At that moment ZORAC came through again. “Excuse me, but I’ve got Del Cullen. He says it’s urgent.”
“Go ahead,” Garuth said.
Cullen’s face appeared on one of the screens by Garuth’s desk, looking tense. “Ayultha has been assassinated,” he announced without preliminaries.
Gasps of disbelief came from around the office. Garuth was stunned. “When? How?” he stammered.
“A few minutes ago, at the rally they were having in Chinzo today. We’re not exactly sure how. Look-this is what happened.”
Cullen’s face was replaced by a view of Ayultha treating a frenzied gathering to one of his harangues. He seemed to reach some kind of a crescendo, standing dramatically with his arms raised while the crowd thundered in unison. Then a figure scrambled up onto the edge of the platform, shouting something, then pointed an accusing finger-and Ayultha exploded. There was a burst of incandescence, and then all that remained where he had stood an instant before was a smoldering patch on the platform. Pandemonium broke out all around. A purple-spiral banner that had formed the backdrop was blazing, and some people at the front of the crowd seemed to have been burned.
“My God!” Danchekker whispered, staring numbly.
Hunt watched the screen, grim-faced. “They might be crazy, Chris. But we’re not dealing with any Hare Krishnas,” he muttered. “Whatever’s going on here, those guys are serious.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Some inner inspiration had told Eubeleus, the Deliverer, that the time to act was now. One of the qualities that characterized greatness was the gift of judging tide and moment by an unsensed, intuitive process that dwelt deep below thought, and then delivered its verdict to consciousness fully formed and complete, like the solution to an elaborate, invisible piece of computation appearing suddenly on a screen.
With the removal of Ayultha, the Spiral’s entire organization was not only in disarray, but fragmenting. Already, its members were being racked with doubts, and warring factions claimed their shares of followers as rival worthies expounded different interpretations of what had taken place. Some dismissed the event as a spectacular piece of chicanery engineered by some hostile interest; at the opposite extreme, others had no doubt of its authenticity as a manifestation of powers operating from beyond the purview of everyday experience. If the Spiral’s archprelate and guide had been defenseless against such powers, then the most fundamental tenets of its doctrines were suspect.
Hence, Eubeleus had good reason to be pleased. Thousands of disillusioned followers from the Spiral would now flock to the Axis, and the convictions of its own faithful had been reaffirmed just as the time approached for him to step into the vacuum left after the former regime’s inept attempt to set up the Federation. Then, as marked all of the great moments in history, the destinies of the Leader and of the movement would be one. And even if the means had been a little dishonest, the believers needed this demonstration to prepare them for the supreme effort. It was a temporary deception, made necessary by the circumstances. True powers would come to him again when JEVEX was restored.
Eubeleus firmly believed that in the convolutions of complexity that became JEVEX, there had come into being a channel to forces beyond the physical, which his affinity with the machine enabled him to access. Indeed, he believed himself to be, literally, an embodiment of those forces: a personification of the method that JEVEX, through the genius that had emerged within its confines, had created to extend itself into the external world.
He didn’t know the precise procedure that JEVEX had followed to free itself-he left matters of technical detail to lesser intellects. There had been a confused period many years before in his early life on Jevlen, after which he was able to recall nothing of what went before. But in compensation he found that he possessed uncommon abilities. In particular, when he discovered the neurocoupler links into JEVEX, he could converse with voices inside the system in ways that others around him seemed unable to do. Or at least, most others. For as he continued groping his way and reorienting himself to the sudden changes that he was told had taken possession of him, he met others who were apart, like himself the “awakeners,” as they were called. Some of them proclaimed it openly and were received as inspired or insane. Others harbored their knowledge secretly. But all shared the experience of remembering a world beyond the senses which the unenlightened were incapable of grasping, save in only the most simplistic and symbolic terms.
