“I’ve heard so. It will be interesting to see.” He sighed. “But you still haven’t explained what you are doing here.”
“Gathering information, the same as you are. Tilghman’s up to something more than just taking over Nantzee. Something big. I want to know what before it can possibly hurt me.”
Mervyn nodded. He, too. had heard rumors to that effect, but had not been able to track anything down. The deployment of so many Flux power amplifiers—for an attack on an Anchor—was curious. The vanishing of a large number of Fluxgirls from Anchor Logh in the past month and a half or so was equally curious. One or two amplifiers would be sufficient to protect the troops and equipment in Flux; the Fluxgirls chosen were all former wizards with plenty of power but they could no longer use it. He had to admit that he, too, was both curious and nervous.
“So, Zelligman, since we’re being so civil, will you answer me a simple question I have been wondering about for centuries?”
“Of course, if I can.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to open those Gates? What is the percentage?”
Zelligman Ivan sat back and lit a thin cigar. “You know the answer. You’ve stood at least once at the Gate lock of one or another Hellgate and heard the message.”
“An inhuman, horrible voice from the prehistoric past recorded there promising that if we don’t resist it will make us gods.”
“I grant the inhuman, but question the horrible. It’s no monster—it’s a mechanical voice, a synthesized voice, that’s all. It was that which panicked our ancestors into sealing those Gates, except for the power we need. And so for twenty-six hundred years we’ve been sitting here, in a stagnant, brutal, primitive society, quaking at the sound of the boogey man’s voice. For what? Five percent of us live for centuries as tinpot godlings, while ninety-five percent toil and live short, miserable lives of poverty under the control of a reactionary Church and state. Ancient knowledge is suppressed or destroyed, and we are mired in social, technological, and spiritual mud forever. So you spend your life saving this system, only to find that its heirs are the New Eden Brotherhood. Have you considered the implications of a World entirely under the New Eden Brotherhood? Their system is only the tip of the depravity that exists.”
Mervyn nodded. “I very much agree with that last. In fact, I more or less grant your points. The problem is, your alternative is to abandon all hope in favor of instant suicide. Let’s not forget, Zelligman, that our ancestors, who had all that rich knowledge and technology, knew who or what was on the other end of that voice, and they chose to build the barricades, cut down the power, and reduce us to this state rather than greet that voice with open arms.”
“I doubt if it was that clear-cut, my old enemy. I have lived for almost six hundred years, and I think you are even older than I. In all that time, I’ve never seen any evidence that humanity would find unanimity on any weighty issue without totalitarian control, nor severe variations in human nature. We do not know that they chose to build the barricades. We only know that the winners chose to do so, and that they then chased all of our forefathers— yours and mine, certainly—into Flux and built their walls against them as well. Tell me—how does Anchor Nantzee decide in their crisis?”
“You know as well as I. The Church and many major groups want a fight to the death, even if it means a repeat of Bakha. The government and many of the guild and commune leaders want an accommodation.”
Zelligman Ivan grinned. “See?”
The conference was to meet in a small, secure tent set up for the purpose. Mervyn had arranged to be present, although he was aware that he represented the losing side in all this. Ivan was not invited, but the old wizard knew that his counterpart would have no difficulty in learning exactly what went on. In spite of Ivan’s “doublecross” by New Eden, Mervyn was well aware that they owed the prime sorcerer for services rendered and that Ivan was, therefore, in far less danger than he was.
There were formalities, of course, even in a situation like this. In fact, it seemed that the greater the crisis the more emphasis people placed on ceremony and correctness. When one’s world was falling apart, such things were needed to keep some level of sanity.
And so Mervyn stood there with High Priestess Gowann, Coordinator Dixon, who represented the government, Haagen Sertz, head of the trade unions guild, and General Yakota, head of the Anchor militia, and watched the luxurious wagon pull in and up. The driver was a top sergeant in the New Eden forces, but he concerned himself mostly with handling the team and, from his lofty perch, surveying what he saw for security. In back were two black-uniformed footmen, heavily armed and suspicious of everyone and everything. Steps were removed from an undercarriage and then the passengers, Adam Tilghman and his wife, made their appearance.
