Nearly there.  What happened after they got to Azt of course is relatively straightforward – linear, apart from perpetual interruption by space-time – but the many-skeined complexity of what happened before – absorbing work, I think one may say.  Fully engages the mind.  If of course you have a mind.
 
Extract from The Anile Heir ©2017.
 
I, Ysabel Jehan Howard, hereby assert and give notice of my right under s.77 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this book.
 
The many cats in the Kadun Air Fleet bend their agile little feline minds to the question of how we get our guys trained by Fidub? Let us be exact: trained by Fidub without anyone noticing. Some of it can be taught on the ground.  When it comes to simulated combat, the Cult have the edge: they don’t mind anyone noticing.
OK, we do it without the visuals.
 
The Imperial Air Fleet was born, a euphemism, a political convenience, an impertinence  so huge, an act so brazen, that even quite conservative senior officers in KAF are observed howling with laughter.  Intricate negotiation had culminated  in Nodsi, old friend of Heela’s, dining with Cho at the House. 
“Micheal must know,” said Heela.
“I think the direct approach,” said Cho.  “The Fidubi scam, I understand.”
“You cannot deny.”
Cho laughed.
“I cannot deny.”
The glorious Tingle was halfway up a ladder.
“Darn picture...Good morning, gentleman.  How may I help you?”
“Is Mitch around?” asked Cho.  “I am an old friend of his father’s, happened to be in the City.”
Tingle took in Vax and Fox.  Not sure what those guys...
Cho noticed, and laughed to himself.
“May I have your names, please.”
“Ban-varna.”
Clearly it meant nothing to Tingle.  She picked up the phone.  “Mitch...Guy here to see you, says he’s a friend of your Daddy’s.  Name is Ban-varna.”
Well, well, well, to what might I owe this honour?
“Coffee, good coffee.  Show him in!”
Okey-dokey, here we go....Where do we go?
Cho?  Ban-varna? Sir?
“It sure is a pleasure to see you again after so long.”
“My dear boy,” said Cho. “We meet at last.  I do not wish to disturb.  May we have dinner?  Duvar at 9?”
The cat-house.
Mitch laughed.  After all our organization.
“We gave the gophers the night off.  It’s special, a fiance’s birthday.  Karula and I are baby-sitting.”
“Bring them along,” said Cho. 
“We’re versatile,” said Fox.  “We do nursery-rhymes.”
“I have four grand-children,” said Cho. 
“He’s fine,” said Vax.
“I think perhaps,” said Mitch, “if I just ring Karula, I should offer you lunch at my place.”
Some guys coming for lunch, said Mitch.  That was not unusual.
“Cho? Sir?”
“Cho,” said Cho. 
Thus evading the question.
“At school in Vasucula,” observed Mitch, “they taught us to call all seniors sir, ma’am.”
Imperial Air Fleet?
Mitch and Karula had a great many questions.  Cho answered.  Since questions and answers both are shortly to erupt over every Grid-site in cyberspace, every newspaper in two continents, on the whole they can wait their turn.
“Pack your furs, honey,” said Mitch.
“Furs?”
“The only place we can go from here is Kadun.  I’ll call Marula.”
Everyone was surprised, except possibly Cho.
“You go to Van-senok?”
“I may get around,” said Mitch.  “The kids will be safe there.”
“Of course,” said Cho.
 
The Imperial Air Fleet is a group of FAF pilots wearing Kadun uniform who have appeared out of the mist and built a nest in the heart of Regional Command.  They are instructors.  They are providing training in special ops (an elite corps, you understand).  They  are also PANTHER. Not all FAF are PANTHER.  Not all PANTHER fly.  Clearly accepting assistance from Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis is entirely different to accepting assistance from the Republic of Fidub.  These subtleties would of course be lost on Azt and indeed most people do not care to look too closely at the deep water under them and all the sharks in it.  We are practical men.  All cats are grey in the dark.  (Joke: Kadun uniform is pale grey.)  Whatever else they are, they are hardly a threat. We have other concerns.  Can they do the business?  How can we use it? What is life like in FAF? About half FAF are female.  Life’s little difficulties arise over gender politics and other questions of mores, not enemy aliens training our pilots.  These are friendly aliens, but aliens nonetheless.  Of course it could never work in Kadun.
“You cannot tell me the female mind is not weaker.”
“You want to meet some of the girls, you really do.”
“It is not appropriate.  It is not feminine.”
“What is feminine?”
“You accept a woman in command?”
“I have a woman in command.”
Evil Fidubi grins.
“We all do.  Her name is Airoch.”
“The exception that proves the rule?” teased one of the Fidubi, but there was a certain tension in the air.  Time to talk about the weather again.  Maybe when we know each other a bit better.  Just what is it, guys?  What is your problem?  We are guests.
 
