"For that?" the Protector whispered. "Only for that, you have brought down the realm?"
"No, Protector," the sergeant said, "only healed it."
The ceremony took place in that same square, two days latertime enough to clean up the evidence of the fight. As they waited at the door for the Protector and his "honor guard," Dirk surveyed the clean pavement, slightly stained here and there. "Only sixty-three dead and a hundred twenty-seven wounded badly enough for hospital. That's certainly the least bloody revolution you've ever managed, Gar."
"Yes, but sixty-three people are dead," Gar said grimly.
"If this is the best I can do, maybe I should get out of the business."
Dirk shrugged. "Sixty-three because you did lead a revolution, a thousand dead from the secret police and suicide due to misery if you hadn't. More than a thousand, many more, if you count the rest of the years this dictatorship would have stayed in power."
"Maybe," Gar said grimly. "Maybe."
"At least these were clean deaths," Dirk pointed out. "Only one died from torture. Of course, Miles had a little torture, too, but you gave him express healing."
"Yes." Gar frowned. "He never did ask how his feet managed to heal so quickly, just started worrying about all his rebels. That shows either an excellent character, or a revolting degree of faith in me."
"Well, people with faith in you do tend to revolt.... No, no, sorry! Hey, here he comes."
They both bowed slightly as the Protector came up flanked by guards, none loyal to himself. He acknowledged their bows with one of his own, mouth tight with irony. "Are you taking me to sign my own death warrant?"
"No, Protector," Gar said, "only the documents transferring power to the provisional government."
"Is there a difference?"
"Oh, yes. At the moment, we're not intending to kill you at all." Gar said it so casually that even Dirk shuddered.
"At the moment," the Protector said dryly. "And if I refuse to sign?"
"Then we shall escort you to your permanent guest quarters. . . ."
"Which you shall do in any case."
"Ah, then," Gar said brightly, "you do realize that we don't plan to execute you."
"Then you are fools," the Protector said simply. "There's no greater threat to a government than a deposed head of state. I might escape, gather men who would rally to me-and there are many, I assure you!-and lead a counterrevolt."
"You might," Gar agreed, "if you could escape. We have great faith in our jailers."
"Then you are doubly fools, for there's no prison human hands can build, that another human brain can't find a way to escape."
"Then we must be content to be fools," Gar returned, "for if we violate your right to life, then we betray our own ideals, and build a mortal weakness into our New Order before it's even begun."
"Then fools you are indeed," the Protector retorted, "but I would be a worse fool not to take advantage of your folly. Come, show me your document and I'll sign it! Then cart me away to your prison, so I can set to working out my escape."
"As you wish, Protector." Gar bowed him on. The guards fell in to either side; Dirk and Gar fell in behind him.
"He's right, you know," Dirk said softly. "This kind of mercy is foolish."
"Perhaps," Gar returned, equally softly, "but he hasn't met the Guardian and his robots yet-or his human jailer."
A band played a solemn air as the Protector marched to the table in the center of the square, where Miles awaited him. People lined the walls of the surrounding buildings five deep, people hung from every window to watch, and soldiers stood stoutly in front of the crowd, to restrain anyone who became too exuberant-but no one did. There were two thousand people, at least, watching that day, and not one of them cheered or shouted; there was only a constant hum of muted conversation as they talked to one another in wondering tones about the unbelievable event they were witnessing.
Miles bowed as the Protector came to the table and handed him a quill pen. In loud, ringing tones, he declared, "Protector, you have read these documents in the privacy of your chambers. Will you sign them?"
"I haven't much choice, have I?" the Protector said, with full sarcasm.
"You have every choice!" Miles orated. "If you do not wish to sign, you shall be treated with every bit as much respect as though you did!"
"Or every bit as little," the Protector retorted. "And if I don't, what shall you do then?"
"We shall declare your government to be null and void by the will of the people. Then we shall continue as we have planned, to hold elections. Everyone shall place his `vote,' a slip of paper containing his choice, through a small slot in a locked box. These votes shall be counted, and the will of the people thus determined."
