“Please, Abrigant. I realize that you’re not a boy any longer.”
“Thank you. I just want you to know that I’ve given a lot of thought to these things.” Abrigant moistened his lips and drew his breath in deeply. “What I have to say is simply this. We’ve enjoyed, of course, a great economic upturn on Majipoor all through Lord Confalume’s years as Coronal, and through Lord Prankipin’s reign before that. A case could be made that we’ve been living through a golden age. But even so, we’re not nearly as prosperous as we ought to be, considering the wealth of natural resources we have here, and the overall tranquility of our political system.”
Overall tranquility?
With a terrible war only a few weeks in the past? Prestimion wondered whether there was some irony there—whether Abrigant might remember more of the recent events than he was letting on. No, he thought. There was not the slightest trace of ambiguity in Abrigant’s steady, earnest gaze. His eyes, sea-green like Prestimion’s own, were focused on him with solemn uncomplicated intensity.
“The big stumbling-block,” Abrigant was saying, “is the scarcity of metals here, of course. We’ve never had enough iron on Majipoor, for example, or nickel, or lead, or tin. We’ve got some copper, yes, and gold and silver, but not much else in the way of metal. We’ve been greatly shortchanged in that regard. Do you know why that’s so, Prestimion ?”
“The will of the Divine, I suppose?”
“You could say that, yes. It was the will of the Divine to provide most worlds of the universe with good heavy cores of iron or nickel, and those worlds have plentiful supplies of such metals in their crusts, too. But Majipoor’s much lighter within and without. We’ve got light rock, or great airy caverns, where other worlds have those masses of solid metal. And there’s not much metal in our world’s crust, either. This is why gravity doesn’t have a really powerful pull here, even though Majipoor is so big. If this planet was composed of as much metal as other worlds are, people like us would probably be crushed flat by the tremendous force of gravity. Even if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be sufficiently strong to lift a single finger. Not a single finger, Prestimion! Do you follow me so far?”
“I understand something of the laws of gravity,” said Prestimion, amazed at being lectured in such matters by Abrigant, of all people.
“Good. You’ll agree with me, then, that this lack of metals has been something of an economic handicap for us? That we’ve never been able to build spacegoing vessels, or even an adequate system of air and rail transport, because of it? That we’re dependent on other worlds for a lot of the metal we do use, and that this has been costly to us in all sorts of ways?”
“Agreed. But you know, Abrigant, we haven’t really done too badly. No one goes hungry here, big as our population is. There’s ample work for all. We have splendid cities of enormous size. Our society’s been remarkably stable under a worldwide government for thousands of years.”
“Because we have a wonderful climate almost everywhere, and fertile soil, and any number of useful plants and animals both on land and sea. But plenty of people are going hungry right now, so I hear, in places like the Iyann Valley. I hear about bad harvests elsewhere in Alhanroel, empty granaries, factories having to shut down because something has been strange lately about the shipment of raw materials from place to place, and so forth.”
“These are temporary problems,” said Prestimion.
“Maybe so. But such things will put a great strain on the economy, won’t they, brother? I’ve been doing a lot of reading, I told you. I’ve come to understand how one disruption over here can lead to another over there, which causes troubles in a third place entirely that’s very far away, and before you know it the problem has spread all across the world. Which is something you may find yourself facing before you’ve spent many months on the throne, I’m afraid.”
Prestimion nodded. This conversation was getting tiresome.
“And what do you suggest, then, Abrigant?”
Eagerly Abrigant said, “That we bring about an increase in our supply of useful metal, particularly iron. If we had more iron, we could manufacture more steel for use in industry and transportation, which would permit a great expansion of trade both on Majipoor itself and with our neighboring worlds.”
“How is this to be achieved, exactly? By sorcery, perhaps?”
Abrigant looked wounded. “I beg you, brother, don’t be condescending. I’ve been doing a great deal of reading lately.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“I know, for example, that there’s said to be a district somewhere deep in the south, and off to the east of Aruachosia Province, where the soil is so curiously rich in metal that the plants themselves contain iron and copper in their stems and leaves. Which need only to be heated to yield a rich harvest of useful metal.”
“Skakkenoir, yes,” Prestimion said. “It’s a myth, Abrigant. No one’s ever been able to find this wonderful place.”
“How hard has anyone ever tried? All I can turn up in the archives is an expedition in Lord Guadeloom’s time, and that was thousands of years ago. We should go looking for it again, Prestimion. I’m quite serious. But I have other suggestions to make, too. Do you know, brother, that there are ways of manufacturing iron, zinc, and lead out of baser substances such as charcoal and earth? I don’t mean through wizardry, although science of this sort certainly seems to verge on wizardry; but it is science all the same. Research has already been done. I can bring you people who have achieved such transformations. On a small scale, yes, a very small scale—but with proper backing, generous funds appropriated from the royal treasury—”
Prestimion gave him a close look. This was a new Abrigant, all right.
“You actually know of such people?”
“Well, at second hand, I have to admit. But reliable second hand. I urge you most strongly, brother—”
“No need for further urging, Abrigant. You pique my interest with this. Bring me your metal-making wizards and let me speak with them.”
“Scientists, Prestimion. Scientists.”
“Scientists, to be sure. Though anyone able to conjure iron out of charcoal sounds very much like a magus to me. Well, mages or scientists, whatever they may be, it’s worth an hour of my time to learn more about their art. I do agree with your basic argument. A greater store of metal will make for great economic benefits for Majipoor. But can we really obtain the metal?”
“I’m confident of it, brother.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Prestimion.
He rose and led Abrigant across the richly inlaid floor, artfully decorated with stripes of ghazyn and bannikop and other precious woods, to the door of the office. Abrigant paused there and said, “One more thing, Prestimion. Is it true that our kinsman Dantirya Sambail is a prisoner here in the Castle?”
“You’ve heard about that, have you?”
“Is he?”
“He is, yes. Hidden away snugly in the Sangamor tunnels.”
Abrigant made a holy sign. “You can’t be serious, brother! What insanity is this? The Procurator’s too dangerous a man to treat this way.”
“It’s specifically because he is dangerous that I’ve put him where he is.”
“But to offend a man who wields so much power, and who is so free with his wrath—”
“The offense,” said Prestimion, “was from him to me, not the other way around, and merits what I’ve done to him. As for the circumstances of the offense, those are of no concern to anyone but me. And however much power Dantirya Sambail may wield, I wield more. In the fullness of time I’ll deal with his case as it deserves, I assure you, and justice will be served.—I thank you most warmly for this visit, brother. May it lead to good things for us all.”