The Worshippers and the Way coaaod-9 Read online

  Having thus discharged his responsibilities, Hatch made his escape, or tried to, but in Scuffling Road he was waylaid by the noseless moneylender Polk, whose many demerits were increased by the fact that, thanks to his noseless state, he always reminded Hatch unpleasantly of his political nemesis, the implacable and ever-victorious Nambasa Berlin.

  "Hatch!" said Polk, seizing upon the Frangoni warrior with claws which gripped like pincers.

  Upon which Asodo Hatch turned upon the unfortunate moneylender. He seized Polk's wrist and twisted it free with a viciousness which almost broke the joint.

  "Polk," said Hatch, with murder in his voice.

  Then caught a glimpse of something sun-struck and striking.

  It was a knife.

  As Dog Java struck, Hatch blocked the blow with the body of the moneylender Polk. Dog's murderous blade slammed into Polk's back. Hatch felt the moneylender's body shake as Dog's knifestrength hit it, and hit it hard.

  "Gah!" said Dog, realizing he had struck Polk rather than Hatch.

  "You fool!" roared Hatch, letting Polk fall.

  Dog confronted him. For a moment. Gaping. Blinking. Combatshocked. Seared and shaken by his own audacity. And terrified to realize that his audacity had failed him – and that his musclepumped enemy still lived. Then Dog took to his heels, pelting away in a panic, fleeing back toward the lockway. Hatch made no attempt to pursue him. While Dog had the physique of a sprinter, Hatch was a bodybuilder, and was built accordingly.

  "What was all that about?" said Polk, picking himself up from the dust where Hatch had dropped him.

  "What?" said Hatch, astonished. "I thought you were dead!

  Here, let me look at you."

  With that, Hatch took Polk by the shoulders and spun him round. The cloth which covered the moneylender's back had been knife-struck, ripping open a rent which revealed bright-shining fish-scale armor, the smoothest and brightest which Hatch had ever seen in his life. The workmanship was incredible, and, assuming that the armor had successfully blocked a full-strength blow by Dog, it was hard to assume that stuff so thin and yet so strong was of local make.

  "Where did you come by this?" said Hatch.

  "Never you mind," said Polk, breaking free from the Frangoni warrior.

  And, clearly disconcerted by the knife attack, and by Hatch's discovery of his secret armor, Polk made his getaway, leaving to a later date whatever discussion he had had in mind.

  Hatch then started to make his way toward the lockway, intending to reenter the Combat College and bring Dog to justice.

  But he was intercepted by Shona, who had seen Dog's attack, and who restrained him.

  "You might get ambushed," she said.

  There was a lot of good military sense in this, for it was most unlikely that Dog would have sought to strike Hatch down unless he had been encouraged to do so by some kind of conspiracy.

  So inside Cap Foz Para Lash there might be half a dozen or more Dog-minded knife-strikers ready to rip up Asodo Hatch if he incontinently pursued his quarry into the Combat College. So Hatch allowed Shona to talk him into settling his nerves with a cup of tea, and then, with his nerves settled – he had been shaken, he had to admit it! – Hatch went on his way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Parengarenga: continental mass east of Argan, south of Tameran and west of Yestron. Dalar ken Halvar stands on the central upland plateau, viewed from which the geography is thus:To the north, a harsh and sparsely populated desert stretching away to the Coast of Sand; to the south, the arid wastes of the Death Lizard Desolations, then the Blue Mountains, with the lush tropics of the Elephant Coast beyond; to the west, the Golden Desert, realm of gold-diggers and opal miners, terminating at the Crocodile Coast; and, to the east, the Cattle Plains, which reach across the horizons to the Coast of Grass.

  The Empire of Parengarenga has an army of a bare 30,000 men, a number ludicrously small until one considers that a continent which consists largely of a series of wastelands needs precious little protection against invaders, and that the Silver Emperor typically resolves domestic problems by political manipulation rather than brute force.

  So he seated silk on furs, and,

  Sweat despoiling ambergris and incense,

  Stacked his folds for comfort.

  Then watching fed, and fed on watching,

  Fed on blood, and fingered

  The naked soul beneath his thumb -

  A blister-boil about to burst

  And break beneath the sun.

