It wouldn't work on the king, though. Akma knew that from experience. Whatever skill he had at influencing people only worked on those who were at least marginally receptive. Motiak never gave Akma the opportunity to work on him.
"Are you going to sit there moping all morning?" asked Ominer. "Father's waiting for you now-you're late."
"Yes," said Akma. "I was just thinking. Try it sometime, Ominer. It's almost as fun as swallowing air so you can belch. Something that I hope you won't be doing tonight."
"Give me some credit," said Ominer disgustedly.
Akma slapped him on the shoulder to show that he was teasing and they were still friends. Then he left, striding boldly through the rooms that separated the library from the king's private chamber.
He was the last to arrive; he had rather hoped to be. Motiak was there, of course, and, as Akma had expected, so were Father and Mother. Not Edhadeya, gratefully; but... Bego? Why was Bego there, with his otherself, bGo, sitting behind him and looking miserable? And this old man? Who was he?
"You know everyone," Motiak said. "Except perhaps Khideo. He knew you when you were a baby, but I don't think you've seen each other since then. Khideo used to be governor of the land that bears his name."
Akma saluted him and, at a wave from the king, sat down at the table. He kept his eyes on Motiak, though of course he couldn't help but wonder why Khideo was there. And Bego. Why were Bego and his brother there? Why had Bego avoided his gaze?
"Akma, you spend most of your time in my house, but I never see you," said Motiak.
"I'm a scholar," said Akma. "I'm grateful that you've given me such free access to your library."
"It's a shame that with all your study, you've come out knowing less than you did when you began." Motiak smiled sadly.
"Yes," said Akma. "It seems that the more I learn, the less I know. While the ignorant remain absolutely certain of their convictions."
Motiak's smile faded. "I thought you'd want to know that I'm issuing the decree that you suggested to Edhadeya. It seems to be a solution to the immediate problem. As you suggested."
"I'm grateful that I could be of service," said Akma. "I was... very unhappy with the way things were going."
"I can imagine," said Motiak. "Sometimes the things we set in motion don't work out as we planned. Do they, Akma?"
Akma recognized that the king was digging at him again, blaming him for the persecutions. He wasn't going to sit still for it. "I learned that lesson already, several times over," said Akma. "For instance, your religious reform of thirteen years ago hasn't had the effect you planned. Tragic, seeing now where it has led."
Motiak smiled again, only this time he was showing more of his real feelings: The smile was feral, the eyes dancing with rage. "I want you to know, Akma, that I'm not such a fool as you must think. I know what you've been doing, how you've been maneuvering around me. I watched as you won over my sons, and I did nothing, because I trusted them to have some sense. You bested me there-I overestimated them."
"I think not, sir," said Akma. "I think you underestimated them."
"I know what you think, Akma. and don't interrupt and contradict me again. Even though your entire strategy is based on the fact that someday I will die and someone will be king after me, please remember that I'm not dead yet and I am the king."
Akma nodded. He had to be careful. Let the king play out his little drama. Tonight Akma would have the last word.
"Your father and mother and I talked over the terrible things you went through as a child, and tried to figure out why the experience turned everyone else toward the Keeper of Earth, and turned you away. Your father was very apologetic, of course. He kept expressing his regret that his mistakes as a father should be causing innocent people to suffer."
Akma wanted to shout back at him that he did not cause the persecution, that if he had his way there would never be cause for any such thing to happen again. He also wanted to scream into his father's face, to hit him, to hurt him for daring to apologize to the king because his son turned out so badly. But he contained all these feelings, and when Motiak waited for him to respond, he only nodded and said, meekly, "I'm sorry that I'm such a disappointment to you all."
"What we couldn't figure out for the longest time was how your achievement in suborning my sons became so widely known, and so quickly. You never seemed to be in contact with anyone among the Unkept. You hardly left the library."
"I'm a scholar. I've talked to no one but your family and my family and a few other scholars."
"Yes, very carefully done, very clever-or so we thought. How is Akma doing it, we thought. And then we realized, Akma isn't doing it. This wasn't Akma's idea."
Motiak looked toward Khideo. It was the old soldier's cue. "When I was here to consult with the king immediately after our rescue, I made contact with someone who shared some of my views. The opinions of the Zenifi-that humans should not live with either of the other toolmaking species. Or I should say, he made contact with me, since he knew my views and I couldn't have known his until he spoke to me. Since then, he has been my link with the king's house, and what he told me, I told my fellow Zenifi. Most important, he promised me then, thirteen years ago, that he would deliver all of the king's sons. As soon as he achieved it, we would spread the word, so that people would know that all of Akmaro's reforms were temporary, and the old order would be restored when one of you inherited the throne."
Thirteen years ago? That was impossible. He hadn't come up with this plan until after he had realized there was no Keeper.
Motiak looked at Bego. Quietly, the old archivist began to speak. "I tried to work directly with Aronha, but he was too much his father's son. And Mon couldn't get over his self-loathing. Ominer-too young, and not really bright enough to grasp things. Khimin-definitely too young. For a while I tried to work with Edhadeya, but her delusions about true dreams were too strong."
Motiak growled, "Not delusions."
"I have confessed to you, Motiak," said Bego defiantly. "I have not said that I agree with you." He turned back to Akma. "You, Akma. You understood, the brightest boy I ever taught. And I saw that you had a way of winning people to your point of view. As long as you're with them. A talent for it, that's what you have, a talent for persuasion, and I realized that I didn't have to persuade Motiak's boys. I only had to persuade you and you'd do the rest."
"You didn't persuade me of anything. I figured it out myself."
Bego shook his head. "It is the essence of teaching, that the student discovers everything for himself. I made sure that you reached the conclusion that there was no Keeper, and you leapt from there to everything I might have hoped for. And your deep hatred of the diggers, that helped, of course."
"So you thought I was a puppet?" asked Akma.
"Not at all," said Bego. "I thought you were the finest student I ever had. I thought you could change the world."
"What Bego is not telling you," said Motiak, "is that his actions constitute treason and oath-breaking. Khideo has been studying at Shedemei's school the past while. A great deal of moral philosophy. He went to bGo, and then together Khideo and bGo persuaded Bego to come join them in confessing to me."
"I'm sorry that Khideo and bGo and Bego decided to do something so unnecessary and inappropriate," said Akma. "But as Bego can also tell you, the first time we learned that he had any outside contacts was after the persecutions began, when he kept urging us to speak openly against the Kept. You will notice that we did not do it. We utterly refused to do anything that might be construed as support of the persecutions."