“That would just show our weakness,” Arbuckle said. “That’s just what these priests and zealots want, for us to cower and wait.”
Bradok couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew both Argus and Silas, and neither of them seemed to be part of any grand scheme to overthrow Ironroot. Both had impressed him as honest and sincere men. He wondered for the first time how they could believe so fervently in a god when all reason seemed to deny it?
What did they know that he didn’t?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the polished brass device Erus had given him. He couldn’t read the inscription without holding it close, but he didn’t have to read it. He knew what it said.
A person’s destination depends more on his choices than his direction.
“It’s clear that Argus and his fellow agitators are all in league,” Mayor Arbuckle said, interrupting Bradok’s thoughts. “We don’t know what they’re planning, we don’t know what will happen one week from today, but they won’t be able to carry out their treachery if they are in prison.”
“What if the day comes and goes and nothing happens but the believers still believe?” Bradok asked.
“That’s a good question,” the bushy-bearded dwarf said. “What are you going to do then?”
“Well,” Bladehook said, a look of sheer delight on his face. “If they are that crazy, that they refuse to acknowledge their folly, I suggest we execute a few of them. That should bring the others in line. Enough of this religious mania. Enough of the believers!”
“That’s a monstrous suggestion,” someone called from off to Bradok’s right.
“We can’t kill our own people,” Bushy-beard said.
“What’s the alternative?” Bladehook said. “Let the priests continue to stir up the people and gain power? Allow these lunatic believers to continue to live among us and spread their fearmongering and poison to our children?” He looked around the circle slowly, as if daring anyone to challenge him.
“Isn’t our children’s future, indeed the future of our race, worth shedding blood for? And who will care in the long run that some fools had to die to make our society better? Are their pitiful lives worth sacrificing our future?”
A long silence followed Bladehook’s grim statement, and his last words seemed to hang in the air.
“You see that I am right,” Bladehook said coaxingly at last. “I take no joy in this,” he went on. “But I say we give the believers until the day after the supposed destruction of Ironroot to recant their foolish behavior and rejoin the ranks of civilization.”
Another long silence hung in the air, with many staring at their shoes, others nodding solemnly.
“So be it,” Arbuckle said at last. “Until one week from today. After that, any that refuse to see reason will be put to death.” The mayor looked around the room, the gold caps on his mustache twitching, then rapped on the lectern with the gavel. “All in favor?” he said.
“Stop,” someone yelled, shattering the silence of the room. With amazement, Bradok realized it was, once again, his voice. Nobody else dared oppose the measure. “Stop this!”
All eyes in the chamber turned to look at him.
“Can’t you see Argus is a good, honest man? He is speaking the truth, at least from his own point of view,” he said, walking out from behind his table. “I’ve only been in this chamber one week, and I’ve already seen everything he’s accused us of: greed, graft, and outright theft. Aye, there is truth in what he says.”
At that there were cries of astonishment and calls for Bradok to cease speaking.
“No, I must say this: I’ve seen dwarves care more about making money they don’t need than they do about helping those who are in need. I’ve seen business conducted without honor, where every contracted word was twisted for the maker’s advantage.” Bradok swept his eyes around the chamber, half accusatory and half hopeful. His eyes lit on Much, who quickly glanced away. “And now it’s come to this,” he continued. “Now we’re standing here, blaming an innocent dwarf for the crime of recognizing our sins, and preparing to kill those many others whose only crime is believing him? Have we really sunk so low?
“And is it possible, I have to ask myself,” he added in a soft voice, “that he and the other believers are right, and that something is about to happen, something ominous, and that Reorx has done a few of us the favor of warning us of impending doom?”
“Enough!” Bladehook said, pointing furiously at him. “You’ve gone too far, Axeblade. You’re siding with the believers now-”
“No, I’m not, if you’ll just-”
“I call the vote!” Mayor Arbuckle interrupted, slamming down his gavel. “The council needs to rule on my proposed measure.”
More than two-thirds of the hands went up. Bradok, looking around, took solace in the fact that neither Much nor the bushy-bearded dwarf voted aye. But neither spoke up to defend him either.
“Let the scribes write up the decree,” Arbuckle said once he had gaveled the measure passed. “I don’t want any of the believers to be caught unawares. Fair warning to all is fair.”
“If there’s no other business,” Bladehook said, turning away wearily. “It’s late and I’m going home to my bed.”
“I have something to say,” Bradok said, standing rooted to the spot. “You have all heard my views. I cannot condone this chamber’s decision. While I’m not a believer myself, I have always felt that if other dwarves wish to believe in Reorx or not, that was none of my business. We supposedly live in a free society, one of laws and justice. Well, how can it be truly free if dwarves aren’t free to believe anything they wish?”
“I’m sorry, son,” Mayor Arbuckle said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder, speaking in a tone that showed genuine feeling. “You’re just too young to understand what’s at stake here. We have to protect Ironroot for the greater good.”
Bradok stared at him then pointedly removed the mayor’s hand from his shoulder. “I understand that you see things that way,” he said. “That’s why I can no longer serve on this council.”
An astonished gasp issued from the councilmen. It was a great privilege to serve on the council, and more than two hundred years had passed since any dwarf had renounced his seat.
“I wish you well,” Bradok said wearily; he turned, descended the stairs behind his seat, and left the chamber.
The mob was still outside when Bradok pushed open the heavy doors of city hall. The number of guardsmen had more than doubled.
Taking a deep breath, he walked slowly down the steps and pushed his way right into the center of the mob. A rough hand descended on Bradok’s shoulder, and he was jerked around to stare into the bulb-nosed face of the impassioned Kellik Felhammer.
“I take it,” he said in his gravelly voice, his eyes taking in Bradok’s sad face, “that things didn’t go well in there?”
Bradok gripped the burly smith’s arm, holding him fast even though the other tried to break free, not knowing what to say.
“They’ve gone mad,” he managed at gasp at last. “Arbuckle and Bladehook have got them convinced that Argus and Silas and the street preachers are mixed up in some kind of plot to overthrow Ironroot and bring it under the religious rule of the priests.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Kellik said, his face at first disbelieving, then darkening into a scowl.
“It gets worse,” Bradok said as others close by leaned in to hear. “According to some believers, Ironroot has a week to repent before Reorx will destroy the place. When … if that doesn’t happen,” he corrected himself, “the council has declared that all believers must give up their faith or be executed as enemies of the city.”
Kellik swore as Bradok let him go and an angry muttering spread through the crowd. Bradok’s message was passed along.
“We’ll fight them,” Kellik said, turning to face the crowd and raising his voice to be heard by all. “We won’t let those self-important peacocks rule us by their whims. They’re our representatives, they answer to us, and we’re going to remind them of that fact.” He thrust his hammer into the air for emphasis.