The Call of Earth: 2 (Homecoming) (23 page)

I could have called to the Palwashantu mercenaries and begged them to make common cause with me against the Gorayni—it might have worked. Yet at the time the Gorayni general had seemed so earnest. And there were all those firelights out on the desert. It looked like an army of a hundred thousand men. How was I to know that their entire army was the men standing at the gate? And even then, we could not have stood against them.

But we could have fought. We could have cost them soldiers and time. We could have alerted all the other guards, and sent the alarm through the city. I could have died there, with a Gorayni arrow through my heart, rather than having to live and see how they have conquered my city, my beloved city, without even one of them suffering a wound serious enough to keep him from marching boldly wherever he pleases.

And yet. And yet even now, as he was called into the presence of General Moozh for still another interview, Bitanke could not help but admire the man for his audacity, his courage, his brilliance. To have marched so
far in such a short time, and to essay to take a city with so few men, and then to have his way when even now the guard outnumbered his army significantly. Who could say that Basilica might not be better off with Moozh as its guardian? Better him than that swine Gaballufix would have been, or the contemptible Rashgallivak. Better even than Roptat. And better than the women, who had proven themselves weak and foolish indeed, for the way they now believed Moozh’s obvious lies about Lady Rasa.

Couldn’t they see how Moozh manipulated them to divide against each other and ignore the one woman who might have led them to effective resistance? No, of course they couldn’t see—any more than Bitanke himself could see that first night that, far from helping, the Gorayni stranger was controlling him and making him betray his own city without even realizing it.

We are all fools when one wise man appears.

“My dear friend,” said General Moozh.

Bitanke did not take the offered hand.

“Ah, you’re angry with me,” said Moozh.

“You came here with Lady Rasa’s letter, and now you have her under arrest.”

“Is she so dear to you?” asked Moozh. “I assure you that her confinement is only temporary, and is entirely for her protection. Terrible lies about her are circulating through the city right now, and who can tell what might happen to her if her house was not cordoned off?”

“Lies invented by you.”

“My lips have said nothing about Lady Rasa except my great admiration for her. She is the best of the women of this city, with the wit and courage of a man, and I will never permit a hair of her head to be harmed.
If you don’t know that about me, Bitanke, my friend, you know nothing about me at all.”

Which was almost certainly true, thought Bitanke. I know nothing about you.
No
one knows anything about you.

“Why did you summon me?” asked Bitanke. “Are you going to strip away yet one more power from the Basilican guard? Or do you have some vile work for us to do that will humiliate and demoralize us all the more?”

“So angry,” said Moozh. “But think hard, Bitanke. You feel free to say such things to me, and without fear that I’ll strike your head off. Does that seem like tyranny to you? Your soldiers all have their arms, and they are the ones keeping the peace in this city now—does that sound as though I’m a treacherous enemy?”

Bitanke said nothing, determined not to let himself be taken in again by Moozh’s smooth talking. And yet he felt the stab of doubt in his heart, as he had so many times before. Moozh
had
left the guard intact. He had done no violence against any citizen. Perhaps all he meant to do was use Basilica as a staging area and then move on.

“Bitanke, I need your help. I want to restore this city to its former strength, before Gaballufix’s meddling.”

Oh, yes, I’m certain that’s all you desire—Moozh the altruist, going to all this trouble just so you can help the city of women. Then you’ll march your men away, rewarded with a warm glow in your heart because you know you leave so much happiness behind you.

But Bitanke said nothing. Better to listen than to speak, at a time like this.

“I won’t pretend to you that I don’t intend to turn things here to my own purposes. There is a great struggle ahead between the Gorayni and the miserable puddle
swimmers of Potokgavan. We know that they were maneuvering to take control of Basilica—Gaballufix was their man. He was prepared to overthrow the city of women and let his thugs rule. And now here I am, with my soldiers. Have I or my men ever done anything to make you think our intentions are as ruthless or brutal as Gaballufix?