Mitch arrived in his office next morning and announced he was shutting up shop and returning to Kadun.
“That guy, Mitch. Something wrong at home.”
“No, no. What happened to paperless?  OK, two heaps.  Pack or shred.”
“Something to do with - the situation?”
“War,” said Mitch.  “I cannot continue sitting on my ass in the City.”
“You know my politics,” said Hanrit, his art director.
“Sure do.  Do we really need these files?”
“We is the operative word.  Mitch – “
“Ah-hah?”     
“You know how much I hate them.”
“You want - I apologize.  I was about to say something stupid.”
“It isn’t just Kadun’s war. A real chance to hit the bastards.”
“I am going to Van-senok!  It is not exactly a pulsating hub.”
“Not home?”
“I may get around.”
“I grew up in a small town.  I can actually cope without 24/7.  Don’t tell me you won’t need an extra pair of hands.”
“Me, me, me,” said Tingle.  “I have always so much wanted to travel.”
“That’s settled, then,” said Hanrit.
“Lastly,” said Mitch.  “It’s practically in the Arctic Circle.  OK, I exaggerate a bit.  The word I seek is cold.”  He relented.  “They do have heating.”
“An interesting meeting of cultures,” he mused to Karula.
Karula gave a sort of squeak and turned up at the office next day.
Tingle’s hair is dark green. 
“It is not commonplace,” said Karula, “in fact it is real unusual.”  Mitch grinned to himself and waited for the coda.  “but for instance in the district around the colleges, among students and political activists it is a - kind of political statement.  You know where I stand without having to bother to ask me!”
“What does it mean?”
“It means,” sighed Karula, “you subscribe to a particularly radical branch of earthpower.”
“Sounds cool.  What’s earthpower.
“A relationship with the planet,” said Karula.
“Hair dye,” said Tingle “is not a natural part of the planet.”
“I do not know, frankly,” said Karula.  “I mean I know about earthpower.  I guess they use natural dyes.”
“It means,” said wicked Mitch, “you are a tree.”
“Pardon me?”
“You grow out of the earth like a tree, you are not separate.”
“Like the greeny guys,” said Tingle.  “NoZone.”
After she had gone, they gave way to laughter.
“An essential qualification for seizing the reins of power.”
Cantilip had been offered a place at the Schools but regretfully turned it down, deciding that college in Van-senok would be a more civilized experience than looking over her shoulder for Searc all the time, even if she had a whole bloody platoon of Sardun in tow.  She had found herself a flat in Mndil and was just moving out as Mitch and Karula arrived.  Eeek!
To what we do owe this honour!  Oh, that, she said.  Somehow Cantilip’s casual acceptance of war shook Mitch more than the formation itself of the IAF.  We need to talk to Asdinan, she said later.  We surely do, agreed Mitch, but didn’t seem to think it top of the list.  Catch up with you laters, said Cantilip and disappeared off to Mndil.
           Oh now this is cool, a home of one’s own. She arranged the really very few possessions she’d felt she needed with her,a picture of her father, whom she liked more than her mother did, a framed silver silver birch, then lay on her stomach in the garden and tackled her reading-list.  Intermittently she conducted her own investigation of all things Dabidan and Fidubi  Karula had directed her to Mel’s Place.  Mel is a student of anthropology at the Schools in Harn, breezed the blurb.  Indeed? That changed her plan. She read the whole forum and restrained herself from typing ‘there is more garbage here about earthpower than I thought existed’. That too was unexpected.  Hub? It’s a recruiting office. She read the list of members: Harni, Vasuculi, Fidubi, Dabidans and irturbi. A captive audience.  She ticked off names: Mel and Hass of course.  Maya, Asdinan.  And Sarshi   Clearly it is a most inappropriate place to post concerning Kadun politics.  It may, however, have other uses.  For those I think the consent of the proprietor should be sought.
                        ….
And then, Maya’s mail rattled on, Tar told us about the ImperialAir Fleet, That is so cool.
You could have told me.
Sarat put his tablet down carefully, possibly even cautiously, as though it was a nervous animal which might bite if startled.
“Dad...The Imperial Air Fleet?”
Oh dear. 
“Kadun fights,” finished Essa.
“I’m Narulis’ heir.”
Essa managed a light laugh which even sounded phony to him.
“You wish to join them?”
“Leader of the pack,” said Sarat.
“Meaning?” asked Essa, though he had a horribly clear idea of what it meant.
“Guys not much older than me risk getting dead.  Oh, is the Cult back.  Do have some more patsito.”
“We have assumed,” began Essa, aware even as he spoke that the mere existence of the Imperial Air Fleet tore great gaping holes in the sides of the assumptions.  “Eliminating the Cult is only the beginning.”
“The role I wish to play in Kadun’s future,” said Sarat. “When I’m older.” .
Essa sighed.
“When you are older.”
“You just forgot to mention that Narulis’ heir, senior division, is fighting for Kadun.”
Not even a border incident, said the Republic of Fidub briskly.  Trainee pilots who lost their way.
Sent them home to daddy, right!
You could say that.
What would Kadun say?
Regrettable, said Kadun.
Obviously the images have been heavily manipulated.
Oh yeah.
WTF are they being trained in!
A certain amount of Ciletij hysteria surrounded that, on line and off. Ciletij demanded further divisions of FAF.
Fidub took her time composing her answer.
We’re on the case. 
Ciletij didn’t find that a satisfactory answer.
“I need to talk to Mitch,” said Sarat.
“Mitch is in Van-senok!”  It hung there.  You are capable of it!  “Not because it is unsafe.  Because it will leak.  You are not ready to have the world scream Sarat’s Anile emperor!”
“Cho goes to Kadun,” said Sarat again.  “It doesn’t leak.”
“Cho possesses skills you do not.”
Causing people to think they’re seeing something other than what they’re seeing is a good one.
“The other matter.”
“The deal,” Essa reminded him
I continue of course, he said to Cho, to delude myself it waits until he’s 21.
Tar’s baby boys felt revved up to take on the City..  They moved into the attic of the Rep Centre.  Gurion and Berek examined the new paintwork.
“I was being hospitable.  Hey, Mel, we’ll do it up for you.”
“I think it’s a very nice shade of stomach-churning orange.”
“Burnt sienna,” pronounced Gurion.    
Mel and Hass descended from their attic to meet and greet.
“We entertain Shark’s sprog,” muttered Gurion.
The infant fin cut its way through the masses, inclined its teeth to Mel.
“One duels, sir?” it asked in tones of faint amusement.
Gurion spun round in slow motion.  That – is – unheard – of.
Mel looked politely puzzled.
“Peace, sweetheart,” said Hass.
“I call you out, sir!”
The assembled throng now looked bemused.  Someone muttered swords or pistols? 
“Not that kind of duel,” said Hass.
It began to snow.  In fact it began to every kind of weather imaginable, though it was all so fast that perhaps if you didn’t know what was going on you’d maybe have wondered if there was something wrong with the electricity, or decided you were sickening rapidly for some particularly repulsive disease, of course, shivers and sweats.  Mel got bored and turned Sharky’s hail-stones emerald and fluorescent pink. Foreplay.
The wandering pilgrim picked at the carpet. There was the scent of the forest and it seemed birds were singing.  A stag bounded across the room and was gone.  Hounds bayed, the stag was pulled down, eviscerated.  Some people were going to remember this evening.
A man in a skull-hood held up the stag’s heart, triumphant.  Blood spattered onto the spotless white carpet.  What are their cleaning-bills like!
Or possibly their gardening-bills.  Tiny red flowers grew.
There came laughter, distant music. The music pranced.
The music bounced off the trees and scampered across the lawn.  Notes floated past them, catapulting crotchets, dancing quavers.  Minims settled in their hair.
The music roared like the sea.
Something was happening. Like sinking into a warm bath, a bed-high heap of fluffy pink blanket.  Birds were singing. The world was new and exciting, anything was possible.  There was power. We matter, laugh, hug, act.  Then came starburst, a cascade of prisms of light. The air candesced.
“The Emperor’s peace,” said Mel..
The what? The last of the prisms fell to the floor and was gone.
