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Authors: Sean McMullen

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Eyes of the Calculor (26 page)

BOOK: Eyes of the Calculor
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The rest of the abbot's sentence was lost in the cries of astonishment, shouts of outrage, and not a few cheers that burst from the four hundred throats.

"The regulators of the St. Roger Calculor will be Dragon Librarians, supplied by Libris," shouted the abbot as the audience became orderly again. "These will all be veterans of the original Calculor built by Frelle Highliber Zarvora. All past the age of regular and frequent sexual activity."

"You hope," called someone, and titters rippled across the curve of the amphitheatre.

"The Emir of Cowra has generously agreed to donate five dozen eunuchs to preserve order and guard the good virtue of both yourselves and the holy sisters of St. Heloise. Now, then, dormitories must be built for several hundred visitors, and the chapel converted to a calculor hall. We have one week to have the monastery functional for these projects. You are dismissed, get to work!"

Rochester, the Rochestrian Commonwealth

Kangen stayed late at the Filthy Swine due to the rain that was lashing Rochester. At the hour of midnight the jarmaid announced for the fifth time that the establishment was closed, and this time she backed up her words by raking down the coals in the fireplace and snuffing all but one of the lanterns.

Singly and in pairs, the last of the patrons ventured out into the rain until only the lone cripple remained.

"A long run home, Skew?" asked Julica as she stood beside him in the doorway.

"Aye, 'tis sure. More water be out there than in your beer."

"Had I a copper for every time I've heard that tonight I'd never have to work again."

Julica closed the door and took Rangen by the arm. She put some kindling on the coals and blew on them until flames began to dance again.

"You know, I see a lot of bad lads here," said Julica as she knelt before the flames.

"And I do business with 'em," replied Rangen.

"But you are not like them."

"Ah, I were once an honest soldier, then my leg was—"

"I have been observing you closely, Fras, and I could not help noticing that you occasionally limp on the wrong leg. Your drawl also slips into quite educated Austaric on occasion, and you display refinements of manners to the jarmaids—including me—that no other patrons of the Filthy Swine have ever heard of."

"I. . . maintain multiple disguises," conceded Rangen in his normal speech. "Is this to be unexpected in a bad lad?"

"No, but bad lads tend to be cunning and shrewd, rather than educated as well."

"I am on hard times."

"You are not smuggling stolen gold and gemstones with your paraline passengers, are you? You are smuggling the passengers."

The crackle of the fire and the pattering of the rain outside greeted this speculation, answering yes in place of Rangen's silence.

"Not long ago I was abducted and sold into the current Libris Calculor," Julica continued. "I had feigned ability with arithmetic to get a free trip to Rochester. Upon arriving at the Calculor, I had my skills put to the test. I was thrown out within the same hour."

"Clever. Why did you want to come to Rochester?"

"To seek my fortune. I know that there's a lot of money in numerate souls."

"Aye," conceded Rangen.

"And I suspect that you are one as well."

"Frelle, you flatter me but—"

"But I'm right. I have been watching you, whatever your name is. I admire you. You could have fled to safety in the outlying may-

orates or even farther, yet you stayed here to help others evade Libris and its librarians."

"I repeat, Frelle, you flatter me unduly."

"I know, I know. You cannot afford to admit anything." Mica took his hand and pressed it between hers. "Fras, I want to help, but you will admit nothing—and quite sensibly so. Still, I can help. Were you to hobble home in the rain you might well catch a chill and not work so hard as the fugitives need. The least I can do is prevent that."

"Gracious Frelle, I certainly would appreciate a night by the fireplace. The rain is sure to clear by dawn."

"Brave and dedicated Fras, I was thinking of accommodating you somewhere more comfortably than that," she said, releasing Rangen's hand and sliding her arms around his neck.

Julica was very pleasantly surprised to see what a comely and desirable body Rangen had once his disguise was removed, but while Rangen was initially an uneasy bedmate he was a little more trusting by the time the sun rose on a Rochester scrubbed clean by the deluge of the night. He did not reveal where he resided, but he began to entrust Julica with some minor errands, and presently he was spending two nights out of every three in her bed. She proved indeed trustworthy, and soon they were moving vastly more refugees to safety.

