“We don’t know yet,” said Morrissey stubbornly, “if those animals will move. I’m going to have to use different intensities of U-shaped regions of ‘desire to escape,’ one region inside the other, to create a kind of fear-gradient, if you know what I mean. The desire to escape has to be strongest at the outermost region, so that the animals will move forward in the right direction, toward the center-line of the U.”
“Good.” Roberts glanced at Hammell. “Now, unless this Duke Vaughan is going to turn up all alone, probably you’d better come with me.”
Hammell nodded without enthusiasm. “I guess so.”
“Great,” said Morrissey. “And what happens if some tree-sized animal with eight-foot jaws goes after the ship? What do I do then? It takes concentration to work this want-generator and watch the screen to be sure things aren’t getting out of hand. I can’t do that and fight off a horde of monsters, too.”
“Hm-m-m,” said Roberts. “Why not hit them with ‘desire to sleep’? It certainly worked on that snake.”
Morrissey called: “Holcombe!”
“Yes, my lord?”
“The tranquilizers.”
“At once, my lord.”
“O.K.” said Roberts, heaving the battle armor over on its face so he could get the back plate open, “then that’s settled. Watch out for the point on the helmet when I get up.”
“Listen” said Morrissey, “I keep trying to tell you, these animals may not move. Or they may mill around, fight each other, and generally be slow as mud.”
“Use ‘desire to cooperate’ on them in the center of the U. Do the best you can. Just pour on the power and hope for the best. It will be quite a coup for Oggbad if you can manage it.”
Morrissey said something Roberts didn’t quite catch, but then he was inside the armor, and the rest of the comment came across clearly in the earphones: ” . . . to be quite an experience. Who got this bright idea, anyway?”
Hammell’s voice, somewhat hollow, replied, “We did.”
“Yeah. Then I guess we’re stuck with it. Well, stay healthy.”
“I’ll try. Watch out for the gangbats. Don’t let Oggbad get you.”
Roberts, inside the armor, swung shut the back plate, listened critically to the multiple click of the latch, and shoved home the lock lever.
“O.K., let’s go. Stick close to me crossing the clearing.”
“I sure will,” said Hammell.
“And look out for the spike on this helmet.”
A few minutes later, Roberts and Hammell were aboard the ship.
And a few minutes after that, they were sweeping out in a wide curve, in order to come back toward the city high up, and from a different direction.
* * *
Kelty was apparently acting fast under the influence of “desire to inform, explain, and expound.” The patrol ship’s symbiotic computer, in the guise of a tough no-nonsense Imperial officer, made arrangements to land, and immediately the buildings nearby were crowded with nervous onlookers.
Roberts and Hammell, taking care not to run each other through with their helmet-spikes, squeezed out the patrol ship’s hatch, to face an uneasy-looking Kelty, who was accompanied by a nondescript individual with triple lightning-bolts on his armband, on the sash across his chest, and on the visor of his floppy cap. The place was surrounded with roboid police, who with apparent uneasiness faced the gap blasted in the barrier that last time Roberts had gone by. Through this gap, a number of armed toughs were seeping forward, but the roboid police hesitated to stop them lest they provoke an uproar in the midst of the ceremonies.
Roberts decided there was no point fooling around. His voice came out amplified into a close resemblance to thunder:
“I am Vaughan of Trasimere. Let all who would serve me kneel. Let all who would serve the traitor Oggbad stand.”
Kelty wasted no time kneeling. About fifty percent of the toughs with armbands took a quick glance at the guns on the patrol ship, and either kneeled or dove for cover. The remaining fifty percent remained upright. The nearest tough, with the largest number of lightning-bolt insignia, gave a peculiar laugh, and a sidewise flick of his right hand. His followers snapped up their guns. One heaved a sharpened axle straight at Roberts.
There was a brief crisscrossing dazzle of white lines from the patrol ship’s fusion cannon.