Sharky bowed abruptly, turned on his heel and was gone.
“Tar’s baby boys are quite something, huh?” said someone.
“I thank you,” said Mel gravely.  He jumped up, pouted.  “My lords, my ladies, they spoil the party!”
Now it begins, thought Gurion. Now we are at war.
The mousy one approached.
“You have no regrets?  The poor child will be horse-whipped.”
“I thought that happened already,” said Hass.
“May I know,” asked Mel, “whom I have the honour of addressing?”
The mousy one smiled.
“No,” he said.  “I think on the whole no.”
“Sar-fenan,” said Gurion.  “Get your ass out of here.”
“As His Highness commands,” said Sar-fenan.
“Delighted to have met you,” said Mel.
In the heart of the Presidential Palace, Bal-van Sandos, Chief Minister of Harn, is throwing a fit.
“Calm down, Bal!  Rules are made to be broken.”
“Not this rule.  This rule is made to be kept.  I will not have it in public!”
“You didn’t.  It happened in Dabida, remember.”
Bal muttered something about throwing out every dip in the City.
“Get me young Mel, first thing in the morning, OK.  Things have to be said.”
“He didn’t start it, Bal.”
“That is true. That I will grant you.  He is an adult.  He should damn’ know better.”
“Sar-fenan isn’t? “
“Sar-fenan?  I thought that damn’ lout of Searc’s – “
“Sar-fenan was behind the kid.”
“It just gets worse!”
“But they didn’t do it in Harn.”
“OK.  Rescind that.  I am calm.  I am centred. I shall email our wandering pilgrim.”
You have mail.
Bal to Mel: My attention has been drawn to a very public display of that which does not exist.  I tell you frankly we do not care for such displays.  I appreciate of course that technically it did not happen in Harn.  I am not a technically minded man.  I should like your assurance that such a display will not take place again.
Mel to Bal: Forgive us, o great one!  Temptation overcame me with her seductive wiles and I am but a man, I fell into – what did I fall into?  Impropriety I think is the word.  My apologies.
Bal to Mel:  In other words you don’t give a damn and you’ll do it again in your own damn’ Rep Centre.  I’m not going to blackmail you, Mel – next time, you’re out.  We do not need that kind of publicity. You know the score, kid.  Keep to it.
Mel to Bal: Have you read the riot act to Sar-fenan?
Bal to Mel: Don’t fight dirty.
Mel to Bal: Everyone else does.
Bal to Mel: That undoubtedly is true. I thought you guys did high moral tone.
Mel to Bal: D’you want to come to dinner?  I could apologize in person.
Bal to Mel: I think I may permit myself to accept that invitation.  I thank you.
 “They pretty much look after themselves,” said Berek.
“Can they cook?” asked Bal.
“They can cook,” said Berek. “On this occasion, we cook.  You are a matter of State.”
 “Welcome to our eyrie,” said Mel.
“Panoramic view of the City,” said Hass.
Mel gestured at the sideboard.
“A range of fine wines from the sun-drenched vineyards of Fidub.”
He served them.  They sipped.
“We should hate,” said Hass, “to be the cause of deteriorating relations with this great nation of yours.”
“It would distress us terribly,” said Mel.
“Wound us to the quick,” said Hass.
“Airoch would kill us,” said Mel.
Bal nearly spilled his fine wine.
“May I have that again?  Your father, your Prime Minister – Airoch?”
“You have to see it from Fidub’s point of view.”
“I do?”
“We’re here to do a job,” said Mel.  “Yes, the Schools, yes, the beauties of the Delta, yes, the intricacies of the human zoo.  That is not basically why we are here.”
“We thought we should be honest and open,” said Hass.  “We also thought it might make matters worse.”
“I am not a man to reject frank discussion of global politics.”
“Fidub wants them screwed,” said Mel.  “We’re the screwdrivers.”
“Kadun.”
“A progressively more dismaying neighbour,” said Mel.
“If Kadun jumps Dabida, she faces Fidub across the Straits.”
“The City is the source of the rot,” said Hass.
“I do not recall Narulis felt required first to occupy Harn.”
“Narulis didn’t have our problems.  You know what’s on the Grid.”
“I know what is on the Grid.”
“Material setback is irrelevant,” said Mel.  “They have to know they can’t win.”
“I understand you.  Now you understand me.  As I am sure you know, we operate a policy of biased neutrality. I have been given to understand that if certain changes take place across the water, the entire global balance of power turns on its axis. Harn would not wish to be on the side of the losers.  On the other hand my ministers and I are darned if we see how such changes may be effected. We continue therefore with a policy of biased neutrality. I do not like the bastards any more than you do.  I understand, however, that they control every finance house in the City, and if they go down the economy goes into free-fall.  I have kids to feed and hospitals to run and road-repairmen to pay.  I understand also it is two-way traffic.  We have not yet begun to analyse the effect on Harn if Kadun implodes.  Unless and until your government or the government of Fidub – “ Pause.  “ – or His Imperial Majesty shows us a green light, a way to keep Harn clear of the mess over the water we shall continue in our well-trodden paths.  We do not want to know.  Do not make us know.  Play your game behind closed doors.  I make myself clear?”
“It’s good to talk,” said Mel.
Bal smiled.
“Now I in turn shall be frank with you. You must understand that we elected representatives of the people go in at the tradesmen’s entrance.  The primary objects of veneration are wealth, class and the age of one’s family. It is my understanding that a friend of yours scores particularly heavily on all three counts.  You are an intellectual young man, according to the reports I read, and it may be you do not appreciate quite how primitive our friends are.  I certainly should have no objection to your friend residing in the City and conducting himself in a manner commensurate with his class and background.”
Mel hooted.
“Meaning what?”
“If Sarat-ban-essa would care to move in the appropriate social circles, I think that might prove beneficial to all those on the side of goodness, truth and beauty.”
Mel stared.
“You think he can – turn them?”
“Turn, what is turn?  Just remember no-one wants to be on the losing side.”
“Neutralize,” murmured Mel.
“That is an excellent choice of word.  As with every creed, there are the genuinely devout, or criminally insane, as you may prefer to express it, and those who are merely coldly manipulative. Both Searc and Sar-fenan fall into the latter category.”
“You must come to dinner more often,” said Mel.
“Dinner,” said Hass wistfully. “Now there’s a thought.”
“PANTHER’s verdict is what?” asked Bal.
“Let’s eat,” said Mel.  “I’m not avoiding the question.  The answer is a peculiarly repulsive movie shot by PANTHER.  You do not want to watch it while eating.”
 “Searc at play,” said Hass.  “That is not to fundamentally disagree with your assessment.  Negative on the ‘merely’.”
“Unless of course,” said Mel, “you don’t want to be made to know.”
“It’s tough at the top, kid, tough at the top.”
They ate.  They retired to the sitting-room with coffee.  They began to watch a video.
“Oh for – “ breathed Bal.  “That is insane!” exclaimed Bal.  “These guys are out of their tree,” declared Bal. 
“At that point,” said Mel, “it became necessary to interrupt the party or be an accessory to murder.”
“You will forgive instantly the slur upon your honour, integrity and high moral tone.  You assure me this is genuine?”
“I assure you this is genuine.”
“OK…May I have five copies?”
“It’s a deal,” said Mel. “Can I run something past you?”
Bal sighed.
“Give.”
“The purely outward and exoteric,” said Mel.  “Every dissident, every malcontent in the world makes hay in the City.  There would be an exception?”
“Your friend with the cute profile?”
“Maybe.  If CLIK raised the stakes.  Propagating revolution.  They do that anyway.  Purely political, of course.”
Well? asked Feit.
Give and take, said Bal lazily. I gave a little fatherly advice on how to get things done in this City.  They gave me a video, the private life of Sharky-boy.  Meanwhile it’s business as usual.  Likeable young men, indeed and certainly on this matter I trust them.  I do not know that they were perfectly frank but it’s an imperfect world. They would not be drawn on the subject of their pretty friend. 
Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
 
