Part 3 (1/2)
”I a.s.sure you, a standard safeguard-”
”An offensive invasion of privacy!”
”A woman so much in the public eye as yourself, Miss Devaire, may scarcely expect to enjoy the anonymity of a more commonplace individual.”
Commonplace? Respectable, did he mean? No matter, Luzelle decided. She was capable of dealing with this latest critic. Her chin came up, and she drew a preparatory breath.
”Please understand,” vo Rouvignac forestalled her, ”that I mean no disrespect. You will perceive the necessity of our precautions, once you come to appreciate the delicacy of the situation we now confront.”
”You offer to sponsor my partic.i.p.ation in the Hetzian king's Grand Ellipse race. What's particularly delicate about that?”
”On the face of it nothing, and that is all to the good. Have you not stopped to wonder, however, why the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would choose to concern itself in this matter?”
”Vonahrish prestige,” Luzelle returned at once. ”The Grand Ellipse is attracting international attention. The newspapers and sporting gazettes have focused upon the compet.i.tion for weeks. Speculation is intense, and I've read of enormous sums wagered upon the outcome. The victor, whoever it may be, garners great glory for his or her own country.” And a valuable piece of real estate for herself. And a valuable piece of real estate for herself.
”Quite true. Yet the sponsors.h.i.+p of a well-equipped contestant demands a considerable outlay of capital, and the endeavor itself might be termed frivolous. A large expense of such dubious necessity is particularly difficult to justify now, at a time of national crisis.”
”The national crisis seems to have escaped my notice, Deputy Underminister.”
”Understandable. Relatively few of our countrymen realize that invasion is imminent. In the near future-possibly a matter of weeks-Vonahr will be a.s.saulted by forces of the Grewzian Imperium. For the present, it is best that the threat continue largely unrecognized.”
Luzelle stared at him.
”The information I am about to impart is sensitive,” vo Rouvignac continued. ”I believe, however, that you are fit to receive it. But come, let us find someplace and go indoors. It is starting to rain in earnest.”
The big drops were now pattering down fatly. Students were running for cover. Bowing her head against the onslaught, Luzelle accepted the arm her companion offered, and together they hurried across University Square into the mouth of Cider Alley, where the overhang of the old-fas.h.i.+oned houses afforded shelter. Presently they reached a small but very smartly painted cafe, and entered to find the place crowded with rain-spotted refugees. Vo Rouvignac managed to commandeer the last unoccupied table, beside the kitchen door. Seating themselves, they ordered lemon tea. For some moments neither spoke.
The steaming mugs arrived. Luzelle took a sip and set her drink aside. Meeting vo Rouvignac's eyes, she answered him at last; characteristically, with a question.
”How do you know that the Grewzians plan an invasion?”
”The independent reports of several agents confirm it,” he told her. ”Even were that not so, the situation is self-explanatory to those who take note of such things.”
”Anyone who reads the newspapers knows that the Imperior Ogron favors expansion. He's annexed or invaded various territories to which, theoretically, Grewzland possesses legitimate claim-”
”Utterly false justifications, for the most part.”
”-certain foreign allies of the ousted governments have offered active resistance, which the imperior has crushed-”
”Attacking upon the flimsiest of pretexts.”
”-but the Grewzian activities have generally directed themselves eastward. Well, to the south also, these days. There's nothing I've read or heard to suggest that the imperior has any intention of s.h.i.+fting his attention west toward Vonahr. Certainly Grewzland possesses no reasonable claim to Vonahrish soil, and cannot pretend otherwise. We've attempted no meddling in Grewzian affairs, offered neither threat nor provocation. Furthermore, the Imperium now comprises such a vast area, it hardly seems probable that Ogron should regard a Vonahrish conquest as necessary or even desirable-”
”Miss Devaire, you are an intelligent young person and reasonably well informed, but more than a little naive,” vo Rouvignac observed, so mildly that the words lost their sting. ”You argue upon the a.s.sumption that Grewzian policy is the product of rational, well-intentioned, more or less civilized intellects. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Grewzian policy is dictated by the will of the Imperior Ogron III. The imperior, a vainglorious mystic fancying himself a latter-day embodiment of the Gorzlaar of Grewzian folklore, is the natural scion of a culture traditionally celebrating personal courage, martial prowess, and fanatical patriotism. The Gorzlaar, if you'll recall, is a legendary warrior-king-G.o.d destined to conquer all the civilized world, thus leading the Grewzian people to their glorious collective destiny. The imperior has embarked upon this project with much elan, and a.s.suredly will not cease either until he has accomplished his goal or until he is forcibly halted.”
She believed him. Something in his dry professorial certainty convinced her, and she attempted no further denial, but instead inquired, ”If that's true, why keep it a secret? Shouldn't our people be warned?”
”Such a move would only hasten the Grewzian a.s.sault.”
”But Vonahr must arm herself, and quickly. The army must mobilize, the border cities strengthen their defenses, the munition factories increase production, the navy modernize its-”
”Useless,” vo Rouvignac cut her off calmly. ”Moments earlier you mentioned the newspapers and gazettes. If you read them, then you already know that the Imperior Ogron has spent the last half decade or so preparing his country for war. And to give credit where it's due, he has done an excellent job. Grewzland now possesses the largest, best-equipped, and best-trained army in the world; an unsurpa.s.sed navy; the most modern and efficient factories and railroads; great natural resources-its own, augmented by those seized from a growing roster of subject nations; a skilled and enthusiastic workforce; and, thanks to the great war effort, a flouris.h.i.+ng economy. While the imperior has thus busied himself, we Vonahrish have essentially...fiddled. The inattention of years is not to be remedied in a matter of weeks. I a.s.sure you, we are quite unfit to resist the impending invasion.”
