Dark Foundations (4 page)

He paused before a statue that looked like a great centipede with a human head and tilted his head as if to see it better. “Yes. A week ago I received a most interesting piece of news. Trying to find information, I went to the lowest depths of the Blade. My great project does have its uses, Margrave. There I talked with my counselors.” He stared around the hall. “No one here. But amid all the many and useless words, they told me something interesting. It seems the crew of
Rahllman's Star
have blown up the Gate at Farholme. No more than thirty days ago.”

“My lord, how can they know?”

“There is a steersman on board. They can still communicate at a very basic level with him. Do you see the significance?”

“I think so, my lord. Is it true that the Assembly still do not have Nether-Realm travel?”

There was a solemn nod. “No, just Gates. That much the admiral confirmed. It suits their cautious, rather static style.”

“Then, my lord, in that case Farholme is now isolated from the Assembly.”

“Indeed. Vulnerable
.
”

“Do we have any idea why the crew did that?”

“No. The best guess is that they had been discovered. They wanted to keep themselves secret.” He gazed at a statue for a moment before continuing. “So, we are planning to seize the world as soon as we can. There is a data-bank system there called the Library. The admiral found that much of their information traffic is to, or from, it. Can you imagine, Margrave, what the data repository of an open society would be like?”

“It stretches my mind, my lord.”

They were near new statues now. A white ghostly form with an open mouth and slitlike eyes seemed to watch them.

“Indeed. You would have information on everything. Details of every person on every world. The location of every Gate. The operational facts on every ship. Twelve thousand years of history. Unencrypted.”

“My lord, if I may speak, possessing this seems vital before the main attack.”

“Exactly. So my will is this: we continue to prepare the fleet to attack the Assembly. But, in the meantime, we are going to send emissaries to Farholme. That mission will be diplomatic.”

Diplomatic?

“I see your surprise.”

“My lord, I had assumed . . . a military component.”

“No.” The smile was cruel. “Patience. We will go delicately. In Assembly culture, they think self-sacrifice is the highest virtue. If they felt they were protecting the Assembly, they would all die happily and take the Library with them. So we will go for diplomacy first. We will offer them a treaty.”

“But will they accept?”

“Perhaps. We may modify our image a little.” The lord-emperor gave a sudden strangled laugh. “Oh, Margrave, I like the idea of winning such a world to us. Of corrupting a part of the Assembly.”

Lezaroth was aware again of the inky eyes staring at him.
I am being assessed
.

“Margrave, do you find that attractive?”

“Yes, I do, my lord.”

“Good. Very good. So we will start with diplomacy. We will send a diplomatic vessel with two ambassadors. All being well, they will be allowed to set up a base on Farholme and be given access to this Library. We will seek to entice this world into an oath of loyalty. And if enticing doesn't work? Then we will take what we want by force. We will seize the world. And that is where I need a military leader.”

Things are becoming clearer.

“There will be a military vessel along with the diplomatic ship. It will stay in the Nether-Realms. If diplomacy fails, it will immediately emerge and use all the power it has to ensure a full surrender.”

“A skillful plan, my lord. May I ask, what vessel did you have in mind?”

“A full-suppression complex.”

“Excellent. That ought to be convincing.”

“Indeed. I intend sending the
Triumph of Sarata
.”

“That's the first of the new Z class. Faster, bigger than anything else. Three-quarters of a million tons.”
That would be a ship to have charge of!

“I will be sending it fully armed,” the lord-emperor continued. “And with one hundred and fifty thousand Krallen.”

“Impressive.”
That'd be adequate to subdue a world with weapons; for a world without, it's ridiculous overkill.

“Do I detect that you think it is excessive, Margrave?”

“No, my lord. But I'm sure the task could be managed with fewer resources.”

“Really?” The smooth voice suddenly had an unnerving chillness. “Let me warn you, Margrave. You need to respect this enemy. It is easy to mock the Assembly with its petty concerns and rustic habits. But history tells us never to underestimate them. They are dangerous.”

