by Eric Flint
"Do you really think your preparations have gone unnoticed, General?" Tamt demanded. She glanced at Riley and Tully. "From the officers, perhaps. Not from the soldiers."
Kralik sighed. "Well . . . I'd hoped. Rob told me it wouldn't work, not with so many Jao troops still stationed near the mountain shelters."
Tamt now did a respectable version of a human shrug. "You all worry too much. The Naukra will perhaps not act wisely. But they are not outright fools. Whatever else, Narvo will not have oudh returned to them here. Certainly not Oppuk! And the attitude of the veterans—all of them, you can be sure, with even Narvo taking that posture—has made clear enough that whatever kochan takes Narvo's place it will either have to rule lightly, or it will need to bring in entirely new soldiers to rule at all. And soldiers with no experience dealing with humans will suffer massive casualties."
This time, her whisker-waggling was almost flamboyant. "Ha! As every veteran has taken great pleasure in informing the newly arrived troop contingents. Wrot even says they are acting almost like humans. Something called 'Grimm's Fairy Tales,' which were used to frighten crechelings into proper attitudes."
Caitlin burst out laughing. So, a moment later, did Kinsey.
Even Kralik managed a grin. A rueful grin, to be sure. "I guess we've got a reputation," he muttered. "Gawd, to think my life would come to this—reduced to being a troll in a fairy tale."
"Nothing wrong with that," Caitlin said firmly. "Anything that will lead the Naukra to avoid mistakes is fine with me."
A young aide came up and handed Kralik two steaming cups of coffee. The aroma of fresh-ground beans filled the air as he passed one cup to Kinsey, then offered the other to Caitlin, who shook her head. With the state of her nerves, caffeine was the last thing she needed.
Uncertainly, the aide looked at Tamt. He'd had little close contact with Jao, apparently. She wrinkled her snout, indicating that whatever human attitudes she'd picked up, Tamt still retained the normal Jao distaste for coffee. Any kind of caffeine-containing substance, in fact.
"I need nothing," she stated. The aide hurried off.
"What is the Naukra, exactly?" Kralik asked. "I tend to think of it as roughly equivalent to what we'd call a 'congress,' but I don't think that's really right."
"No, it isn't," Kinsey replied. "Close, as they say, but no cigar. For starters, it does not meet on any regular schedule. It's more akin to the medieval assemblies, in that sense, than a modern congress or parliament. It meets whenever it's summoned, to deal with specific issues, the way the old English Parliament only met when the king called for it. Except the Jao have no equivalent of a king, of course. Any great kochan—or the Bond of Ebezon—can summon a Naukra. Secondly, it's not elected by anyone you could characterize as a 'constituency.' The Jao who form the Naukra, when it convenes, are those representatives whom each kochan—taifs too, I think—select to speak for them. Thirdly, decisions of the Naukra once it convenes aren't made by a vote, as would happen with a congress or parliament. Apparently, they just keep talking until a consensus emerges."
"And what if it doesn't? They can't always agree."
Kinsey took a thoughtful sip of coffee. "Well . . . that brings up still another difference, which is the peculiar role of the Bond in Jao politics. Apparently, if the Naukra can't reach a consensus, the Bond just goes ahead and imposes whatever decision it chooses."
Kralik frowned. "I though the Bond was under the authority of the Naukra."
Kinsey smiled. "Not exactly. You're thinking too much like a human, General. A modern human, I should say. I suspect our medieval ancestors would have understood the Jao better, in many ways."
He paused for a moment, choosing his words. "Probably the nearest human analogue to the Bond of Ebezon—in western history, anyway—are the old militant monastic orders. The Templars, Hospitalers, Teutonic Knights, that sort. They were also, technically, under the authority of the Church. But as any medieval pope could have told you—with considerable exasperation, heh—the militant orders often did pretty much as they chose. Hard to keep them from doing so, of course, since they were often as militarily powerful as any king or prince."