Peterborough, the Woomeran Confederation

It was a measure of Jemli's new influence and stature that she was able to have called the meeting of leaders at all. At the mayoral palace in Peterborough on the 20th day of October there gathered thirty-one castellians, seventeen mayors, four overmayors, and over two hundred religious leaders. The subjects under discussion were the cessation of the Call, and the destruction of all electrical machines.

In part the impressive gathering was related to desperation. The

subjects of the leaders were both terrified and traumatized by the way that so much of the backdrop to their lives had vanished within just one day. Jemli's followers continually told everyone who would listen that she had predicted the demise of the electrical machines and had gone on to predict a major change in the Call. People were impressed. She had also predicted a great deal more that had definitely not happened, however, but religious believers tend to be selective in what they wish to remember.

From all over the region common people also gathered in Peterborough. They arrived by wind train, pedal train, horse, and foot. They camped in the open under clear but chilly spring skies, and they flocked to the walls of the city to listen for messages relayed from the palace. Rumors were rife among the faithful, and Reformed Gentheist priests welcomed thousands of converts into their religion. When disease broke out in the hundred-thousand-strong crowd, it was pronounced that demons of unbalance were assailing their faith and resolve. Within the mayoral palace, Jemli was not speaking to quite such a devoted audience. The priests, bishops, clerics, mayors, and overmayors wanted details. Jemli gave them sermons about faith. The Overmayor of Woomera finally led a movement designed to topple Jemli, forcing a vote to establish a commission of religious ecumenism that would draft a pronouncement on both the ends of the Call and the use of electrical essence. Jemli did not vote. When the division was called she strode from the palace hall and led her entourage to the palace wall.

A deep, reverberating growl went up from the crowd as Jemli appeared, and believers surged forward. Dozens were crushed to death, but this was scarcely noticed as the Prophet began to speak.

"Electrical machines are evil!" she shouted, raising her hands to the sky.

The crowd roared back, flinging an incoherent wall of sound at her.

"Fueled engines are evil!" she continued, and again the hundred thousand believers roared their agreement.

"The Word of the Deity is upon me! Will you hear the Word of the Deity?"

A third rumble of voices washed up to the walls of Peterborough and past the Prophet who stood there.

"I do not want to conquer your mayorates. I care nothing for who administers your religions. I care only that you heed the Word of the Deity. Smash fueled engines. Drown electrical essence. Crush those who use them, the academicians, the engineers, and worst of all the aviads. Who stood to lose most by the end of the Call? The aviads! Who is hateful in the sight of the Deity? The aviads! The former Calldeath lands are covered with the infernal fueled machines of the aviads, but the Deity in his wisdom has torn open their refuge. Yes, they use the machines of demons against us believers, but the Deity looks after those who are as solid as bedrock in their belief and faith."

The crowd responded by pouring in through the city gates. Back in the palace the vote went against Jemli, but by the time it had been taken, that vote had become completely irrelevant. Guards deserted or rebelled, servants and courtiers poured into the streets to shout praise to Jemli the Prophet, and by the late afternoon the Overmayor of Woomera was hanging dead from the arch of a gate in the walls of Peterborough while his successor swore fealty to Jemli.

The Rochestrian envoy regarded the body with disquiet as he stood with his aide in the street below.

"Alas, poor Bayjen, you were always the consummate numbers man," said the envoy.

"And he did have the numbers," his aide pointed out. "A three-quarter majority supported him."

"And a hundred thousand of Jemli the Prophet's supporters begged to disagree. Now the regions of Kalgoorlie, Alspring, and Woomera are behind her, and the western castellanies of the Rochestrian Commonwealth also pledged allegiance."

"Only in terms of faith. They do not want to be shot for treason by Overmayor Lengina's militias. Even the politics of Jemli's, ah, converted mayorates have not changed. They are independent, but worship under a unified theocracy."

