“The princesses, Viviana and Alacida?”
“They care for little but their jewels and gowns, and the flattery of spineless courtiers.”
“Surrender to Sidonicus,” said Julian, “and the empire survives?”
“In an unconscionable, unrecognizable form,” said Iaachus, “as an outrage to its former self, as a tyranny which far exceeds that of the sword, a prison of the mind, a citadel of oppression.”
“I would miss the openness and glory of the empire, its vastness and complexity, even with its faults,” said Julian.
“The empire has been shrewd,” said Iaachus, “it has calculated, plotted, and done war, but it has never flown the flag of fanaticism.”
“We spoke earlier,” said Julian, “of the matter of the medallion and chain, and the threat of uniting barbarian peoples under the aegis of that artifact, a threat, we trust, now muchly reduced in portent by a plentitude of competitive devices.”
“Nothing of this had reached the palace,” said Iaachus.
“I am not surprised,” said Julian. “But a puzzle lingers. If the scheme of the artifact originated in, or was supported by, forces in Telnar, what could be the motivation for such an anomaly? Who would multiply enemies? Would it not be a matter of throwing oneself on one’s own sword, before the battle had even begun? I am without an explanation. You said, as I recall, you feared you knew.”
“In this,” said Iaachus, “I see the hand of Sidonicus, Exarch of Telnar.”
“How so?” said Julian.
“Think, dear friend,” said Iaachus. “Barbarians desire the defeat of, or the possession of, the empire. Now they are approached by someone who will place in their hands the means for realizing that ambition. To be sure, such a gift is not bestowed without the expectation of receiving something of comparable value in return.”
“Surely not,” said Julian. “But, what?”
“I suspect,” said Iaachus, “the conversion of the victorious barbarian peoples, this another road to a familiar end, the imposition of a particular faith on countless worlds.”
“If the empire were seized?”
“Yes,” said Iaachus.
“But what,” said Julian, “if the empire was collapsed, broken in battle, communication lost, cities emptied, men divided, the state vanished, save for local law enforced by bandits?”
“Still,” said Iaachus, “the faith would be everywhere, and perhaps the more precious and stronger for the uncertainty and precariousness of life.”
“Woe,” said Julian.
“Perhaps the future belongs to those such as your friend,” said Iaachus. He slid the center drawer of his desk partly open. “And perhaps to those who are their friends,” he added.
“I do not understand,” said Julian.
“It might be politic for successful barbarians, if they wish to preserve the empire, to place a tool upon the throne, one which might preserve the illusion of continuity and stability.”
“One of high family, such as the Aureliani?” said Julian.
“Such things are not unknown in statecraft,” said Iaachus.
“In the forest,” said Otto, “such an insult would call for knives, and entry into the circle of death, from which only one contestant might leave alive.”
“My dear Ottonius,” said Iaachus, “I fear, in any such contest, I would be ill matched even with dear Julian, let alone with one such as yourself. In any event, we are not in the forest, but in the imperial palace in Telnar, with several guards within easy summoning distance, and, even if we were in the forest, I think I would prefer not a knife but a pistol, much as the one I now draw from the desk.”
“I came here in good faith,” said Julian, “that I might inform and be informed, and that we might engage in consultation. I assume that we both, in our ways, care for the empire.”
“I, at least,” said Iaachus.
“I, as well,” said Julian.
“You are spies,” said Iaachus, “testing resolve, assessing defenses, scouting for Abrogastes.”
“No,” said Julian.
“Clearly you are in league with him,” said Iaachus. “That is made evident by your presence here. No ship has penetrated his blockade.”
“One did, mine,” said Julian. “We were fired on in our passage, and disabled. We crashed in the delta of the Turning Serpent. We came west on a keel boat.”
Otto tensed.
“Do not move,” said Julian.
“I place you under arrest,” said Iaachus, “as enemies of the throne. As for your lord and ally, Abrogastes, he will be shortly destroyed, or in custody, as imperial cruisers approach from all quadrants.”
“Abrogastes is not our lord and ally but our common enemy,” said Julian. “If you were more familiar with barbarians you would know they are complex and diverse. Do not expect them to run about in skins and drink bror. Some speak several languages. Some design weapon systems. Some are at home on the bridges of Lion Ships. Abrogastes is the king of the Drisriaks, a tribe of the Aatii, or, as they know themselves, the Alemanni; Ottonius is the king of Otungs, a tribe of the Vandal peoples, and the Alemanni and the Vandals are hereditary enemies.”
“Where did you conceal your ship?” asked Iaachus.
“In the courtyard of the palace,” said Julian. “In the emperor’s play garden. In the wardrobes of the imperial princesses. In the private quarters of the empress mother.”
“Come now,” said Iaachus.
“Look for it in the marshes of the delta, where it crashed,” said Julian.
“As you will, dear traitors,” said Iaachus. “Quarters will be arranged for you. I trust they will be to your liking. I shall now summon guards.”
At this moment there was, far off, a series of explosions.
“Do not move!” said Iaachus.
There was a heavy, frenzied pounding on the door of the chamber, and then it was thrown open, and a courtier, distraught and wild-eyed, was framed in the portal. “Exalted Lord,” he cried, “barbarians are in the streets, they approach. Guardsmen, poorly armed, flee. Rioters and looters, in their crowds, at first at ease, noncognizant, and complacent, fearing nothing, then startled, terrified, running, are fired on. Hundreds lie bloody in the streets.”
“Resistance?” cried Iaachus, standing, dazed, lowering the pistol.
“Little or none,” said the courtier. “What are bows and blades against the rumbling engines of war?”
“It cannot be!” said Iaachus. “The batteries!”
“The city batteries did not fire!” said the courtier.
Iaachus looked wildly at Julian and Otto.
“We know nothing of this,” said Julian.
“One can hire loyalty,” said Otto, “one can hire disloyalty.”
“Put away your pistol,” said Julian. “See to the safety of the emperor, the royal family.”
Iaachus raised the pistol, leveled it at Julian and Otto, and then lowered it.
“Hurry!” urged Julian.
There was another explosion, this one much closer.
“Hurry! Hurry!” said Julian.
“They are at the gate!” cried the courtier.
40
Cornhair lay on her left shoulder, on the steel flooring of the motorized vehicle. Her wrists were still tied behind her but now, looped within a thrice-circled cord, her ankles were fastened together.
“We cannot have you wandering about,” had said one of the vehicle’s crew.
“No,” Cornhair thought, “you have seen to that. I will remain where you have put me, helpless.” Slaves, of all women, are most aware of their sex, for the sex of both men and women is defined most clearly by the relation of each to the other, the larger and stronger to the smaller and weaker, the taker to the taken, the captor to the captive, and so on. These relationships are, of course, much accentuated and intensified in the institution of bondage. As Master the man is most male, and, as slave, the woman is most female. Slavery permits the woman no lies or pretenses, no falsifications of her nature. She is at a man’s feet, where she belongs.