Gendra, advocate of increasing the elixir supply and the power of the Chancery with it, and of increased repression. She enjoyed that. And Bossit himself, practical politician, who plotted enslavement of the Thraish and no more of their bloody presumption. And old Obol, of course, behind the curtains, lying in his bed like a bolster, barely breathing.
The general had no faction. His Jondarites stood around the hall as though carved of black stone. The scales of their fishskin jerkins gleamed in the torchlight; their high plumes nodded ebon and scarlet. Their axes were of fragwood, toothed with obsidian. Only their spear points were of metal. From time to time the general pivoted, surveying each of them as though to find some evidence of slackness. He found none. The soldiers in the audience hall were a picked troop. If any among them had been capable of slackness, that tendency was long since conquered.
“Let’s get to it,” Shavian muttered at last, tapping his gavel on the hollow block provided for it. It made a clucking, minatory sound, and they all looked up, startled. “We are met today to consider the matter of this ‘crusade’—preached and led by one Pamra Don. I might say, this person is the same Pamra Don who caused us some difficulty a year or so ago.” He stared at Gendra, letting his silence accuse her.
She bridled. “You know we’ve set Laughers after her, Bossit. Including that Awakener from Baris. Potipur knows he would give his life to get his hands on her. His search must have been out of phase. Evidently she has been behind him the whole time.”
“Behind him, or on the River, or hidden by Rivermen, what matter which,” Shavian sneered, annoyed with her. “The fact is, she avoided him, him and all the others who were looking for her. She came to surface in a town where no Laughers were, a town from which your representative had only recently departed, a town ripe for ferment because of some damned statue the superstitious natives had found in the River.”
“The Jondarites should have stopped it,” growled Gendra through her teeth, glaring at the general. “Why have Jondarites in all the towns otherwise. …”
“The Jondarites have no orders concerning crusades,” said the general in an expressionless voice. “They are ordered to put down insurrection. There was no insurrection. They are ordered to punish disrespect of the Protector of Man. No disrespect is being shown, rather the contrary. They are told to quell heresy. There has been no heresy they could detect. The woman spoke of lies told to the Protector, of plots against the Protector.” His eyes glowed red as he spoke. Who knew better than he of the lies that surrounded Lees Obol. Who knew better than he of the actuality of conspiracies. Scarcely a day went by that Jondrigar did not uncover a plot against the Protector. The mines had their share of Chancery conspirators he had unearthed.
“Enough,” rapped Shavian. “Recriminations will not help us.”
“Where is the crusade now?” Tharius Don asked, knowing the answer already but wishing to get the conversation away from those around the table and onto something less emotionally charged. He was rigid in his chair, yet twitchy, full of nervous energy. New adherents to the cause were being reported almost daily. For reasons he could not admit even to himself, he had been delaying the strike for months, and it could not be put off much longer. With every week that passed, the fear of discovery grew more imminent and compelling. In his heart he thanked the gods for the crusade, even though it had put Pamra Don at risk. It had drawn the Chancery’s attention, for a time. “What’s the name of the town?”
“A few days ago, she was in Chirubel,” Bossit answered in a weary, irritated voice. He did not want the fliers stirred up any more than they were, and though this matter had not yet seemed to upset them, who knew what it might mean in the future. And with Lees Obol failing so fast . . . though he had only the Jondarites’ word for that. No one else could get nearer to him than across the room. He shook his head and rasped, “A watchtower relay brought word. The pits in Chirubel are full. There was a great storm there, and many of her followers died.”