Ingeld leaned forward. “It does not exist,” he said.
“It exists,” said the visitor.
“It was lost,” said Ingeld.
“It has been found,” said the visitor.
“The symbol, the talisman, of the unified Vandal peoples,” said Ingeld.
“It was entrusted to the Floonian brother, Brother Benjamin,” said the visitor. “For years it reposed, encased, in his cell, its presence known only to certain members of the Brotherhood, creatures pledged to harmony and peace. The hated Julian, he of the Aureliani, pretender to the throne, seeking information as to the obscure origins of his colleague, Ottonius, seemingly an Otung, pursued the matter, met with Brother Benjamin, and ascertained the existence of the object. An Otung, Urta, a former King Namer, similarly inquiring into the origins of the new, mysterious king of the Otungs, Otto, or Ottonius, whom he resented and feared, also discovered the existence of the artifact.”
“And then?” said Ingeld.
“This Urta, once a King Namer of Otungs,” said the visitor, “anxious to recover lost prestige and power, dreaded that this object should come into the possession of the new Otung king, Otto, or Ottonius, for he might then hold sway over the entire Vandal nation.”
“The Vandals, the nation,” said Ingeld, “must not side with the empire!”
“They will follow he who holds the medallion and chain,” said the visitor. “It is sworn. The matter surpasses the will of kings and chieftains. If they do not submit themselves to the holder of the medallion and chain, declaring adherence to his banner, pledging themselves his loyal vassals, then their subjects and followers will desert them.”
“I listen,” said Ingeld, leaning forward, “speak further, and clearly, not in vague hints and obscure allusions.”
“It was clearly important to this fellow, Urta, consumed with envy and resentment, that the medallion and chain not come into the possession of Ottonius, new king of the Otungs, whom he despised, and because of whom he had lost his office as King Namer. He wished then, somehow, to obtain or destroy the artifact. But how might this be managed? He knew little or nothing, of course, of the joys of Floon, nor of ugly schisms, or dire heresies. He could not even, incredibly enough, distinguish between Illusionists and Emanationists, let alone between them and the one true faith. Many are the false prophets who, and many are the wayward cults which, arrogantly profess to proclaim the true messages and meanings of the Redemptor, Holy Floon.”
“I am sure of it,” said Ingeld.
“This Urta, then, fearing an inauspicious disposition of the medallion and chain, and covetous of its power, wished to either obtain or destroy it. But he knew not how to do so. How could he, an Otung, one who knew nothing of Karch, and his prophet, Floon, obtain the freedom of the halls of the festung in such a way that he might manage, sooner or later, to steal or destroy the Vandal talisman? Surely he would need a better leverage than that of a mere wayfarer or needy supplicant, in the guise of which he had conducted his original inquiries. Indeed, at this point it is not clear that he had even seen the talisman. He decided to seek the counsel of ministrants of Floon, naturally enough in Venitzia, the provincial capital on Tangara. And here we see the hand of mighty Karch at work, and his mysterious and wondrous workings, for, in Venitzia, who should Urta encounter but ministrants of the one true faith?”
“It is not so surprising,” said Ingeld, “for other versions of your faith in Venitzia, where not exterminated, had, following arson, looting, murders, and riots, been driven from the city. It does not seem to be an accident, for example, that the festung of Sim Giadini, a fortress as much as a holy place, was located in the remote heights of the Barrionuevo Range.”
“Urta proceeded as advised,” said the visitor. “He, the matter justified in terms of the end to be obtained, presented himself in the guise of a proselyte to the false faith of Emanationism, suing for admission into the Brotherhood. Accepted as a neophyte, he played his role well, earning the trust and respect of the brothers. In particular, he cultivated Brother Benjamin, whom he chose as his mentor. Needless to say, by means of visits to the festung village at the foot of the pass, he remained in contact with agents of the true faith in Venitzia. All was then in order. Brother Benjamin was drugged in his cell, and Urta seized the medallion and chain, and made his way down the long pass to the festung village, where our agents awaited him. In moments he and his prize, borne in a hoverer, were on their way to Venitzia, and the coded signal was transmitted to Venitzia, to the readied imperial cruisers, which then took flight, to attack and destroy the loathed citadel of Emanationist iniquity. In this way, the medallion and chain were acquired, and a villainous den of heresy, offensive to the true faith, was eradicated.”
“Where is the medallion and chain?” asked Ingeld.
“In a safe place,” said the visitor.
“Brands burn brightly,” said Ingeld. “They warm and loosen tongues. Pincers clutch and twist; knives cut; the spiked wheel turns unpleasantly; filchen flock to shed blood. Ropes and horses are far stronger than pale, bloated flesh.”
“I do not know its location, of course,” said the visitor. “I assure you I could not begin to withstand afflictions of the sort to which you allude. I suspect few could. On the other hand, I cannot reveal a secret which has not been entrusted to me. Surely you do not believe that I would be put before the high seat of the noble son of Abrogastes if I possessed such information. The ministrants of Floon are not naive; they are not unaware of the nature of the world they despise and repudiate.”
“You cannot use the medallion and chain,” said Ingeld.
“We have no intention of doing so,” said the visitor, “not directly.”
“To whom is it to be entrusted?” said Ingeld.
“To a suitable recipient,” said the visitor.
“I wonder if you understand its power,” said Ingeld.
“I think we do,” said the visitor.
“If the Alemanni possessed the talisman,” said Ingeld, “the Vandal nation must pledge itself our vassals.”
“And the empire would be doomed,” said the visitor, “and the Vandals could not in honor attack their lords.”
“What do you want?” asked Ingeld.
“The conversion of the Alemanni and the Vandals,” said the visitor, “and then that of the conquered empire.”
“I see,” said Ingeld.
“It is little enough to ask,” said the visitor.
“We would promote your faith with the sword,” said Ingeld.
“It is appropriate that the true faith be promoted,” said the visitor, “whatever might be the means at hand.”
“We would risk our treasure and blood in your behalf, fight your battles, suppress your enemies, extirpate your supposed heresies, burn books, cleanse libraries, close uncongenial schools, impose your views and values, abet your policies of shaping the young, gather and guard your wealth, drive the skeptical, reluctant, and indifferent to your temples, silence recalcitrants, enforce your collections.”
“You might put it so,” said the visitor.
“Yours is the wisdom of the hypocrite and coward,” said Ingeld. “Risk nothing, do nothing, and reap much.”
“The secular arm,” said the visitor, “is to be subservient to the koos, as the body to the mind. Its noblest mission is to serve the koos.”
“I see,” said Ingeld.
“And the work of the sword, you must understand, however necessary, is not the appropriate province of men such as I, men of the holy cloth, men of peace who dwell in holiness, devoting themselves humbly, exclusively, to matters of the koos.”
“Certainly not,” said Ingeld.