“Floonians welcome martyrdom,” said the exarch. “It assures one a place at the table of Karch.”
“Perhaps you could become one such,” said Iaachus.
“As a humble man,” said the exarch, “I dare not aspire to so exalted a fate, so noble an end.”
“Even so,” said Iaachus.
“Touch me,” said the exarch, “and not only Telnar will burn, but the empire.”
“And how will you have the empire?” asked Iaachus.
“How would you like a million Floonians, on a hundred worlds, to take up arms on behalf of the empire?”
“I do not understand,” said Iaachus, “Floonians, as gentle, loving Floon, repudiate weaponry. They will die rather than bear arms. It is against their faith. They reject matters of the world. They live as parasites within walls built by, and defended by, others. They will not even look upon a standard or flag. They decline civic responsibility. They will not even participate in the councils of villages. They live for the koos, whatever that may be. They repudiate the gods of the empire, the ways of the empire. They have no love for the empire, no loyalty to the empire. They will not even burn a pinch of incense on the altar of the emperor.”
“A million Floonians on a hundred worlds,” smiled the exarch.
“You could do this?” asked Iaachus.
“Surely,” said the exarch. “Unfolding revelation.”
“I do not understand,” said Iaachus.
“You cannot expect Floonians to die for your empire,” said the exarch, “but, properly enlightened, suitably guided, they will die obediently, gladly, and unquestioningly for theirs.”
“For yours,” said Iaachus.
“If you wish,” said the exarch.
“Men will believe anything,” said Iaachus.
“Most,” said the exarch.
“The empire is to declare for Floon?” said Iaachus.
“The true faith,” said the exarch, “is to be the only faith. False faiths are to be banished.”
“Your views are to be spread by fire and sword?” asked Iaachus.
“Only where recalcitrance is met,” said the exarch.
“I see,” said Iaachus.
“It is a great wrong to spread a false faith by fire and sword, by the garrote and burning rack,” said the exarch, “but right to do so for the true faith. One must not risk men being misled. Superstition is pernicious. It places the koos in jeopardy. One must not, in so far as possible, risk the loss of a single koos.”
“And what is the relation of the state to the true faith in these matters?” asked Iaachus.
“It exists to do the work of the faith,” said the exarch. “The civil sword is to be unsheathed on behalf of the koos.”
“Soldiers are to gather faggots and ignite fires,” said Iaachus, “to hunt men like filchen, to redden blades you are too holy to touch.”
“You cannot expect ministrants of Floon to shed blood,” said the exarch.
“Only to have others do so, as they will have it done,” said Iaachus.
“There must be an order in things, a hierarchy,” said the exarch. “One must be first; one must be second. Accordingly, as the koos is highest, most holy, and supreme, it is to be first, and the state second. The secular sword is to be subordinate to the koosian sword.”
“There is no koos,” said Iaachus.
“It does not really matter, does it?” asked the exarch.
“I suppose not,” said Iaachus.
“Then go forth and conquer in the name of Floon,” said the exarch. “Go forth bravely, slaughtering and burning, singing hymns, doing righteous destruction on a thousand worlds.”
“And if we decline to accept this madness?”
“There are others who will,” said the exarch.
“Barbarians?” asked Iaachus.
“Possibly,” said the exarch.
“You will have the empire, even if it falls?” said Iaachus.
“Yes,” said the exarch. “Either way.”
“I shall return to the palace,” said Iaachus.
“Be careful in the streets,” said the exarch.
“I shall,” said the Arbiter of Protocol.
“Before you leave,” said Sidonicus, “you may kiss my ring.”
“I think not,” said Iaachus.
“Perhaps later,” said the exarch.
“I think not,” said Iaachus.
“As you wish,” said the exarch.
32
“It is so, Lord,” said Farrix.
“Does my father know?” inquired Ingeld.
“I think not, Lord,” said Farrix.
“I do not understand!” cried Ingeld. “Things were moving well. Pledges were made. Calendars were agreed upon. I had prepared rings to give. Now confusion reigns. The wretched Vandals are divided. Otungs will not move. Haakons and Darisi draw back. Basungs denounce us. Wolfungs will not rendezvous with our fleet.”
“Others hesitate, as well,” said Farrix. “Unaligned tribes now decline commitment. Neutral worlds refuse contact. Advance orders for thousands of Telnarian slaves are canceled. Consternation inhabits high offices. Curfews are established, roads patrolled, bridges closed. Administrations watch, and will not stir. And a thousand claimants to the medallion and chain struggle to summon troops, to lead movements.”
“A thousand claimants?” said Ingeld.
“Yes, Lord,” said Farrix.
He, Farrix, standing before the high seat of Ingeld, second son of Abrogastes, the Far Grasper, was a chieftain of the Teragar, or Long-River, Borkons. The Borkons were the third largest of the eleven tribes of the Alemanni nation, the second largest being the Dangars. There were several branches of the Borkons, the largest being the Lidanian, or Coastal, Borkons.
“And none will follow?”
“He who would follow one leader cannot follow a thousand.”
“I do not understand,” said Ingeld.
“Are you sure you possess the authentic talisman, the authentic medallion and chain?” asked Farrix.
“How can you ask that?” said Ingeld, angrily.
“I cast no aspersions, I perform no treason,” said Farrix. “But, as a chieftain of the Borkons, of the Teragar, I do ask it. Are you sure you possess the authentic talisman, the authentic medallion and chain?”
“Yes!” said Ingeld. “It was stolen from the festung of Sim Giadini by an Otung, Urta, after which the festung was destroyed, that the manner of its acquisition be concealed. It was then delivered to the Exarch of Telnar, one named Sidonicus. One of his subordinates, a legate and plenipotentiary, a ministrant named Fulvius, contacted me. Agreements were reached. Arrangements were made. The talisman was delivered here, to this hall, less than a month ago.”
“Here, Lord,” said Farrix, reaching within his cloak, and drawing forth a handful of dangling metal, “are two such medallions and chains.”
“They are false!” cried Ingeld.
“Undoubtedly, Lord,” said Farrix, “but these, and a thousand others, or more, on a hundred worlds, are proclaimed to be the one and only talisman of the Vandal nation. It is little wonder then that confusion abounds, that the Drisriaks are denounced, derided, and mocked. Who, who know little of these things, is in a position to know the authentic talisman? Vandals, wary of the Alemanni, were reluctant to begin with, to follow a Drisriak. And now, confronted with a thousand or more alleged talismans, in a thousand or more pairs of hands, what are they to do? Surely they will not call their fellows forth from the forests, will not march, will not man their ships. Vandals are no more willing to be deceived than we of the Alemanni, and they are certainly unwilling, in particular, to be our dupes. They speak of deceit, of trickery. Let us fear that the dreaded Vandals do not now plunge themselves into the arms of our enemies.”
“It is I who have been tricked,” said Ingeld.
“I have no doubt you possess the authentic talisman,” said Farrix, “but it is not difficult to understand doubt on the part of others.”