The Shadow and Night (90 page)

“So, my dear Forester?” the representative said as he sat down behind his desk, his eyes staring at Merral with undisguised anticipation.

“Sir,” Merral said, and he found himself swallowing hard, “I am now, very reluctantly, ready to lead the FDU contact party.”

Corradon closed his eyes for a moment before looking at Merral. “Thank you. It is about the best news I have heard today. Daily, things get worse. Since I saw you, Lucian and I had a private visit from a senior member of the Farholme Congregations Committee; they are noticing it now. Other events have been reported. There are three focal points: Ynysmant, Larrenport, and Ilakuma.”

“Ilakuma? In the Anuzabar Chain? It's at least five thousand kilometers away. Are they sure?”

“It seems the same sort of thing,” said Corradon. “A lot of bitterness, but here it's centering on property disputes. They are talking about . . .” He paused. “What was the word? I had to look it up to be sure what they meant. . . . Yes,
lawyers.
”

“Lawyers?”

“Anyway,” Corradon continued with a shrug, “it's getting messy. They blame the Gate going and I wasn't going to argue otherwise.”

“I'm not surprised, sir.”

Corradon opened a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and handed it over.

“On the assumption that you would take on the task, I had a formal letter of commissioning drafted for you. Lucian is, as ever, anxious that we do things right.”

The envelope was marked “Confidential” and bore the seal of the Council of Representatives. Inside there were three sheets of paper. Merral took the top sheet and, aware that his hand was shaking slightly, began to read it.

Forester Merral Stefan D'Avanos is hereby authorized to take charge of the Farholme Defense Unit as of the above date until such time as he is relieved of his office. He is to take the rank of captain and, under God, is to be answerable only to the Council of Farholme Representatives. His general duties are to carry out, to the best of his ability, the task of countering the intruders. His specific and immediate duties are detailed on the separate sheet. Captain D'Avanos is authorized to use such Farholme facilities and resources as may be required.

At the bottom was a signature and beneath it,
Anwar Corradon, Representative for northeastern Menaya; Chair, Council of Farholme Representatives A.D. 13852.

Merral flicked to the next sheet, which was headed by “Confrontation Plans: Top Secret.” Underneath were four short, numbered paragraphs:

1. A body of approximately one hundred and forty soldiers is to be assembled by Sentinel Enand. These are to be divided into four units as follows: a) One six-man squad to accompany the two-person diplomatic team. b) Two thirty-man teams for the possible assault. c) The remaining personnel to be kept in reserve on the Emilia Kay. Each unit is to be under a lieutenant and a sergeant.

2. The diplomatic party will be unarmed and will advance openly without show of force. If, in your judgment, their approaches are rejected by the intruders, you are authorized to attack with all possible speed.

3. If such an attack becomes necessary, your goal—to be achieved at all costs—is to disable the ship. If at all possible, the ship is to be taken intact by the FDU.

4. In the event an attack is undertaken, all reasonable opportunity for the surrender of the intruder forces is to be given. Should there be a failure to surrender, then you are authorized to use whatever force is necessary to ensure the completion of the mission.

At the bottom was Corradon's signature.

The third sheet was simply an acknowledgement form stating
I have read the above two sheets and agree to them.

Merral paused. “Sir, what's a lieutenant and a sergeant?”

A sad smile crossed Corradon's face. “They are, I'm told, military ranks. The ever-knowledgeable Sentinel Enand will explain.”

“I have no doubt.”

Merral stared at the paper, struggled with a sea of emotions, took the pen off the desk, and with a silent prayer for help, signed his name.

Corradon took the sheet from him. “I'm sorry. I truly am. You and I are in the same unhappy position of having been given a task that neither of us wants.” He rubbed his face before staring at Merral. “A task without precedent, a task that may not even be achievable. To lead a world without a Gate . . .” He stared darkly into the distance. “To lead a world without a Gate that is being infiltrated by evil?”

Merral felt that he had never heard such gloom in the representative's voice.

Corradon put his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward so his chin rested on his fingers. It was, Merral thought (and immediately felt ashamed for thinking it), a terribly statuesque pose that made him look rather noble. Yet there was something brooding about the way Corradon appeared that reminded Merral of some troubled king or president from before the Intervention, faced with leading his people through a time of strife or disaster. And then Merral realized such a parallel was all too apt.

“I know you are busy,” Corradon said in a quiet voice, “but come through to the conservatory. There are things that need to be said and here is perhaps rather formal. But can I get you a drink?”

“A fruit juice, sir, please.”

“I'll be with you in a minute. Go through.”

The conservatory was full of anemones of many colors, most with their petals closed for the night. Merral was looking around, trying to identify the species when Corradon returned with two glasses of juice.

“Shall we?” he said, pointing to a pair of chairs in a corner.

“A fine collection of plants, sir,” Merral said as he sat down and took the juice from the tray.

“Thank you. I have concentrated on the anemones of Menaya.” Suddenly the representative's tone of voice changed, and Merral was all too aware of tiredness and strain in it. “But, Merral, let's drop the formality. Here, at least, please call me Anwar.”

Merral was surprised to see that any trace of confidence had left the representative's face. The man who sat in front of him now seemed older and troubled.