Cassie’s appearance was still a shock to Mervyn, although he knew just what she would look like. What startled him was not the golden garb with all the jewels, nor her smaller size or her obviously advanced pregnancy, but her manner and demeanor. There was a softness and delicacy to her that was most strange, and yet she radiated the same professionalism she always had. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she understood exactly what was going on, and that, far from being brainwashed, she had indeed committed herself to the other side. It was just such a demoralizing effect that Adam Tilghman had counted on.
The man himself exuded confidence; his tall, muscular figure, gray hair, and face appearing carved from stone and hard experience, made him all the more fearsome. He wore only a plain black uniform and boots, with no insignia of any kind, no medals, no badges of office. Such a one was powerful enough not to need such things.
The Chief Judge and his wife greeted everyone formally and in turn, and when Cassie reached Mervyn there was a look of recognition in her eyes but nothing in her manner to indicate that it was anything special. Tilghman had wanted a period of informality before they sat down, however, and they found themselves the center of attention. Mervyn ignored Tilghman and concentrated on remaining close to Cassie.
“Hello, Cassie,” he said hesitantly.
She nodded. “Mervyn.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“If you wish, sir.”
He felt instantly uncomfortable, and the chill was noticeable to all. “We are just trying to understand.”
Cassie replied, “This girl might humbly suggest, sir, that you are shocked but not surprised. You invented Cassie, and used her, and you don’t like the fact that she has become someone else of her own choice.”
Since that was partly true, he felt a bit embarrassed. “And you think your new life, your new system, is better for everyone?”
“Better for me, sir. Few people get to choose their masters, or change them. I have rejected you and chose another.”
She still had that knack for getting to the heart of things. What had Ivan said? Five percent versus ninety-five percent? And even among those five, there were few masters and many servants. At least he thought he understood now, better than he had before. He was a master, the top rank of World, and he would always be one. She had ruled half a world, but he, indirectly but firmly, had ruled her. One had the power one was born with, but how and how well that power was used depended on personality. Politics, too, depended on personality most of all. It was the old classic, the killer instinct. She had the power and the knowledge, but lacked the will. That instinct wasn’t in her, which was why she’d failed against Coydt. Mervyn had manipulated her into positions of power and had furnished that will, that killer instinct.
Coydt had understood, which was why he’d removed from her those spells that supported Mervyn’s manipulation. So long as she was forced to live her life the way the old wizard had arranged, she was forced to act in the Nine’s best interest. Removing it removed her as a threat, and removed Mervyn’s leverage. With all the power, but with no killer instinct, all she had built for him had collapsed, and she, too, had collapsed. Without his will, his instinct, she had withdrawn from human society, feeling depressed and without purpose. And he had let her drift, because she was no longer useful or relevant to his broader purposes and goals.
What she might have become if left alone would always haunt her. The Church had wrenched her at just eighteen from her home and family and cast her into slavery in Flux. She had survived, found some love and much comradeship, and developed a new direction as a chief dugger. Then that too was taken from her by Matson’s apparent death. Emotionally devastated, Mervyn had used her state to force her into the leadership of a reformed Church and used her as the nucleus for an expanding Empire, but in a position where even acknowledging her own daughter was forbidden. In the end, Matson had spurned her, Mervyn had lost his control over her, and she was left, bereft of purpose, left to wonder what might have been. Even the Soul Rider that had used her and influenced much of her life’s directions had cast her off when it, for its own mysterious purposes, found her less useful than someone else.
Adam Tilghman had the killer instinct, all right. Just looking at the man was seeing power personified—a power not created by Flux, but one that was within him and was him. She had sensed it, then seized upon it as at least a tiny measure of purpose and salvation. No matter if New Eden was an unpleasant alternative—it was the only alternative she’d ever really had offered, and she committed herself to it body and soul.
“If I may ask—how is Spirit?”
He was startled by the change in subject. “The same. Better, in fact. She’s with a stringer train.” He hesitated a moment. “She is with her half-sister. Jeff is working for me at the moment.”
She nodded. “Better than I hoped.”
