Infinite Day (91 page)

In fact, it was barely twenty hours later that, seated in the darkened and half-empty Artist Class Gate ship
Clemtra Singh
, Merral peered ahead through the porthole to see a blue and green half disk with a silver moon behind it.

How strange. I have known this image since my childhood.
It was all Merral could do not to weep.

A few minutes later, Vero came over and sat down in the vacant seat between Merral and Lloyd. In the row ahead of them, Anya and Jorgio seemed to be sleeping, the old man snoring gently.

“Just been sorting things out. Looks like we'll land at the North Sahara landing zone just after dawn. There's a two-hour flight east to 'Salem. We ought to be there midafternoon local time.” He glanced around, but everyone else nearby seemed to be asleep. “Anyway, the communication links are okay. I also contacted an old fellow student, Adeeb. He'll meet us off the flier. He was surprised to hear from me.”

“You didn't tell him anything?”

“Oh,
please
. I didn't even need to give him my name. He knows what we need.”

“Can you be sure that he isn't a member of the . . . Guards?”

Vero's face twitched into a flicker of amusement. “It's as safe an assumption as we can make. He was almost as rebellious as I was. I do not think that our cleric's sermons have much of an appeal for him.”

Merral gestured at the port. “You've seen the view?”

“Yes.” A look of passion crossed his friend's face. “Part of me says, ‘Home at last.' I can see my family, and my father, if . . .”

If he is still alive.

Vero rubbed his nose. “But another part of me says we have a mission to complete.” He turned to Merral. “We aren't safely home yet.” He nodded at the looming planet. “It may be good to remember that Earth may be as dangerous as anywhere we have been.”

Merral saw Lloyd nod agreement.

At the knock on the door of her office, Gerry Habbentz looked up from a screenful of figures. She turned to see the door open and the bony and robed figure of Prebendant Delastro enter.

“Lord-Prebendant,” she said, rising and bowing slightly.
What is he doing here?

Delastro raised his hands in a gesture that suggested bowing was rather unnecessary.

“I was passing by,” he said, closing the door carefully behind him. His eyes, green and intense, seemed to smile at her. “I thought I would just encourage you. On your presentation tomorrow.”

“That's kind. It's ready. It's been ready for days.” She tugged a wayward scrap of hair away from her face.
It needs cutting; I've let myself go.

Delastro nodded. “I'm sure. I just wanted to say that your presentation is
so
central. Advisor Clemant will speak. I may be allowed to add a brief comment. But, Doctor,
we
are not scientists. You are.”

How smooth and soothing his voice was.

“They will listen to you,” Delastro went on. “Tell them what this can do and why we need it.”

She saw Delastro glance around the barely furnished room and saw his strange eyes fasten on the picture of Amin.

“Your fiancé?” Delastro gave a sad shake of his head. “Aah, tragic, utterly tragic. I feel for you, my child. The enemy has done this—scarred and blighted your life.” He paused and looked at her with a gaze that seemed to heal.

He understands me. He gives life meaning.

She said nothing but felt strangely tearful. She gave her right eye a precautionary dab.

Delastro was speaking again, his voice soft, reassuring, and right. “You feel as I do, that justice must be done. The Lord himself has passed sentence on this foulness; it falls to us to enact that judgment. For you, for all those who died at Farholme, for the fallen at Bannermene . . . those who have suffered in any way by this evil.”

My life was turned to ruins by Amin's appalling death; this man has allowed me to begin rebuilding it.

The lord-prebendant gently waved a finger. “I am reminded that this is no ordinary conflict with ordinary rules. This is a holy war. Our race has never fought such a pure battle. We wage war against unutterable wickedness. On such a war—on such issues—there can be no prevarication, no holding back.”

She felt his voice soothed as well as nerved her for action.

“Nothing—and no one—can stand in our way.” He looked at her. “Tomorrow, Dr. Habbentz, you must give everything you can to support this action. Your blessed weapon has come to us providentially at this time so that we might use it. Use it wisely for the preservation of all that is good and for the imparting of judgment. We must destroy the enemy. Only your weapon can enable us to do this. And cursed is he who stands in the way of our mission!”

She nodded and then spoke. “Lord-Prebendant, a question, if I may. If the vote goes against the use of the weapon, what will happen?”

“I have faith that our leaders will see sense. But—” he paused, and a stern, warning tone came into his voice—“if they do reject what is so clearly the Lord's work, then there may be pressure to have them removed.” He gave her a lean smile. “However, that is not your concern. You do your part, and such an action may not be necessary.”

The prebendant raised his hand over her. “God bless you, my child.”

Then he was gone, and the door closed behind him.

In a time where everything is falling to pieces, there is something extraordinarily comforting about that man with his certainties, his authority, and his clarity.

She gazed again at the image of Amin. “My dear, I'll get revenge for you.”

Near midnight of that same day, Ethan Malunal stood in the center of the Chamber of the Great King. As he gazed around, he was struck by the darkness.

