“Glad you did not ask there.” We glanced around; the night was deep, nobody on the streets. “That design … it’s not a primitive cannon.” I tried to remember the paper. Yes, it was a complicated design but not something modern. I said nothing, waiting for him to finish. “That type of cannon appeared on Earth after many centuries of evolution.”
“How do you know this?”
“I had a … passion: old guns. I saw similar cannons in the Thirty Years War.” He glanced at me in the moonlight. “A short trip … just curious. Seventeenth century. They have burned many intermediate stages.”
*
“You fooled me! ‘We have to send troops to Sarmis to obtain weapon knowledge.’ We have to send. We have to send. That’s what you convinced everyone. You had the knowledge all the time.” The King was shouting, a rare thing, and he stopped just short of calling us traitors. You have no idea where my knowledge comes from, I derided him inside. And you have no idea what this knowledge brings to your kingdom. “I know it was not the only reason for that expedition,” he added in a lower tone.
“This thing will take many lives,” I cautiously replied.
“If used... If owned it can save lives. Munti will not attack knowing we have powerful weapons.”
“Munti have no interest in attacking us. Things are stirred by outsiders, we all know this. There is no need for these bloody machines. Baragans are not killers.” 'Killers', a mistake, I had to recognize. I did ... later.
He darkened. “No more,” he warned with piercing eyes. “Not another word about killings. We don’t kill people. We haven’t for a thousand years. We are not savages. Have you forgotten this?”
“Travelers can use the same conditioning technique on Munti and turn them against us,” the Queen interjected. Not this, not Munti, not now. Why the hell have you opened this can of worms? All the defenses we built crumbled from her argument.
“They have access to many people,” I stepped back. I need something, to extract these bloody Munti from here. Think! “Still they were not subverted.”
“I want these cannons,” the King said in an arid voice. Think! “If it is not done now, it can be done later.”
“We need them,” the Queen swiftly added. “As much as I abhor them, we need them.” Think! I glanced at the picture on the table. Heavy cannons. Think! Many people to handle them. Heavy. Why? They want a big splash to convince the King. Heavy cannons are good against walls. Munti have no walls, they have cavalry.
“Have the Munti the knowledge to produce gunpowder?” I asked to gain time.
“They have fireworks,” Altamira interfered. “They must have gunpowder too.”
“I bet they have,” the King answered in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat. “What does that change? Nothing.”
“Everything,” I jumped. The King frowned. The Queen frowned. Altamira glanced at me. “How much time until they will have these bloody cannons too? How long? A year? A month? Two years?”
“Yes, they will have them too.” The Queen stood up. “You are right, this will change everything.” I wanted to say more. She raised her hand. “Wait.” There was something in her voice I could not figure out ... disturbing. She went to the window for a deep breath of fresh air and turned. “There is nothing about cannons in our history.” The Queen shrugged... How can I explain my knowledge? The King saved me by talking about Sarmis. Now... Even worse, how had they acquired the knowledge? Batranu was right; such advanced knowledge of weaponry was unexpected. “Nothing. Some secrets are safer kept hidden...” She was unsure.
“Some secrets are too dangerous to share,” I pressed her.
“It is not that,” she cut me off again. “They do not have more Librarian sources than I have, or Talian has. No. They did not acquire this from old books. For two weeks, we have read all sorts of old books. We found nothing. It must be the Travelers.”
“Tell them I want to see the cannon test in two weeks. I want these cannons before the Travelers gift the Munti with them.” The King closed all arguments.
“What do you think?” I asked Batranu. The cannon drawing was spread on the table. The lamp fire was playing shadows on it. “Why did they choose this design?”
“Demi-culverin ... first used by Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, a military genius. It is a light cannon.”
“I thought it was a heavy one.” My theory about the splash had just failed.
“There is no resemblance to modern cannons. This model is ‘light’ for its period. Five hundred years of evolution produced this type of cannon.” I raised the paper closer to the light to see the fine drawing. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine how the ‘light’ cannon would work in a battlefield. I could not, I had only Samurai training and, of course, war movies. Not very useful.
“So the Queen is right.” And Houston would want my head if I inserted Earth ‘knowledge’ here. The game is not fair. It wasn’t from the beginning. Warmongers cannot be fair. I sighed, I wish Houston could be here to menace my head. “Travelers are the source.”
“Let it be. We have a different problem.”
“How do we know about cannons if they were never invented on this planet?”
Batranu made the specifications for the test ... he was an expert. “They want to target a wall,” Scorylo passed to us.
“A wall,” Batranu massaged his chin. “They don’t care about mobility. If they destroy the wall, which will be quite easy, the King will be impressed. Everybody will be impressed.”
“You seem to be an expert,” Scorylo added, half-serious, half-joking. What the hell do you mean? I know that Batranu is a fan of Gustav Adolf and his military skills. You don’t know this.
“I am a chemist and physicist,” Batranu cut his words. “This long barrel has a lot of powder, the shot will be long but the gun is heavy. Not really good for mobile riders.”