“As you wish, Anwar,” Merral said, feeling both sympathy and alarm.

His host sipped his drink and frowned. “Merral,” Anwar said slowly, “I want to explain something. So you understand. Now that you have agreed to help, I can tell you.”

He hesitated. “The post of representative—and even more so, that of chairman of the Farholme representatives—is not just functional, it is also public. Indeed, it is perhaps primarily a public role. You know: the opening of schools, the visits to processing plants, the endless speeches and dinners; that sort of thing.” Corradon gave a pained smile and stared into the darkness of one corner of the conservatory. “It is harmless enough. A sort of perpetual theatrical performance. You understand?”

“Yes. But I had never thought of it that way.”

“No, why should you? But since the loss of the Gate, my role has changed. People now look to me for help, for guidance, for encouragement. I sense them hanging on my every word. They are hungry for me to reassure them that it's all going to be all right. It is almost idolatrous. But do you see the problem?”

“I'm not sure I do, sir—Anwar, I mean—you'd better spell it out.”

“It quite simple. I can't show any doubt or concern. I have to deliver what they want.”

“I see.”

“And increasingly, Merral, I find that my private views are so much at variance with what I have to say in public that I feel a fraud.” His face seemed to sag, and Merral felt the blue eyes were close to tears. “I think we are in trouble. I'm worried. But I can't say it. I have to pretend.”

“Ah,” Merral said, reeling at the situation that the representative had exposed. “I see. I'm sorry; I hadn't realized.”

“You weren't meant to. That's the problem. I'm caught every way; I can't even resign. That would be bad for morale. At times, I feel I am putting on an act. As if I am a circus clown, with a fixed smile.”

“That must be hard.”

“It is.” Corradon shook his head bitterly.

“Who else knows?”

“Victoria, of course. And Lucian. He misses very little. He is concerned about it. He wonders how long I can keep up the act. That's another reason why he backs you. I—
we—
need you. And we need a victory. Of some sort. But he has been very helpful.”

Merral sipped his juice, aware that the burden on him had just been increased. “I understand. I will do what I can.”

The gaunt face that stared at him seemed to brighten slightly as if some burden had been lifted. “Thanks,” Corradon said with a long, weary sigh. “Anyway, I just thought you ought to know. I'm the wrong man for this job.”

“I think there're at least two of us in that position,” Merral told him. “But thank you for your honesty. I will pray for you.”

As Merral watched, he felt that somehow Corradon's face regained something of the smooth assurance that it had had before.
He has put back on the public mask,
Merral thought, and the idea appalled him.

“Thank you,” Corradon said and sipped his drink. “Incidentally, Merral, it has been agreed that, despite the rush, we and you would all take tomorrow off and keep the Lord's Day.”

“Seems sensible.”

“Well, we thought not to do so would be a lack of faith. And besides, it would be rather noticeable.” The representative shrugged and took another sip. “Anyway, I'll let you go. You'll have a lot to do before you go south.”

“South?”

There was a pause. “Ah, hasn't he told you? The ever-inventive Sentinel Enand? Well, he will.” Corradon rose. “And we'd better not keep him. But let me show you out. I may try and see you before you go, but Vero is anxious that I keep up a normal schedule. Not to alert anyone who is watching.”

He ushered Merral to the conservatory door. “Thank you again for listening.”

“It's a privilege. I'll keep it confidential. But I have a question. You see, Brenito told me—it was almost the last thing he said to me—that we must all play our parts.”

“True.”

“And surely to play a part, we have—at least sometimes—to act?”

There was a thin, tired smile. “Ah, how interesting. Yes, I think you are right. We may not like the parts that the Most High has written for us. And sometimes we may not even feel that we can do them. But we must do what we can.”

He patted Merral on the back. “Thanks. But do me a favor, Captain? If it comes to a fight, seize the ship! Please?”

As Vero drove him to Narreza Tower, Merral mentioned nothing of his conversation in the conservatory to Vero. But he did mention other things.

“And on Ilakuma,” Merral said, “there are disputes; they are talking about lawyers.”

“Lawyers!” The vehicle swerved and a red light flashed as the auto-steer circuitry took over and directed it away from the curb. “The people of Ilakuma want lawyers?”

“That's what he said.”

“We are in big trouble.” Vero shook his head. “Bigger than I thought.”

“And he also talked about us going south. Where and why?”

Vero suddenly looked rather sheepish, “I meant to tell you. Do you know Tanaris Island?”

“Tanaris? In the Henelen Chain. A bit lonely, isn't it? Five or six hundred kilometers southeast of Larrenport. There have been various plans for forestry work there, but they never got very far. Why do you mention it?”

“Because Tanaris is our forward base. Zak and many of the men are already there, building a camp, beginning to practice. The rest will be there soon. The day after tomorrow—all being well—you and I will take the
Emilia Kay
to Tanaris.”

“But why there?”

“Because the men need to practice and Isterrane is just too public. People will see and maybe talk. If they do that over diary links then the intruders may know. Besides, there are always ships landing, and they get in the way. So Tanaris has become the assembly point; it's uninhabited, isolated, and has a good landing strip.”