Mitch and Karula continued to ply Mel’s Place with the results of their meticulous scrutiny of the Kadun economy. 
“Doubts,” said Cho, “are silenced.  No-one now thinks Mitch sat on his hands and did nothing.”
Essa snorted.  “Between them a walking encyclopaedia, Mitch for the exo, Cantilip for the eso.”
“I had noticed,” said Cho.
We may be assured, Harn intelligence reported, this is no run around bang-bang enterprise.  The Kadun economy is central.
You wish me to have sleepless nights: asked Bal.
I know we’ve been through this before.  If Sarat’s politics are CLIK –
I know, said Seani.  Anyone who tried to start a workers’ revolution in Kadun would be crushed by the Army.  Except perhaps his Imperial Highness and my future lord Var-sega’. 
What after all is an army.  A whole lot of working-class guys and considerably fewer non-working-guys.  And the working-class guys take their cue from the non-working-class guys.  Unless there’s someone else to take their cue from who leapfrogs over the heads on the non-working-class guys.
And they all have guns. I am thinking so hard my head hurts.  What happens if squaddies mutiny?  They are crushed by the – infrastructure!
But there is not – yet – an alternative infrastructure.
Oh but there is.  It’s called PANTHER and Sardun.
 
Sarat and Maya cluttered up the student caff. Nobody appeared to be doing anything as outre as starting a revolution.  People had their suspicions or at any rate said afterwards that they had had their suspicions.  The only fragile clue was that Sarat was no longer going to be a vet but studying politics and history, a change of course he justified casually as saying he’d recognized via NoZone that he was very very political and thought he
might duly follow Cho into the Senate.  Unbreakable, sighed the watchers. 
Kadun continued in a state of non-civil war.  Seani, Editor of The Straits Times and Chief Civilian Watcher, reasoned, not totally incorrectly, that no move could be made until Kadun had chosen sides. They’re not planning an invasion, are they!  If Kadun irrefutably rejects the values of the south, there’s no deal.  Maybe Kadun sees it the other way round, something like they’ll only accept democracy from.
Hokabi was about as innocent and domesticated as this man’s army gets, a calm and cheerful place when a lot of bright young men are grateful to the army for giving them the opportunity to hone financial and IT skills at a premium in Kadun and so be sure of not just a job but a good job for life.  There are cats.  They set a tone.  No funny stuff: funny stuff from either side would not - will not - be appreciated at Hokabi.  Contrary to rumours that later abounded, Hokabi was actually not teaching top-level infiltration of world finance or plotting to hack Azt.
The Minister’s cousin, an accountant, visited Hokabi.  That was bad enough.  He returned to Azt and fulminated about the laxity and of course the stink of cat piss. Corsin kept him at arm’s length, Corsin being some of the few people in Kadun who can nix the Minister and both he and they knowing it, and got on with thinking, at which they are rather good, aside from the separating bone from sinew stuff.  PANTHER too have a numbers problem, though less of one than the Cult.  They are not at Hokabi for the view.  A base in Vaudos?  Certainly that.  Chaos could of course be caused by hacking the payroll, but surely it is a slave-system. Anyway, that would not win them any friends.  Proximity to Vasucula?  Why should that matter?  Rather a lot if we descend on them and find ourselves facing half VILE (Vasculi Inter-zonal Law Enforcement). The Minister was informed Corsin were more than happy to arrange for Major Hiulin-Tan to be posted to Hokabi to spearhead its purification, or in other words find out what is there and how readily will it bleed. The middle of nowhere, the back of beyond, these are good descriptions for the location of Hokabi and Major Hiulin-Tan was currently enjoying the bright lights of Badit and not best pleased with this plan but having shinned his way up a gum-tree he had very little choice. Duty called.
The cats could deal with Hiulin-Tan.  The problem of course was the possible consequences of dealing with Hiulin-Tan.  They sought advice from other cats.  A mad plan began t--*-o form.  It had two baselines.  One was that nobody wants to attract the attention of Corsin.  The other was that if Corsin notices you anyway, it could be a really good idea to get some of the cunts out of Azt, isolated, and destroy them.
The south of Vaudos has little enough to recommend it in human terms, the tap-water, you will recall, being brown, and the people at best sullen, but it is pretty, against all the odds, hence its ventures into the tourist industry, pretty enough for some leagues distant, over yonder hill and through ye woods that line the valley, there to be a reasonably decent hotel - too many leagues distant, it is hoped, for the arrival of a party of senoki to raise suspicion.  They are traders in something or other, shit, what are we traders in, gentlemen’s outdoor attire, and are looking to combine business with pleasure, have a few days in the country before putting on our oxygen masks and venturing into the nearest large town, Cabutin, to do some trading.  
My Cioulis, however, arrived at Hokabi.  Of course he wasn’t my Cioulis then, nor for some years yet, and both of us would probably have hissed with laughter at the idea we were meant for each other.  What’s that again about war making strange bed-fellows. Cioulis, they learn, is* the new (wait for it) Deputy Welfare Officer, the Welfare Officer himself being a cat approaching retirement.  A younger man needs to be trained up.  Most people in the south don’t think the Army of All-Kadun can even spell Welfare.  True, they are not much concerned with mums dying, girlfriends two-timing or families being evicted but everyone mostly sane likes to know someone in Welfare, especially when a base in under attack. Since an attack is said to have succeeded when the ‘Welfare Officer’ is 40-carat rat-shit, the skinny dark lieutenant attracts intense if cautious interest, it being not immediately clear what he is.  The nice furry sergeant in Stores is wiser in the ways of the world.  Lad’s a tree.  Oh right, they’ve sent us a tree.  What is this!  Lovely smell of pine.
 