“As you say,” Scorylo backpedaled, but his eyes had a malicious gleam.
“We cannot change the plans,” Garon complained after seeing Batranu’s tests proposal. “Everything is already prepared.”
“Nobody asked you to interfere.” Sarul’s voice had a suddenly strange tone; his usual countertenor voice went to baritone. The King frowned. I glanced too late at the Queen; her face was already composed. Like Altamira did … this is not your voice. You are the most subdued by Travelers. Why? Because you are banker? “You are trying to delay our defense. We should check if there are no Munti in the south. You look too much like them.”
“Well, Garon looks even more Munti than me. Maybe we should check if there are Munti in Munti land.” I smiled at him, and a blockage was visible on his face. The conditioning is not helping you… “No need for much effort to run some horses in the meadow.”
“We can do a second test, later. There is not much time left.” Garon recovered, and tried again to avoid our trick.
“Munti are not walls, they are riders. If this thing doesn’t work against horses it has no use for us.” Then I went for the kill. “Even worse, the Munti can use them against our infantry.” The King approved our test. On the great day, no horse was even wounded, and I enjoyed Garon’s red face. You hate me, I don’t like you either.
“One day, you will pay,” Sarul whispered. “One day, nobody will save you. One day, things will be settled.”
“You have a sword,” I provoked him.
“Sword! Butcher from the south; there are many ways to pay a debt.” He left the field, followed by Garon. Even this you want to buy…
The King was half-upset and ordered ten cannons. Garon and company wanted one hundred. We were lucky, the Queen did not press for the source of our knowledge. I could not tell why, but it suited us. The last thing we needed was to be asked how we knew about cannons.
*
The King’s antechamber was empty, but his door almost slammed in my face, with three people leaving at a speed close to rudeness. I just had time to recognize one of them, Aizac, the master of the Weapons Guild, before getti
ng out of their way. He recognized me as well and we exchanged a short, cold salute.
“Welcome, Deceneus.” The King’s face was a mixture of worry and fury. “It is much more complicated being a king these days.” Involuntarily he breathed a deep sigh. “These men were the representatives of the weapons lobby, pressing for more money from the budget toward their interests,” he said in answer to my unspoken question. “Those bloody cannons again.”
“Sarul’s tactics. They work together. But I never knew there were lobbyists in the Kingdom.”
“A new law was passed a year ago at Sarul's request, with Garon's support. I thought it to be a harmless one, but I see now some strings attached to it.” He shrugged his shoulder in bitterness.
“Without being disrespectful, I would recommend cancelling this law immediately. This is only a legal front for corruption in the highest political echelons.”
“I have the same feeling, but it will be difficult to have it annulled now; there are already too many frictions. I don't want Garon to have the impression he’s being sidelined.” I was a little tired of all his arguments for keeping the status quo, but ... he was the King.
“The lobby industry is like a tumor made of corruption … legalized corruption. First, it will swallow a small number of influential people. Then it will spread into people’s minds and surreptitiously swell in all levels of society, and the cancer will start to kill the host even at its own expense. No politician will remain clean and there is no way back. All the laws will protect lobbies’ interests, even though the state or its citizens will be badly damaged, they have no limits and no mercy. The ones who control the finances of an organization control the organization, either directly or in stealth mode, by creating 'independent' think-tanks and 'independent' rating agencies, and off-shore funds, and tax havens, promoting their pawns to the top positions.” For a moment, I completely forgot that I was not on Earth, but this did not change the general equation of things.
“I don't know what you mean by 'rating agencies', 'think-tanks' and ‘off-shore’, and I agree that this has to change, but not now. We have to roll with the crisis. The last thing I need is an open revolt led by Garon.”
“The black Travelers will advise them to apply more pressure; things will not end here.” It was my last warning.
In the end, both of us were right. The frictions continued in the council but the King outmaneuvered all attempts to change the budget laws, and for three months, it was as cold inside the council as it was outside. My third winter there passed without a bang.
*
An empty tower lay beneath my feet. I was tired, having spent hours trying to find other people with no result. A dragon appeared from the sky, red like fire, closer and closer ... hitting the tower that burst into flames. The light hurt my eyes; the shock threw me from the terrace. There was fire, tens of floors up, and other dragons were melting the lower floors with their fire. Smoke was rising and strange faces, which seemed made of the very essence of my dreams, suddenly appeared to me in the fog then wavered. They screamed and dissolved, leaving me only with the feeling that they resembled some known, living visages. I remembered this feeling, it had happened to me before, in another place, another life. The tower crumbled in on itself. I woke up, gasping, with smoke still swirling inside my mind. I sniffed, a faint smell of smolder was coming from the open window, but there was nothing in sight and it was certainly not a dragon. The dream must have a meaning.