The exact nature of that world was something even awakeners had never been able to agree upon with certainty among themselves. They had never consulted the Thuriens, whom the Jevlenese normally relied on for guidance in technological matters, and JEVEX was, after all, a creation of Thurien technology. But Eubeleus’s answer was that JEVEX had learned to create pseudopersonalities, which it was able to project into external organic hosts, not only to extend itself into the realm outside, but through them, to shape and direct its further development to its own purpose.
He thus saw himself as a manifestation of an evolutionary leap beyond Man, as naturally destined to dominate the inferiors among whom he found himself as it was in their nature to submit. He had found his mission, the task for which he believed JEVEX had fashioned the psyche that inhabited the body which he now looked out from. For the Jevlenese who had been taken over thus far represented merely the test phase of JEVEX’s design-its first, exploratory step into its own outer space. Its next, when it was back in full operation, would be to take over a whole city.
Achieving that would mean having an ample supply of available hosts. And to insure itself of that supply, the Axis was going to need more followers.
In the center of Shiban, the Axis of Light had a headquarters and meeting place, referred to as the Temple. It consisted of a congregational auditorium, with fancifully embellished ornaments and symbols, an imposing dais and rostrum, and a permanent aroma of incense; various function rooms and offices for promoting the movement’s affairs; and private quarters for some of its staff and officers who resided on the premises.
On the day following Ayultha’s assassination, Eubeleus reviewed a report of the city’s reactions to the event and was notified that the appointment of Langerif as the new deputy police chief had been confirmed. The time that he had been working toward, he was certain, had arrived. Accordingly, he sent for his personal aide and principal lieutenant, whose name was Iduane.
“Contact the Prophet,” Eubeleus said, “and tell him that he must send us more more awakeners.”
“It will be difficult. The available couplers are in practically constant use as things are,” Iduane warned.
“Then Grevetz will have to get us some more,” the Deliverer replied.
Although the city of Orenash had been purged of its sorcerers, and the priests of all the major gods had performed rites of atonement, still there was no respite from its troubles. Brigands laid waste the farms to the north, burning the villages, slaughtering the males, and carrying off the women and their young to sell as slaves. Mountains fell from the sky into the sea, causing floods to sweep over the coastlands. An earthquake split the hills to the west, covering the land in rivers of fire, which was seen as a sign that Vandros, the underworld god, was still unappeased.
Ethendor, the high priest of Vandros, sacrificed a hundred prisoners who had been captured in battle and consulted with his oracles and seers. The answer they delivered was that because the currents that once had borne many aloft had waned, the gods were vying with one another for acolytes to serve them in Hyperia, the sacred realm beyond the sky. The followers of Vandros were not sending enough disciples, and that was why he was displeased.
“But disciples are not forthcoming,” Ethendor told the king when the king asked what should be done. “The faith of the people is eclipsed with the vanishing stars. Believers are overcome with terror and doubt. Send more young men to the temples to become initiates.”
“Plagues have claimed many. War has drained the lifeblood of the lan
d,” the king replied. “Where shall I find the young men? A hunter can only bring home what the forest has spawned.”
Ethendor went away and thought about the problem. Later he returned and took the king to the temple of Vandros, with its tower bearing the emblem of the green crescent. There, he showed the king groups of novices in the grounds and about the temple chambers, tending plants, constructing icons, and engaged in other menial tasks.
“These could become the disciples who would placate Vandros and alleviate us of our woes,” Ethendor said. “But they have not the makings of true adepts. They aspire, but their power falls short of their ambition. So they serve each in his own lesser way as you can see, and if it is so decreed, true inspiration may one day seize them.”
The king grew puzzled. “Then why speak to me of them?” he asked the high priest. “Our need is for birds, but you show me fish that would fly.”
“When the forests spawn nothing, then the hunter, if he’s not to starve, must turn elsewhere,” Ethendor replied, speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone.
“Elsewhere?”
“Perhaps to the farms that are well stocked? A little poaching, maybe, if he has to?”
“Explain what you mean,” the king said.