An older, greyer tree walks out of the woods and has a long talk with the senior cat.  Sardun (the earthpower equivalent of PANTHER) have one or two party-tricks.  Passing themselves off as Cult is one.  It won’t fool Corsin, but it may fool lesser adepts (depends how lesser) and it has its uses, such as confusion to the enemy and giving your furry friends vital extra minutes in which to scarper.  Of course it has its drawbacks too.  Adepts can pretend to be fooled and draw you into a trap.  Another one is deflecting assault into trees.  Make a note of those woods.  They are going to matter.
The senior cat in turn drives Cioulis way off into the woods, out of range of wandering minds that might pick up the vibes and wonder what the hell is going on.
They get out and grin at each other.
“One duels, sir?” asked Cioulis.
“Nice one.”
Traditional Cult means to pick a fight, overture to separating your sanity from your mind.
There was a convenient tree-stump, on which Gar-stangis reclined, a huge black cat with yellow eyes, dreaming in the afternoon sun.  
The sun went out, all light, all warmth, the cat will be skewered, skinned - no.
Starburst blew the darkness apart, fragments falling to the ground like ash, then evaporating.
Cioulis seized fragments before they hit the ground.  They swelled, burst, pouring liquid filth without end. The cat will choke, drown.
The cat leapt for Cioulis’ throat, knocked him to the ground, landed on his chest.
Cioulis who is Death will put out its eyes.
“Very good,” said Gar-stangis.  “Now the heavy stuff.”
They grinned at each other again.
Death looms project fear, terror, pain, anguish, torment.  A grinning skull fills Gar-stangis’ mind, its maw open into which he will, he must fall, a forked red tongue flickering to and fro in anticipation.
Gar-stangis searched for the weakness, the crack, the vestige of humanity and found none, so starburst once more blew the skull away.  Behind it only was utter darkness, though he sensed nasty wriggly things in it and the smell was foul. This is the grave.
Again and again he zapped Cioulis, until at last there was a chink of light.  PANTHER talons tore apart the darkness, revealing finally a silver birch in a field of flowers. 
“Real-time,” said Cioulis, “at this point I’m dead.”
(A silver birch is the symbol of Sardun and the earthpower after-life a field of flowers.)
“Now teach me,” said Gar-stangis.
 
Somewhere in the cavernous depths of the headquarters of VILE, small, tubby and balding said, “They’re going to do what?  Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”
“More the merrier, sir.”
Another young officer arrives sniffs the air, do I detect a whiff of cat , some tom been spraying?  It is of course a very old joke, that or some variant of.  It doesn’t necessary identify an adept of the seventh degree; it may identify any part of the gamut of hostility to PANTHER; ratters, you will recall, should stay in the barn. It may even signify a cautious desire for further acquaintance. Few on any side can probe without revealing themselves but most of them can pick up the scent on the breeze.  You can never be absolutely sure what you’re walking into.  Some places initiation rites are banned outright, (not that that ever stopped them taking place) others that is derided as terribly sissy.  Harmless fun. 
What is always the case is that both sides wait for the other side to do something.  Depending on what that something is, then they kill them. Provided you have half an ear to the ground, life in this man’s army is far too interesting for them to be much concerned with foreign affairs, even that between Sarat and Maya.  An army is of course one of the easiest places in the world in which to cover up unaccidental death.  Again of course reality is directly contrary to popular opinion in the south which holds that Kadun hasn’t erupted because the chaps would simply never fight each other, what Kadun is about is reaching a consensus.
There are old jokes about trees too.  Saws, axes, logging tend to come into them.  Sardun can’t be relied upon to see the funny side, and so these are made less often.    
Kinsquol is approaching, a time traditional for bonfires on hill-tops.  It just depends what they’re burning.
Not too far from Hokabi, one of the senoki traders was very taken with a run-down property, not much more than a chalet, a wonderful place to bring his non-existent children in the summer holidays.  Of course Sardun aren’t going to hang around interminably in the woods waiting for the Cult to do something.  They are pro-active.  They are dynamic. They are going to do something first.  When they’ve worked out what.  But the chalet is useful.  Suppose it rains.  Cioulis is looking over my shoulder even as I write.  I point out I’m only faithfully recording what he told me the guys said at the time.  In short, at this Point P, no-one exactly knew how Corsin were to be tempted out of Azt.
Kinsquol means very different, or in other words diametrically opposite, things to different people.  Neutrally, it is the festival of the winter solstice, the shortest day.  As such, it has been celebrated in earthpower since rather before the year dot.  They called it the Day of the God, in irturbi M’niba-gar-Altan, as opposed to the summer solstice which was the Day of the Goddess, the nadir of the year and its zenith. The fine minds of the Cult have the solstices as the zenith of and birth of death.  For reasons that elude me, the entire continent calls the two solstices and the two equinoxes by their Cult names. They are the four Days Celebrant and what you do is party. Some people say it’s false etymology.  Kin - family - geddit.
 