The wind blew away a few puffs of smoke, and all that was left of the immediate opposition was a smoldering armband here, a red-hot piece of metal there, and a scattering of grisly trophies that Roberts tried not to look at.
Giving no time for the stunned silence to turn into a new show of opposition, this time from under cover, Roberts demanded in a voice of thunder, “Who else serves Oggbad the fiend? Know you not that each man of this city will serve his true liege-lord or die? What manner of treachery is this?”
To give emphasis to his words, and because he sensed he might look silly just standing there after this speech, Roberts whipped out his sword. The sword came out with a menacing hiss that carried a long way in the silence. Then, since it would have been ridiculous to threaten the whole city, he took a quick step toward Kelty.
A roboid policeman immediately blocked his way.
Roberts’ sword flashed out, sliced the machine in two with one blow, and a hard kick of his right foot knocked the pieces twenty feet away. He gripped Kelty by the shirt front.
“Serve you Oggbad?”
“No! But this has all been so fast. And we have a . . . ah . . . a rebellion going on here—”
“A rebellion? Against me?”
“No. No. Against the machines.” Hastily, Kelty gave an explanation of the situation in the city, at the end of which Roberts shrugged.
“This is no matter. It is of the past. What concerns us now is Oggbad. I accept the submission of the part of the city ruled by the thinking-machine. And by the grace of the power invested in me as suzerain create the thinking-machine a Baron of the Duchy of Trasimere. So, too, do I create you, Kelty, a Baron of the Duchy of Trasimere. Let no man raise his hand against your joint authority in the Inner City, by which I so designate that portion of land within this barrier of fanged wire and subtle entrapments, upwards to the limits of the aery realm, and downwards to the center of the world. Now, so much for that. We have still this Outer City to deal with. Who rules there? Every minute the power of Oggbad ensheathes itself in matter, and we waste time on this foolery? Who rules? Come forward now, or I destroy your power root and branch, thorn, twig, seed, and fruit! Come forth, I say!”
* * *
Roberts was becoming aware of an urgent desire to cooperate. If everyone else was feeling it as strongly as he was, the factions in the city wouldn’t last long. But how could he cooperate with somebody who didn’t show up?
Just then, as he was wondering what to do next, and wishing the symbiotic computer was handling this instead of him, a strongly built figure about five-feet ten, carrying a rifle in his left hand, strode forward, handed the rifle to one of a small group of followers, and walked toward Roberts unarmed. This man had a look of intelligence and intense self-discipline. When he was directly in front of Roberts, he dropped on one knee.
Roberts said, “You rule in the Outer City?”
“I have five to ten percent of the people behind me. My men are armed. The others aren’t.”
“Good enough. Do you yield to me, Vaughan of Trasimere—or would you serve the foul traitor Oggbad?”
“I’m for you.”
“Then by grace of the power vested in me as suzerain, I create you a Baron of the Duchy of Trasimere, and ruler of the Outer City, by which I designate that portion of the presently-existing city outside this barrier of entrapments and fanged wire, upwards to the limits of the aery realm, and downwards to the center of the world. Let no man raise his hand against you in the Outer City. Rise, Baron. Now, we have no time for the pleasures which should attend these ceremonies, or for their proper form. Each minute spent here the foul cause of Oggbad advances that much further. Dissension within our ranks must be healed at once, as it serves Oggbad’s cause. Now then, you, Baron Kelty, and you, the thinking-machine with rank of Baron, and you, Baron of the Outer City, listen close.
“What Oggbad will do, we know not. But he vanished to the west, and from the west will his attack almost certainly come. Therefore, so far as is possible, post your main strength to the west, with but light forces toward the other quarters. And your strength permit it, hold strong reserves in hand. Fight by craft and cunning, from hidden places. Oppose stone walls and empty space to Oggbad’s attack, so far as it be possible. Fight him not by main strength. That I will do, as my strength surpasses his. Seek to pin him, entangle him. Chisel at his power. When confronted, run, hide, and appear again at his flank. Let his arms fight stone and air, while your sword seeks his belly.