Ethendor drew closer. “There are Masters who teach schools of their own, dedicated to Nieru, in the wilderness and elsewhere outside of the city. They pay no homage to the king, neither do they serve the king. But their acts steal currents from the skies for their disciples to ride, which should, by right, be drawn down to the consecrated temples.”
“So, tell me the meaning of this talk about poaching,” the king said. Ethendor indicated the menials at work about the temple. “Some of these novices that you see are inadequate, but not totally incapable. They couldn’t develop the ability to trap a current and rise with it by themselves. But, with help, they could probably grasp and stay with a current that had been tamed and brought down by others. You take my point?”
“That with economy to ourselves, we could avail ourselves of the efforts of these rogue Masters?” the king said, seeing the point.
“The novices would provide additional service to Vandros, while the circumstances of our own adepts and their capacity to satisfy him would remain unaffected.”
“But at the expense of Nieru,” the king pointed out. “Would Nieru not seek vengeance?”
“Vandros will protect us.”
“Can you be sure?”
“It is in the signs.”
The king pondered awhile. “Let it be done, so,” he pronounced finally.
Later, Ethendor summoned a number of the novices to him. “Prepare yourselves, for you have been chosen to ascend to Hyperia,” he told them. “The services that were rightfully Vandros’s due are being stolen by other gods. Yours will be the task of reclaiming them. We will go up into the wilderness accompanied by dragon-tamers and fire-knights, and there shall vengeance and justice be exacted.”
Among the novices who had been selected was Keyalo, the foster-son of Dalgren, who had denounced Thrax for heresy and sorcery.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Formally, Garuth’s terms of office required him to delegate the investigation of the Ayultha affair to Jevlenese agencies. This would have given little grounds for optimism of any quick result at the best of times; but with the disruptions caused by the loss of the deputy police chief-who carried the real authority in Shiban, since the office of chief had deteriorated to being little more than a ceremonial figurehead-it was practically a guarantee that nothing of any consequence was going to happen within the limited time frame that Garuth was concerned about. So, following the unofficial line that he had already opted for, he set Del Cullen to seeing what he could make of it. Cullen, in turn, involved Hunt and the UNSA group, since it was part of the problem that they had come to Jevlen to help Garuth solve.
Garuth’s other concern was for the rest of the Terran visitors who had arrived with the Vishnu. He issued a statement urging them to stay within the Thurien-controlled enclave at Geerbaine as much as possible while the unrest in the city persisted, which was about as close as a Ganymean could come to prohibition. He also sent a sharply worded note to the Thurien Central Governing Council, protesting the inappropriateness under the present circumstances of extending to Terrans the Ganymean open policy of shipping anyone who felt like it to anywhere they wanted to go. “This determination not to acknowledge real differences that exist between humans and Ganymeans has surely been a major factor in precipitating the situation on Jevlen that we are now having to deal with,” the note said in part.
The Council’s chairman on Thurien was Calazar. Calazar had headed the deputation that first made contact with Earth when suspicions of Jevlenese duplicity could be contained no longer. His experiences during the Pseudowar that followed, of watching from the inside how the Terrans demolished the Jevlenese pretensions by meeting deception with counter deception and treachery with even greater machinations, had brought home to him the utter inability of Ganymean minds to anticipate the twists of deviousness that these alien dwarves were capable of. When he received the communication from Garuth, he admitted to himself with characteristic Ganymean candor that perhaps the lesson had not been fully learned yet.
“Perhaps those Terrans on JPC were right, and our whole approach to Jevlen has been wrong all along,” he said after considering the matter. “I’m sure Garuth is doing as much as anyone could ask, but maybe we should have delegated the task to Terrans.”