It didn’t just fall into their laps: the Cult placed it there. The Minister wants to know how his dear brother is doing.  Doubtless there will be something special laid on for Kinsquol.  Really, one can have too much of the city, a few days in the country perhaps.
To this, of course, the pretty well universal reaction was oh fuck, Huilan-Tan not wishing to admit his operation was still at the reconnaissance stage. 
The CO in such situations is a cipher.  This one will run with the hare and hunt with the hounds which makes him basic crud, but human crud.  Hiulan-Tan tells him Cioulis and the cats are to be arrested.
If Hiulan-Tan and cronies hadn’t been rather stupid, slightly afraid and grossly arrogant, they would have decided to leave the prisoners to Corsin, but they were all three and wanted to make their mark by handing over broken and beaten men.
The prisoners were summoned to their presence and slouched in washing behind their ears or polishing his branches as the case may be.
“You understand what awaits you,” said Huilan-Tan.
“Do tell.”
“You will be devoured.”
“That could be interesting.”
“You are insolent.  Let us teach you obedience.”
“That could be even more interesting.”
The Cult attacked their minds and was so to speak thrown off and sent flying across the room, but all their attention was fixed on Cioulis doing his adept of the seventh degree bit, complete with flickering forked tongue.
“Fools,” said Cioulis.
“They understand nothing,” said Gar-stangis contemptuously.
“You have failed the test,” sneered Cioulis.
In the ensuing confusion Huilan-Tan and his five cronies found themselves under arrest.  Naturally he is screaming very loudly about the Minister.
“That will not protect you.”
What do we do now?  Fortunately we don’t have to anything because Sardun arrive dressed in their best Cult kit and order a total evacuation, rumour of an explosive device planted by insurgents.  Can’t be too careful with the Minister on his way.  Cioulis and the cats are promptly rearrested, Hiulin-Tan and cronies are removed for medical attention. It’s probably worth reiterating that most of these guys are about as near the average office-worker  (or at any rate the average irturbi office-worker: I’m not thinking of Tingle, Mitch’s PA) as anyone under arms gets, they are not planning total war, they are a little confused and they have no desire to be blown up. Nor of course do they wish to give or to be seen to give the authorities anything less than their fullest co-operation. The evacuation is conducted to the south of Hokabi.  Cioulis, the cats and Sardun lay fuses, spill petrol and sincerely hope any god who happens to be around on this his day will smile upon their endeavours. 
They pile the inert bodies of Huilan-Tan and friends in a lorry, then piled in themselves and drive away very, very fast, though whether Huilan-Tan knows anything worth finding out probably depends on whether the Minister survives the current encounter.
Boom!  The whole of Hokabi becomes a raging inferno.  The smoke billows into the skies.  Probably see it in Azt.  What was that again about covert ops?
Distinctly bizarre messages promptly reach Regional HQ, about a bomb disposal squad, poor chaps must all be dead, fortunately we were evacuated - what the fuck are you talking about?  And the bloody Minister is on his way?  Of course we’ll pick you up - if this isn’t some mad joke, a hoax.  Confusion to the enemy!
The Minister’s plane abruptly lands in a field.
We must investigate, he chitters.
Meaning we must, think Corsin.  Whatever has happened at Hokabi, clearly there is nothing still alive.  Clearly also leaving the Minister in a field with a small armed guard is leaving the Minister vulnerable.  Surely he must see this.  He does indeed.  Clearly this has been a botched attempt on his life!  They suggest he return to Azt.  He must speak with his brother!  His brother doesn’t answer his phone. This is not immediately construed as sinister since phones can be forgotten in rapid evacuations but contact is made with the evacuees and Huilan-Tan cannot be found. Brief mental images are exchanged of a charred body.  It may be he is on his way to us, says the Corsin captain soothingly.  Even as they stand chatting in a muddy field they are mind-scanning, but there is nothing in range.  Everyone assumes that any ‘insurgents’ involved would have gone south to Vasucula and are probably there by now but obviously the evacuees must be interrogated to get the full story.  They get airborne again, fly round the fire and land south of what I suppose you could call the fire assembly point, coinciding with the arrival of the guys from Regional HQ.  Corsin deliberate.  Clearly there are no minds here worth a fart but if there is an enemy what it wants us to do is camp inches from the Vasucula border.  Let us all repair to HQ.  In the morning we shall oversee the forensic investigation.  Oh, and let us have some fighting-men to search the area and surround the place. 
Cioulis and the guys had linked up with other units of Sardun, handed over their captives to them for delivery to Van-senok and turned south again.  Two units of VILE moved up from Vasucula.
What followed, Cho was to say dreamily, was probably the greatest mind-war Kadun had seen for 600 years.
While the regular guys ran around leaving no stone unturned and doing their utmost to look efficient and impressive, Corsin scanned.  Bloody nothing.  They are not fools.  They did not for a moment relax their guard. 
“Obviously arson, sir,” the forensic guy was saying.  A werewolf snapped at him.  He flinched.  “Sorry, sir, thought I saw...”
“You did, you did,” said the Corsin officer with enormous enthusiasm.  “Really, children, is this the best you can do?”
Undoubtedly we have company but where the fuck are they?
For a moment they were still out of range.  One werewolf!  They do not dare - got them!
Concerted assault was directed at our heroes and deflected into the trees.
The response was the growling of huge cats.  That was actually a recording.  Things have moved on a bit in 600 years.  There are amplifiers. 
Concerted assault was directed by our heroes and Corsin deflected it into ordinary guys. 
For some it was like a shaft of lightning hitting their brains.  For others it was giant bears about to tear out their brains.  The werewolves came in their hundreds, snapping and snarling.
Some members of the Cult are superstitious, actually believe the Great Master shall enfold them in his embrace.  The average member of Corsin is about as superstitious as a block of wood.  They enjoy death (at any rate other people’s), they enjoy pain (at any rate other people’s), they like being evil.  There is nothing so outré as to not be attributable to tricks of the mind.  They therefore don’t mind too much being under constant attack by werewolves.  They are illusory, they are disposable and they are bloody annoying.  And who forgot to pack the silver bullets, mutters one officer, zapping another trio of bloody curs into oblivion. But they understand the point of this deranged assault. They can force the regular guys into action but pretty fucking useless they will be under werewolf attack.  To put up a werewolf shield depletes the mind-power available to mentally eviscerate the foe. 
