come to banter such matters, I see. What troubles thee?”
“The Lumians,” Frennelech said. “I cannot trust their assurances, but neither am
I able to order their casings seared with flame and acid for the truthfulness of
their words to be assessed by Inquisitors. And yet we dare not allow this
business to be decided by the whims of these unworldly aliens whose motives and
whose notions of truth are as unknown to us as the sky’s far side of which they
speak.”
Jaskillion’s mood became more serious. “The question has been occupying my
thoughts too,” he agreed.
“And what answers have thy thoughts supplied?”
Jaskillion paused for a moment to collect his words. “When a king becomes too
strong, it is usually time for the Lifemaker’s divine, immutable plan to be
revised,” he said at last. “It would be an error to permit Carthogia to be
sacrificed just yet.”
“A force aligned against Eskenderom at this time is not one to be squandered—I
agree. But our invasion has been dispatched, and Kleippur’s army is about to be
scattered and smashed. What shall save Carthogia then?”
“The Waskorians lie interposed between our army and Kleippur, and they too are
equipped with Lumian arms,” Jaskillion pointed out. “Were they, upon our secret
instruction, to ally themselves with Carthogia, the resulting combined strength
would perhaps be sufficient to hold out while Serethgin mobilizes against
Kroaxia.”
“What relief could Serethgin’s horde bring against Lumian devilment, which
confounds even Kleippur’s trained regiments?” Frennelech asked scoffingly.
“Much, if the Serethginians too were issued Lumian arms,” Jaskillion replied.
“Is this some foolish jest? We cannot confide in Serethgin’s leaders and admit
them into our dialogue with the Lumians.”
“Of course not.”
“But who else would supply them with Lumian arms?”
“We would . . . discreetly. And after Eskenderom’s defeat and removal, would not
Serethgin’s gratitude lead it to support a claim by thee in turn to assume the
Supreme Archprelacy within the new unified state that Kroaxia and Serethgin
would become?”
“Mmm . . .” Frennelech looked suddenly more interested. “And Carthogia also,
after Serethgin regains the territory that rightfully belongs to it,” he mused.
“Exactly . . . And if we could arrange by some means for all direct dealings
with the Lumians to be conducted through ourselves exclusively, the king of
Serethgin would have far more inducement than Eskenderom to agree to a
reasonable compromise on the sharing of power in any empire that might ensue.”
Frennelech smiled faintly. “Certainly our claim to being intermediaries between
a higher form of mind and the world of mortal robeings would be indisputable,”
he murmured.
“Indeed so.”
Frennelech became more businesslike once again. “But could Serethgin be equipped
and mobilized in time?”
“How long did Kroaxia need to be equipped and mobilized?”
“What reason could the king of Serethgin offer to his people for taking arms
against Kroaxia?” Frennelech asked.
“To defend their Waskorian brothers, whose faith Eskenderom is sending his
armies illegally into Carthogia to persecute,” Jaskillion suggested.
“Hmmm—an appeal that would be rendered all the more persuasive after the
Waskorians had gone over to Kleippur’s side.”
“Precisely so. And Kleippur’s insistence on freedom of worship for all is well
known.”
“Would Kleippur accept Waskorian aid?”
“He has been deserted by the Lumians; his soldiers have been defeated by rabble
for lack of the weapons that the Waskorians possess; and now the survival of his
entire nation is threatened. He will accept.”
Just then, hurried footsteps sounded outside, and muffled voices sounded of a
sentry at the door challenging and someone blurting a reply. A sharp rap sounded
on the door. “Who knocks?” Frennelech called out.
“Kelessbayne, O Illustrious One, sent by Chroschanor to convey urgent tidings of
events in the city.”
“Allow him entry,” Frennelech called to the guards. Kelessbayne entered and
closed the door behind him. He looked flustered. “Well?” Frennelech demanded.
“Groork, the hearer, has appeared again,” Kelessbayne gabbled. “He calls himself
Enlightener, and has entered the city riding on a steam-donkey, preaching words
of faith that he says are the Lifemaker’s. A multitude that grows larger by the
moment, bringing its sick, its blind, and its lame, is following him toward the