“Cassie—are you happy?”
She hesitated a moment. “I am not sure I know what ‘happy’ means. I am content, sir.”
He sighed, and let her talk to others, where she gave all the right answers and was far more friendly. Yes, she knew the Church was a lie now. No, she didn’t go along with every single thing in New Eden’s system, but it would improve once it felt secure. Political and military matters she professed little interest in, and always deferred to Tilghman.
Now they went in to start the conference. Cassie did not remain for it, but left for the wagon.
Dixon got right to the point. He was a small, nervous man who was clearly uncomfortable. “Judge Tilghman, what are your intentions toward us? Are we to be wiped out?”
Blunt enough. Tilghman liked that in a man. “I certainly hope not. If that were our intention, we would not be sitting here now. Let me make our position plain. We have access to many of the secrets of our ancient ancestors. We know how to revolutionize and raise ourselves up and, eventually, all of World. What we don’t have is the industrial capacity to produce what we need except in Flux, and we feel a dependency on Flux—and the release of our secrets there—would bring terror to World. As with any powerful knowledge, it can be used for good or evil. Our two Anchors give us plentiful food and raw materials, but we lack industrial capacity which you have in abundance. It’s as simple as that.”
“Um, perhaps not, sir,” Sertz put in. “There’s no reason for a destructive fight. We can and will make what you wish—for our own security’s sake.”
“I wish it were that simple,” Tilghman responded. “As I pointed out, the knowledge we have could, in the wrong hands, produce a society so horrible none of us could imagine it. Our own people have been guilty of excesses with just a small part of it, and it is a constant battle to reform those excesses, a battle I wage daily. If this sort of thing were to fall into the hands of powerful Fluxlords, or the Church, or the cabals known as the Seven and the Nine, it would be devastating. You must understand our higher duty to all the citizens of World. We cannot manufacture any of this unless we control every step of that production, and the places in which it is produced. Absolutely control them.”
“But you’ll win nothing here your way,” Sertz pointed out. “Factories are the easiest things to destroy, but even if you took them intact you couldn’t run them without skilled workers. Such things as steam under pressure and blast furnaces are not run with a crew that can learn by doing. These are skilled crafts and trades that take much time and experience to do well. It took your people ten years to master Bakha’s bicycle factory, an extremely simple operation compared to any of ours. I suggest, sir, that we are here not so much out of your mercy but because you know this, too.”
“I’ll agree with part of that, but I will also state the facts. We will control this Anchor. If we must hire and import experts from other clusters to rebuild and retrain, then we must. We are patient. Your alternatives are simple. You can categorically reject any accommodation and suffer the fate of Bakha. This will inconvenience us, but all of you and your children and your children’s children will be dead. Forever. Or, you can merge with us, join us as partners—junior partners at the start, but full later on—and we can create a standard of living here undreamed of before, and one with eventually no dependence on Flux.”
“And the Church?” the High Priestess interjected.
“Madame, you and your ladies and whatever you wish to take with you are free to go. We will guarantee safe passage to anywhere outside of New Eden’s sphere that you wish. But your Church has been the primary cause of keeping human beings in the dirt for too many centuries. It has no place here.” He paused a moment. “In fact, we make this offer to you all. We will agree to an orderly evacuation of all who wish to leave this Anchor. We will even arrange for temporary shelter and safety for them through Flux and to various other Anchors to the north, or they may remain just inside Flux, under our protection, until this matter is resolved and then make their own decisions on whether to return or go. We wish no more slaughter of the innocents.”
They buzzed and whispered over that for a few seconds, and there was clearly a strong argument between the High Priestess and Dixon. Mervyn sat silently through it all. He had already done all his arguing and all his pleading, and there was nothing left to do but see it through.
Finally, there seemed some measure of acquiescence, although hardly agreement.
“Judge Tilghman,” Dixon said carefully, “we appreciate the gesture and we accept your generous offer. Hopefully, some time will be allowed to get this message to everyone and give them their options.”
“Ten days from today,” the leader of New Eden said firmly. “Not one minute longer. At dawn, ten days from now, it will be cast.”