The Protector yanked the quill from his hand. "Enough! I'll sign. Whatever excuse you find for your rhetoric, it won't be me!"
He bent over the table, dashed off his signature with a flourish, then straightened and handed the pen back to Milesand the crowd cheered.
They cheered wildly, explosively. Their shouts of joy rang off the marble facades of the buildings all around the square, beating at the Protector, deafening him with rejoicing, and for a brief moment, he looked uncertain. Only for a moment; then he turned back to Miles with a sardonic smile, waited till the cheering had slackened, and cried out in a voice even louder than Miles's, "Now! Take me to my prison!"
He was horrified when the crowd cheered again.
The Protector halted and stared in amazement at the opalescent walls rising high above the trees. "What city is this?"
"One that was lost," Orgoru explained to him. "Our ancestors built it when they first came to this world."
"That's a fairy tale-that our ancestors came from a star!"
"It's quite true, and the biggest of the ships in which they came lies beneath this city-but you'll learn all that from its Guardian, if you wish to."
"Only a fool doesn't wish to learn!"
"Then you'll have every chance you want," Orgoru assured him. "Come, let me introduce you to your host."
"You mean my jailer for the rest of my life, don't you?"
"As you wish." Orgoru stepped forward and gestured to the stocky man who awaited them in the stone gateway. "Protector, this is Master Bade."
Bade held out a hand, but the Protector's lip curled in scorn. "Come, now! You don't expect me to shake hands with my jailer, do you?"
"I see you have the courage to stare at the unvarnished truth." Bade withdrew his hand.
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Not at all, which is why the harshness of your government drove some of us to seek refuge in delusion. We came here to live a dream life, convinced that we were truly princes and lords."
"A fairy tale indeed! What brought you from it?"
"A giant," Bade said, "but we don't know how."
For a moment, the Protector's eyes fired with hatred. "It seems I owe him even more than I thought."
"Don't let it bother you-he doesn't insist on his due. Will you come up to the top of the wall with me, Protector? I have a sight to show you that may interest you."
"My cell?"
"No, you shall have a palace for a prison. The only hardship is that you shall dwell in it alone."
"Then show it to me quickly, so that I can begin planning my escape!"
"Let me lead you to the last men who said that." Bade led the way onto the top of a tower. The Protector stepped outand saw a gleaming skeleton. He stared, horrified. "You wouldn't even bury them?"
" `Them'?" Bade looked up. "Oh, those aren't skeletons, Protector, only robots. Don't worry, in a few days you'll scarcely notice them."
Horror of horrors, the skeleton moved-but the face it turned. on the Protector was a featureless eggshell. He shrank back, but noticed how casually Bade went on, and followed him, but with wary glances at the robot, especially as it turned to shadow him.
They came out onto the parapet, and Bade gestured. "There they are."
> The Protector looked down-and saw hundreds of men in red robes, with here and there a blue one, even one or two in the plain homespun of a peasant or an inspector-general. His heart sank as he realized he was looking at his kidnapped magistrates and reeves.
CHAPTER 24
Before the horde of magistrates, Bade stood wearing a black robe, though it was decked with silver trim. Solemnly, he raised his right hand; the multitude in front of him rustled as they raised their arms in imitation. "Do you swear loyalty to the Council of Reeves?" Bade asked.
"I do so swear!" the magistrates answered as though with one voice.
"Will you uphold their declarations and enforce their laws?' I do so swear!"
"Will you defend and uphold the Charter of Human Rights?"
"I do so swear!"
"Welcome, brother officials of the New Order," Bade intoned. "Leave this city now, to take up your offices under the Reeve of Reeves. Miles, your new Presiding Magistrate, shall soon send you your true wives, those with whom you have felt the actual bond of marriage. Those of you who have found no true wife will not be obliged to take one; you may serve the realm as magistrates anyway. All other wives who do not join their former husbands shall, as we have promised, continue to be supported by the Realm."
