Mobius

by Garon Whited

  “Eat it.”

  “No, seriously.”

  “Ideally? I plan to find some family that really wants a baby and will take good care of it.”

  “No, seriously.”

  “I am serious.”

  “This should be good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” he replied. “I’m merely skeptical. And a little amused at your own capacity for denial.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I can’t. I have a request.”

  “Oh? What?”

  “You haven’t noticed, but I’m getting a considerably greater input from this world. After our speech, a lot of people have started to believe in us. Not merely as their Mazhani, but as a god.”

  “That many?”

  “Enough to notice. It’s not a lot, but they’re there. I think your guys came back to the villages and explained to everyone else. We made an impression.”

  “We sure tried hard enough,” I agreed. “So, what do you want?”

  “Taking a page from the Temples, I think we need a statue.”

  “Always with the statues. Why do we always need a statue?”

  “It’s a religious icon. It give the faithful something to aim at. It’s harder to pray to an indefinite thing you have to take purely on faith. With a target—a symbol, a painting, a statue—you have something to aim your prayers at.”

  “Hmm. I can see how it would help with focus. Most people don’t have much.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, what sort of statue did you have in mind?”

  “If you’ll set up a big block of stone with one of your architectural spells and a micro-gate, I can probably steer it.”

  “There’s a thought. Basalt, maybe? Black, volcanic rock?”

  “Oo, good idea. And maybe some obsidian for the eyes?”

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  I did not immediately do so. Instead, I made plans for later by calling Hazir. He agreed to take a long lunch and I promised to call him back.

  Only when that was complete did I get to work finding a big block of basalt and some obsidian, moving it all into the shift-barn, and setting it up so my altar ego could rearrange it into a suitable religious icon.

  The cheering and partying quieted down as I walked between keep and barn. Anyone nearby fell respectfully silent when they saw me. I’m not sure I like it. At least they went right back to celebrating once god passed them by.

  While we worked on the statue, we discussed our plans for Tauta, the Empire, the Temples, and the rest.

  Hazir came through the workroom gate and it closed behind him. I glanced over his shoulder as the plane of the gate dissolved, leaving only the wall. He shivered. Well, I guess it is a little unnerving. The first time, he didn’t understand what was going on. Now he’s aware of it. If I were going to stay, he’d get used to it. It’s a process.

  “Good afternoon,” he offered. We did the ceremonial high-five and he turned his attention to the sand table and the face over it. “Is it appropriate to greet this, or is it only an image?”

  “It’s an image with sound,” my altar ego replied. “You’re not equipped to see me as I really am.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I’m the Lord of Fire and Shadow, the Keeper of the Mysteries. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Hazir of Leukon.”

  Hazir’s face was a study. I clapped him on the shoulder.

  “It’s okay. You know me. Him. Us. It’s a tricky thing, being an avatar.” I shook him a little. “Hey, look at me.” He did so, reluctantly. “We’re friends, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “Good. Just keep that in mind, okay? We’ve been friends since before you knew I was an avatar.”

  “I will try.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask,” I told him, in sync with my altar ego. We traded looks while Hazir glanced from one to the other.

  “This is… disconcerting.”

  “No kidding,” we replied. I turned to the sand table. “Stop that!”

  “Sorry.”

  “At any rate,” I continued, “I expect lunch to be brought up shortly. Leisel will be joining us.”

  “I was concerned at the destruction of the Temple in Sarashda. You did get her back, then?”

  “I did. She ran most of the battle of Bridgefort.”

  “My congratulations. I should like to discuss the battle, if you do not mind, as well as the aftermath.”

  “We will. All four of us. That’s why I called this meeting.”

  “Oh? Oh. Perhaps I should remind you I am not the most influential of men among certain elements of the Empire.”

  “If you mean you’re not the leader of those who want to see the Temples reformed, I know. But you are the one I trust.”

  “I will be worthy of it.”