An army of the dead rose from the earth and began to march forward.  It became cold and dark.  Corsin were rather irritated at having to do this, realizing the net result was to scare the shit out of their own guys with probably zero effect on the enemy, but they wanted to see what the enemy would do.  The enemy shattered the corpses and sent down a rather nasty shower of rotting flesh, bone and cerement, which Corsin gathered into fireballs sent bouncing towards the woods, which were caught in mid-air and returned to senders, who hastily quenched them, and also got flat.  Corsin do not expect to be shot at because they do not expect anyone opposing them to retain the power to pull a trigger.  Once again concerted assault was directed at minds that rolled over in the sunshine and patted butterflies with their paws.
Suddenly there were voices in the air (another recording).  You guys really like fire, don’t you, fire to burn the senoki witches, fire to purify, fire to kill the trees, fire to smoke out the witches, fire to destroy the evil.  There was the sound of women screaming.  Pain.  Pain really does it for you, doesn’t it, terrible pain.  Bears were tearing open Corsin’s faces, eating their brains.  Deflected.
They knew now.  Fucking Sardun.
A wall of fire was being pushed slowly towards them.  It seemed prudent to retreat, even as they pushed it back and a rain-storm blew up.   Now they understood the trap.  Behind them lay the wreck of Hokabi.  What was behind that?  Plenty of cover in which to find out. The fire was edging closer.  Real or illusory?  Did it matter?  Very few people, even in Corsin, can be engulfed by a wall of flame and not feel something. So now Corsin are crouched behind half-walls, rubble, fallen beams, facing south and throwing everything they have to the south, fog, hail, Death in the air paralysing everything it touches (trying to) and now they come out firing and the enemy is very close, and mind attempts to strangle mind, the fog clears, reforms, clears, reforms but too many of Corsin are dead or dying or resisting mental death to hold it and at the end four members of VILE are dead and 23 of the 27 members of Corsin.
One of the survivors asks: Do you take prisoners?
No, says Sardun, but VILE says fine. 
There is such a thing as intelligence, guys.  You may know it all.  We don’t.
They won’t talk!
They might, they might.
The PANTHER guys sigh.
Depends who’s talking to them
?  Cho wants to meet these guys.
Ah, says Sardun. 
The Corsin survivors look at each other.
May we ask what imprisonment entails?
Hours of interrogation on the sun-drenched shores of Vasucula surrounded by people in shorts who can fry your brains if you so much as blink out of place.
I do not doubt it.
If you want to return to Kadun to take your chances, we shall be happy to oblige.
I think we have a deal.  There remains the matter of leaving Kadun.
We have that figured.
Why did I doubt it.
Just remember this is pointed at your brain.  Don’t even think of trying it.
The Corsin guy grins.
Especially at the border?
Especially at the border.
Always wanted to travel.
Sure, you’re just regular guys.
Meanwhile, Cioulis and his now rather weary companions have turned the wall of flame into smoke and fog to hinder the regulars from deciding to be heroes and turned and started to drive like fuck for Van-senok.  There’s supposed to be an air-lift out of this and there, we hope, it is.
The flier skids to a halt and unmistakable Fidubis get out.  Long straight black hair.  Deep tans.  It might have been the earrings.
“Imperial Airlines is boarding now.  Well done, you!”
The vampires are already airborne and so are IAF.  Cioulis and his friends aren’t really listening to the captain of their flight because what the pluperfect fuck is going on over there!
Is this civil war in Kadun!
Apparently not because nothing else much seemed to be happening.
What is clear, pronounced Seani, Editor of The Straits Times, is that guys on one side had a humdinger with guys on the other side. 
I guess that’s pretty inevitable, said Num.
What is also clear is that the good guys won.  The implications of that are not clear.
One rational man looked another firmly in the eye.
Impossible to believe....
The Grid had collapsed into gibbering hysteria.  Bears the size of houses.  The corpses of giants. 
Narulis rules, OK!
It was nice while it lasted? thought Corsin.  Let us see what we can do to change that.
A known anarchist who has barely set foot in Kadun.  The father of a bastard.  A mad cunt with green hair who thinks she’s a tree.  A prostitute (Karula, in Cult circles generally known as the gold-digger). Two known homosexuals and almost certainly another.  Barely  left school.  Never heard a shot fired.  Fucking Ban-varna.  If they have anything to say, they must say it! Either they have nothing to say or they are not ready to speak.  Caution is required.  What discredits them in the eyes of Kadun is not necessarily what discredits them in the eyes of the south.
Sarat can’t do the turn into a black cat at midnight stuff yet and in any case he didn’t want to freaking walk to Van-senok and flying diagonally acrosss Kadun probably wasn’t a good idea yet, so he did the reverse dog-leg.  Everyone who was coming back was back by now and in fact having a victory party, which Marula called to at least partial order.
“Ladies and gentlemen!  Someone to see you.”
Sarat walked in flanked by Vax, Fox and of course BandP.
People started, got up, wondered if they should get up, purred - and waited
“Hi guys.  I thought I should say thank you in person.  It’s my chair.  I don’t like that thing on it, I really don’t like it at all.”
We like people who come all the way from Fidub to say thank you.  
“I think the thanks are ours.  Not sure we’d be here without FAFIAF!”
“Come in, sit down! Cats I take it.”
“Vax, Fox, Baz and Paw.”
“Sarat, I take it?”
 “Why?  Why Sarat?  Sir!”
“It’s my name.  We don’t FAF about.  I’m a Fidubi brat.  If you want to know if I’m also Anile emperor that’s down to you.  If we’re talking about the Dabidan model, I can tell you what Mel says about this titles crap.”
“Fire ahead.”
“OK...It’s more likely you’ll say what you mean.  Everyone needs contact with reality.  You think I’m behaving like a fuckwit?  You tell me.  You don’t let me think you think I’m wonderful.  You don’t observe nervously that you think perhaps His Highness might reconsider.  You don’t say to your friends, Mel’s gone off his freaking rocker and say nothing to me because I need to know you are not impressed.  The point of the title is to move and shake in a hierarchical world, to open doors. To keep power away from the people who want to push other people around not to set ourselves above the guy in the street. We call it the matrix. The matrix says the rich guy called king in the palace on the hill is top of the ant-heap.  Those with whom he comes into conflict might loathe him but they can’t actually do anything about him, meaning that they can use none of the tactics they use against little guys to stop him saying what needs to be said.  Except it’s not the Dabidan model.  It’s the Kadun model.  Narulis started this gig. I have no more interest in being imperial than I have in - cutting down the trees.  I grew up in the Republic of Fidub.  The idea of being emperor in Azt does funny things to my little republican Fidubi brain.  I’m still Narulis’ heir.  Maya’s Zani’s heir.  There is no freaking point in us if we - if we just sit in Zur and say, oh dear, the Cult’s back, nothing to do with us.  All of us, we want to put a bomb under them once and for all.”
“Lots to talk about.  I hope you’re not in any hurry to go.”
“Indeed,” said Mitch, “I would think Sarat and I have a very great deal to talk about.”
 
