“I died,” Farrari said. “Not only that, but I just missed being thrown to the Holy Ancestors, which would have killed me a second time. I’m the only ol on Branoff IV with the distinction of having returned from the dead, and I thought I could make something of that, but it didn’t work out. I don’t manage things, I just blunder into them.”
“You’ve managed the impossible,” Jorrul said firmly. “You’ve not only done it with skill, but as far as I can tell you haven’t done a thing that will get any of us demoted. What are you trying to accomplish with it?”
“Free the olz,” Farrari said again. Awake a slumbering giant and make of it a raging instrument of revenge. Extract payment in kind for the horrors mercilessly inflicted upon a defenseless, subservient race. If he could find a spark, the olz would be masters of Scorvif by the end of summer.
“The olz around here seem free enough right now,” Jorrul said. “What about that fuss in the lower hilngol? Who managed that?”
“I did.”
Jorrul looked at him doubtfully. “Who’s managing the disturbance, across the river?”
“The olz,” Farrari said. “I started it, but they’re managing it by themselves if it’s still going on. Is it?”
“We haven’t been able to find out what’s going on there. The olz seem to have vanished, and the kru’s army is churning up the eastern lilorr in a major campaign against nothing. What happens after you’ve freed the olz?”
Farrari did not answer.
“Do you know what you’re doing and where this thing is headed?”
“Of course!” Farrari said angrily.
“I hope so. A revolution is like the water in a reservoir. Before you smash whatever is holding it there, it’s wise to perform the necessary engineering to find out where it will go. Because if you later discover that you’ve made a mistake, you can’t put the water hack. And once one really gets started, you can’t, ever, put a revolution back. I have to report to base. It’ll take me a couple of days because we’re that far from where I left my corn equipment. Being an ol agent has certain disadvantages—there’s a limit to what one can conceal in a loincloth. Want me to ask base for anything?”
“Would base give it to me?”
“I’m going to recommend that you be appointed field team commander,” Jorrul said soberly. “You started this revolution yourself, and you’re the only one who understands it and knows where it’s going and what the potential is. You should have full authority over all IPR personnel and every available resource. Any orders?”
“How many agents did you bring with you?”
“Every agent we could pry loose has been assigned to the three areas of ol disturbances.”
“Then you aren’t the only strange-looking ol in my army. Get them out of here—recall all of them. The olz are doing this by themselves. I also want you to recall your rasc agents. I’ve seen a lot of dead olz. I expect to see some dead rascz.”
“Our agents will take the risk. That’s their job.”
“Then the responsibility is yours. I don’t want to command the field team. I just want it to stay out of my way.”
“Do you mean you don’t even want a liaison?”
“You thought I’d blown the planet,” Farrari said bitterly. “Let me tell you something. This planet was blown the day IPR landed. The olz are wise. They neither know nor care what an IPR agent really is, but they know he’s no ol. So get your agents out of here. Stay yourself and be my liaison if you want to, but not as an ol. You’ll be more useful as an assistant durrl.”
Jorrul nodded enthusiastically. “No walking. And I can carry my corn equipment with me.”
“Do that,” Farrari said. “And ask base to maintain a continuous surveillance on the kru’s army.”
“We do that anyway as well as we’re able. Agents report everything they see, but agents aren’t always in the right places. When there’s unusual activity we order night flights, but there’s a limit to what one can see from the air at night. Right now we know that large forces are still puttering around the lower hilngol and the southeastern lilorr. Maybe you know what they’re looking for.”
“I know they won’t find it. Those actions were diversions, to tie up as much of the kru’s army as possible so there wouldn’t be anything left to defend Scorv.”
Peter Jorrul murmured: “I see.”
“My own notion of military tactics,” Farrari said lightly. “The best way to defeat a superior foe is to attack when he isn’t there.”
Jorrul looked at him sharply. “That’s a fine idea, but it needs a preliminary reconnaissance and a thorough understanding of the opponent. The kru’s generals aren’t about to rush their central reserve across the river until they’re certain that there’s no threat elsewhere. It’s the local garrisons that are dealing with your diversions. You didn’t pull a single soldier away from Scorv.”
Farrari shrugged. “So I’m no military tactician.”
“I hope you are,” Jorrul said, “because most of the central reserve is headed south right now. The generals are taking their time about it, and they’re sending reconnaissance missions all over the western lilorr, but they’re coming. At the rate both of you are traveling, you’ll have five or six days to get ready for them.”
Jorrul returned outfitted as an assistant durri, and Farrari found his own labor cut in half. Jorrul ranged one side of the road and he the other, scouting and recruiting. To expand his army quickly, Farrari began taking every male ol. He had made the interesting discovery that his olz actually improved in health. Their plodding pace prohibited strenuous marches, and they were eating better on the stolen durri stores than they ever had in their lives while doing very little work. He possessed increasing amounts of time in which to worry. By way of Jorrul’s corn equipment he arranged a private conference with Liano. “What motivates the olz?” he asked her. “What would make them angry?”
He pleaded, but she did not answer.
Jorrul saw the huge army of patiently plodding olz as an irresistible force and feared that it might escape Farrari’s control. He was not aware that this revolution could be turned off, put back, merely by telling the olz to go home. On the other hand, an ignited and aroused olz might be very dangerous indeed, but Farrari had to find his spark quickly and damn the consequences.
He asked Jorrul, “What’s happening in Scorv?”
“Nothing much. Lots of refugees have been checking in with relatives there, every rase in this country has at least one family of relatives in Scorv. But there’s no alarm, or shortage of supplies, or anything like that.”
“How much food does the city keep on hand?”
“No idea.”
“I was wondering how long it could hold out under a siege.”
“I don’t know,” Jorrul said. “Most of its food reserves are in depots a long way from the city or on the hoof being driven there. On the other hand, the length of time a city holds out under siege depends as much on the character and determination of the people as on their supplies. The rascz make fine soldiers, but as far as I know the people have never been tested. You’re thinking of laying siege to Scorv?”