  “That’s why I trust you. Ah, I hear footsteps.” I opened the door and held it while Leisel and three others carried trays up the stairs. I introduced Hazir and Leisel. He was exceedingly formal in greeting her, presumably because she was both my vidat and a mahrani of the valley.

  With the food laid out on worktables, the others departed. Leisel and Hazir took the chairs. I stood behind a worktable and ate while standing.

  “It is not appropriate,” Hazir argued, “to sit in your presence.”

  “This puts me closer to the food,” I pointed out. “Besides, it’s my tower. I make the rules.”

  “A fair point,” he agreed, and sat.

  They fixed plates and used trays. In between my own munchings, I kept refilling glasses for them so they didn’t have to get up.

  “As I understand it,” I began, carving a ham formerly destined to feed soldiers of the Temple, “we have ourselves a bit of a problem.”

  “I’ll say,” Leisel agreed.

  “I’ve called this meeting to discuss the problem,” I told her, mildly. She nodded and kept quiet. “Here’s the thing. The opening salvo has been fired. The valley is a going concern. It exists on the edge of the Empire and is open to citizens of all the cities. The Temples were, at first, happy to see it. We drew a number of disaffected, disappointed, disillusioned, and discontented people from the Empire and clustered them neatly for mass destruction. Not all our people are resentful of the Temple strictures, but most of them are at least neutral regarding the Temple’s influence.

  “By putting most of their rotten eggs in one basket, they believed they could then smash the basket. Is everyone with me so far? Good.

  “Now, their basket-smashing has not gone well. They’ve been decisively defeated in the field. Hazir? Leisel? What do you think? Will they now sound the call to holy war and demand warriors from all over the Empire come to smash us?”

  Leisel looked troubled, but Hazir shook his head.

  “No, I do not. They were humiliated in defeat. To call for more warriors is to admit that defeat and emphasize it. They could do so, but aside from the deeply faithful, other warriors would be more expensive than usual. Few wish to follow a failed campaign. Worse, after this fiasco, I doubt they could obtain any top-notch generals to lead their armies.”

  “Warriors do not easily follow any but the First,” Leisel agreed. “Without great names to lead an army, they will be reluctant to join without considerable inducement. We also do not like defeat. No one will sing of the Battle of Bridgefort in Sarashda. Hazir may be right.”

  “So, they could try again, but it would be unlikely. Is that a fair assessment?”

  “I think so,” Hazir replied and Leisel agreed.

  “Good. Now, how will they attack? Not with warriors, obviously, but I’m pretty sure they won’t simply give up.”

  “No, they will not,” Hazir answered. “They concentrated all their rotten eggs, as you put it, for the purpose of smashing them.”

  “Trade?” Leisel suggested. “They may embargo the valley.”

  “We’re getting to the point where we can be self-sustaini
ng,” I countered. “We can grow most of what we need.”

  “I was thinking in a broader sense. If they tell everyone we are nezaskam—” forbidden, or, literally unspeakable, as in one whose name must not be spoken, “—there will be difficulties in obtaining anything, not only food. No one will wish to trade with us.”

  “That may not be the case,” Hazir replied, thoughtfully.

  “I think it is,” Leisel insisted. “The Temple tells everyone what to think.”

  “In general, yes, it does. However,” he added, “there are those who do not believe it should.” He quirked a half-smile at me. “For this reason, I am here, not so?”

  “Very much so,” I agreed. “Tell us what you think, Hazir.”

  “There are many things to influence the Temple, not solely the Temple influencing Sarashda, or the whole of the Empire. There will always be those willing to trade in secret with even the blackest of heretics.” He tipped his smile toward me and it widened. “It will not be a merchant caravan, but there will be trade, regardless. Expensive, perhaps, but such trade is inevitable.”

  “How expensive?” Leisel asked.

  “I am not a merchant,” Hazir pointed out. “I would guess the cost will be commensurate with the risk.”