Moozh waited, and at last Bitanke answered, “You have never been so obvious, no.”

“I will tell you what I need from Basilica. I need to know, securely, that those who rule her are friends of the Gorayni, that with Basilica at my back I don’t have to fear any treachery from this city. Then I can bring supply lines through the desert to this place, completely bypassing Nakavalnu and Izmennik and Seggidugu.
You
know that this is good strategy, my friend. Potokgavan counted on our having to fight our way south to the Cities of the Plain; they counted on having at least a year, perhaps several years, to strengthen their position here—perhaps to bring an army here to try to stand against our chariots. But now we will command the Cities of the Plain—with my army in Basilica, none of them will resist. And then Nakavalnu and Izmennik and Seggidugu will not dare to make any alliance with Potokgavan. Without conquest, without war, we will have secured the entire Western Shore for the Imperator, years before Potokgavan would have imagined possible. That is what I want. That is
all
I want. And to accomplish it, I don’t need to break Basilica, I don’t need to treat you as a conquered people. All I need is to be certain that Basilica is loyal to me. And that purpose is better accomplished through love than through fear.”

“Love!” said Bitanke derisively.

“So far,” said Moozh, “I have not had to do anything
that was not gratefully received by the people of Basilica. They have more peace and security now than in the past several years. Do you think they don’t understand that?”

“And do you think the worse men of Dogtown and Gate Town and the High Road aren’t hoping that you’ll let them come into the city and rule here? Then you’d have your loyal allies—if you give them what Gaballufix promised, a chance to dominate these women who have barred them from citizenship for all these thousands of centuries.”

“Yes,” said Moozh. “I could have done that. I could do it still.” He leaned forward across the table, to look Bitanke in the eye. “But you
will
help me, won’t you, so that I don’t have to do such a terrible thing?”

Ah. So this was the choice, after all. Either conspire with Moozh or watch the very fabric of Basilica be destroyed. All that was beautiful and holy in this place would now be hostage to the threat of turning loose the covetous men from outside the walls. Hadn’t Bitanke seen how terrible that would be? How could he let it happen again?

“What do you want from me?”

“Advice,” said Moozh. “Counsel. The city council is not a reliable instrument of control here. It’s fine for passing laws governing local matters, but when it comes to making a firm alliance with the army of the Imperator, who’s to say a faction won’t arise within a week to strike down that policy? So I need to set up a single individual as . . . what . . .

“Dictator?”

“Not at all. This person would merely be the face that Basilica turns to the outside world. He, she—whoever it is—will be able to promise that Gorayni armies may pass through here, that Gorayni supplies can be stored
here, and that Potokgavan will find no friends or allies here.”

“The city council can do this.”

“You know better.”

“They will keep their word.”

“You have seen this very day how treacherously and unfairly they dealt with Lady Rasa, who has done nothing but serve them loyally all her life. How then will they deal with the stranger? My men’s lives, my Imperator’s power, all will depend on the loyalty of Basilica— and this city council has proven itself incapable of being loyal even to their own worthiest sister.”

“You
started those rumors about her,” said Bitanke, “and now you use them to show how unworthy the council is?”

“Before God I deny that I started any slander about Lady Rasa—I admire her above any other woman I have met. Yet no matter who started the rumor, Bitanke, what matters is that it was
believed.
By this city council, which you tell me I can trust with the lives of my men. What is to stop Potokgavan from starting rumors of their own? Tell me honestly, Bitanke, if you were in
my
place, with
my
needs, would you trust this city council?”

“I have served this council all my life, sir, and I trust them,” said Bitanke.

“That’s not what I asked you,” said Moozh. “I am here to accomplish the purpose of the Imperator. Traditionally we have done this by slaughtering the ruling class of the lands we conquer, and replacing them with men of some long-disfranchised oppressed people. Because I love this city, I wish to find another way here. I am taking great risks to do so.”

“You have only a thousand men,” said Bitanke. “You want to subdue Basilica without bloodshed because you can’t afford to suffer
any
losses.”