They argued for more time, but he would not budge. “An army takes a lot of organization and resources to sustain in the field. I’ll not keep them out there any longer than necessary.”
Dixon sighed and nodded. “Very well. You are doubtlessly aware that the Borough and Commune Council, by a majority vote, determined that massive bloodshed should be avoided at all costs. That means that the majority is willing to surrender to you, but that some will fight. We can’t stop that.”
“The guilds are also divided,” Sertz told him. “The journeyman’s association knows that you need them, and so it’s willing to go along, but much of the rank and file will be opposed and will fight.”
“The militia is subject to the orders of the Council,” General Yakota added. “As such, despite bitter arguments, there will be no organized resistance. I cannot, however, control a group of armed and trained civil militia in every instance. There will be resistance, and these hills will not be easy to take.”
Tilghman nodded and thought for a moment. “Then what we have is a problem of separating the majority from the minority. Might I suggest this, then? Those of the majority—all of them—will proceed from Anchor into Flux by the two gates within ten days, under our complete protection and with adequate provisions assured. At this stage we are still partly dependent on Flux, and so we might as well use it. Our amplifiers can feed and provide for the short time necessary. Anyone remaining in Nantzee after this period will be considered an enemy and will be dealt with. When the Anchor is secured, all may return to their homes and lives.”
“Be reasonable!” Dixon implored him. “Do you realize you might be talking about as many as three quarters of a million men, women, and children?”
“I do and I’m prepared for it. Just such an alternative was brought up in the preliminary meetings and is fully provided for—a contingency that many did not believe would exist. We could handle a million—for a short period, a week or ten days. Up to a month with strain.”
This seemed to greatly please all but the High Priestess— and the one observer present.
Mervyn felt suddenly very uneasy, and spoke up for the first time. “I advise against it. Surrender if you must, or fight if you must, but don’t put your population at the mercy of Flux. To evacuate essentially an entire Anchor with only the clothes on its people’s backs! Incredible!”
Both Sertz and Dixon looked over at the old wizard. “What else can we do? Accept the eight hundred thousand dead of Bakha? Kill half or more of our population because of a few hotheads within it?”
“But they have the population as hostage!”
“Exactly,” Tilghman agreed. “Therefore, the militia must not only supervise the evacuation but also guard the factories and industrial might of the Anchor. There will be a terrible price for sabotage. Some of our officers can be brought in now and supervise these details to minimize any problems.” He sighed and got up. “You have made the correct decision, the only decision that insures us both a long and increasingly productive future. Staff at both gates will assist in every way. I’ll return now to notify the commands. Thank you very much. You will not regret your wisdom.” And, with that, he walked out of the tent.
“Better than we dared hope,” Dixon sighed.
Mervyn stood. “This is the darkest day in the history of World. I firmly believe that you who rejoice in your deliverance now will live long enough to see your names cursed for all time.” And with that, he walked out, followed by the grim-faced High Priestess. Both had known what was coming, but had hoped against hope that it could be avoided.
“They fold like sheep, eager to welcome the butcher,” she said bitterly.
“Tilghman is a far more brilliant tactician than I gave him credit for being,” Mervyn replied. “The scars of Bakha, whose population they needed the least, have justly terrified the rest, and their weapons are formidable. And now he’s got the victim turning over a huge portion of the population to him as hostage to a painless takeover. I do admit, Reverend Mother, that I feel fear for the first time in many long centuries. You will leave, I take it?”
“What choice did they give us? But I’ll not surrender my people to their sexist gunmen. We will evacuate to the temple and out through the Gate. A small volunteer crew will remain, and we will flood the lowest level with concrete. The entrance will remain solidly blocked.”
He nodded. “I hope that’s sufficient. I will also make use of it, so expect me on the tenth day as well.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “You are staying that long? Why?”
“Because I want to see just what they have in mind. I looked into Tilghman’s eyes and I saw a combination of brilliance, audacity, and arrogance that I’ve never seen before. More, he knows I’m here and a real threat to him. With Ivan and who knows who else about, it’s safest for me to exit through the back door, as it were.”