  “If the Temple isn’t fielding a force—”

  “There are other factors. Rumor travels faster than the swiftest rider, and it often contains some trace of truth. The rumors I hear tell me of a god of the kustoni, come to the Empire to chastise us.”

  “Not entirely true,” my altar ego replied. We all turned to look at him. “First off, I’m not a god of the kustoni. They don’t own me. I exist on my own, thank you. Now, if a kustoni wants to pray and sacrifice an ox on an altar to me, I’ll listen.”

  “Ox?” Hazir asked.

  “A gelded bull.”

  “Bull?”

  “They don’t have cattle on this side of the Kasnakanis,” I told my altar ego.

  “They don’t?”

  “Don’t ask me why.”

  “Okay. If a kustoni wants to sacrifice a horse on an altar to me, I’ll listen. The same applies to a priest in a Temple in the Empire. Or you, Hazir, if you feel you want my help. We—the gods—are here to answer prayers. Sometimes we say ‘no,’ however. Overall, we’re generally trying to help you not do anything catastrophic in the big picture. The small-scale, personal stuff is generally up to you, unless you specifically ask for help. Got it?”

  “Yes, vadonis.” Literally, vadonis meant great ruler. I suspect Hazir didn’t know how to address a god. I mean, how often does it come up in conversation?

  “Second, I didn’t chastise everyone. I can see how the priests might want to spin it that way, though. No, the priests have been doing a poor job of listening to their gods and have forgotten how. The priests have been telling the faithful whatever they want, using their own judgment and ignoring the gods. See why the priests want to make people think it’s me against everyone?”

  “The priests don’t want to be singled out,” Hazir agreed.

  “By making it about you against the Empire,” Leisel continued, “the priests turn everyone else into allies.”

  “Exactly. If I’m a foreign god of barbarians getting in the faces of the whole Empire, it reinforces the Temples’ hold. If I’m one of many gods the Temple has been ignoring, the Temple is a bunch of incompetent frauds and a target.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the gleam in Hazir’s eyes.

  “Before you get too excited,” I cautioned, “bear in mind there are a lot of repercussions to ripping the Temples down and starting over. If we make this an all-out war, the Empire will suffer. Everyone in it will suffer. We’re forcing changes, but we can’t force them too quickly or we will have such a war. Possibly several. The Empire may fall into a dark age the likes of which has never been seen.”

  “Perhaps,” Hazir answered. “Perhaps. But I take your point. Still, I would not worry about forcing changes too quickly. We lack the force necessary to—”

  My altar ego cleared his throat, gently.

  “Ah,” Hazir said. “Yes. Perhaps I misspoke.”

  “A lot of the Temple functions are important,” my altar ego told him. “They provide a stabilizing influence on society, and that’s a good thing. They’re also trying to stratify and calcify society, which is not. Most people don’t want improvements. They want stability. In this case, it’s better to slowly bend things into better shape than to blast it all to pieces and start over. At least, at present. If the Empire hasn’t solidified too much. Or congealed.”

  “I bow before your wisdom.”

  “All this is nice,” I interjected, “but there are some key points I want to focus on. May I?” Everyone either nodded or gestured for me to continue. “Here’s the thing. Right now, the Temples are going to look long and hard at this valley. At the same time, the kustoni are looking long and hard at this valley. I can go west and deal with them,” I lied. My altar ego was working on them, not me, but it was a good cover in case anyone from the Empire wondered where I was. If they wanted to go into the barbarian lands and hunt for me, they wouldn’t be bothering anyone in the valley.

  “The question,” I went on, “is whether or not we can keep the Temples from being overly unpleasant to the valley and the people in it. They have a motive for smashing the place—the egg theory. They’ve suffered a defeat, and therefore an humiliation, so there’s another motive. Plus, there’s the heresy of non-ancestor gods to cope with. Three good reasons to not like us. What do we have going for us?”