  On leaving Shona, Hatch did not go to his own home, but headed instead to the elegant house known as Pan Lay, the house which was the home of the Lady Iro Murasaki. If his murder was on the agenda, then he would surely be safer at Pan Lay; and, besides, he was in a mood to see the lady.

  The Lady Iro Murasaki greeted Asodo Hatch in her customary manner, and they settled themselves upon a padded luxury of cushions. Tea was brought, and they drank.

  The Lady Murasaki was adorned with Janjuladoola silks which had been spun and embroidered in the far-off city of Obooloo in the distant continent of Yestron. Those silks were patterned with fish and birds. Yet wealth far greater adorned her hand, for on her finger she wore a sample of that rare and fabulously expensive gemstone known as ever-ice. The stone was held by a setting of silver. It was cold always, and by night and day alike it was surrounded by a nimbus of light, sometimes cold white and sometimes rainbow.

  "How is your daughter?" said the Lady Murasaki.

  "Onica is well," said Hatch, dreading the question which would probably follow.

  It did.

  "How is your wife?"

  "Talanta… Talanta is the same as ever."

  So said Hatch. His lover corrected him. Not Talanta. No. Not that. Rather: the Lady Talanta.

  "The Lady Talanta, then," said Hatch.

  But she was no Lady, for Frangoni females did not bedeck themselves with gaudy titles. And Talanta was truly of the Frangoni. She was the Frangoni his parents had chosen for him, the woman he had brought to bed and who had given him children. And now she was – but he did not like to think about now. The now of his wife. Still less did he care to think of the future. Rather, he preferred for the moment – it might be wrong, doubtless was wrong, but this was the reality – to put his wife out of his mind.

  His moment was all for the Lady Murasaki.

  The Lady Murasaki, however, was not concerned with the moment but with Hatch's family.

  "When did you last see the moneylender Polk?" said she.

  "I saw him today," said Hatch.

  "Did you then discuss your sister's debts?"

  "We were, ah, interrupted," said Hatch.

  "I trust you have a scheme to redeem your sister's debts," said the Lady Murasaki. "The news I hear of her is most distressing. It seems that she is in danger of being sold into slavery. Surely it is your duty to prevent that from happening."

  "I have no money," said Hatch flatly.

  "But," said Murasaki, good humor in her words, "you are a captain of the Imperial Guard and a favorite of the very emperor himself. How can you be without money?"

  "How many times does it have to be told to be true?" said Hatch, starting to get irritated. "I have no money."

  "Then," said Iro Murasaki, "you will get it."

  "Very well then," said Hatch, suddenly angry. "Then I will go. Go seek my silvermine."

  "You are tired," said the Lady Iro Murasaki, making allowances for him.

  But Asodo Hatch did not respond, nor did he linger for the time it would have taken to kiss her. Instead, he quit the fine and mighty house of Pan Lay in something uncommonly like a fit of bad temper.

  When Hatch was gone, the Lady Iro Murasaki reviewed their conversation, and the potential demand on her own treasury which was implicit in Hatch's situation. Had she truly heard something of a beggar's whine in his voice? She hoped she had imagined it.

  She knew of a certainty that she could be of no assistance to him, for the money she had
invested with the Bralsh yielded her but three per centum per annum. She had budgeted out her own expenses to the last minimum, and durst not risk her capital, since that was a certain way to ruin.

  As an individual, no doubt Asodo Hatch would have been a good risk; but as a Frangoni, Hatch was bound into a very expensive web of family obligations.

  Yet… yet despite all this… she cared for him. Love? She was too wise to be a fool to fall for love. But still…

  Asodo Hatch left Pan Lay, the fine house which the Lady Iro Murasaki maintained on the heights of Cap Gargle, and descended by means of the Escadar Steps to the administrative quarter of Bon Tray. His intent was to route himself past the Grand Arena to Cap Uba and his own home on the Eastern Knoll.

  As Hatch went down the Escadar Steps, he met Scorpio Fax coming up those steps.

  "Hatch!" said Fax. "I've been trying to get hold of you!"