The magistrates cheered and began to file out through the gate by which the Protector had just come in. He watched them go, his face ashen.
"All of those men have been my prisoners for at least a year," Bade told him. "Some of them have lived here for five years. With a whole city to roam; they haven't had close confinement to complain of, but they've tried to escape continually, even after I told them that whoever could learn more than the Guardian would be allowed to go free. None did, of course, but they were still trying when Miles sent word that they could go free, and could become magistrates again if they liked. You will have to be ingenious indeed Protector, to develop a scheme none of them has thought of."
The Protector felt the truth in the words, and felt his heart begin to sink.
"Come, now." Bade beckoned. "Let me introduce you to the Guardian."
The Protector met the bodiless intelligence that greeted him courteously and answered every question he could ask. When he left the chamber, his heart could sink no lower.
Outside the city, Orgoru hurried to join Gilda and the aloof giant who watched their embrace. "It's done," said the former madman.
"Don't tremble so, husband" Gilda said into his shoulder. "You know it's kinder than death, and that we had no choice."
"Or do you think life in the City is so unpleasant as that?" Gar asked.
Orgoru looked up, startled by the implications of the question. "It was quite pleasant," he said slowly, "but we were mad!"
"And I promised you that you could be so again," Gar said gravely, "when you had done the task I asked of you. That work is done, Orgoru, Gilda. Would you claim your reward?"
The two looked at one another, startled. Then Orgoru said slowly, "You mean to make us mad again? To send us back to our illusions, so that I might once again be the Prince of Paradime, and Gilda the Countess d'Alexi?"
"I will, if you wish it."
For a moment, Gilda's eyes were bright with hunger-but she looked at Orgoru, too, in his new blue robe and chain of office, and said slowly, "To be a countess in illusion, or the wife of a reeve and high minister in reality? I think sanity has become sweeter than madness to me, Gar." She caught Orgoru's hands again. "But only as long as I have you. If you would rather go back to madness, Orgoru, I'll go with you."
"But if I have you," he said softly, "I have no need of delusion, for the bitter world has been made sweet by your presence." He stared into her eyes for a minute, beaming, then laughed and leaned away at arm's length. "Besides, to be one of the foremost men of a real realm is at least as sweet as being the Prince of Paradime! Far more work, it's true, but also far more satisfying! Will you stay in reality with me, my love?"
"I will," she said, "till the end of my life," and threw her arms around him.
Gar gazed fondly at their embrace, but felt the old craving grow within him. He solaced it by finding room to wonder if they had not simply found a more pleasant illusion than madness.
Back in Milton Town, Gar made the same offer to all the cured delusionaries. They all refused the return to madness; with even a little success, life was proving more enjoyable than delusion.
"I thought they'd make that choice," Gar confided to Dirk, "but I must admit I had my doubts."
"They seem content to be part of the new power structure," Dirk said, "and to not try to take revenge on the people who made their childhoods miserable."
"There is that chance, when the underdog comes to power," Gar agreed. "I think we had better stay for a month or so, and see how our protege, Miles, manages."
At the end of that month, they sat on a balcony of the former Protector's palace, with the French windows ajar behind them and the door to their mutual drawing room locked. It would have taken an ingenious burglar indeed to eavesdrop on them.
"Well begun," Gar said, "and well intentioned-but our Miles is taking an awful lot on himself."
"He has cleaned up the examinations system pretty well." Dirk sipped his wine. "Of course, he hasn't put in measures to keep it clean."
"I'm sure he'll think of them," Gar replied. "If nothing else, he'll keep the inspector-general system going, as soon as he's sure who's loyal and who isn't. But measures against corruption are always temporary."
"Yes, I know," Dirk said, with a touch of bitterness. "Human ingenuity will always find a way around such safeguards. You don't think there's a permanent cure, do you?"
