“Well,” Leoh said, turning to the president, “it seems that I must request an indefinite leave of absence.”
The president frowned. “And it seems that I must grant it—even though the year isn’t even half-finished.”
“I regret the necessity,” said Leoh. Then, with a broad grin, he added, “My assistant, here, can handle my courses for the remainder of the year quite easily. Perhaps he’ll even be able to deliver his lectures without being interrupted.”
The assistant professor turned red from collar to scalp.
“Now then,” Leoh muttered to himself, “who is this Kanus, and why is he trying to turn the Kerak Worlds into an arsenal?”
Chancellor Kanus, Supreme Leader of the Kerak Worlds, stood at the edge of the balcony and looked across the wild, tumbling gorge to the rugged mountains beyond
“These are the forces that mold men’s actions,” he said to his small audience of officials and advisers. “The howling winds, the mighty mountains, the open sky, and the dark powers of the clouds.”
The men nodded and made murmurs of agreement,
“Just as the mountains thrust up from the pettiness of the lands below, so shall we rise above the common walk of men,” Kanus said. “Just as a thunderstorm terrifies them, we will make them cower and bend to our will.”
“We will destroy the past,” said one of the ministers.
“And avenge the memory of defeat,” Kanus added. He turned and looked at the little group of men. Kanus was the smallest man on the balcony: short, spare, sallowfaced. His gaudy military uniform looked out of place on him, too big and heavy, too loaded with braid and medals. But he possessed piercing dark eyes and a strong voice that commanded attention.