Lezaroth tried to stop himself from shivering. “Thank you for the reminder, my lord. The texts tell us that underestimating the power of the Assembly was the mistake Jannafy made at Centauri.”

The lord-emperor seemed to start. As he stepped forward, his smooth face loomed across Lezaroth's entire field of view.

He is going to strike me!

But he didn't. Instead, he hissed, “Margrave,
I
know better—far better—than the textbooks do about what happened in the War of Separation.” The tone was one of barely restrained fury. “Listen! Jannafy's chief mistake was this: he misjudged his underlings. They were entrusted with making the seven ships ready to launch in time. They failed. Jannafy's main mistake was to trust fools. I have resolved not to repeat that.”

“My lord, I apologize. I will revise my history.”
And not speak lightly of Jannafy ever again.

“And learn another lesson. Jannafy did indeed underestimate the Assembly, but not their power. He overlooked the way they can corrupt. I have talked of us enticing them. But be warned, my margrave, that the reverse can happen. More determined minds than yours have weakened under the impact of the Assembly and their values. The wills of many failed at Centauri because they had been weakened by the lies of the Assembly. I will not let
that
happen again. Be wary of them, Margrave. Very wary. No one is safe.”

“My lord, I am listening.”

There was silence. As Nezhuala stepped back, Lezaroth felt a sense of the immediate danger passing.

Now the lord-emperor spoke again. “So the man of my choosing will command the finest of ships. The pride of the fleet. He will have two tasks: the first, to bring back a copy of all the data in this Library. The second, to find
Rahllman's Star
. I want it back.” There was a ring of determination in the voice. “I want to make sure its technology cannot fall into the hands of the renegades. Or the Assembly. And it has something precious on it, something I want back.”

What does it have on it?

“Now, Margrave, I am a fair man. I punish failure and I reward success. He who delivers what I desire will be rewarded. He may, of course, take the
Triumph of Sarata
on with the main battle fleet to the Assembly and Earth. Or he may choose to retire. Either way, I will give him the title of Military Governor of Farholme. And as such, he may do as he likes with the world and its population.”

The blank face stared at Lezaroth, the pale bloodless lips twisting into a wry smile. “Do you know that your title, margrave, is a historical curiosity? Are you aware of its origin?”

“No, my lord.”

“A margrave was a military governor of a frontier province. In one of the ancient European states on Earth. Wouldn't it be appropriate—historically fitting—if you were to be such a man? A margrave in name
and
reality? I think you will find many pleasures there.”

I would indeed.

Suddenly the lord-emperor paused as if listening to something. “Ah, the time draws near. But, Margrave, consider what I offer. Might and prestige with the command of the best ship in the fleet. And, if you succeed, the possibility of almost unlimited power and a world of pleasure. And above all, a key role in the greatest military venture of our time. Or any time.” He waved a gloved finger for emphasis. “Not bad for a man who could be executed.”

There was a pause. “So do you choose to take my offer? to serve me without any dissent? to do my will? to give me the unshakable honor I require? to love my friends and hate my enemies? Are you ready? Consider the matter.”

There is a price.
There is always a price
.
But what options have I? This opportunity may never return; the alternative may be death. I must seize it.

“My lord is generous indeed. I choose to take that offer.”

“Then we shall test it.”

What does that mean?

“Follow me.”

The lord-emperor turned and walked down the hall. Lezaroth followed, suddenly aware that the high wordless whispering had begun again, only now there was a new note of expectancy.
It is as if the statues are talking to each other, as though they are waiting for something.

At the far end of the room the lord-emperor motioned him through a door. As Lezaroth stepped forward a chill breeze whipped at his face, and a red waning daylight enveloped him.

He blinked and gasped.

He was on a balcony—one without railings, with an edge barely two paces away that extended above a drop of some two hundred meters. Below, a steep, strangely curved surface seemed to flow into a great disklike central platform below. On the platform, red in the light of the fiery setting sun, robed people, perhaps twenty in number, stood around a plinth.