Kinsey finished his coffee and studied the bottom of the cup. "But don't read more than there is, General, in these little analogies of mine. There's something else about the Bond . . . I can't tell what it is, because it's very elusive in the historical records I've seen. There are some ways in which, obedience aside, they remind me more of the Jesuits than any militant monastic order. For one thing, insofar as the Jao ever seem to think very much about their basic attitudes—call it their 'secular theology,' if you will—it's the Bond that does the thinking."
"Of course," Tamt interjected. "That is their use, other than to keep the kochan rivalries within proper bounds. What kochan will think about the Jao as a whole?"
Caitlin stared at Tamt. Her bodyguard—and now friend—was normally so shy and self-effacing that Caitlin had a tendency to think of her as many Jao did: crude and coarse still, in many ways, despite Yaut's training—what humans would call "unlettered." Nor for the first time, though more forcefully than ever, Caitlin reminded herself not to underestimate the female. There was a good mind at work beneath that unprepossessing figure.
Kinsey was continuing. "Basically what will happen here, General, is that the Naukra has been summoned—by Narvo and Pluthrak both, it seems—to rule upon Aille's conduct and status and determine which kochan will be given oudh over Terra. The two issues are related, but separate. In the case of Aille, his life may be demanded and given; or, it may not—but he still remains outlawed. Kroudh, as they call it, which is in many ways a fate worse than death for a Jao. That decision may, or may not, correlate with whatever decision the Naukra makes regarding Terra's status. It is quite conceivable that Aille's life will be demanded and given—and then oudh turned over to Pluthrak. Indeed, so far as I can tell—I don't say this with any pleasure, believe me—that is the most likely variant. It would seem to satisfy the honor of both great kochan, at least."
Kralik's gray eyes were probing. "Is there any chance they would let Oppuk resume control?"
"The Naukra wouldn't decide anyway which individual is made Governor. That decision is entirely within the purview of whatever kochan is given oudh on Terra. All the Naukra decides is which kochan that is to be."
"That's what I was afraid of," Kralik muttered. "They could hand oudh back over to Narvo—and then Narvo would be within its rights to reappoint Oppuk."
Kinsey shook his head, firmly. "Not a chance. You don't really understand how this works, with Jao. To begin with, whatever their other faults, the Jao are far less prone than humans to what we'd call 'political back-stabbing.' A deal's a deal, in their eyes. It would be understood by everyone that, even if Narvo were to be returned to oudh status—which is highly unlikely, by the way, and I don't think even Narvo wants that—it would only be done to avoid humiliating them further. For Narvo to then turn around and reinstate Oppuk would be, under the circumstances, a grotesque insult to Pluthrak and, to almost the same extent, every other Jao kochan. Even worse, it would be a direct slap in the face to the Bond of Ebezon, which has made its attitude toward Oppuk very clear—and, so far as I can tell, that is something that no kochan, no matter how powerful, has ever been willing to do. The Bond can be . . . what's the word?"
"Direct," grunted Tamt. Her ears flattened, at the same time as her whiskers twitched. The combination was the Jao equivalent of grim humor, emphasis on grim. "Other words come to mind. 'Forceful,' perhaps, or 'short-tempered.' But perhaps one of Wrot's little human sayings fits best of all, if I understand properly the nature of the beast referred to: 'as grouchy as a grizzly bear with a sore tooth.' "
This time, even Kralik joined in the laughter. "Okay," he said. "I guess we don't have to worry about that. Still . . ."
His eyes moved toward the wall of the tent beyond which lay Aille's command center. "I would miss him dearly, I surely would. I never though
t the day would come, when I'd ever say that about a Jao."
Caitlin felt her own eyes start to water. She too, now that the reality was curling over them like a great wave, understood how desperately she would miss the young Pluthrak, if he died.
And he would die, of that she was certain, if his life was demanded and he decided meeting the demand was the best way for him to be "of use." However close he had become to humans, in that respect he was still Jao.
"All Jao," she whispered.
Tamt was watching her, as she so often did, studying the woman she guarded as if to understand her. Now, she spoke softly, and Caitlin realized how thoroughly Tamt had come to know her.