  "For what?" said Hatch.

  "I have a confession to make," said Fax, with the reckless bravado of a man who has abandoned himself to his death.

  "A confession of what?" said Hatch.

  "A confession of conspiracy," said Fax.

  "Conspiracy!" said Hatch, startled.

  Ever since Scorpio Fax had suffered a nervous breakdown, Hatch had written him off entirely as far as the world of action was concerned, and so was all the more disconcerted by this knifestrike revelation.

  "Yes," said Fax. "The Unreal have been months in conspiracy, inspired by the doctrines of Nu-chala-nuth, and I – Hatch, I was half-convinced at first, but now – "

  "Nu-chala-nuth!" said Hatch, using the word as if it were an obscenity. "Don't say you're tied up in all this!"

  But of course Scorpio Fax had just declared as much, and he declared a lot more as he kept Hatch company to the bottom of the steps.

  "I have the date of the revolution," said Fax, as they came to the bottom of the steps.

  "And?"

  "It is scheduled for Dog Day. When the Festival of the Dogs begins, then will revolution likewise."

  "What will be the signal for the start of the revolution?"

  "When the Dog Day drums start to beat," said Fax, "then the killing will start."

  Then Hatch questioned him further, though not perhaps with the depth and diligence that he should have, for a great weariness was upon him. Since he was so heavily burdened with his own problems, and since the empire and its emperor were of no help to him in solving those problems, wherefore should he help either empire or emperor? Nevertheless, he did his duty.

  "All right," said Hatch, when he had extracted from Scorpio Fax the very last bit of usable information. "I'll take this news to Na Sashimoko. I'll try to get you an imperial pardon. In the meantime, I suggest you hide yourself away in the Combat College, out of sight of your fellow revolutionaries."

  With that, Fax fled, and Hatch set out for the imperial palace of Na Sashimoko.

  At the palace, he would demand an audience with the emperor; and, once that audience was granted to him, he would report on the revolution which was brewing, and… did he dare? Yes! He would appraise the emperor of his own financial difficulties, and ask the emperor, quite frankly, for money – either as free gift or loan.

  Such was Hatch's plan, though he did not have much hope of success, for the Silver Emperor was known for his tight fist. One of Plandruk Qinplaqus's favorite sayings was that "power is its own reward"; and in accordance with that saying he advised those who were closest to his heart to regard the air they breathed as the greater part of their corporeal reward. Furthermore, the emperor had long maintained his most savage punishments for the corrupt, and was never willing to turn a blind eye to those who discovered ways to enrich themselves by subtlely exploiting their positions.

  The emperor's stinginess was not without reason, for, as emperors went, he was far from being rich. Though the imperial silver mines were reputed to produce prodigious wealth, their output had been grossly exaggerated by the speculative. The emperor's finances were supported largely by taxation, and Parengarenga was essentially a poor land, its people few, its soil infertile and its distances vast.

  Thus the ruler of the City of Sun practiced a financial frugality scarcely to be distinguished from miserliness, and it was hard to say that the emperor was wrong in this. The state possessed no cornucopia for the generation of wealth, hence any benevolence shown to one citizen must necessarily add to the burdens of others. Nevertheless, Hatch had quite come to the end of his own resources, and so was determined to ask for charity.

  Though Asodo Hatch was tolerably well paid as a captain of the Imperial Guard, and though he was able to supplement his income by marketing things bought inside Cap Foz Para Lash with his Combat College pay, he had nevertheless been brought to the point of ruin by one simple fact: the price of opium.

  His wife was ill; she had cancer. Her disease was terminal, incurable. The only treatment was pain relief, and the only adequate source of such relief was opium, ever the most sovereign of drugs for the relief of suffering.

  Yet opium was sourced – well, Hatch was not sure where it was sourced, and he had not been able to find anyone who was. It came from a particular kind of poppy, that much he knew. But the flower in question was not cultivated in Dalar ken Halvar. Rather, opium came to the city by way of trade – brought from Yestron, some said, while others claimed Argan to be its source.

  The drugprice had brought Hatch to the brink of financial disaster, and left him helpless to rescue his sister from the consequences of her irresponsibility.