”But we are not alone.” Luzelle's mind cast swiftly about in search of salvation. ”The city-states and western Republican-Enclaves must surely recognize the Grewzian threat. Kyrendt, Travorn, Ferille-clearly it would be to the advantage of all to form a defensive alliance with Vonahr.”
”Not a bad thought, saving the sad reality that the condition of the nations in question hardly differs from our own. They can furnish little a.s.sistance.”
”What are you saying, then?” Luzelle demanded. ”That Vonahr is about to disappear down the maw of the Grewzian Imperium, and there's nothing at all we can do about it? Perhaps you advise immediate and unconditional surrender?”
”That, at least, would avert wholesale destruction.”
”What sort of wretched weak-livered talk is that, coming from a Vonahrish official? Have you any idea idea how those Grewzian pigs treat their conquered territories?” how those Grewzian pigs treat their conquered territories?”
”A pretty clear one, I believe. Please calm yourself, Miss Devaire. I admire your spirit, but must advise you to rein it in until you've heard all I have to say. I do not advocate surrender at this time. There is another possibility worthy of investigation. It involves a new and potentially devastating weapon, of-er-arcane origin.”
”You surprise me. I didn't think anyone in today's government would admit to a belief in the significance of arcane phenomena. A world blessed with gaslight, steam engines, and indoor plumbing has no further need of sorcery and superst.i.tion, or so I've been told.” So she had indeed been told, more than once, by no less than Master Girays v'Alisante himself. And he'd dismissed her arguments to the contrary with that intolerable superior smugness of his. She only wished that he could be here now to discover how wrong he had been.
”The ancient disciplines are by no means bereft of their partisans or their pract.i.tioners,” vo Rouvignac observed. ”Even today there are princes and presidents aplenty known to seek counsel of sorcerous savants. One such ruler is Miltzin IX, king of the Low Hetz. Miltzin, a collector of human oddities, extends his patronage to a number of so-called magical adepts. The favored group includes several known swindlers and confidence men, but at least one member is widely believed to possess genuine talent of a high order. This man-calling himself 'Nevenskoi,' and claiming unverifiable Rhazaullean nationality-has let it be known to his sorcerous colleagues all over the civilized world that he has succeeded in kindling a new form of fire, a blaze imbued with rudimentary sentience and subject to its creator's human will.”
”The fire fire is supposed to be aware?” Luzelle demanded. Her companion nodded, and she opined, ”Nonsense!” is supposed to be aware?” Luzelle demanded. Her companion nodded, and she opined, ”Nonsense!”
”You may well think so, but in fact the report has been confirmed. Too many reliable correspondents have submitted eyewitness accounts of remarkable demonstrations at King Miltzin's Waterwitch Palace to doubt the truth of Nevenskoi's disclosure. Clearly this Rhazaullean adept has accomplished all that he claims. The Sentient Fire exists. It is capable of unsupervised advance or retreat, expansion, contraction, gluttonous consumption or self-denial, all at the behest of its human master. The potential military value of such a discovery at this time is incalculable, particularly to those among us disinclined to cultivate a taste for Grewzian offal pudding and Imperiorstein ale.”
”Hard to believe, with so many so certain that the old arts are dead,” Luzelle murmured. ”You're certain there's no mistake and no trickery?”
”Entirely certain.”
”But how agreeable for His Majesty Miltzin. I suppose the bidding is feverish.”
”By no means. The king will have none of it. Determined to preserve traditional Hetzian neutrality, Miltzin has declared himself unwilling to part with the secret, to anyone, at any price. Already he has declined a bouquet of a.s.sorted offers, resisting the eloquence of the world's most persuasive amba.s.sadors, including our own. His Majesty displays no sign of weakening, but perhaps the continual importuning has begun to fray the royal nerves. As of last week, all known foreign representatives were expelled from the Low Hetz. Requests for audiences with the king are routinely denied. Diplomatic correspondence is perused by Miltzin's personal secretaries, and no plea pertaining to the Sentient Fire is permitted to reach the king's eyes.”
”Is His Majesty blessed with a singular sense of humor, or is he merely feebleminded?”
”He is an eccentric one, beyond doubt.”
”Aren't there ways of circ.u.mventing eccentricity? The Low Hetz hardly qualifies as a great power. What's to prevent Vonahr from loosing a few regiments upon the city of Toltz, seizing this Nevenskoi, his records and arcana, and conveying all back home to Sherreen without further ado? And why don't we strike before the Grewzians think of doing the same? Doesn't it seem to you that every second of delay is-”
”Softly, Miss Devaire. Do you imagine that you are the first to think of that? The scheme is enterprising but impractical. You see, Miltzin IX keeps his tame sorcerer stowed away in a secret workroom hidden somewhere in the depths of the Waterwitch Palace. The workroom's location is known to few. Moreover, the Waterwitch itself-built on a small island set amid treacherous swamplands outside of Toltz-is accessible only by means of three successive drawbridges. This location and design, evidently appealing to His Majesty's sense of whimsy, in fact provide excellent defense. An a.s.sault upon the palace is sure to be a protracted affair, during the course of which Nevenskoi and his knowledge will undoubtedly vanish, perhaps forever.”
”I see.”
”Do you?”
”Not the whole of it.” Luzelle studied her companion. ”Why are you telling me all of this, Deputy Underminister? I a.s.sume it's connected in some way to the Grand Ellipse and the ministry's offer of sponsors.h.i.+p, but I don't see how.”
”You recall the prize awaiting the winner of the race?”