“Then I won’t ask, but I know nothing. You suspect such abominations are being created in Soebo?”
“Yes.”
“You think great evil of the Mnankrei.”
“We are here to judge them fairly. First I plan to attack the Temple of Raging Seas.”
“It will have to be a job done in the dark as the burrowers eat wood. I need time to think and prepare. I will have a good plan for you by morning for your review. I am competent. Do you have two men, flexible in an emergency, quick to act?”
“Of course.”
“I cannot go with you. You may fail and die.”
“Do your schemes work?”
“Always. When executed by a woman.”
He liked the way she laughed at him. “Why should you be so helpful? Who is fed when the Kaiel are given charity?”
“I am the companion of the tu’Ama who has long fought the evil of the Swift Wind. They must be broken on the reefs. But Ama, just and steadfast as he is, lacks cunning as a leader. He may be broken if he does not receive help.”
“I’m a dangerous ally for this lover of yours.”
She delivered the o’ca cup to the small table with both fury and sadness. “You don’t even understand what I’m talking about! What can tu’Ama do? We know that! The Liethe are between crushing forces — the Kaiel and the Swift Wind. I am being thrown at you, at your feet, a gift, so that should you win your game there will be a Liethe with you to mellow your revenge. You surprised us by coming here. There has been much preparation to send me to your camp.”
“It is not likely that you would have been admitted.”
“But if I help you now?”
“No.”
“Then I will not risk my life to send you into the Temple for your friends!” she flared, rising.
“Ho! This is a bargain you are suggesting!” He laughed. “That is more like it! I shall have to reconsider. Let me sort this into boxes; in return for your aid you get to serve and flatter me.”
“And love you.”
“How can I refuse?”
51
A wise man acts before God crosses the Constellation of the Knife. When the Knife sets, is it being buried in the earth or in a man’s ribs?
LIKE A GOLDEN shape, the Temple of Raging Seas lay atop an ancient volcanic upthrust that had defied the relentless smashing of the Njarae. The huge structure was one of the oldest of the Great Temples on Geta. As such it lacked elegance and height. The masonry was thick, crudely hewn. Built by the chattel children of the early slave-trading Mnankrei, half the awesome beauty of this Adoration of God seemed to belong to the rough tumble of sea-slimed stones crouching in obeisance at its feet.
Joesai did not wholly trust his efficient Comfort, who had put together an interesting plan he could not fault. It was either very workable or it was a trap. In case it was a trap he had constructed a careful contingency tactic. No one would expect them to retreat over the massive north wall. Explosive charges, laid with a quarryman’s skill that night, were in place for a sacrilegious exit. Riflemen, not a part of Comfort’s modest exercise, had been artfully stationed to cover such an emergency withdrawal.
In the early morning of the next high day, through the rose-tinted fog that drifted off the sea from the red mouth of an enormous Getasun, four impostors, wearing the ochre and purple-striped robes of Mnankrei Time Wizards, shared the stairway of God’s Ascension with scurrying temple priests who clattered past them in wooden-soled shoes. Joesai brazenly stopped a boy bringing nectar up the steps and bought a gourd from him while a tradesman, encumbered by a packsack of honey, paused on the stairs followed by an impatient Chanter in full headdress and painted face.
The bronze doors were done in the theme of a tempest that flung water toward God’s Sky. All Getan myths echoed the struggle of kalothi against the leveling forces. Inside the doors Joesai took a moment to admire the simple interior excellence of a vast room that predated the Kaiel. His seemingly casual glance oriented him, relating the structure to maps quickly memorized the previous evening.
A functionary was already waiting for them. The necessary paperwork, an ever-present part of Mnankrei life, had been done, presumably by an excellent forger who had access to secret Swift Wind marks, and they were ushered to a small room on the lower levels which was unlocked for them. Presently unsuspecting acolytes of the Time Wizards began to arrive — to be subdued by a silencing hold and drugged into paralysis by potions provided by Comfort.
Joesai and Eiemeni then exchanged Wizard costume for the dark brown robes of a High Priest of the Inquisition and arrogantly descended into the depths, where again the proper paperwork had been done. One by one the Kaiel prisoners were brought out for “intensive” questioning and returned to their cells on stretchers in a state of unconsciousness. Eventually the “acolytes” left the Temple with their Time Wizard Masters. Watching them emerge, the forward rifleman relaxed at his hidden post, passing to his rear the sign of the unwon, but conceded, game.
Robe changes and rehearsed trickery dissolved the group one by one, later allowing the fugitives to assemble undetected at a prearranged canal-front warehouse. Once inside the wooden-beamed hideout, tension broke both among the liberators and those who had expected to make their Contribution as soup bones. The men hugged each other. They grinned their triumph silently, and cuffed Joesai. They loved him. Tears wet their eyes. They kissed the walls and swung upon the log beams.
Unobtrusively Comfort busied herself filling mugs from a keg of mead. She hurried to spread sauce over fresh whole wheat buns as fast as they were devoured, her eyes seldom leaving Joesai. She was wrapped in sturdy travelling clothes, her sleeping mat and essential belongings already tied together in a waiting backpack.
Still wearing his Mnankrei robes for the sheer humor of it, Joesai began to brief his men, exploiting their euphoric sense of immediate loyalty. His attack plan on Soebo was now clear in his mind. Passionately he explained the strategy behind the plan, developing action modules and assigning roles as he went along.
“What drives the resistance against us in Soebo? It is fear of Kaiel ferocity!” He struck the Pose of Lurking Death, then spoke again. “It is old memories of the fate of the Arant!” He tossed his hand and demons sprung from his palm. “It is the remembrance of the fate of the clans who served the Arant!” His hand sliced to his wrist in the symbol of execution.
He continued his oration to an alert audience. “The main strategic thrust of the Advance Court has to be to establish trust among the underclans. We cannot simply try to convince them that it is the Mnankrei who are the ferocious fei flowers of the sea and we the bees who make honey through a steadfast policy of bargaining. Would they believe strangers?”
“No!” roared the unanimous answer to his rhetorical question.
For a moment Joesai moved about the warehouse, mimicking the alienness of the stranger — his slight unsureness, eyes that noticed what was too common to be noteworthy, a queer walk. “Nothing a man lives with daily is ferocious to him. It is the stranger who seems ferocious. We will not be able to convince these people that there will be no overnight change of laws with the coming of a Kaiel government, no confusion, no retroactive Contribution for laws invented today. They will think we lie to gain their favor so that we may have their skins. All logic reaches one conclusion: without trust, no argument is effective. Trust must be the key word of our strategy.
“What then is trust? Trust is the emotional residue of contracts entered upon and fulfilled. We have no time to make elaborate contracts that must persist weeks or seasons before completion. But we can do one thing. Human beings innately understand the nature of bargaining and they trust the bargaining process wherever it appears, whether from little children or from old enemies.