Bustamonte turned, froze in his tracks. In the window stood a glaring-eyed young man, wearing black.
"Beran," croaked Bustamonte. "Beran!"
Beran jumped down to the black carpet, came quietly forward. Bustamonte tried to turn, tried to scuttle and dodge. But his time had come; he knew it, he could not move.
Beran raised his hand. From his finger darted blue energy.
The affair was accomplished. Beran stepped over the corpse, unsealed the glass doors, flung them aside.
The Mamarone looked around, sprang back, squinted in wonder.
"I am Beran Panasper, Panarch of Pao."
CHAPTER XVI
PAO CELEBRATED the accession of Beran in a frenzy of joy. Everywhere, except in the Valiant camps, along the shore of Zelambre Bay, at Pon, there was rejoicing of so orgiastic a nature as to seem non-Paonese. In spite of a vast disinclination, Beran took up residence in the Grand Palace and submitted to a certain degree of the pomp and ritual expected of him.
His first impulse was to undo all Bustamonte's acts, to banish the entire ministry to Vredeltope, the penal isle in the far north. Palafox, however, counseled restraint. "You act emotionally--there is no point in discarding the good with the bad."
"Show me something good," responded Beran. "I might then be less determined."
Palafox thought a moment, seemed to be on the point of speaking, hesitated, then said, "For instance: the Ministers of Government."
"All cronies of Bustamonte's. All nefarious, all corrupt."
Palafox nodded. "This may be true. But how do they comport themselves now?"
"Ha!" Beran laughed. "They work night and day, like wasps in autumn, convincing me of their probity."
"And so they perform efficiently. You would only work confusion in de-robing the lot. I advise you to move slowly--discharge the obvious sycophants and time-servers, bring new men into the ministry only whenever opportunity presents itself."
Beran was forced to admit the justice of Palafox's remarks. But now he sat back in his chair--the two were taking a lunch of figs and new wine on the palace roof garden--and seemed to brace himself. "These are only the incidental alterations I wish to make. My main work, my dedication, is to restore Pao to its former condition. I plan to disperse the Valiant camps to various parts of Pao, and do something similar with the Technicant installations. These persons must learn Paonese, they must take their places in our society."
"And the Cogitants?"
Beran rapped his knuckles on the table. "I want no second Breakness on Pao. There is scope for a thousand institutes of learning--but they must be established among the Paonese people. They must teach Paonese topics in the Paonese language."
"Ah yes," sighed Palafox. "Well, I expected nothing better. Presently I will return to Breakness, and you may restore Nonamand to the shepherds and furze-cutters."
Beran concealed his surprise at Palafox's docility. "Evidently," he said at last, "you plan something quite different. You assisted me to the Black Throne only because Bustamonte would not cooperate with you."
Palafox smiled to himself as he peeled a fig. "I plan nothing. I merely observe and, if requested to do so, advise. Whatever is to occur stems from plans long ago formulated and given momentum."
"It may become necessary to frustrate these plans," said Beran.
Palafox ate his fig without concern. "You are naturally at liberty to make such attempts."
During the next few days Beran pondered at great length. Palafox seemed to regard him as a predictable quantity, one which would automatically react in a direction favorable to Palafox. This consideration moved him to caution and he delayed immediate action against the three non-Paonese enclaves.
Bustamonte's splendid harem he sent packing, and began the formation of his own. It was expected of him; a Panarch without suitable concubines would be regarded with suspicion.
Beran felt no disinclination on this score; and since he was young, well-favored, and a popular hero, his problem was not so much one of seeking as of selection.
However, the affairs of state left him little time for personal indulgence. Bustamonte had overcrowded the penal colony on Vredeltope, with criminals and with political offenders mingled indiscriminately. Beran ordered an amnesty for all except confirmed felons. In the latter part of his reign, Bustamonte likewise had raised taxes until they approached those of Aiello's reign, with peculant officials absorbing the increment. Beran dealt decisively with these, setting the peculators to unpleasant types of menial labor, with earnings applied to their debts.
One day, without warning, a red, blue and brown corvette dropped down from space. The sector monitor issued the customary challenge; the corvette, disdaining response other than to break out a long serpent-tongue banderole, landed with insolent carelessness on the roof of the Grand Palace.
Eban Buzbek, Hetman of the Batmarsh Brumbos, and a retinue of warriors debarked. Ignoring the palace preceptors, they marched to the great throne room, called loudly for Bustamonte.
Beran, arrayed in formal black, entered the hall.
By this time Eban Buzbek had heard a report of Bustamonte's death. He gave Beran a hard quizzical stare, then called to an interpreter. "Inquire if the new Panarch acknowledges me his overlord."
To the interpreter's timid question, Beran made no reply.
Eban Buzbek barked out, "What is the new Panarch's reply?"
The interpreter translated.
"In truth," said Beran, "I have no reply ready. I wish to reign in peace, still I feel that the tribute to Batmarsh has been paid long enough."
Eban Buzbek roared a quick gust of laughter when he heard the interpreter's translation. "This is not the manner in which realities arrange themselves. Life is a pyramid--only one may stand at the top. In this case it is I. Immediately below are others of the Brumbo Clan. In the remaining levels I have no interest. You must win the stage to which your prowess entitles you. My mission here is to demand more money from Pao. My expenses are increasing--therefore, the tribute must increase. If you agree, we part in amity. If not, my restive clansmen will visit Pao and you will regret your obstinacy."
Beran said, "I have no alternative. Under protest I pay you your tribute. I will say also that you would profit more as a friend to us than as an overlord."
In the Batch tongue the word "friend" could only be interpreted as "companion-in-arms." Upon receiving Beran's reply, Eban Buzbek laughed. "Paonese as companions-at-arms? They who turned up their rumps for a kicking when so ordered? Better warriors are the Dinghals of Fire Planet, who march behind a shield of their grandmothers. No--we Brumbos have no need of such an alliance."
Retranslated into Paonese, the words became what seemed a series of gratuitous insults. Beran swallowed his wrath. "Your money shall be transmitted to you." He bowed stiffly, turned, strode from the room. One of the warriors, deeming his conduct disrespectful, leapt forward to intercept him. Beran's hand came up, his finger pointed--but again he restrained himself. The warrior somehow sensed that his doom had been close at hand, and stood back.
Beran left the hall unmolested.
Beran, trembling with anger, went to the quarters of Palafox, who displayed no great interest at the news. "You acted correctly," he said. "It is hopeless quixotry to defy such experienced warriors."
Beran assented gloomily. "No question but what Pao needs protection against brigands... Still, we are well able to afford the tribute, and it is cheaper than maintaining a large military establishment."
Palafox agreed. "The tribute is a decided economy."