“Me?”
“Why not? You’re a quick-witted lad. You’ll pick up the trick of it in no time whatever. Here. Here.”
Thastain was aghast. He had never so much as touched the helmet. So far as he knew, no one but Mandralisca himself, and, he supposed, Khaymak Barjazid, was allowed to go near it. Using it required special training, and was said to be difficult and exhausting besides, and very risky for anyone inexperienced in its handling. He held up both his hands, palms facing outward, and said numbly, “I beg that you excuse me from this, your grace. I have no skill for such things.”
But Mandralisca was insistent. Once more he extended the hand holding the helmet toward Thastain. There was a chilly determination in his eyes that Thastain had seen all too many times before, but never aimed at him. “Here, my little duke,” Mandralisca said again. “Here.”
It would be suicide for him to put the helmet on. Was that what the Count was trying to achieve? Or was this merely one more of those little capricious games that he so very much enjoyed playing?
Thastain was still debating how to handle the situation when Khaymak Barjazid leaned toward Mandralisca and said, in a quiet, almost murmuring tone, “If I may interject something here, your grace, allow me to point out that it could be possible for a user unfamiliar with the helmet’s functions to damage it if he uses it improperly.”
That seemed to come as news to the Count. “Indeed, is that so? Well, then: we wouldn’t want to do any harm to our helmet, would we?” He caressed the little device in that fondling, loving way he had with it. “Perhaps we’ll skip the demonstration. I’m not in the mood for working with the helmet just now myself. Unless you, Barjazid—no, never mind. No demonstration.” To the Metamorph he said, “I’ll gratify your curiosity about our helmet another time. What I’ve asked you here to discuss today is the precise nature of the alliance I’ve proposed to the Danipiur.”
“She is eager to hear your offer,” said Viitheysp Uuvitheysp Aavitheysp.
Thastain listened in amazement verging on disbelief as Mandralisca swiftly set forth his plan for establishing the independence of the continent of Zimroel. He meant very shortly to issue a proclamation in the name of the Lord Gaviral, he said, dissolving the ancient bonds that linked Zimroel to the dominant eastern continent. At the same time a new constitution would be promulgated under which Zimroel would become a separate entity with Ni-moya as its capital and the heirs of the Procurator Dantirya Sambail as its monarchs. The Lord Gaviral would take the title of Pontifex of Zimroel, and one of his brothers, yet to be chosen, would be designated as Zimroel’s Coronal. The continent of
Suvrael, Mandralisca added, would proclaim its own independence at the same time, and would institute a separate government for itself with Khaymak Barjazid as its first king.
It was, said Mandralisca, the Lord Gaviral’s great hope that the new governments of Zimroel and Suvrael would be swiftly recognized by the leaders of Alhanroel, and that peaceful relationships among the three continents would continue as they had since time immemorial. But the Lord Gaviral was not so naive as to think that men like Prestimion and Lord Dekkeret would greet the secession with any such benign response. On the contrary, Mandralisca continued: it was much more probable that the Alhanroel government would launch a military invasion of Zimroel and attempt to restore its supremacy by force.
“That could never succeed,” Viitheysp Uuvitheysp Aavitheysp said unhesitatingly. “The supply-line distances are too great. It would take every crown in the imperial treasury to cover the cost of sending an army here big enough to do the job.”
“Precisely,” said Mandralisca. “And even if they tried it anyway, that army would find itself confronting the angry opposition of the billions of patriotic citizens of Zimroel. Who are loyal to the family of the Procurator Dantirya Sambail and unalterably hostile to the exploitative rule of the Pontifex. The armies of Prestimion would have to battle every step of the way, from the moment of their landing on our coast onward.”
“Ah,” said the Metamorph reflectively. “So the traditional allegiance of the people of Zimroel to the Pontifical government will melt away overnight, then. You are certain of that, Count Mandralisca?”
“Completely.”
“Perhaps you are correct.” The Metamorph indicated by his tone that such things as the loyalties of the people of Zimroel were a matter of complete indifference to him. “But in what way, I must ask, does all this concern the Danipiur and her subjects?”
“In this way,” replied Mandralisca. He leaned forward intently and pressed the tips of his fingers together. “What is the most likely place for an invading force from Alhanroel to land here? Piliplok, of course: the main port on our eastern coast. It’s the gateway to all of Zimroel, as everyone is well aware. Therefore Prestimion and Dekkeret will expect us to fortify it against an attack. And for the same reason, they’ll not choose to make their landfall at Piliplok at all.”
“There is no other place for an army to come ashore,” said the Meta-morph.
“There is Gihorna.”
An inflection that Thastain interpreted as surprise entered Viitheysp Uuvitheysp Aavitheysp’s voice. “Gihorna? There are no first-class ports anywhere along the whole Gihorna coast.”
“But there are some third-class ones,” said Mandralisca. “Prestimion has never been known for doing things the easy way, or the expected way. I think they’ll land at five or six places in Gihorna at once, and begin marching toward Ni-moya. They will have two possible routes. One lies straight up the coast, via Piliplok, and up the Zimr from there to the capital. But that will bring them into confrontation with the armies that they must know will be waiting there to defend against just such a Piliplok landing. The only other route, as you surely already see, is by way of the River Steiche and its surrounding valley. Which would bring them up against the borders of the province of Piurifayne.”
Viitheysp Uuvitheysp Aavitheysp received that statement with the same show of indifference as before. The slitted eyes displayed a look of what could almost have been boredom.
“I ask you again, what is that to us?” said the Shapeshifter. “Not even Prestimion would dare cross into Piurifayne for the sake of making war against Ni-moya.”
“Who knows what Prestimion would or would not do? But this I do know: that any incursion into the jungles of Piurifayne, a difficult proposition at best for any army no matter how well equipped, would be made fifty times harder if the Piurivars were to engage in a campaign of guerilla warfare to keep the imperial forces away from their villages. Indeed a line of Piurivar warriors positioned up and down the Steiche itself would quite probably be able to succeed in preventing the imperial army from entering Piurifayne at all. Eh, my friend? What do you think.”
Viitheysp Uuvitheysp Aavitheysp responded with a silence so long and intense that Thastain, listening to the colloquy in mounting disbelief, felt his ears ringing with it. Was Mandralisca serious? Was the Count actually telling an ambassador from the Danipiur that he wanted Metamorphs to go into battle in the service of the Five Lords against the Alhanroel government? Thastain’s mind was reeling. This was all like some very strange dream.
Then at last the Shapeshifter said calmly, “If Prestimion or Dekkeret were to send an army marching through our province, that would, of course, concern us greatly. But I tell you once more, I think that they would not do that. And for us to fortify our Steiche boundary for the sake of preventing them from coming across it would be an act of war against the imperial government that would have serious consequences for my people. Why should we risk it? What interest do we have in taking sides in a struggle between the Pontifex of Alhanroel and the Pontifex of Zimroel? They are equally detestable to us. Let them fight it out to their hearts’ content. We will go on living our own lives in Piurifayne, which your Lord Stiamot kindly granted to us long ago as our little sanctuary.”