"Only eternal vigilance, with outbursts of public anger when corruption is found." Gar sighed. "It's unpleasant, but it helps a bit. Of course, so does a periodic housecleaning, and Miles has at least achieved that. The system will probably stay honest for a hundred years, and pretty clean for a century after."
But the first meeting of the Council of Reeves reassured them immensely. After the opening ceremonies, Miles presented bill after bill, asking the Council to approve the reforms he had already put into place, and suggesting new ones to come. The next day, three different groups of reeves each endorsed some of Miles's bills, but not all-and of course, each group had a different set of bills it liked. Then each group submitted some bills of their own. By the third day, each had given itself a name.
That evening, Dirk held up his glass to look at the sunset through the rosy fluid. "Much as I like what our boy Miles is doing, I like what the reeves are doing even better."
"A three-party system." Gar nodded vigorously. "Yes, that will help. Both out-of-power parties will always be criticizing the party in power, and watching it like hawks for any signs of wrongdoing."
"It's certainly more lively," Dirk agreed, "but have we really improved anything? Other than everyone being free not to marry, and able to chose their own mates if they do decide to wed."
"Oh, I think so," Gar said thoughtfully. "The Council of Reeves is about to declare a Charter of Human Rights. The torture chambers have been torn apart, the justice system can't be used as a tool of personal viciousness-did you hear that Miles has even proposed that every verdict be sent to the Guardian for review?"
"Hear it? I suggested it! Meanwhile, the President is accountable to a legislature that's elected by the people-or will be, as soon as they hold their first elections."
Gar nodded. "So all in all, it's probably an improvement on the existing system, if not really a new system. There's every chance that more people will be happier this way."
"So why are you so depressed?"
"Because it isn't new," Gar sighed, "and I'm the one who told the Guardian to teach them an overview of human history, not just the annals of this planet alone. I had hoped that they would invent a system of their own."
Dirk shrugged. "So instead, they chose bits and pieces that they liked and put them together to make a new variation. As long as
it's right for them, who cares?"
"I do," Gar groaned.
Dirk studied him for a few minutes, frowning, then said, "There's nothing wrong with following in your father's footsteps, Gar-especially if you're doing it by accident."
The elections were actually held on time, and the ballots and all the records were taken to the Guardian for verification. The computer pronounced them legitimate, and the country let out a mass cheer. The score or so of reeves who weren't re-elected weren't so happy, but their replacements were. They switched places, the winners going to the capital and the losers taking their offices in the provinces-and immediately starting the groundwork for their next campaigns. Miles let out a massive sigh of relief, and spent the night celebrating with Ciletha-he was still President.
A few weeks later, they held their first inauguration. It was a solemn and awe-inspiring sight, albeit with something of an improvised nature to it. Gar and Dirk watched, beaming fondly.
Then all that remained was to wait for the newly elected Council of Reeves to draft their Charter of Governmentquickly done, since they had been hammering out the details for five years-and incorporating all the safeguards Gar had recommended to Miles. He was delighted that, all by themselves and no doubt due to pressure from the female former lunatics, the reeves added a Grandmothers' Council, which would have to ratify everything the Council of Reeves passed, and might themselves send bills to the reeves. At least, Gar was delighted until he realized that the Grandmothers made the legislature bicameral.
Then, finally, when the Charter had been passed and the new government was firmly in place, Miles left the victory party to take Ciletha out under the stars, turned to her, and said, "The fighting and arguing are done, Ciletha. The new government is in place, and we're still alive and safe."
"Yes, my darling, we are," she whispered.
Never taking his eyes from hers, Miles knelt and asked, "Will you marry me?"
"Yes, my love." Her lips trembled as she bent to give him a long and lasting kiss.
It was a glorious day, with sunlight filling the crisp air of autumn and the leaves a riot of color. The choir sang a song of triumph that sounded suspiciously like a hymn as the bride and groom mounted the platform to stand before the Chairman of the Council of Reeves to exchange their vows. Then, as the crowd filling the square cheered wildly, Miles led his bride to the great doorway of the palace, picked her up, and carried her over the threshold.
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