Part 1 (1/2)
A Wizard In Mind.
Magnus D'Armand, Rogue Wizard.
By Christopher Stasheff.
PROLOGUE.
A spy can't quit and stay healthy-everybody knows that. In fact, a spy can't quit and stay alive-but Magnus d'Armand was still living, even though he had resigned from the Society for the Conversion of Extraterrestrial Nascent Totalitarianisms more than six months before-still alive, and not really terribly worried about it.
Of course, SCENT wasn't a secret service with missions of mayhem-it was (officially) a private organization dedicated to subverting dictators.h.i.+ps before they started, by converting planets to democracy before they developed out of their Middle Ages. So Magnus wasn't really a spy, though he was a secret agent.
He was also a secret wizard. That helped, sometimes. A lot.
At the moment, he was sitting in the control room of his s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, talking with its robot brain. ”Well, Herkimer, which planet shall we subvert next?”
”There is a wide choice.” Herkimer supplied the sound of index cards flipping behind his rather theatrical sigh. ”I do not suppose I could persuade you to consider a planet for which democracy is obviously the ideal form of government?”
”You could persuade me to try the planet, but not the democracy-at least, not without a ma.s.sive amount of proof. After all, that's why I quit SCENT-because I wasn't willing to impose democracy on a society it wasn't right for.”
”And because you disapproved of some of SCENT's methods-yes, I know.”
Herkimer didn't mention the other reason for Magnus's reluctance to ”impose”
democracy-the young man's father, Rod Gallowgla.s.s, who was one of SCENT's most famous agents (though Rod himself didn't know about it), and had spend most of his life laying the foundations of democratic government on Magnus's home planet, Gramarye. The young man's need to separate himself from his father, and to establish his own reputation, no doubt had a great deal to do with both his quitting SCENT and his reluctance to establish democracies.
”I can't accept sacrificing good people just to give an edge to your favorite form of government,” Magnus told him. ”Societies come in a great number of different forms, Herkimer, so it only makes sense that they need different forms of government. If I find a planet that requires a dictators.h.i.+p, I'll work to establish a dictators.h.i.+p!”
”Certainly, Magnus-if you do find such a society.” Herkimer had already scanned his complete SCENT database, along with the d'Armand family archives that he had down-loaded from Fess, the family robot. With that knowledge in his data banks, Herkimer could easily see that although dictators.h.i.+p might be good for a society, it wasn't good for the people, unless there were some way of guaranteeing their civil rights-in which case, it wasn't a complete dictators.h.i.+p anymore, but was on the way to becoming something else. ”The planet Kanark might be the sort you are considering.” He put a picture on the screen.
Magnus frowned, studying the peasants in their felt caps and faded blue tunics as they waded through a yellow field with scythes, singing in time to the sweep and lift of the blades. ”The planet is eight percent greater in diameter than Terra,”
Herkimer informed him, ”but with ninety-eight percent of Terra's gravity, presumably indicating fewer heavy metals in the planetary core. Its rotation is twenty-two hours, forty minutes, Terran standard. The axial tilt is nine degrees; distance from the sun is one-point-oh-five AU.”
”So it's slightly colder that Terra?”
”Yes, and the ice caps are greater, as is the landma.s.s. Still, there is no shortage of free water, and maize, millet, barley, and wheat grow well.”
”Presumably brought in by the early colonists.”
”The records of the pioneers indicate that, yes,” Herkimer confirmed. ”The economy is still agricultural, though with an increasing industrial base.”
”So the majority of people are farmers?”
”Yes-yeomen. Eighty percent of them own their own hectare or two. The remaining twenty percent are approximately evenly split between merchants and agricultural laborers employed by the largest landowners.”
”Who are, of course, the government.”
”Yes. The government is pyramidal, with small landowners governed by larger.
The wealthiest dozen men in each sovereign state const.i.tute the highest authority. They agree on legislation, but each acts as both judiciary and executive over his own estates. Land owners.h.i.+p and rank are hereditary.”