"And with everyone bearing in mind what would happen if they tried to exhibit a bit of that independence in front of Frelle

Prophet," the envoy replied, arching his eyebrow in the direction of the corpse.

A group of bystanders began to fling stones at the dangling corpse of the man who had been the ruler of Woomera's mayors until only hours earlier. The Rochestrian envoy beckoned to his aide to move on.

"This could be very serious for Rochester," he said as they began to walk. "Rochester has always been seen as the most advanced of cities, and the Commonwealth has been held together by electrical calculors and radio machines for two decades."

"You are forgetting two important factors, Fras," responded his aide.

"I would appreciate being reminded of them," said the envoy.

"The Highliber got a human calculor and the beamflash network restored within three days of Black Thirteenth, last September. There is a lot less fear and disunity in the Commonwealth than elsewhere as a result."

"True. And the second?"

"Rochester has a very large number of religions."

"You call this good? Need I remind you that a religious nutcake has been given allegiance by three of Rochester's western castella-nies?"

"But the Dragon Librarian Service holds the Rochestrian Commonwealth together, not the Christian Church or Islamic clerics, and certainly not the Gentheists—their largest followings are in Kal-goorlie, Alspring, and Woomera. Being run by librarians means that the Commonwealth is very robust, and cannot be conquered by some prophet winning over a few religious leaders. Our system is the best in the known world."

"There are Gentheists in the Dragon Librarian Service."

"But they are not unified, and they are small in number."

The envoy considered this for a time as they walked. Orators were declaiming support for Jemli the Prophet at almost every street corner, and members of the city militia were wearing Gentheist colors and pennants.

"The Highliber would be outraged to see all this," said the aide.

"Neither the Highliber nor the Overmayor wished to lend any legitimacy to this farce by attending in person. That is why we are here."

"And when can we leave?"

"Just as soon as formal proceedings are complete. That will be this afternoon."

The termination of formal proceedings was not quite so simple as the envoy had hoped, however. Late in the afternoon he found himself being granted an audience with Jemli herself.

"I note that Rochester did not choose to worship the Word of the Deity by sending the head of state," she began ominously.

"Frelle Prophet, Rochester is a secular commonwealth," replied the envoy, who had been expecting just such an observation. "We reacted to the Black Thirteenth crisis by commencing an adjustment of our secular structures, and that is taking all of the time and energy of both our Overmayor and Highliber."

"So they do not think that my word, the Deity's Word, is worth considering?"

"On the contrary, Frelle Prophet, I was sent precisely because Rochester does take you seriously indeed."

"Rochester could easily be described as a godless and evil wasteland!" rasped Jemli.

"But not accurately. We are a secular commonwealth where a diversity of religions coexist in harmony, just as the many religions of your followers coexist in harmony."

"You have a smooth and agile tongue, Envoy. You remind me of the former Overmayor of Woomera."

"My death, detention, or torture would result in the instant and unconditional declaration of war against the offending state. Forget that at your peril," replied the envoy firmly. "It is in the articles of exchange, of which I have a copy here. May I also remind you that Rochester's armies are completely intact, as are Rochester's paraline and beamflish networks? Can you say the same of yours?"

"Need I remind you that I am also Overmayor of Kalgoorlie and all its western mayorates?" declared Jemli with cold authority in her voice.

"Need I remind you that I am the Overmayor of Rochester's brother? With respect, Overmayor."

Jemli managed to contain her anger. She had wished to swamp the Rochestrian Commonwealth, to win it over through sheer charisma, but with no audience to perform to this was not an option. A war would be easy to provoke but hard to wage. Her forces were enthusiastic but ill equipped, and even less well organized and led. The difference was thanks to the Dragon Librarian Service that Jemli wished to control. Overmayor Lengina could definitely shatter Woomera's disorganized armies and cut the paraline to Kalgoorlie. Jemli chose tactical retreat.

"I am concerned only for the salvation of all Rochestrians," she declared soothingly, suddenly dismissing all the acrimony of only seconds earlier. "I wish to threaten neither you nor the Commonwealth."

"I am gratified to hear it, Overmayor."

BOOK: Eyes of the Calculor
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