Half asleep, I crawled out of bed and stumbled to the window. The city was sleeping under the dreamy light, the moon shone quite clearly on the high ground. Swift movements and shouting from the castle walls spoiled the romance, and I left the room. On the other side of the castle, the north side, two huge quills of fire and smoke were rising from the tall defense towers over the north bridge, around five miles away. Must be an accident. Nobody had ever dared to mount such an attack so deep in the Kingdom. If not ... Garon will have his bloody war. I closed my eyes hoping of a dream inside another dream. The smoke was still there, filling my nostrils, killing my mind. Garon will have his war… It is not his war. I exchanged a brief glance with Batranu, and next moment we were both groping our way downstairs. The dream must have a meaning. Who sent it? Why now? What now? Garon ... war ... blood ... banks, money... A cloud of fear perverted everything.
The Council meeting started with morose faces gathered in haste, under the spell of the night, around the large table. I glanced at Garon, and read nothing. I challenged the other faces around and found either nothing or fear. Nothingness and fear, the best description of that night. Both towers had been destroyed by an enemy horde of around hundred people – by fire – and the entire garrison was dead: every one of them. Nobody knew who the perpetrators were, where they came from and how they had been able to penetrate so deep into the Kingdom without being spotted. No one had much to say, and the meeting ended soon after Garon's cold voice finished reading the summary report.
*
Knock! The sharp sound reverberated in the silent night; pulling me out of the reverie preceding sleep. What errand could be so late? I sighed, opening the door. A furtive Maug appeared from the darkness, his finger pressed to his lips. He closed the door as fast as he had entered and threw himself into an armchair that was close to the fireplace. The light played on his stern face. Saying nothing, I took another chair and waited patiently. There must be a good reason why Maug is acting like this. I remained silent, staring at him in the pale light, seeing the disturbance that had taken over his expression, his eyes moving rapidly from place to place, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. The silence had gone on for longer than I liked, when he suddenly jumped to his feet, the internal struggle continuing for a while before he whispered: “Five dead men from Scharon’s company; all killed by arrows. They came back from their round this evening. Four others also have arrow wounds, two of them critical. No sword wounds ... no spear wounds.” He began walking round the table again.
“And this…” He threw a small object onto the table, an arrow point. “This is a Baragan arrow ... it’s smaller than Munti ones.”
“And?” I was not sure about his logic.
“This was extracted from Scharon's wound.”
“Are you sure of this?”
“Yes, the arrow has the marks of our garrison in the tower.” Had Maug been sent by Garon to test the water? Why now? Should I take the risk? You can trust Maug.
“Do you remember when our villages were attacked by the Munti?”
“Yes, it all stopped when you sent Scharon away,” he came half way.
“We are in the most thankless position. We know what he is doing, we know who is pushing for this, but we have had to hide it for two reasons: first, we don’t want to provoke a civil war and secondly, we don’t know the real plan of the master.”
“And who would be the master?”
“A Traveler.”
“Then it must be for a good reason, they have always helped us.”
“If killing children and women is the outcome of that good intention it became a bad one the moment the first innocent life was taken. The path to hell is paved with good intentions.”
“What does that mean?”
“Never mind. I am not talking about collateral damage, which can happen, but intentional killing of innocent people. I must ask you a difficult question. Will you take part if Garon pushes things further?”
“I need more time to answer this question.”
*
Scharon was pale from his wound, and limping, but he triumphantly entered the Council Hall. “We paid the Munti back in the same way. We have just defeated the group that destroyed the towers. They ran like cowards back into their mountains to hide. We attacked their village to make them feel the same pain they inflicted on us.”
“You killed the villagers?” Voices went around the table, some fully raised, other just whispers, carrying fear, stupefaction, disbelief.
“Yes,
we came, we saw, they died; they deserved to die.” His tone was of glacial triumph.
“But, women, elders, even children?” One voice asked, then many. “Did you kill them all?” “Did you kill...?” “Did you kill...?” “Why all this?”
“Children will grow, and they will become our enemies. We have the right to do this. We are only defending ourselves.” He was defiant against all that barrage of questions; his mind was totally subdued.
The King was silent, Garon was silent, everybody went silent. I wished Sarul to be here … to see his reaction… The idea of killing children was repugnant to all, even to Garon. Conditioned by the black hats when he was already an adult, Garon was still a Munti in his heart, grieving for their deaths. Scharon was born and grew up in Dava, and had been conditioned when his mind was still untested. At twenty, his personality was not completely formed; he was the perfect tool and had no mercy.
“We have to thank you for your courage; I heard that we also had casualties in this fight,” Garon moved the conversation toward our losses to erase the bad feeling produced by Scharon's useless cruelty. His voice went low, almost a whisper. “We need to improve our army’s capacity and give a proper answer to the Munti's atrocities.” He stopped, looking suddenly old and tired.
*
“The black hats gave their orders and what we see now is the follow-up. The tower was attacked by Scharon’s company.” The King was obviously not happy with my claim.
“What happened in the past suggests some truth to your statement, but we cannot ignore the Munti in the equation. Consider it to be more a political choice than a choice of truth.”
“I hope this will eliminate some pieces from the puzzle,” I said, throwing the arrow point on the table. “This was extracted from Scharon's thigh.”
“And this proves what?” He knew already, still he had to play his political game, and I could not blame him.
Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe) Page 28
