Rottu accepted the reproof without comment. In principle, she agreed with Ushulubang. All apashoc are equal on the Way. Still, it was difficult not to think of barbarians as semi-savage illiterates. Skilled in war, within their limits; and often surprisingly cunning in their statecraft. But—
“You agree, then?” she asked Ushulubang. “We will adopt Enagulishuc?”
Ushulubang made the gesture of hesitation.
“I think so, yes. From a practical point of view, it is ideal. Yet—there is still the deeper question to be resolved. We will be committing ourselves, Rottu. In a sense, at least. We will become identified with demons.”
Rottu whistled derision. “And so what? All the better. Let those who oppress the Pilgrims find red in their mantles, for a change. There is no longer any doubt on that question, Ushulubang. No Pilgrim has yet been able to observe the demons in battle, of course. They move much too quickly for our warriors to accompany them. But they have seen the results. Entire slave caravans destroyed. With no casualties suffered by the demons, other than minor wounds.”
Seeing the continued hesitation, Rottu pressed on.
“Ushulubang, facts are what they are. It is a world of evil and violence. We may wish it were not so, and speak against it, but the fact remains. And we have become too numerous to avoid attack by simply hiding.”
Hesitation.
“Ushulubang, there is a new pogrom coming. It has already been ordered. It will take the Tympani some time to organize, but not much.”
Ushulubang made the gesture of postponement.
“I know, Rottu. But we will speak of that in a moment.”
The sage laid the sheets down on the bench.
“You misunderstand my concern, Rottu. Goloku was a warrior herself, you should remember. She spoke against violence, true. But she was not reluctant to defend herself when necessary. As you say, if we can learn the skills of war from the demons, so much the better.”
“Then why do you hesitate?”
“Battle is a small thing, Rottu. It is the soul which looms large on the Way. And these are, after all, demons.”
“Demons who eat nothing but owoc ogoto.”
“That is certain?”
Rottu made the gesture of affirmation. “Yes, Ushulubang. It is certain.”
She pointed to the sheets on the bench. “You can read the report yourself. Many of the Pilgrims on the mountain have been living among the demons for eightweeks, now. They have watched carefully, as you instructed. Never—not once—have they seen a demon eat anything else. The demons themselves say they cannot.”
“Do the demons say why?”
“Yes. They say any other food will kill them.”
“Just so. It is fitting. Powerful demons, with the knowledge of great secrets. Yet—they cannot exist without the love of the world’s simplest and most gentle beings.”
Ushulubang made the gesture of certainty.
“In the end, that is what guides me. The minds of the owoc can be easily fooled. But their souls? Never, I think.”
The sage turned to the pashoc in the corner.
“Spread the word, Shurren. Enagulishuc is now the language of the Way. All of the apashoc should begin its study. If they have already begun, they should intensify their efforts.”
“Yes, opoloshuku. And the other matter?”
“That too is settled. Tell the Pilgrims to prepare for the journey.”
The pashoc hurried from the chamber.
“What journey?” demanded Rottu. “What `other matter’?”
Ushulubang whistled humorously.
“Excellent! Even the all-seeing Rottu remains in the dark. I am pleased. The secret has been kept. A difficult task, when it involved so many people.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We are leaving Shakulutubac, Rottu. All of us, except for a few friars who will stay behind to continue the work of recruitment.”
Rottu was dumbfounded. It took all of her mastery of shoroku to prevent her mantle being flooded with orange.
“Leaving? Where are you going?”
“To the Chiton, Rottu. To the mountain of demons.”
“But—all of you? You too?”
She felt a sharp pain.
I will never see Ushulubang again. My soul will shrivel and die.
Then, drawing on a lifetime of harsh self-discipline, she repressed her emotions. She stood in silence for a moment, considering the question.
It is a brilliant stroke, actually. I would never have thought of it myself. The Chiton will provide safety from persecution. Long enough, at least, for Ushulubang to weave the Pilgrims into a thick cloth. The coming pogrom will strike at—nothing. I can easily provide enough places of safety in the city for a few friars.