?"
"Ten thousand? On Varatos?"
"Say on Varatos. Yes. But forgive me, friend Dosu. I shouldn't keep you in mystery. If the invasion is to spread the word of The Prophet as well as the rule of the empire, we need an army of pastors as well as one of soldiers. You see."