”An aristocracy, and a rather authoritarian one.” Magnus frowned. ”Let's see how these n.o.blemen live.”
The picture of the field workers was replaced by an interior picture of a large, circular room, paneled in wood but with the roof beams showing. Tapestries adorned the walls, large windows let in sunlight, and a fire burned in a huge fireplace. Half a dozen people were moving about. Magnus frowned. ”They're all dressed decently, but not richly. Where are the rulers?”
”The duke stands near the hearth. The others are his family.”
Magnus stared. ”I would scarcely say they were dressed sumptuously-and the room is certainly not richly furnished! In fact, I'd call it rather Spartan. Let me see a yeoman's house.”
The picture dissolved into a view of a similar dwelling, except that the roof was only a foot or two above the heads of the eight people. Three were obviously teenagers, two middle-aged, and the other three, children. The windows were smaller than in the duke's house, and the walls were decorated with arrangements of evergreen branches instead of tapestries.
Magnus frowned. ”It would seem that wealth is fairly evenly distributed. Is there evidence of oppression?”
”Only in the punishment of criminals-which includes political dissenters. It is not a wealthy planet.”
”But most of the people are content.” Magnus shook his head. ”There isn't much I can do there to make them richer, and they seem happy enough in any case; I might make their lives worse. Let me see people who toil under a more oppressive regime.”
The screen cleared, and Herkimer put up the sound of cards flipping again, to indicate that he was searching his data banks. Magnus waited, feeling oddly troubled. The aristocrats were no doubt acting in their own interest first and foremost-but they seemed to be aware that their own prosperity depended on that of their people, and that their power was based on the yeomen's contentment with life. Magnus really had no reason to interfere. He didn't doubt that government of the people should be for the people-he just wasn't all that sure who should be doing the governing. In this case, the aristocrats seemed to be doing well enough for everybodywhich seemed wrong.
”Andoria,” Herkimer said, and the screen lit with a picture of a row of people wearing only loincloths, bent over to cut grain with sickles.
”Spare me the geophysical data.” Magnus leaned forward, feeling his heart lift.
This looked like a more promising setting for oppression-though now that he looked more closely, he could see that each of the peasants was well fed. They, too, sang as they worked, and the song was cheerful. ”Begin with the government!” Magnus was already feeling impatient.
”The government is an absolute monarchy,” Herkimer said, ”with overtones of theocracy, for the monarch is a G.o.d-king.”
”G.o.d-king?” Magnus frowned. ”Is this Neolithic?”
”Bronze Age, but with some surprisingly sophisticated notions, no doubt supplied by original colonists whose Terran-style culture fell apart without a high technology to preserve the infrastructure. All land is the king's, and is administered by his stewards, each of whom supervises a hundred or so bailiffs.”
”How are they chosen?”
”Candidates are selected by examination, but the final selection is the king's.”
”A civil service!”
”Yes, but one that is largely hereditary. The king tends to appoint the sons of the same families, generation after generation, century after century. New blood enters the civil service only when one of the families fails to produce a male heir, or the scion of the line chooses another profession-for example, the priesthood, or the army.”
”There's a standing army, then?”
”Yes, but it's the king's, and only the king's. The officers tend to come from the old families, but may be promoted from the ranks. In both civil service and army, new appointees const.i.tute approximately twelve percent of the personnel.”
”So there's some vertical mobility.” Magnus pursed his lips. ”I gather, from the fact that the king feels it necessary to maintain an army, that his civil service's main purpose is to a.s.sure abundant income for himself and his household.”
”No, though that purpose certainly seems to be well served.” Herkimer replaced the picture of the field with the interior of a stone palace, lush with decoration, a marble floor polished mirror-smooth, and a double file of bare-chested soldiers with spears leading to a golden throne on a high dais, on which sat a tall man wearing a robe richly ornamented with golden beadwork interspersed with gems.