The great structure, now well over eleven millennia old, had been designed to be filled with light, a vision that had been preserved by those who had maintained and refurbished it over the long years. During the day, the pale limestone interior was lit by sunlight flooding in through the astonishing stained glass in the six high and recessed windows that bore witness to the martyrs of the faith. At night, a subtle and discreet lighting made the stone glow.

But not tonight.

“Why is it so dark?” he asked his aide.

“Sir,” Hanif answered, “as you are aware, blast shielding has been placed inside and outside the windows.” He gestured to the window recesses, and Ethan recognized in the gloom the buttressed sheeting. “That obscured some of the main lighting units. The chamber managers could have brought new ones in, but they felt the darkness was symbolic.”

“Indeed it is. Anyway, if you would wait here I'd be obliged.”
I don't want you eavesdropping on my conversation.
For the ten-thousandth time Ethan asked himself why he hadn't got rid of the man the moment he had declared himself a follower of the prebendant.
Was it because it would have alerted Delastro that I want to fight him? Or was it simply because I didn't want a confrontation?

Ethan walked forward across the stone floor, hearing his footsteps softly echo, and stopped just before the great sculpture that dominated the front of the hall. He gazed at the massive chair and the ornate silver scepter and the simple golden crown. As he did, Eliza's words came to him again:
“You need to meditate on that empty throne, Ethan.”

I have, Eliza; I have. That's why I am here.

He stared again at the throne and the two objects on it.
We have no temple, no sacrifice—we need none. But we do have history. This hall is built on the site that, in the former covenant, was the holiest place on Earth. The bloodshed and destruction here in the years before the Great Intervention of the Spirit only added to that significance. We have a cathedral barely a kilometer away, but this is the nearest thing to a sacred space we have on this, the most ancient of all the worlds.

A bell tolled twelve. Ethan turned and looked at the enormous shadowed hall. Apart from his aide and the four guards standing by the door at the rear, he was alone.

Delastro will be perhaps a minute late . . . just to make a point.

Ethan realized that he felt glad to be challenging the prebendant. How ironic it was that, in the three weeks since Eliza had died, he had found a new freedom and confidence.
Perhaps that touch of death on a dear friend reminded me that this earthly life is so temporary that we must make it count.

There was a sound; the small door that lay to the side of the great doorway opened, and three men entered. Two of the men remained by the far wall, while the third, dressed in a dark robe, moved rapidly with a strange, long-legged gait toward him. Hanif rose from his seat and bowed.

“Prebendant,” Ethan said, but he extended no hand of welcome.

“Chairman.” The voice was without warmth.

“I wanted to meet you because of the meeting we have tomorrow.”

Delastro gave a slight nod, but Ethan saw a wary look in the green eyes.

“There will be two proposals: the constitutional change and Project Daybreak. Neither has my support, but I want to say that I will strongly oppose the idea that we appoint a chancellor to work with the chairman.”

“Doctor Malunal, this is not my motion. I stand quite outside the system, although I follow the constitutional debates with interest.”

But your hand is on every word of the motion.
“But if the motion is carried, you would stand as chancellor.”

There was a dismissive shrug. “I am willing to serve.”

“We do not need a chancellor. The very term is vague: it is open to any meaning. We don't need a leader, or even a coleader, with undefined—and potentially unlimited—powers.”

“In the stress of these days you need help. A chancellor would help you.”

“No.”

“I had hoped you would not oppose the motion, Dr. Malunal.”

“I will.”

Delastro looked thoughtful. “I could offer . . . a concession. Perhaps no automatic renewal. Maybe . . . the post to be renewed every five years?”

“No.”

The prebendant bared his teeth. “It will not matter, you know. You will lose tomorrow.”

“Probably.”

“No, certainly.”

“And if you become chancellor, what will you want?”

“I want to tighten things up. For instance, I am considering a new ruling on the press: an information act, requiring all material to be submitted to a supervisory body before it is published. And I think we need to create a new crime of disloyalty to the Assembly.”

Ethan raised a hand. “
Enough!
I know where you are going.”

“It is war, Chairman.”

An edgy silence between them was finally broken by Ethan. “Do you know why I've brought you here?”

“Clearly not to make a deal.”

“No. To remind you what this represents.” Ethan gestured to the throne.

The green eyes skimmed over it. “I understand the symbolism.” There was scorn in the words.

“Prebendant, in the Assembly, all power is deliberately limited. There is only one Lord of the Assembly. That is why we are termed
stewards
. That is why our highest officials are men and women who chair committees.” As he spoke, Ethan remembered that it had been Eliza who had emphasized this, and he wished she were on hand to help him.

“
That
is why we face defeat. Events move on. The crisis forces change.”

“
No.
Again.”

“You are looking tired, Chairman. The hour is late. You ought to rest more. We have had enough of sudden death lately.” The tone was harsh and unsympathetic; the reference to Eliza, unmistakable.

As he considered the words, Ethan realized that, for the first time, he now believed that the prebendant was evil. Not just a nuisance, not just a political threat, but evil.