"Yes," she said, interpreting the two words correctly. "Even those who oppose him now understand that much. He is a kroudh of legend. The greatest of all Jao, because they will hold us all to vithrik."
* * *
There was a flurry of movement out on the tarmac and Caitlin rose to watch. As though they had but one mind between them, Jao were streaming toward the center of the landing field.
"I would say flow has completed itself," Kralik said. "It must be time for the Subcommandant's hearing. I thought they'd wait till the morning."
"I see," she said, but she really didn't see at all. No human ever would. That she was sure of.
Chapter 42
Now. The moment was now. Flow strengthened, summoning Aille across the base to the landing field with its flock of ships. It was strange to be surrounded by so many different kochan, he thought, as he walked out to the meeting stage. During the entirety of his youth on Marit An, he had only known individuals born of Pluthrak and its associated submoieties. On all sides, eyes, bright-green with curiosity, tracked him like targeting mechanisms, and whispers closed behind him like a wake. Flow surged and he felt how matters rushed to their conclusion. He tightened his perception, giving him time to consider each placement of his foot, each flick of a whisker. So much scrutiny required his carriage to be flawless.
A number of minor kochan had been represented, along with Narvo and its subsidiaries, throughout the expeditionary forces on Terra. But the Bond pulled members from all of the kochan. Aille wished he could sit down and speak with the elders who had come to tease apart the tangles in this dilemma, especially the Preceptor. Their accumulated wisdom must be great indeed.
Dau krinnu ava Pluthrak and Yaut preceded him across the field, allowing him status, for perhaps the last time. They really should not. Having become kroudh, he was not entitled to their regard, but they would not yield to his arguments and so he let them have their way.
Occupying the central-most portion of the landing field in a loose ring, the Bond of Ebezon ships were of a black alloy imbued with a rainbow hue that shimmered in the fading sunlight. Their members, the Harriers, were harnessed in gleaming black, which complemented their enigmatic eyes. Their bodies were beautifully neutral, neither curious, distracted, angry nor accusing.
Bond forces, under the loose direction of the Naukra Krith Ludh, outnumbered those of any single kochan except Narvo, Pluthrak and perhaps Dano. They possessed enough firepower to enforce whatever decisions would be made here on Terra. No kochan ever opposed their rulings once they had been formulated, much less rulings formulated in full Naukra assembly. It was shameful enough not to be able to forge association and solve one's own difficulties. How much worse then would it be to have compromise forced upon your kochan?
He'd heard creche tales of kochan so shamed by their failure to form association that their entire adult population had laid down their lives in order to end discord and allow the rest of the Jao to preserve alliance. Such incidents had been very rare, even in ancient times, and did not happen since the Naukra Krith Ludh had been formed. But the possibility was always there. Above all, Jao could never forget that the Ekhat, who had long ago made them for their own complicated reasons, now unmade them at every opportunity. Division among the kochan only allowed that grim ambition to be more easily achieved. The Jao had to fight together or die, and if they lost, the rest of sentient life in the universe would eventually die along with them.
Oppuk waited in the clearing, where the temporary tribunal had brought in black rocks of pleasing harmonics and placed them strategically to properly structure thought. They had been shaped by wind and wave and were curved so perfectly, there was not an edge anywhere on their gleaming ebony surfaces.
Within that boundary, he knew flow would be rich and smooth. Marit An had possessed such a circle. He had been allowed to experience it a few times, before achieving emergence and being assigned to Terra. He halted beyond the first outcropping and studied the configuration, trying to judge its influence before he submitted himself to it.
Dau and Yaut entered without looking back, then stood heartward, waiting, their ears already quieting, their eyes lulled.
They had arrived at the best portion of the local solar cycle, as the star's light subsided to a mellowness that did not overwhelm Jao eyes as the fullness of the day did. The Bond had gauged the flow well in convening the Naukra at this particular moment.
Off to the side, the green-gray ocean rolled toward the shore, its energies agitated by a storm cell hanging low and black on the horizon. The rising surf was white-capped, the air alive with spray. It would be difficult to put its potent invitation out of his mind and concentrate on the matters at hand.
