“Its effects belie it,” said Ingeld.
“We have thousands of ministrants,” said the visitor. “Surely you do not suspect they serve Karch with duplicity and calculation.”
“I am sure many do not,” said Ingeld. “Worlds are filled with the innocent and trusting, the well intentioned and ignorant, products of the same disease which they then mindlessly propagate, and would fear not to do so.”
“It was not to discuss or defend the truths of the one true faith that I have sought this audience, great Lord,” said the visitor.
“The joys which you denounce and dread,” said Ingeld, “in many faiths are understood as nothing to be feared or doubted, as nothing to be ashamed of; rather, they are understood as, welcomed as, and treasured as, the gifts of the gods themselves who, in their generosity and bounty, would bestow such happiness, such delights, and riches on all rational creatures.”
“False gods, of course,” said the visitor. “Perhaps next you will commend sacral prostitution, the solicitations of priestesses in public thoroughfares, exchanging embraces for coins, the public intoning of hymns to vulgar goddesses, the garish clash of cymbals and tambourines in caves and groves, the scandalous movements of temple dancers.”
“I am sure it is true,” said Ingeld, “that you did not approach the high seat to discuss or defend the doctrines of your faith.”
“No, great Lord,” said the visitor.
“You still avert your eyes from the slave at my side,” said Ingeld.
“Might she not be covered, or withdrawn?” asked the visitor.
“Perhaps you should regard her,” said Ingeld. “It might do you good.”
“Please, great Lord,” said the visitor.
“Face me,” said Ingeld. “When you speak, I would see your eyes, your expressions. Much may be read from such small things.”
“I would rather not, Milord,” said the visitor.
“You would prefer to be a martyr to Floon?” asked Ingeld.
“Milord?”
“The limbs are tied to four horses,” said Ingeld. “The horses are then, in four directions, driven apart.”
“I would be pleased to gaze on the gracious countenance of the great Lord, Ingeld, of the Drisriaks,” said the visitor.
“Do so,” said Ingeld.
The visitor complied, while, at the same time, averting his eyes from the lithe, splendid animal kneeling to the right of Ingeld, he, the second son of Abrogastes.
“Abrogastes, your father,” said the visitor, “refused to see me.”
“Why?” said Ingeld.
“The great Abrogastes,” said the visitor, “is older, and, I fear, more rigid, less practical, than his noble son.”
“He is trammeled with honor,” said Ingeld.
“The war of the empire and the Aatii, and their numerous allies, waxes fiercely,” said the visitor. “Fleets clash. Planets are riven. Worlds are broken from the chain of their star. Systems hesitate to declare themselves. Who would not prefer to wait, to see how the die falls? Yet neutrality is not easily purchased. The empire, its resources strained, trembles. It fears a looming dawn, implacable, of unstayed barbaritas. Much fighting has been done, much munition expended. Indeed, the war now, so many resources exhausted, resources of many worlds, on both sides, may be fought in narrow corridors, and hang on small battles. Two great weights, largely inert, depress the scale. A penny or a bullet might tip the scale and plunge one weight to the earth, the other to the sky. It could be a small thing, a skirmish leading to a thousand reactions; even a surrender in Telnar, a mistake or defection, a palace coup, could decide matters. It is difficult to see, at this point, the future.”
“Men are fond of their empire,” said Ingeld. “My father does not intend to destroy it. He intends to own it, in one way or another.”
“The empire is unwieldy, and vast,” said the visitor. “It will break apart.”
“It will be held together, by the sword,” said Ingeld.
“But by whose sword?” asked the visitor.
“By that of the Alemanni,” said Ingeld.
“I can guarantee that,” said the visitor.
“That is the purpose of your visit?”
“Of course.”
“How can it be guaranteed?” asked Ingeld.
“You are aware that a Telnarian, Julian, of the Aureliani, a pretender to the throne, recruits comitates amongst barbarians, in particular, the Vandals, and has already entered into understandings with two of the Vandal tribes, the Otungs, and a lesser tribe, the Wolfungs.”
“The People of the Van Land, the Forest People,” said Ingeld, “are hereditary enemies of the Alemanni.”
“It is his intention to employ such allies in the defense of the empire,” said the visitor. “Already, on a dozen worlds, they have made their landings, navigated rivers, seized strategic points, entered cities. The empire, with such allies, stiffens, takes heart, senses renewed hope, is reinforced.”
“The Vandals,” said Ingeld, smiling, “will prove a dangerous ally. They will not be immune, no more than the Alemanni, to the lure of worlds, of arable lands, of gold, and women. As well, as the saying is, bring in vi-cats to guard vardas.”
“But,” said the visitor, “they, leagued with the empire, may counter the incursions of your father, great Abrogastes, check his ambitions, even drive him back, to far worlds.”
“It would be unwise for either the Alemanni or the Vandals to exhaust their resources on one another,” said Ingeld. “Indeed, if they sufficiently weakened one another, a preserved empire might then turn on the remnants of both, with ensuing destruction or, as before, with enforced relocation and exile.”
“Precisely, Milord,” said the visitor.
“The Alemanni and the Vandals must be wary of one another, and both of the Empire.”
“Certainly, Milord,” said the visitor.
“And how would you resolve this most problematical situation, beloved ministrant?”
“By means of a league, a confederation,” said the visitor, “an alliance.”
“I do not understand,” said Ingeld.
“A joining,” said the visitor, “to destroy the empire, a joining of the Alemanni and Vandals.”
For a moment, Ingeld gazed upon the visitor with incredulity, and then, seizing the arms of the high seat, threw back his head and laughed. “Monstrous fool,” he said. “Seldom have I encountered one so abundantly endowed with idiocy.”
“Milord?” said the visitor.
“Oil and water,” he said. “Alemanni and Vandals? Better, put arn bears and vi-cats in the same field.”
“Crush the empire,” said the visitor. “Then divide the spoils.”
“I think I shall call for the ropes, and have the horses brought to the killing yard,” said Ingeld.
“Allow me to tell you a story, Milord,” said the visitor. “Long ago, on a world called Tangara, you know the world, Milord, there was one of many wars, one between Otungs and Heruls, which culminated in a bitter winter campaign. This took place in the Year 1103, from the Setting of the Imperial Claiming Stone on Tangara. The Otungs were bested. A great king of the Otungs, high tribe in the Vandal nation, was slain. His wife, a captive amongst herded prisoners, gave birth, beside the trail, in the cold and snow, to an infant. She died of exposure. The child, a son, was brought by a Herul warrior, a man named Hunlaki, to a schismatic festung, one espousing the despicable Emanationist heresy, on the heights of the Barrionuevo Range, the festung of the false saint, Sim Giadini, Saint Giadini. The child, originally given into the keeping of a Floonian brother, Brother Benjamin, a salamanderine, was subsequently raised in the festung village located at the foot of the pass, leading upward to the festung.”
“What has this to do with anything?” inquired Ingeld.
“With the child,” said the visitor, “was found an artifact, weighty and of gold, a medallion and chain.”