“I see. And Merdon?”
“He …” For just an instant it seemed her self-control would crack. “He refuses to change his mind. He will fight against you, he says, until Shinar is free.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vorgens replied, “and sorrier still to see you so—upset. He means very much to you, doesn’t he?”
“Once he did,” she said. “Now, we couldn’t be farther apart if we were on opposite ends of the world.”
Vorgens smiled at her.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s not funny, merely an odd coincidence. Someone just told me that I was poles apart from him.”
“You? You’re among your own men, why should you worry about one person?”
“He’s a very important person. And as far as being among my own men … I’m among strangers. With the exception of two or three people, I’ve known you and your uncle longer than any of the men here.”
“You’re as alone as I am,” Altai said.
“Yes,” Vorgens agreed. “That’s right.”
XV
Choices and Plans
The Komani warrior sat under a tree at the crest of a hill overlooking Shinar’s Capital City. He had lost track of the days since he had first started hunting the old priest, first at the town of Matara, then along the road to the Mobile Force’s camp, and finally here at the city.
He could not follow his prey into the city, of course. The Terran garrison would shoot him on sight. So he waited, living off terrified fanners and villagers nearby, sleeping in me open, waiting with remorseless patience. Sooner or later, the priest would leave the city, and he could be attacked or killed.
As he sat with his broad back against the sturdy shade tree, the warrior studied the city spread out on the plain below. It was the biggest collection of buildings he had ever seen, even larger than the rare clan gatherings of the Komani, which covered whole valleys with bubbletents.