Trudging across the coralite, his band of coppers marching along reluctantly behind him, the Head Clark marching righteously at his side, the Froman thought long and hard about gods and decided that he hadn’t much use for them. First, instead of neatly getting rid of Mad Limbeck, the gods had actually had the audacity to send him back alive. Not only that, but they came with him! Well, one of them did-a god who called himself Haplo. And though confused reports had reached the ears of the High Froman that the god didn’t consider himself a god, Darral Longshoreman didn’t believe it for a flicker.
Unfortunately, whether this Haplo was or he wasn’t, he was stirring up trouble wherever he went-and that was pretty nearly everywhere, including, now, the Gegs’ capital city of Wombe. Mad Limbeck and his wild WUPP’s were dragging the god across the countryside, making speeches, telling the people that they were being misused, ill-treated, enslaved, and the Mangers knew what else. Of course, Mad Limbeck had been ranting and raving about this for some considerable length of time, but now, with the god standing at his side, the Gegs were beginning to listen to him!
Half the clarks had been completely won over. The Head Clark, seeing his church falling apart around him, was demanding that the High Froman do something.
“And what am I supposed to do?” Darral asked sourly. “Arrest this Haplo, this god who says he isn’t a god? That won’t do anything except convince the people who do believe in him that they’ve been right all along and convince the rest who don’t that they should!”
“Bosh!” sniffed the Head Clark, who hadn’t understood a thing the High Froman said but who knew he didn’t agree with it.
“Bosh! That’s all you’ve got to say! It’s all your fault, anyhow!” the High Froman shouted, working himself into a rage. “Let the Mangers take care of Mad Limbeck, you said. Well, they took care of him, all right! Sent him back to destroy us!”
The Head Clark had stormed off in a huff. But he’d been back quick enough when the ship was sighted.
Plummeting out of the skies where it had no business being, since it wasn’t time for the monthly festival yet, the dragonship had landed in the Outland some distance away from an outer sector of Wombe known as Stomak. The High Froman had seen it from his bedroom window and his heart had sunk. More gods- just what he needed!
At first Darral thought he might have been the only one to see it and that he could pretend he hadn’t. No such luck. A number of other Gegs saw it, including the Head Clark. Worse still, one of his sharp-eyed, no-brains coppers had reported seeing Something Alive come out of it. The copper, as punishment, was now stumbling along after his chief on their way to investigate.
“I guess this’ll teach you!” Darral rounded on the unfortunate copper. “It’s because of you we’re being forced to come out here. If you’d kept your lips from flapping! But, no! You have to go and see one of ’em! Not only that, but you have to shout it out to half the realm!”
“I only said it to the Head Clark,” protested the copper.
“It’s the same thing,” Darral muttered.
“Well, but I think it’s only right that we have our own god now, High Froman,” persisted the copper. ” ‘Tisn’t fair, to my mind, those clods in Met having a god and us going without. I reckon this’ll show ’em!”
The Head Clark raised an eyebrow. Anger forgotten, he sidled over to the High Froman. “He does have a point,” murmured the clark in Darral’s ear. “If we have our own god, we can use him to counter Limbeck’s god.”
Stumbling along over the cracked and gouged coralite, the High Froman had to admit that his brother-in-law had, for once in his life, come up with something that sounded halfway intelligent. My own god, mused Darral Longshoreman, squelching through the puddles, heading for the dragonship. There’s got to be some way to work this to my advantage.
Seeing that they were nearing the wrecked dragonship, the High Froman slowed his march, raising his hand to warn those behind him to slow theirs-something that was not necessary. The coppers had already come to a standstill about ten feet behind their leader.