A Suzdal militia, hatred stoked white hot by rumor, caught a Bogazi neighborhood napping. They torched it. Then they stood back and slaughtered the frightened Bogazi as they poured out of their hutches.
Revenge came almost immediately. As three Suzdal adults shepherded twenty or more cubs from their homes to a feeding hall, a group of Bogazi burst out of hiding. The Suzdal adults were dead in moments. Then the cubs. One Bogazi lifted a small cub high in the air. She split it with her beak, then swallowed it whole.
"Grandmother was correct," she chortled to her friends. "Suzdal good for nothing.
Except eat."
The incident was sure to kick more fuel on the fire. The Suzdal were among the most protective parents in the Empire, genetically predisposed to slaughter anything threatening their young.
More incident reports flooded in.
That evening a small Tork militia unit attacked a Jochi marketplace. But the Jochians were ready. Troops leapt out to confront the Torks, who howled in surprised terror, turned, and fled. The Jochians followed. No sooner had they broken ranks, however, than a much larger Tork force burst onto the scene, striking from the rear. Two hundred plus died at the market. Most of them civilians.
On and on it went. Rurik was one enormous blood feud. Sten could barely keep up with the events. Numbly, he kept filing the reports, putting in calls to Iskra, and getting no answer. He had similar luck with the Eternal Emperor. His boss was indisposed. Sten was mildly surprised. He had never known the Emperor to be sick.
The following day, Sten stared bleary-eyed at the monitor screen as-marvel of all marvels-a peaceful group of citizens marched on Pooshkan. It was a mixed crowd, equally composed of the four races of the Altaics. They were carrying wreaths to lay at the site in memory of the slain students.
The group carried large, hand-lettered banners pleading for a return to peace and order in the Altaics. Some of the banners even had nice things to say about Iskra.
Sten was not surprised at what happened next. He chopped the volume and turned away from the screen as soldiers guarding the site opened fire. He looked at Cind. She stood soldier straight, jawline set firm. But her eyes were smudged dark. She gave an involuntary shudder as they both dimly heard screams of terror coming from the university.
Her mouth opened, as if she were about to speak. Then it closed again, with a sharp snap.
She wants me to make it stop, he thought. But she knows there's nothing I can do.
Sten had never felt so low. So unheroic. Not that he believed in such things. And if there were any fantasies of that sort in Cind, they had been thoroughly ground out in the course of the last few hours.
He heard Freston call his name. Sten turned.
"It's Dr. Iskra, sir," the com officer said. "He wonders if it would be convenient to meet?"
Sten went loaded for Ursus horribilis. In fact, forget the grizzly. Packed in a blunderbuss, his diplomatic note to Iskra would peel the hide of Ursus articis, as well.
Although he didn't directly charge Iskra with ordering the massacre at Pooshkan, he did some heavy denting around the edges. He also lumped in the attack on the wreath-layers, as well as the unauthorized use of Imperial troops on civilian populations.
The wadding he had tamped the charge with was a clear threat that he would recommend that the Emperor rethink his support of Iskra.
Unfortunately, Sten knew he was creeping out on two-mil-thick ice. The importance of the Altaic Cluster was such that the three cardinal rules of diplomacy absolutely applied. A: Check with the boss first. B: Check with the boss first. And, most important of all... C: Check with the boss first.
Still, although he was hamstrung by his failure to reach the Emperor, Sten tromped into his meeting determined to carry off his bluff.
Iskra leapt to his feet as soon as Sten entered the room. "Sr. Ambassador,'' he said, " I protest your failure to support my government!"
Sten buried an unprofessional gape. He buttoned his lip. Raised an eyebrow. Chilly.
"Furthermore, I am going to ask the Emperor that you be withdrawn from service in the Altaics."
"How kind of you to tell me in person," Sten said dryly. "I suppose your request—"
"Demand, sir. Not request."
"Demand, then. Although I suggest you eliminate that word from your vocabulary when you address the Emperor. Back to my question. Does this... demand... have anything to do with the chaos raging outside your doors? Or is it just you don't like the cut of my formal wear?"
"I blame you for the agony my poor people are experiencing, yes. Can you deny you and your... staff... have shown a definite lack of enthusiasm in my appointment?"
"I can. Easily. Enthusiasm is for amateurs. My professional duty is to support you. But—and this is a serious but, sir—my mission is to restore order to the Altaic Cluster. A mission, I must add, that is sadly in danger—if not doomed as we speak. And you, sir, must take full responsibility for this. As I so intend to inform the Emperor."
"Then I was right," Iskra hissed. "You do oppose me."
"After what happened at Pooshkan, you expect plaudits? A military band to trumpet your accomplishments?"
"You blame that—abominable action on me? Me!" Iskra made his best face of outrage. Sten would have laughed if the dispute had not been over blood.
"I'll have you know I'm sickened over the incident. I've ordered a complete investigation. Headed by a man whose reputation is above reproach: General Douw."
Ho-ho, Sten thought. So that's the way of the land, is it? Douw had been seduced into Iskra's sphere.
"I'll inform the Emperor," Sten said. "He'll be... interested. Which is not the word I'd use, doctor, to describe his reaction to the mess you've stepped in."
"Bah! A stronger hand is all they need. These are my people, Sr. Ambassador. You don't understand them. Blood feuds are an integral part of our history. It's a fact of our nature, and always bubbling under the surface. This is why, when your support of me is so lackluster, it only takes a small incident—such as the tragedy at Pooshkan—to threaten chaos."
"Chaos is what you've got all right," Sten said. "What do you propose to do about it?''
"That is my concern," Iskra snapped. "The private business of this cluster. Remember that."
"I'll do my best," Sten said.
He thought about the note in his pocket, the one tearing Iskra a new defecating orifice. If he delivered it as planned, it wouldn't make his future relations with Iskra any easier.
He thought about the young people dying at the barricades of Pooshkan. Clot future relations. Sten determined at that moment to rid himself of this man. He would gather every molecule of evidence. Build a stone bucket. So when he did speak to the Emperor, he would have proof enough to hammer Iskra out of the Altaics.
Besides, the man had already declared himself an enemy. At this point, most diplomatic rule books suggested a body blow-to the gut.
Sten pulled out the note and gave it to Iskra. "A little bedtime reading," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." He exited the room, leaving Iskra gobbling after him.
As soon as he was gone, Venloe stalked in.
"That was unnecessary," he snapped. "You've just made yourself a very serious enemy.''
"Him? Sten is a mere functionary."
"Another mistake, doctor. Believe me, he's no functionary." With a chill, Venloe remembered his encounter with Sten and Mahoney. He was alive this moment only because they had needed him. "He was also right about the university," Venloe said.
"It was necessary," Iskra said. "As I told that fool of an ambassador, my people need a hard hand to rule them. It's all they understand. The incident at the university gave me a perfect excuse to use that hard hand. My name will be blessed for generations when this is over. Believe me. I know my place in history."