demonstration. They may well expect it'll turn to their advantage;
outsiders would naturally think Merseian-descended Dennitzans are
anti-Terran, right? Then too late--" She flung her hands wide, her voice
aloft. "Too late, they see who came along!"
Beneath the surf of agreement, Flandry murmured to her: "My idea also. I
kept hoping somebody would have a better one."
XVII
----
Just before their car set down, Flandry protested to Kossara, "God damn
it, why does your parliament have to meet in person? You've got holocom
systems. Your politicians could send and receive images ... and we
could've rigged untraceable methods to call them and give them the facts
last night."
"Hush, darling." She laid a hand across his fist. "You know why.
Electronics will do for ornamental relics. The Skupshtina is alive, it
debates and decides real things, the members need intimacies,
subtleties, surprises."
"But you, you have to go among murderers to reach them."
"And I fear for you," she said quietly. "We should both stop."
He looked long at her, and she at him, in the seat they shared. Beryl
eyes under wide brow and bronze hair, strong fair features though her
smile quivered the least bit, height, ranginess, fullness, the warmth of
her clasp and the summery fragrance of herself: had she ever been more
beautiful? The vitality that surged in her, the serenity beneath, were
no work of a drug; it had simply let her put aside shock, exhaustion,
grief for this while and be altogether Kossara.
"If there is danger today," she said, "I thank God He lets me be in it
with you."
He prevented himself from telling her he felt no gratitude. They kissed,
very briefly and lightly because the car was crammed with ychans.
It landed in a parking lot at the edge of Zorkagrad,
None farther in could have accommodated the swarm of battered vehicles
which was arriving. Besides, a sudden appearance downtown might have
provoked alarm and a quick reaction by the enemy. A march ought to have
a calming effect. Flandry and Kossara donned cowled cloaks, which should
hide their species from a cursory glance when they were surrounded by
hemianthropoid xenos, and stepped outside.
A west wind skirled against the sun, whose blaze seemed paled in a pale
heaven. Clouds were brighter; they scudded in flocks, blinding white,
their shadows sweeping chill across the world, off, on, off, on. Winged
animals wheeled and thinly cried. Trees around the lot and along the
street that ran from it--mostly Terran, oak, elm, beech, maple--cast
their outer branches about, creaked, soughed Delphic utterances though
tongue after fire-tongue ripped loose to scrittle off over the pavement.
Rainpuddles wandered and wandered. All nature was saying farewell.
The ychans closed in around the humans. They numbered a good four
hundred, chosen by their steadcaptains as bold, cool-headed, skilled
with the knives, tridents, harpoons, and firearms they bore. Ywodh of
Nanteiwon, appointed their leader by Kyrwedhin before the
parliamentarian returned here, put them in battle-ready order. They
spoke little and showed scant outward excitement, at least to human eyes
or nostrils; such was the way of the Obala. They did not know the ins
and outs of what had happened, nor greatly care. It was enough that
their Gospodar had been betrayed by the enemy of their forefathers, that
his niece had come home to speak truth, and that they were her soldiers.
The wind snapped two standards in their van, star white on blue of Yovan
Matavuly, ax red on gold of Gwyth.
"All set," Ywodh reported. A shout: "Forward!" He took the lead. Flandry
and Kossara would fain have clasped hands as they walked, but even
surrounded must clutch their cloaks tight against this tricksy air. The
thud of their boots was lost amidst digitigrade slither and click.
At first it was predictable they would encounter nobody. Here was a new
district of private homes and clustered condominium units, beyond the
scope of forcefield generators that offered the inner city some
protection. Residents had sought safer quarters. An occasional militia
squad, on patrol to prevent looting, observed the procession from a
distance but did not interfere.
Farther on, buildings were older, higher, close-packed on streets which
had narrowed and went snakily uphill: red tile roofs, stucco walls of
time-faded gaudiness, signs and emblems hung above doorways, tenements,
offices, midget factories, restaurants, taverns, amusements, a
bulbous-domed parish church, a few big stores and tiny eccentric shops
by the score, the kind of place that ought to have pulsed with traffic
of vehicles and foot, been lively with movement, colors, gestures broad
or sly, words, laughter, whistling, song, sorrow, an accordion or a
fiddle somewhere, pungencies of roast corn and nuts for sale to keep the
passerby warm, oddments in display windows, city men, landmen,
offworlders, vagabonds, students, soldiers, children, grannies, the
unforgettably gorgeous woman whom you know you will never glimpse again
... A few walkers stepped aside, a few standers poised in doorways or
leaned on upper-story sills, warily staring. Now and then a groundcar
detoured. A civilian policeman in brown uniform and high-crowned hat
joined Ywodh; they talked; he consulted his superiors via minicom,
stayed till an aircar had made inspection from above, and departed.