“You see half the truth,” said Moozh. “I have to
win
here. If I can do it without bloodshed, then the Cities of the Plain will say that I must have the power of God with me, and they will submit to my orders. But I can also achieve the same end by terror. If their leaders are brought here and find this city desolate, burned to the ground, house and forest, and the lake of women thick with blood, they will also submit to me. But one way or another, Basilica will serve my purpose.

“You are truly a monster,” said Bitanke. “You speak of sacrilege and massacre of innocents, and then ask me to trust you.”

“I speak of necessity,” said Moozh, “and ask you to help me keep from being a monster. You have served a higher purpose—the will of the council. Sometimes, in their name, you have done that which you, of yourself, would not wish to do. Is that not so?”

“That’s what it means to be a soldier,” said Bitanke.

“I also am a soldier,” said Moozh. “I also must accomplish the purpose of my master, the Imperator. And so I will even be a monster if I must, to accomplish it. As you have had to arrest men and women you thought were innocent.”

“Arrest is not slaughter.”

“Bitanke, my friend, I keep hoping that you will be what I thought you were when first I met you bravely fighting at that gate. I imagined that night that you fought, not for some institution, not for that feeble city council that believes any slander that flies through the city, but rather for something higher. For the city itself. For the
idea
of the city. Wasn’t
that
what you were prepared to die for at the gate?”

“Yes,” said Bitanke.

“Now I offer you the chance to serve the city again.
You
know that long before there
was
a council, Basilica
was a great city. Back when Basilica was ruled by the priestesses, it was still Basilica. Back when Basilica had a queen, it was still Basilica. Back when Basilica put the great general Snaceetel in charge of its army and fought off the Seggidugu warriors, and then let him drink of the waters of the lake of women, it was still Basilica.”

Against his will Bitanke saw that Moozh was right. The city of women was not the council. The form of government had changed many times before, and would change again. What mattered was that it remain the holy city of women, the one place on the planet Harmony where women ruled. And if, for a short time, because of great events sweeping through the Western Shore, Basilica had to be subservient to the Gorayni, then what of that—as long as the rule of women was preserved within these walls?

“While you consider,” said Moozh, “consider
this.
I could have tried to frighten you. I could have lied to you, pretended to be something other than the calculating general that I am. Instead I have spoken to you as a friend, openly and freely, because what I want is your willing help, not your mere obedience.”

“My help to do what?” asked Bitanke. “I will
not
arrest the council, if that’s what you hope for.”

“Arrest them! Haven’t you understood me at all? I need the council to continue—without replacing a single member of it! I need the people of Basilica to see that their internal government is unchanged. But I also need a consul of the people, someone to set in place
above
the council, to handle the foreign affairs of Basilica. To make an alliance with us that will be adhered to. To command the guards at the city gates.”

“Your men already perform that office.”

“But I
want
it to be
your
men who do it.”

“I’m not the commander of the guard.”

“You’re one of the leading officers,” said Moozh. “I wish you
were
commander, because you’re a better soldier than any of the men above you. But if I promised you the office of commander, you would think I was trying to bribe you and you would reject me and leave this house as my enemy.”

Bitanke felt a great relief inside. Moozh knew, after all, that Bitanke was no traitor. That Bitanke would never act for his own self-interest. That Bitanke would act only for the good of the city.

“The men of the guard will be reluctant,” said Bitanke, “to take their orders from anyone but their own commander, appointed by the city council.”

“Imagine, though, that the city council has unanimously appointed someone to be consul of the city, and has asked the guard to obey that consul.”

“It would mean nothing if they thought for a moment that the consul was a mere puppet of the Gorayni. The guard are not fools, and we are not traitors, either.”

“So. You see my dilemma. I must have someone who will understand the necessity of Basilica remaining loyal to the Imperator, and yet this consul will only be effective if the people of Basilica trust her—or him—to be a loyal Basilican, and not a puppet.”