Frenua Showm, the female ambassador who had also been one of the first to initiate contact with Earth, suspected all human motives, Jevlenese or Terran. “Giving them equal partnership in Thurien culture as if it were their right was a mistake from the beginning,” she declared. “Well-intentioned, no doubt, but falsely premised. Nobody can feel worthy of what they haven’t earned. Neither can races. Our ancestors thought that a model society could be created on Jevlen through benign intervention, and they wrote Earth off as a lost cause when it chose to be left to its own devices. The reality turned out to be very different from the vision. Let’s learn something from it and not walk straight into making the same mistake again. They are not like us. Their behavior isn’t governed by the same rules.”
“You could be right,” Calazar replied reluctantly. “Human problems may need human solutions. Perhaps there’s no other way.”
VISAR spoke at that moment. “Priority request from PAC on Jevlen. Garuth is asking if you are free.”
“Oh dear. Now I expect we’re in for a personal protest,” Calazar muttered. He raised his voice a fraction. “Very well, VISAR. Bring him here.”
Since Calazar and Frenua Showm were actually coupled into VISAR and communicating from separate locations, Garuth was able to join them immediately. His figure promptly materialized, standing in the room.
“Welcome again,” Calazar greeted.
“How is the day here?” Garuth asked, as was customary.
“Good.”
“Frenua,” Garuth acknowledged, turning to Showm. She returned a slight bow of her head.
“And what brings you?” Calazar inquired, bracing himself.
“Eubeleus, the Axis of Light’s leader, has contacted me. He’s concerned about the way things are going and fears that we could see serious violence if something isn’t done quickly. He has a proposal for reducing the tension that I think you should hear. At least it’s different from anything else that we’ve been hearing.”
Calazar sent Frenua Showm a glance of relief that this was evidently not going to be the ordeal that he had feared. “Is Eubeleus available on-line at the moment?” he asked Garuth.
“Yes. He’s waiting in one of the couplers at PAC,” Garuth replied.
“Then let’s bring him here and see what he has to say,” Calazar invited.
Ganymeans were by nature rational. Ganymean scientists were very rational. Shilohin found it hard to accept that even the true believers could honestly have been take
n in to the point of attributing Ayultha’s fiery end to supernatural causes. Surely, she insisted, if they could be shown that the same effect was achievable by commonplace methods that were well understood, they would have to see that a more complicated explanation was neither necessary nor justified- and in the process they might learn something valuable Accordingly, she decided to stage a demonstration. While she and some of the Ganymean technicians were setting things up, Hunt stopped by Del Cullen’s office to review matters. It was situated in a corner of the part of PAC that had been allocated for the security force that Cullen was building up.
“So who was the character who gave Ayultha the finger?” Hunt asked from the visitor’s chair by the door. “Did you manage to get any sense out of him?”
Cullen, sitting at the desk, shook his head. “A complete yo-yo. Thinks he’s a bird in the wrong body. Even the Jev police put him in a rubber room. Obviously he was just a stooge that somebody else set up for effect.”
It was what Hunt had half expected. “What do you make of it all?” he asked.
“Something’s going on,” Cullen replied. “If you want my opinion, I don’t think that bridge coming down was any accident, either.
The police report was sloppy on a lot of points. I think it was rigged.” The same thought had crossed Hunt’s mind. He stretched out a leg and rested his foot on one of the boxes piled around the floor. The office that Cullen had reserved for himself was unpretentious, and just at the moment, half of it was taken up with undivulged items from Earth that had arrived on the Vishnu, and which he had not yet gotten around to unpacking. “What makes you say so?”
“In a lot of ways, life on Jevlen got to be very live-and-let-live under the Thuriens,” Cullen said.
“Which is what you’d expect,” Hunt agreed.
“The laws don’t contain many thou-shalt-nots. So not much is illegal here, and a lot of what we’d think of as the criminal underworld back home is just part of the scene. If you want to get burned on stuff that’s not good for your gray cells, or lose your ass on gaming tables that anyone with a positive IQ knows are as straight as knotted corkscrews, that’s up to you. The Thuriens don’t presume any right to forbid people from being stupid.”
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