Of course, the evening sacrifice!

Lezaroth heard the door hiss closed behind them. He looked along the balcony expecting to see only the lord-emperor, but instead saw the admiral standing between them.

There was something strange about the admiral. It took Lezaroth a second to realize that he was extraordinarily rigid. The admiral's blanched face held a look of utter terror and his gray eyes moved to meet Lezaroth's. “Help me!” they seemed to plead.

What do I do?
Lezaroth looked to the lord-emperor.

Apparently heedless of the admiral, Nezhuala gazed over the scene. He sighed, as if with contentment, and as though the admiral were absent, addressed Lezaroth. “Do you know, Margrave,” he said, “I like to think of this as the heart of our world.”

“Indeed, my lord,” was all Lezaroth could say.

“Yes, I think of this as the center, not just of this city but of this world.” The lord-emperor was almost affable. “My people can be sure that, as the day ends, a sacrifice is being offered here to the powers for them.”

“I see, my lord.”

The lord-emperor gestured at the scene with open hands. “Here we ask the powers for their blessing on our endeavors.” His smile was cold. “Do you know who is being honored today?”

“No, my lord.”

“The Master Exaltzoc—the bringer of plague and disfigurement.”

Far below, the robed figures, their faces indistinguishable, turned toward them. As they began a low urgent chanting, Lezaroth saw the glint of their knives. He turned to the lord-emperor, seeing the sharp, dark eyes boring into his.

“You have spotted that something is missing?” Nezhuala asked.

Lezaroth swung round to the scene below. His blood froze.
There is no sacrifice.

“I'm afraid, Admiral,
you
are the sacrifice,” Nezhuala said in a mild, apologetic tone.

I should have realized this.
Lezaroth felt a mixture of horror and relief.
There
was
danger, but not for me.

The lord-emperor turned, tilted his head slightly, and seemed to look at the admiral like a hawk evaluating a potential prey. When he spoke again, his tone was very different. It seethed with anger. “Admiral—
former
Admiral—I was appalled at your mistakes at Tellzanur. First, you let a freighter be stolen. Then you let it escape the system. And not just any freighter, but the
Rahllman's Star
. The freighter with my own grandfather's body on board: the Great Prince Zhalatoc, a man many levels above you. We had hopes. We thought we might restore him to the post-mortal state. We were negotiating with the powers.” His face twisted into an expression of aggrieved fury as he leaned closer to the immobile admiral.

“Then, far too late, you headed off in pursuit. To find that, contrary to all our experience, they could enter Assembly space. So you followed them and watched what happened. Then, imagining that you had achieved something, you came back. Can you imagine the damage that might have been done if they had gone and given themselves up to the accursed Assembly?” The lord-emperor's face was colorless with fury and Lezaroth saw spittle on his lips.

Am I next? Great Zahlman-Hoth, god of soldiers, spare me now. Bring me safe though this peril and I will sacrifice to you whatever you desire.

Below, on the great lower platform, there was something oddly expectant about the priests' stance. Their uplifted blades were tinged with red sunlight.

“No, Admiral, you have failed.” There was fury in the words. “So, in a second or two, you will be on your way to the priests. They are waiting for you. I will use my limited extra-physical powers to ensure that you stay conscious. As long as possible.”

Nezhuala's hands moved in a strange position. The admiral swayed. Little beads of sweat appeared on his face.

As the lord-emperor turned to Lezaroth, his conversational tone of voice returned. “Margrave, this man is my enemy. Throw him off the edge.”

The test!
In the space of a few moments, a great argument raged in Lezaroth's mind. At first, he resisted.
I cannot do this.
I cannot repay a man who has spoken out to serve me. I cannot harm a superior officer. I must take a stand.
Then, a countering question came back:
Why not? The lord-emperor has commanded it and he is master of all
. Lezaroth searched for any reason at all that he could use to justify refusing the order. But he found nothing there: no higher morality, no ultimate belief, no superior principle. Somehow, he felt he ought to take a stand, but he found nothing that he could stand on.