A Knight of Ghosts and Shadows by Poul Anderson. Chapter 13, 14, 15, 16

shore, a riba hooked from the water sputtered in Flandry’s frying pan

while a heap of cloud apples waited to be dessert–no dismally

predictable field rations in this meal. He gestured. “How well a planet

does if left to its own devices,” he remarked.

“Nature could take a few billion years for R & D,” Kossara pointed out.

“We mortals are always in a hurry.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“N-no. You echoed an idea I’ve heard before–coincidence, surely.” He

relaxed, threw a couple of sticks on the fire, turned the fillets over.

“I am surprised your people haven’t long since trampled this area dead.

Such restraint seems downright inhuman.”

“Well, the Dolyina has belonged to the Vymezals from olden time, and

without forbidding visitors, we’ve never encouraged them. You’ve seen

there are no amenities, and we ban vehicles. Besides, it’s less

reachable than many wild lands elsewhere–though most of those are more

closely controlled.”

Kossara hugged knees to chin. Her tone grew slow and thoughtful. “We

Dennitzans are … are conservationists by tradition. For generations

after the Founding, our ancestors had to take great care. They could not

live entirely off native life, but what they brought in could too easily

ruin the whole little-understood ecology. The … zemly-oradnik … the

landsman learned reverence for the land, because otherwise he might not

survive. Today we could, uh, get away with more; and in some parts of

the planet we do, where the new industries are. Even there, law and

public opinion enforce carefulness–yes, even Dennitzans who live in

neighboring systems, the majority by now, even they generally frown on

bad practices. And as for the Kazan, the cradle of mankind out here,

haven’t heartlands often in history kept old ways that the outer

dominions forgot?”

Flandry nodded. “I daresay it helps that wealth flows in from outside,

to support your barons and yeomen in the style to which they are

accustomed.” He patted her hand. “No offense, darling. They’re obviously

progressive as well as conservative, and less apt than most people to

confuse the two. I don’t believe in Arcadian Utopias, if only because

any that might appear would shortly be gobbled up by somebody else. But

I do think you here have kept a balance, a kind of inner sanity–or

found it anew–long after Terra lost it.”

She smiled. “I suspect you’re prejudiced.”

“Of course. Common sense dictates acquiring a good strong prejudice in

favor of the people you’re going to live among.”

Her eyes widened. She unfolded herself, leaned on her knuckles toward

him, and cried, “Do you mean you’ll stay?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

“Yes, yes. But I’d taken for granted–you’re a Terran–where you go, I

go.”

Flandry said straight to her flushed countenance: “At the very least,

I’d expect us to spend considerable time on Dennitza. Then why not all,

or most? I can wangle a permanent posting if events work out well.

Otherwise I’ll resign my commission.”

“Can you really settle down to a squire’s life, a storm-bird like you?”

He laughed and chucked her under the chin. “Never fear. I don’t imagine

you’re ambitious either to rise every dawn, hog the slops, corn the

shuck, and for excitement discuss with your neighbors the scandalous

behavior of ‘Uncle Vanya when he lurched through the village, red-eyed

and reeling from liter after liter of buttermilk. No, well make a

topnotch team for xenology, and for Intelligence when need arises.”

Soberly: “Need will keep arising.”

Graveness took her too. “Imagine the worst, Dominic. Civil war again,

Dennitza against Terra.”

“I think then the two of us could best be messengers between Emperor and

Gospodar. And if Dennitza does tear loose … it still won’t be the

enemy. It’ll still deserve whatever we can do to help it survive. I’m

not that fond of Terra anyway. Here is much more hope.”

Flandry broke off. “Enough,” he said. “We’ve had our minimum adult daily

requirement of apocalypse, and dinner grows impatient.”

The Vymezal estate lay sufficiently far inside the crater that the

ringwall cut off little sky–but on high ground just the same, to

overlook the river and great reaches of farm and forest. Conducted from

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