  So, as Hatch made his way to Na Sashimoko, he was full of thoughts of his own personal struggle, and these thoughts were scarcely diminished by his meeting with a detachment of the Imperial Guards who were armed as if for war. Hatch had a hurried consultation with the leader of this detachment, and was told that Dalar ken Halvar had just received word of an uprising amongst the slaves of the silver mines which lay ten leagues to the south.

  The slaves were making their revolution in the name of Nuchala-nuth.

  "That is terrible," said Hatch. "Terrible, terrible, terrible."

  But he said it for the sake of form, for the pressures of his own personal life were such that right at that moment he felt that all Dalar ken Halvar could have burnt to the ground without adding to his worries. In fact, if the moneylender Polk were to be burnt with the city, then his worries might be substantially reduced.

  Nevertheless, having met with that detachment of Imperial Guards, and having received their alarming intelligence, Asodo Hatch quickened his step as he hastened on toward the imperial palace of Na Sashimoko.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Silver Emperor: lord of Parengarenga and master of Dalar ken Halvar. He goes by various names, including Plandruk Qinplaqus, and is reputed to be a wizard of the order of Ebber, possessed of powers of mind over mind. If truly such, then he is a Manipulator whose Powers are analogous to those of an Enabled asma of the Nexus. Analogous – yet different. For the asma is but a machine, its functions fully explicated in the Book of Specifications, whereas every warlock is a creature linked in alliance with uncouth entities from the realms of mystery.

  In the days of its power, the Nexus seldom colonized any cosmos so Permissive as to permit the miracles of the Gods Minor and the thaumaturgical feats of mage, shaman and sorcerer.

  Consequently, it made no serious effort to produce a Predictive Paradigm which would explain the otherlogic of magic.

  The scientists of the Golden Gulag, however, living as they did in a cosmos so Permissive as to be only marginally stable, were in an ideal position to research those processes so often described as Synergetic Improbability. They had made some considerable progress toward understanding the ominous ambiguities of the Realms of Power when the Chasm Gates collapsed, precipitating a power struggle which shortly led to the wars of destruction in which the Gulag was utterly destroyed.

  And so alone upon the sands

  Two weapons bleed.

 
Yet while they bleed

  In equal isolations sits -

  Seated, yes, but just as lone -

  A man who never dares a knife

  Yet never lives without a blade

  A skin away from striking.

  This chair least comfortable of all:

  Its purchase, peace:

  And all slaves sounder sleep, though one and all In fantasy desire that seat.

  On the heights of the minor mountain of Cap Ogo Blotch, the northernmost of the great rocks of Dalar ken Halvar, stood a building of whitewashed stone. That building of whitewashed stone was the palace of Na Sashimoko, that Shrine of Thrones (or, in the mouths of some, that Shrine of Shrines) from which the Silver Emperor ruled the City of Sun and the realms of Parengarenga.

  Despite its eminence, the palace owed nothing to the silver science of interior decorating. Here slovenly decay had the rule, and had ruled for centuries if appearances were anything to go by.

  It was undecorated – indeed, parts of it were unfinished. But when Hatch called in at the Treasurer's office, he entered another world entirely, a world dominated by immaculate order and an auditor's precision.

  The Treasurer, Nambasa Berlin by name, was a hard man, and ruthless. His ruthlessness was exemplified by his noseless state.

  In his youth, Berlin had fought a rival for the favors of a beautiful young woman, and had persisted in fighting on to victory even after getting his nose bitten off. Unfortunately, the woman in question had then decided that she liked a third party much better than either of the two fools who had fought over her; but Berlin had benefited much from having the ruthless resolution of his courage confirmed to both himself and the world at large at such an early age.

  Hatch, however, did not like him, even though Hatch often admired those who were brave, and courageous, and ruthless in their resolution. In fact, Hatch had cause to hate him, for Berlin had made him contribute two years worth of savings toward the costs of the campaign to retake Malic Milvus. Right now, Hatch had a grievous need for money; and he was sure his circumstances would not have been so straitened had he not lost so much in paying for the costs of the abovementioned campaign.