  “Him,” Leisel replied, jerking a thumb at the sand table. “He made his point in no uncertain terms to priests, warriors, servants, slaves—everyone still alive after the battle of Bridgefort. Another god exists, and those who worship him just kicked the teeth out of the Temple’s holy crusade. There is no way under the dome of the sky the Temples can keep it quiet. For all I know, there may be five priests headed toward the Temple in Sarashda right now who are considering chucking the colored robes for black ones.”

  Hazir frowned deeply and asked about this. We took a break from discussion to sit around the sand table and watch a playback on it. Hazir sat quietly, chin in one hand, fingers drumming on the arm of the chair with the other. The gears in his head spinning rapidly as he watched. The playback finished and my altar ego’s face reappeared. Leisel broke the silence.

  “My lover?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You did not play back the… the sound of your voice.”

  “Sure I did.”

  “No. The words, yes, but not the voice.”

  “Oh, that. You mean this voice?”

  Hazir sat bolt upright. Leisel, even though somewhat braced for it, did the same.

  “Sorry, Hazir,” I apologized. “Yes, that’s the voice of god, or near enough. Everything I said to them, I said in That Voice.”

  “It is…” Hazir began, and paused. “I do not know what it is. It makes an impact.”

  “Indeed it does. What do you think?”

  “I think you have half the survivors as converts,” he decided. “Maybe some of the priests.” He shook his head. “I did not hear your speech, only the words, but I would be tempted to convert.”

  “Good to know. But this brings me back to my earlier point. We just demonstrated a god they didn’t know about. How’s this going to affect the Temples in regard to us?”

  “They will not be pleased at being proven wrong, but some will argue for expanding the Temple. Some will want to speak for this new god, since they cannot effectively deny it. Him,” Hazir corrected himself, giving a slight bow toward the sand table. “If he persists in manifesting in the world, he cannot be denied, and too many have seen his works. The Temple hierarchy will want to incorporate him if possible, I think, or go to war with his followers. Since they just lost a war, I think they will try to take steps to make themselves priests of all gods, including him.”

  “Not happening,” my altar e
go assured him.

  “No doubt, but they will claim it.”

  “Just as a note, I can call this sand table at any time and lay down the Word,” he pointed out. “I don’t need a priest.”

  Hazir looked thoughtful. Maybe it was the idea of talking directly to a god instead of to a priest.

  “Perhaps you should permit it,” he suggested.

  “Permit what? Having a priest?”

  “Or more than one. If you can be incorporated into the Temple, you will be the one with priests who listen to you.”

  My altar ego looked thoughtful. I looked thoughtful.

  “That… could be a good idea,” my altar ego admitted. “I could be your inside god.”

  “Doesn’t bother me,” I told him. “What else have we got going for us?”

  “There are those,” Hazir said, slowly, “who have long chafed under the restrictions of the Temples. It is not a group of… shall we say ‘unified?’… individuals. It is not organized. It is a belief more than an organization, and what organization there is tends more toward keeping it a secret, hidden and safe from the Temples. However, if the doctrines of this new religion are more acceptable to them as a whole, they may coalesce into a structure around the only god they can hold accountable.”

  My altar ego’s image shrank a bit so he could shrug.

  “I don’t mind. If you want, you can suggest any of them who want to can come here and talk it over. I’m open to discussion. I promise not to smite anyone for disagreeing with me. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, even if they’re wrong.”

  “He’s a surprisingly informal deity,” I added.

  “So I gather.”

  “All right. Check me on this. The Temple shouldn’t be in the mood for another war for a while. They’ll try economic and social engineering to attack the valley. In the meantime, we’ll benefit from whatever impression I’ve made on the people and priests. We might even have some help from the local heretics—sorry, Hazir.”

  “No offense taken.”

  “Whether you and your friends decide they like the new religion or not, we can at least expect some quiet opposition to the Temple policies regarding the valley, yes?”

  “At minimum,” Hazir agreed.

  “In the meantime, Leisel will supervise the valley, expanding the mines, fortifying the tunnel and the bridge, and especially clearing the land for farming. You’ll make it as self-sufficient a community as possible?”