yourself, I imagine the conference would have proved as empty as my
datholch claimed it would, when I broached the idea to him.”
I can’t blame the good datholch, Flandry thought. It does seem ludicrous
on the face of it: discussions between Intelligence officers of rank
below admiral or fodaich, who can’t make important
commitments–discussions about how to “resolve mutual difficulties” and
assure the Imperium that the Roidhunate has never had any desire to
interfere in domestic affairs of the Empire–when everybody knows how
gleefully Merseian agents have swarmed through every one of our camps,
trying their eternally damnedest to keep our family fight going.
Of course, Molitor’s people couldn’t refuse, because this is the first
overt sign that Merseia will recognize him rather than some rival as our
lord, and deal with his agents later on, about matters more real than
this farce.
The intention is no surprise, when he’s obviously winning. The surprise
was the form the feeler took–and Tachwyr’s note to me. Neither action
felt quite Merseian.
Therefore I had to come.
“Let me guess,” Flandry said. “You know I’m close to his Majesty and act
as an odd-job man of his. You and your team hope to sound out me and
mine about him.”
Tachwyr nodded. “If he’s to be your new leader, stronger than the past
several, we want to know what to expect.”
“You must have collected more bits of information on him than there are
stars in the galaxy. And he’s not a complex man. And no individual can
do more than throw a small extra vector or two in among the millions
that whipsaw such a big and awkward thing as the Empire toward whatever
destiny it’s got.”
“He can order actions which have a multiplier effect, for war or peace
between our folk.”
“Oh, come off it, chum! No Merseian has a talent for pious wormwords. He
only sounds silly when he tries. As far as you are concerned vis-a-vis
us, diplomacy is a continuation of war by other means.” Flandry tossed
off his drink and poured a refill.
“Many Terrans disagree,” Tachwyr said slowly.
“My species also has more talent than yours for wishful thinking,”
Flandry admitted. He waved at the cold landscape. “Take this base
itself. For two decades, through every clash and crisis, a beacon
example of cooperation. Right?” He leered. “You know better. Oh,
doubtless most of the scientists who come here are sincere enough in
just wanting to study a remarkable xenological development. Doubtless
they’re generally on good personal terms. But they’re subsidized–they
have their nice safe demilitarization–for no reason except that both
sides find it convenient to keep a place for secret rendezvous. Neutral
domains like Betelgeuse are so public, and their owners tend to be so
nosy.”
He patted the Merseian’s back. “Now let’s sit down to eat, and afterward
serious drinking, like the cordial enemies we’ve always been,” he urged.
“I don’t mind giving you anecdotes to pad out your report. Some of them
may even be true.”
The heavy features flushed olive-green. “Do you imply our attempt–not
at final disengagement, granted, but at practical measures of mutual
benefit–do you imply it is either idiotic or else false?”
Flandry sighed. “You disappoint me, Tachwyr. I do believe you’ve grown
stuffy in your middle age. Instead of continuing the charade, why not
ring up your Chereionite and invite him to join us? I’ll bet he and I
are acquainted too.”}
{The sun went down and night leaped forth in stars almost space-bright,
crowding the dark, making the winter world glow as if it had a moon.
“May I turn off the interior lights?” Aycharaych asked. “The outside is
too glorious for them.”
Flandry agreed. The hawk profile across the table from him grew
indistinct, save for great starlight-catching eyes. The voice sang and
purred onward, soft as the cognac they shared, in Anglic whose accent
sounded less foreign than archaic.
“I could wish your turban did not cover a mindscreen and powerpack, my
friend. Not merely does the field make an ugliness through my nerves
amidst this frozen serenity; I would fain be in true communion with
you.” Aycharaych’s chuckle sounded wistful. “That can scarcely be, I