"This is downright creepy," Flandry murmured to Kossara. "Has everybody
evacuated, or what?"
She passed the question on. Untrained humans could not have conveyed
information accurately in that wise; but soon she told Flandry from
Ywodh: "Early this morning--the organizers must have worked the whole
night--an ispravka started against Imperial personnel. That's when
ordinary citizens take direct action. Not a riot or lynching. The people
move under discipline, often in their regular Voyska units; remember,
every able-bodied adult is a reservist. Such affairs seldom get out of
control, and may have no violence at all. Offenders may simply be
expelled from an area. Or they may be held prisoner while spokesmen of
the people demand the authorities take steps to punish them. A few
ispravkai have brought down governments. In this case, what's happened
is that Terrans and others who serve the Imperium were rounded up into
certain buildings: hostages for the Gospodar's release and the good
behavior of their Navy ships. The Zamok denounced the action as illegal
and bound to increase tension, demanded the crowds disperse, and sent
police. The people stand fast around those buildings. The police haven't
charged them; no shots have yet been fired on either side."
"I've heard of worse customs," Flandry said.
Puzzled, she asked, "Shouldn't the plotters be pleased?"
Flandry shrugged. "I daresay they are. Still, don't forget the vast
majority of your officials must be patriotic, and whether or not they
prefer independence, consider civil war to be the final recourse. The
top man among them issued that cease-and-desist order." He frowned.
"But, um, you know, this nails down a lot of our possible helpers, both
citizens and police. The enemy isn't expecting us. However, if too many
parliament members refuse to board the secession railroad, he'll have a
clear field for attempting a coup d'etat. Maybe the firebrand who
instigated that, uh, ispravka is a Merseian himself, in human skin."
The wind boomed between walls.
A minor commotion occurred on the fringes of the troop. Word flew back
and forth. "Chives!" Kossara gasped.
The ychans let him through. He also went cloaked to muffle the fact of
his race from any quick glance. Emerald features were eroded from spare
to gaunt; eyes were more fallow than amber; but when Flandry whooped and
took him by the shoulders, Chives said crisply, "Thank you, sir. Donna
Vymezal, will you allow me the liberty of expressing my sympathy at your
loss?"
"Oh, you dear clown!" She hugged him. Her lashes gleamed wet. Chives
suffered the gesture in embarrassed silence. Flandry sensed within him a
deeper trouble.
They continued through hollow streets. A fighter craft passed low above
chimneys. Air whined and snarled in its wake. "What've you been doing?"
Flandry asked. "How'd you find us?"
"If you have no immediate statement or directive for me, sir," the
precise voice replied, "I will report chronologically. Pursuant to
instructions, I landed at the spaceport and submitted to inspection. My
cover story was approved and I given license, under police registry, to
remain here for a stated period as per my declared business. Interested
in exotics, many townspeople conversed with me while I circulated among
them in the next few planetary days. By pretending to less familiarity
with Homo sapiens than is the case, I gathered impressions of their
individual feelings as respects the present imbroglio. At a more
convenient time, sir, if you wish, I will give you the statistical
breakdown.
"I must confess it was a complete surprise when a Naval patrol entered
my lodgings and declared an intention to take me in custody. Under the
circumstances, sir, I felt conformity would be imprudent. I endeavored
not to damage irreparably men who wore his Majesty's uniform, and in due
course will return the borrowed blaster you observe me wearing.
Thereupon I took refuge with a gentleman I suspected of vehement
anti-Terran sentiments. May I respectfully request his name and the
names of his associates be omitted from your official cognizance?
Besides their hospitality and helpfulness toward me, they exhibited no
more than a misguided zeal for the welfare of this planet, and indeed I
was the occasion of their first overt unlawful act. They sheltered me
only after I had convinced them I was a revolutionary for my own
society, and that my public designation as a Merseian agent was a
calumny which the Imperialists could be expected to employ against their
kind too. They were persuaded rather easily; I would not recommend them
for the Intelligence Corps. I got from them clothes, disguise materials,
equipment convertible to surveillance purposes, and went about
collecting data for myself.
"They do possess a rudimentary organization. Through this, via a phone
call, my host learned that a large delegation of zmays was moving on the
Capitol. Recalling Donna Vymezal's accounts of her background, and
trusting she and you had not perished after all, I thought you might be
here. To have this deduction confirmed was ... most gratifying, sir."
Flandry chewed his lip for a while before he said,
"Those were Imperials who came to arrest you? Not Dennitzans?"