He took a step toward the gleaming black rocks, which were as tall as his head, and felt the subtle pressure already building within. Flow at its finest. He already felt more at peace with what had to be accomplished.
Pluthrak, of course, was hoping to validate his actions here on Terra. This would allow Aille to take up his Pluthrak affiliation again, securing both his career and future, as well as bringing honor to his progenitors. Pluthrak was too subtle to seek outright oudh status over Terra, for that would be too humiliating for Narvo. They wished, instead, to use the crisis to finally force Narvo into proper association. The beginning of it, at least.
Narvo sought just the opposite, to prove Aille had been selfish and motivated only by kochan politics, that he had cared nothing for the welfare of his kind, but had only sought to make of himself a hero and Oppuk a fool, that it had been both a personal disagreement between the two of them of the basest sort and a move to increase the fortunes of Pluthrak. They would be willing, he was certain, to cede oudh status on Terra—but only at the price of Pluthrak suffering an equal humiliation. Which, of course, could only be Aille's punishment. If they had their way, he would be cut off from the solace of Pluthrak forever, shorn of any opportunity to enter a marriage-group and continue his career. Most likely, he would have to give up his life.
Neither outcome would be good for the Jao. The Pluthrak solution, in the long run, no more than the Narvo. They were still thinking in the old ways, Pluthrak no less than the others, as if traditional kochan relations encompassed all of a universe's wisdom. Aille had once thought so himself, but did no longer.
What he still failed to comprehend was whether the Bond understood. What was needed was not simply to develop association between the two most powerful of the Jao kochan, but to begin transforming association itself. Or the Jao, in the end, would come to resemble the Ekhat who had created them.
But how could he, barely emerged, bring the Jao to that realization? Aille was still looking for the answer, although he felt it, shimmering just beneath conscious recognition.
"Aille, formerly krinnu ava Pluthrak, now kroudh," a low voice summoned him from within the sleek circle.
He entered, feeling the carefully tuned energies shear around his body. Oppuk glowered as Aille took his place in the center, but his whiskers tingled, his ears flexed, even his blood sang as the flow of this configuration swept around him. It was as though the essence of water itself were here and he swam in a deep, cool sea which invigorated every cell in his body. Positive energy was building here. The Bond designers had done well.
He let it flow through
him, sluice his worries and apprehensions away until he felt thoroughly purified. Without conscious intention, calm-acceptance now softened his angles and cleared the emotional sparkles of green from his eyes. He knew they must be as quiet as those of any Harrier present.
Oppuk looked out of place, his body clearly in the throes of angry-resentment. A number of Narvo elders flanked him, their vai camiti similar to his, but more balanced.
"It is forbidden," said the Preceptor who had called him inside the circle, "for one kochan to challenge another, once oudh status has been bestowed, Yet you seized control of this world against the lawful Governor, Oppuk krinnu ava Narvo." The black eyes, still as the depths of space, turned to him. "How will you defend your choices?"
"With my life," Aille said.
* * *
Yaut felt a surge of pride. It was quite proper to offer one's life to alleviate unintended damage, but he knew many here had not expected one so young to be willing. Therein lay the quality of Pluthrak, that even its most youthful scions understood the nature of vithrik and were willing to do what was right, no matter the cost.
The Preceptor regarded Aille and flow seemed to stand still. His entire body was devoid of extraneous expression, so that he seemed composed of tranquility itself. "So be it," he said at last, and Yaut felt how measured that response was, how carefully considered. "We will hear of those days, of your actions and of Oppuk's." He turned to the Narvo who stood on the other side of the vast circle. "Oppuk krinnu ava Narvo, are you also willing to surrender your life, if you are found at fault?"
Crude outrage suffused Oppuk's every line. "I have done nothing which should require my life! For over twenty orbital cycles, I have been stranded on this barbaric outpost, surrounded by incompetents and savages, and yet I have done all that was asked of me, even repelling the Ekhat when they did finally come. Where is the loss of vithrik in that?"
