“Very well, Willem.”
“We both know I am not supposed to notice politics. But we know also that the assumption is silly. Joseph, you have spent your off years creating a situation in which the nests would wish to come wholly into the Empire.” He pointed a thumb at my wand. “I believe you have done it. Now if you win this election you should be able to get the Grand Assembly to grant me permission to proclaim it. Well?”
I thought about it. “Willem,” I said slowly, “you know that is exactly what we have planned to do. You must have some reason for bringing the subject up.”
He swizzled his glass and stared at me, managing to look like a New England groceryman about to tell off one of the summer people. “Are you asking my advice? The constitution requires you to advise me, not the other way around.”
“I welcome your advice, Wilem. I do not promise to follow it.”
He laughed. “You damned seldom promise anything. Very well, let’s assume that you win the election and go back into office
-but with a majority so small that you might have difficulty in voting the nests into full citizenship. In such case I would not advise you to make it a vote of confidence. If you lose, take your licking and stay in office; stick the full term.”
“Why, Willem?”
“Because you and I are patient men. See that?” He pointed at the plaque of his house. “‘I Maintain!’ It’s not a flashy rule but it is not a king’s business to be flashy; his business is to conserve, to hang on, to roll with the punch. Now, constitutionally speaking, it should not matter to me whether you stay in office or not. But it does matter to me whether or not the Empire holds together. I think that if you miss on the Martian issue immediately after the election, you can afford to wait-for your other policies are going to prove very popular. You’ll pick up votes in by-elections and eventually you’ll come around and tell me I can add ‘Emperor of Mars’ to the list. So don’t hurry.”
“I will think about it,” I said carefully.
“Do that. Now how about the transportee system?”
“We’re abolishing it immediately after the election and suspending it at once.” I could answer that one firmly; Bonforte hated it.
“They’ll attack you on it.”
“So they will. Let them. We’ll pick up votes.”
“Glad to hear that you still have the strength of your convictions, Joseph. I never liked having the banner of Orange on a convict ship. Free trade?”
“After the election, yes.”
“What are you going to use for revenue?”
“It is our contention that trade and production will expand so rapidly that other revenues will make up for the loss of the customs.”
“And suppose it ain’t so?”
I had not been given a second-string answer on that one-and economics was largely a mystery to me. I grinned. “Willem, I’ll have to have notice on that question. But the whole program of the Expansionist Party is founded on the notion that free trade, free travel, common citizenship, common currency, and a minimum of Imperial laws and restrictions are good not only for the citizens of the Empire but for the Empire itself. If we need the money, we’ll find it-but not by chopping the Empire up into tiny bailiwicks.” All but the first sentence was pure Bonforte, only slightly adapted.
“Save your campaign speeches,” he grunted. “I simply asked.” He picked up the list again. “You’re quite sure this line-up is the way you want it?”
I reached for the list and he handed it to me. Damnation, it was clear that the Emperor was telling me as emphatically as the constitution would let him that, in his opinion, Braun was a wrong ‘un. But, hell’s best anthracite, I had no business changing the list Bill and Rog had made up.
On the other hand, it was not Bon forte’s list; it was merely what they thought Bonforte would do if he were compos mentis.
I wished suddenly that I could take time out and ask Penny what she thought of Braun.