“Why are doing this?!” he shouted. “Those weapons have steel blades! This drink is cool, so you have must have introduced pottery, and a smithy is—”
“Other peoples enjoy such things,” I protested mildly.
“But you broke your angel oath—”
“I swore no oath!” My tone was sharp enough that some of the guards twitched ominously. “I obtained all these things from the traders.”
The angel scowled and then muttered. “My apologies.”
“Accepted. And talking of trade, would you care to make me an offer on fifty-nine guns?”
“Guns? Where did you get guns?”
I waved a blue-veined hand vaguely. “We find them when looking for slaves…in mines and trader trains, and so forth.”
The angels were aghast. “Fifty-nine?” Indigo muttered. Heaven was perpetually short of guns.
“That’s whole ones. Three baskets of parts, too.”
“So your hordes will ride beyond your group borders, will they?” Even in the cooling breeze of the palace, Indigo’s forehead shone with sweat. Fatigue and anger and fear all fought for possession of his face. “You will destroy the Great Compact and build an empire? And it will all collapse when you die.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “There will be no equal to take my place, of course, but my teachings will live on. You did hear my people singing, didn’t you?”
Three heads nodded, even as three mouths sneered.
“You are a poet…ah, Knobil.”
“I always had a knack; it came in handy. Psalms were the only way I could find to spread my laws. So I will live on in their hearts. Herdfolk have always sung. Now they sing my laws, is all. I cannot be replaced, but there will always be a king of the grasslands, I think, as the psalms decree.” I could no longer hide my amusement at their expressions. “I came from Heaven, of course. When I…return…then a mortal will rule in my name.”
“A thousand mortals will rule!” Indigo said.
“No.” I stared out at the distant skyline. Of course I will never know, but I have thought of this often, and I have convinced myself—most of the time—that it will work as I have planned. “No, I think not. With everyone living along the herdline, one narrow strip—just one man, the strongest. You cannot steal woollies; you cannot drive them off. They are so slow! One long herd, one king. That will be the way of the grasslands from now on.”
“You are insane!”
Indigo was being very brave and also very stupid to tell me so in my own throne room—a typical sandman. He flinched as I frowned at him.
“Didn’t we meet once?”
He nodded, looking surly. “I became a cherub just before you left.”
“I remember! Twist, they called you! I gave you archery lessons!” For a moment we smiled at each other in mutual nostalgia. Then I pulled myself back to the important business of frightening these emissaries. Frightened men do not bargain well. “Of course I know that angels are the only folk on Vernier who recognize no gods, and I can see that it must hurt to have to treat with one! But I never wanted to be a god, Twist. It just happened.”
Suddenly the third man spoke up. He was Yellow-green-gray, the youngest, and therefore likely the smartest. He had the shaggy look of a wolfman, intent and narrow-faced.
“But why?” he said in a soft voice, staring at me with steady golden eyes. “Why would you, you who had accepted Heaven’s care, you who could have been an angel—Michael swears you would be wearing the white instead of him, had you stayed—why did you build this monstrous armed force?”
“It began because I wanted vengeance,” I said and concentrated on the bowl of fruit near my hand, wishing to hide the sadness that his youthful outrage roused in me, “but then it just took off on its own… I saw the great dying, you know. I saw the angels try. I saw them fail. They failed because the herdfolk would not cooperate. I wanted to teach my people cooperation.”
“There’s nothing wrong with cooperation—”
“And this was the only way I could find to do it.” I looked over at Yellow, and his face was slightly blurred to me. “Cooperation was all I wanted,” I said sadly. “I knew that if the herdfolk cooperated, then they could cut off the ants’ supply of slaves—gain this…” I waved at the walls of my palace and the tent city beyond.
A note of hope crept into the youngster’s voice: “Then you will now disband your army?”
“No…no, I can’t. Fighting seems to be the only thing that I can make them cooperate for—does not the Great Compact warn us that violence is a disease that breeds and spreads? I knew the danger, angel, but I saw greater evils than that. First we fought the herdmasters and united the people. Then we chased traders—and angels, for practice. Now ants—at last! But if I disband my troops they will surely start fighting each other. Then it will all collapse, and everything, all my life’s—” I stopped and took a deep breath. I was tiring faster than they were. I ought to wait until another time. They were weary, but I was twice their age. Three times as old as Yellow.
Haniana would be spying on me from behind the drapes.
After a moment, Yellow spoke again, the others apparently leaving it to him for the moment. “If you attack any more nests, then Heaven must act against you. All the rest of Vernier will expect it.”
I rubbed my eyes and straightened up on my throne. Could he be serious? “Heaven can’t stop me, sonny! My army is preparing to leave very soon, to inspect another mine, and there will be seventeen hundred mounted men, each with a spare mount, plus twelve hundred on foot—and they can travel very nearly as fast.”
The angels stiffened in shock and exchanged glances.
“Will you tell us where?” Yellow inquired quietly. He must have believed me to be even more senile than I felt—but I did not mind telling him.
“There is an iron mine down in Tuesday, east of here. Do you know it?”
“I know of it.” His tone was cautious.
“The ants keep slaves, so the traders tell me.”
The three angels all frowned, and then Yellow’s golden eyes began to twinkle. “The traders load up with the mine’s produce, then report on slaves to you, and so provoke you to attack—thereby driving up prices?”
“Absolutely right,” I agreed. “I suggested it to them…but if there are no slaves there, then there will be no violence started by me.”
The three men glanced at each other, and again they left the conversation to young Yellow. “If you proceed, then Heaven will lose all credibility unless it moves against you.”
“It would be a gnat moving against a woollie,” I said. “Do you have power to negotiate?”
“Some,” Indigo muttered.
I waved a hand in dismissal. “You are wasting my time. Go!”
The guard with the sword began to come forward.
“We have plenty of authority!” Yellow said sharply, earning a hard glare from his seniors. “Plenipotentiary authority if unanimous.”
Ah! I waved back the guard and smiled benevolently at my guests. Good for Quetti! “Then I must make you an offer, I think, since Heaven has nothing to offer me.” A lie, of course. The angels went tenser than ever, fists clenched, eyes slitted. They were the worst traders I had ever met. Thank you, Quetti!
“Do you defend these slave-owning ants in Tuesday?” I threw the question at the wolfman cub, who obviously had twice the brains of the other two put together.
“Of course not!” He flushed angrily.
“But you deny me the right to clean them out?”
“Yes. They are outside—”
“Then the answer is simple! You must clean them out before I do!”
“We would if we had the power!” he shouted.