"No, sir, not Dennitzans. There could be no mistake." Chives spoke
mutedly. His thin green fingers hauled the cowl closer around his face.
"You went unmolested for days, and then in a blink--" Flandry's speech
chopped off. They were at their goal.
Well into Old Town, the party passed between two many-balconied
mansions, out onto a plateau of Royal Hill. Constitution Square opened
before them, broad, slate-flagged, benches, flowerbeds, trees--empty,
empty. In the middle was a big fountain, granite catchbasin, Toman
Obilich and Vladimir locked in bronze combat, water dancing white but
its sound and spray borne off by the wind. Westward buildings stood well
apart, giving a view down across roofs to Lake Stoyan, metal-bright
shimmer and shiver beyond the curve of the world. Directly across the
square was the Capitol, a sprawling, porticoed marble mass beneath a
gilt dome whose point upheld an argent star. A pair of kilometers
further on, a rock lifted nearly sheer, helmeted with the battlements
and banners of the Zamok.
Flandry's gaze flickered. He identified a large hotel, office buildings,
cafes, fashionable stores, everything antiquated but dignified, the gray
stones wearing well; how many Constitution Squares had he known in his
A militia squad stood six men on the Capitol verandah, six flanking the
bottom of the stairs; their capes flapped, their rifles gleamed whenever
a sunbeam smote and then went dull again. Aircraft circled far overhead.
Otherwise none save the newcomers were in sight. Yet surely watchers
waited behind yonder shut doors, yonder blank panes: proprietors,
caretakers, maybe a few police--a few, since the turmoil was elsewhere
in town and no disturbance expected here. Who besides? He walked as if
through a labyrinth of mirages. Nothing was wholly what he sensed,
except the blaster butt under his hand and a stray russet lock of
Kossara's hair.
She had no such dreads. As they trod into the plaza, he heard her
whisper, "Here we go, my brave beloved. They'll sing of you for a
thousand years."
He shoved hesitation out of his mind and readied himself to fight.
But no clash came. Despite what they told him when the move was being
planned, he'd more or less awaited behavior like that when a gaggle of
demonstrators wanted to invade a legislative session on any human planet
he knew--prohibition, resistance, then either a riot or one of the sides
yielding. If officialdom conceded in order to avoid the riot, it would
be grudgingly, after prolonged haggling; and whatever protesters were
admitted would enter under strict conditions, well guarded, to meet
indignant stares.
Dennitza, though, had institutionalized if not quite legalized
procedures like the ispravka. Through the officer he met on the way,
Ywodh had explained his band's intent. Word had quickly reached the
Chief Justice. Four hundred zmays would not lightly descend on
Zorkagrad, claiming to represent the whole Obala; they could be trusted
to be mannerly and not take an unreasonable time to make their points;
urged by Kyrwedhin, a majority in the third house of the Skupshtina
endorsed their demand. No guns greeted them, aside from those of the
corporal's guard at the entrance; and they bore their own arms inside.
Up the stairs--past armored doors that recalled the Troubles--through an
echoful lobby--into a central chamber where the parliament in joint
session waited--Flandry raked his glance around, seeking menaces to his
woman and shelters for her.
The room was a half ellipsoid. At the far-end focus, a dais bore the
Gospodar's lectern, a long desk, and several occupied chairs. To right
and left, tiers held the seats of members, widely spaced. Skylights cast
fleetingness of weather into steadiness of fluorescents, making the
polished marble floor seem to stir. On gilt mural panels were painted
the saints and heroes of Dennitza. The lawmakers sat according to their
groupings, Lords in rainbow robes, Folk in tunics and trousers or in
gowns, Zmayi in leather and metal. After the outdoors, Flandry breathed
an air which felt curdled by fear and fury.
Banners dipped to an old man in black who sat behind the lectern. Slowly
the fishers advanced, while unseen telescanners watched on behalf of the
world. In the middle of the floor, the ychans halted. Silence
encompassed them. Flandry's pulse thuttered.
"Zdravo," said the Chief Justice, and added a courteous Eriau "Hydhref."
His hand forgot stateliness, plucked at his white beard. "We have ...
let you in ... for unity's sake. My understanding is, your delegation
wishes to speak relevantly to the present crisis--a viewpoint which
might else go unheard. You in turn will, will understand why we must
limit your time to fifteen minutes."
Ywodh bowed, palms downward, tail curved. Straightening, he let his
quarterdeck basso roll. "We thank the assembly. I'll need less than
that; but I think you'll then want to give us more." Flandry's eyes
picked out Kyrwedhin. Weird, that the sole Dennitzan up there whom he