“Don’t delay. I will be the last to leave, but you must be there on the tenth day by nightfall. I will not have a barbarian horde invading and controlling my temple!”
9
GALL AND GUTS
The mass evacuation of an Anchor had never been attempted before, and it was a mammoth and massive undertaking. Additionally, the fear the majority of Anchorfolk felt for Flux had to be counterbalanced by the fear of the invading army and certain death. Some who were not rebellious still would not go, of course, including many of the aged and many simply too stubborn to give in. but the majority did in fact agree to move.
Wizards in the employ of New Eden handled large Flux amplifiers, creating semblances of normal terrain in large pockets. Many of those fleeing Anchor Nantzee tried to take carts and animals and other belongings with them, but troops receiving them just inside Flux stripped them of anything they could not carry themselves.
Both Tilghman and Champion were in high spirits as they watched it progress, and even the general had to admit a certain admiration for the way the Chief Judge had pulled it off. There would still be fighting, some of it potentially fierce, and there would still be a lot of split-second timing to bring it to fruition, but this first and hardest step had been surmounted.
Tilghman set up a command post just inside Flux, where he felt more secure, and held a number of meetings. One of the first was with Onregon Sligh, the obese chief of Research and Development. Sligh was obviously not in the best of condition for long rides and strenuous activity, but he was doing what he could.
“I’ve given some consideration to what we discussed back at the house,” Tilghman told him. “With this operation going so well, I am inclined to give you your way. Mareh is chilly rolling hills with a base of animal husbandry, open range, and textiles. They can’t move south without getting into the Cold Wastes, and we will now control all routes within the cluster to and from there,’ and thus their lifeline. I expect they will fall faster and easier than this one. I think we can afford to wait.”
Sligh looked relieved. “You won’t regret it. At least we can be ready to go only days after Mareh is secured, which puts the timing up to you.”
“What about our situation here? Are we ready?”
“It’s never been done on this scale, you know, although all of our experiments and calculations indicate success. It’s a least common denominator approach, though. I see no reason for failure or apprehension. The amplifiers are set up both east and west of Anchor, away from the Gates. It will be necessary to process them in batches of a few thousand at a time, but that should be no problem. We’ve set up one hundred pockets down both sides of the Anchor in a checkerboard pattern, each holding between seven and ten thousand. We must begin immediately, though. We can’t sustain such crowds of frightened people while we wait for the last to come out of Anchor. The Flux squares of our checkerboard, however, give us some measure of isolation. I would like to start immediately with the farthest squares.”
Tilghman nodded. “Very well. The proper orders will be given immediately. You’re certain that the programming is correct?”
“As certain as I can be. This is tricky. You might also realize that we will have to move directly on Mareh, before news of this gets out.”
He nodded. “I know. Champion’s already on that end. but we’ve still got this one to do yet.”
Sligh rose tiredly. but still managed a chuckle. “Adam, this is so audacious, so insane, it’s simply got to work. You have the damndest mind I’ve ever encountered.”
Adam Tilghman shrugged. “What did you call it? Gall and guts. I think. That’s how you win.”
Troops moved the miserable population through Flux, through restful-looking pockets which had water and some basic foods, then back again. Anchor Nantzee was somewhat heart-shaped, with its entrance gates at the north and south, as opposed to Anchor Logh’s east-west orientation and potato-like boundaries.
When the marching refugees were near the brink of exhaustion, troops moved in and began to separate them. Resistance was strong, but the tired marchers were no match for fresh, well-armed soldiers who showed just how brutal they could be. Families were split as men and women were led to different grassy pockets, totally dependent on their captors for food, water, and rest.
Sligh had used his master amplifier to duplicate itself many times; he had more than enough of the big machines for his purpose, and without moving them far. Sligh, however, was the first to admit that he was on new ground. It was one thing to feed one of the ancient modules in the machines to activate and carry out those instructions; it was quite another to attempt, as he was now, the actual mass transmission of a wizard’s complex spell that had to be both a group and an individualized phenomenon. It had been tried, successfully, on small groups of the pitiful survivors of Anchor Bakha, but never on this scale.