 “A certain amount of balls,” allowed Challin. “Perhaps expected, perhaps not.”
“One is Narulis’ heir.”
“One is a student!”
“It is ludicrous.”
“There are many words for alliance between Van-senok, Var-sega’ , Carlin and the Anile heir.  Ludicrous is not one of them.”
“Man’s a total anarchist.”
“Dabida is anarchist?”
“I have been there.  It is of course outre.  Against the odds, they are quite exasperatingly competent.”
“I understand Narulis started the gig.”
“It really is the sort of speech one detests.”
“You think I’m behaving like a fuckwit?”
“One is a Fidubi brat. One wants to put a bomb under them. Don’t we all.”
“That is perhaps the problem!”
“Certainly the more fury they cause Azt the better.”
“Let us see how this unfolds.”
 
“We need something more than same old,” said Faun.
“Holograms for a start!”
“What can we hologram?”
“The Window!  Narulis walking out of it.”
And so later Baz had his lightbulb moment.
 
Let’s just see now, thought PANTHER.  Leak it, us?
Sarat had returned to Cho’s. “Sarat is a student,” said Baya to the yammering press-fiends at the gate.  “He is still in bed.”
Not for much longer.
“Up, kiddo!” said Essa.
Sarat grabbed a shake and mooched to the gate.
“You went to Van-senok and told the guys you’re Anile emperor, Sarat!  What is this!”
“Not exactly.  I went to Van-senok.”  Pause for uproar. “ I went to say thank you to the guys who hit the Cult at Hokabi.”  Pandemonium.  “I’m Narulis’ heir.  What do you expect?”
“Not that!”
“I said I was Narulis’ heir.  I also said - free-born citizen of Fidub, mate, free-born citizen of Fidub! The idea of being emperor in Azt does my head in.  Maybe I could get used to it?”
“You winding us up, Sarat?”
“No.  That’s my chair.  That thing does not sit on it. But it’s fantasy-land.  It does not connect with RL unless irturbi want it to.  I mean, is that likely.  Kadun has been a republic for 600 years.”
“But you’re interested in Kadun!”
Heavy sarcasm, thought Sarat, was probably best, being adolescent and unimperial.
“Of course my family has absolutely no links to Kadun.  What on earth would I be interested in Kadun for. Of course I’m interested in Kadun!  Isn’t anyone sane?”
“Everybody sane is not Anile heir!”
“What d’you suggest, drive across the border and declare myself Anile emperor!”
“I can see you need to know there’s back-up!  So what did you go to Van-senok for!”
“It’s my heritage.  Could I resist.  Especially after Mel and Cantilip!”
It’s there, said Seani, but we shan’t break it.  There’s going to have to be an Impeerial Army first.
You mean there isn’t?
You do understand, said Seani after a moment, if Sarat falls into the arms of the Army of All-Kadun there will be absolutely nothing anyone can do about it. 
Ciletij
Would be eaten.
Cho is not a fool.  He will not let him take the continent to war.There’s more, isn’t there.
Oh yes, said Seani, for the new empire to begin with Ciletij deaths would be worse than the Cult.
They’d have to square Ciletij
Which is impossibile.
 
If Caniba does not want you, if you are not suitable, if your face simply doesn’t fit, if for instance, it has something of the skull about it, Caniba rejects you: not up to the high quality work we do here, this being the case if you are a squaddy on latrine detail. We have no time for idiots here.  Corsin is unsure exactly what is at Caniba, though seething pit of enemy activity with free access to our most sensitive material comes to mind, as does gateway to the west. If sufficient numbers of Corsin depart Azt, interesting things could happen in their absence, such as the fall of the government, which, you will have gathered, does not yet have quite the hold on the hearts and minds of the people it would wish to have. And of course there are the foul rumours.  Clearly KAF must be grounded.  An apparently unprovoked attack on what are supposedly our own men is clearly an unparalleled way to win the hearts and minds of the people. THe body-count does not of course matter but would it not be better to attritube it to enemy action.
 
Vampires took to flying over Caniba, circling overhead and going away again.
Chaps must be shy.  Invite them down for coffee.
A couple of times they actually came.  They practically choked on the scent of cat-piss bu that was not the problem.
“Fellow-fliers,” said Karci.  “Sure you must have loads in common.”
”You will all die,” said the lead vampire.
“Someone will,” said a Fidubi.
One day it won’t be a drill.
How long are they going to keep this up for!
 
Corsin naturally didn’t take kindly to salons such as Pilo’s and had sought to consolidate its hold on Azt.    A raid was never unexpected.This one was particularly good because Sarsh was visiting her parents at the time and much as Corsin woud have liked a princess of Dabida at their mercy for the moment the possible repercussions were off the radar.I’m so terrifying, said Sarsh shakily afterwards.  A lot of guys burst in waving guns, said Mardis.     They fanned through the house and arrived in the
drawing-room and started to babble about us being under arrest.     A bunch of Corsin followed.  They turned their evil glares on Mummy and Papa.           Mummy invited them to sit down and Pilo said, I didn’t catch your name Colonel.                  Sarshi Talal, my daughter you know. Sarshi gave her gorgeous slightly vague smile.               The shooting started in the rest of the house. I really don’t think until then dear Sarsh realized anything was up.      The Thing ordered: leave the woman, then it really began.   The walls were closing in on us, crush us, entomb.    There is only Death.   Life, said Pilo, the walls crumbled, we are in a meadow, birds are singing.    I didn’t know my revered papa was that good.          I’m in awe. ‘Course if I’d thought about it, staying in Azt, they were either very good or suicidal.
Of course there were other cats in the room. A giant cat leapt for the Thing’s throat.
Oh yah, my mother.   The cat was turned into leering Death in a silver coronet down into whose maw we were being pulled.            They’re pretty good too. Once Sarsh comes out of her trance, she’s a heroine.           She says it was just what came into her beautiful head.        Of course Vij is Zani’s heir, she said. You will never ever win.
I think that slightly annoyed them. So there we were at stasis, mind on mind and if either fragments even for a moment we get shot, so I thought I’d inflame them some more and don’t even think how we’re going to get out of this.          I ‘wrote’ Narulis rules, OK! on the floor in liquid silver letters that flowed towards their feet, which was actually a pretty stupid thing to do because the letters turned to bubbling hissing acid flowing towards our feet, which was apparently also flammable and suddenly we were in a sea of fire.     The trouble with this stuff is if your mind thinks you’re in a sea of fire - the heat became intense and we actually were in a sea of fire.       That good.                   And now we’re freaking drowning because the room is filling with water.     At this point the cats have sorted the rest of the house, a lot of guys are disarmed and less dangerous, some cats are holding them and others come in and shoot Corsin in the back.
Now all we have to do is get out of Azt.       Anyone for vertical take-off? At the back of the house is like a mews, a cul-de-sac, so let’s assume it’s blocked off and we can unblock it,, unless there’s a freaking tank in the way (there wasn’t) and it’s regular guys, so we can screw their brains (mostly).           So there’re a whole gaggle of us, family, staff,
ats, most of the ‘staff’ are cats, guests.          This man’s army numbers 10 and we can all squeeze into the hearse, better rename it, that’s what we always called Pilo’s little family run-about, great black thing, built like a tank, moves like a jet.      So Plan One is to drive like the whole of hell is after us to Carlin and Plan Two is the Dabidan Rep Centre and outface international mayhem.
Neither is a particularly wonderful plan, but let’s just assume they’re not expecting this, they haven’t got an army waiting for us.    Two just looks easier. A short drive past the Corsin HQ.      One is three turns and we’re on a main road.     We got here.    I know they sent some guys up and there was a certain amount of turmoil in the air but of course we didn’t see it
So they’ll come for Carlin.
Oh no, said Sorg softly. Now they strike Caniba.
I couldn’t see it, but he was of course right.  Before the horror happened I talked it through with Pilo.  They cannot risk it, he said.  Dabida and Fidub.  If Dabida and Fidub establish an independent Carlin, Van-senok and Var-sega’ unite n the West, it’s over.  I’d stared.  Almost worth dying for.  I know Mel and As are like that – Tar and Saryulin are also like that.  I realize now that Papa knew about Sarat and I of course hadn’t known.  I choked suddenly as I remembered a bit I did know.  Zani’s heir marches across Carlin and no-one notices!  After – after, of course it was lose-lose: they had to risk it.  Meanwhilee the coppers who’d of course had orders to arrest us, if not shoot on sight, said stuff like well done sir! And retired to bed.  Of course we could have been chased.  I wondered about that.  Excuse to take Carlin, as if one was needed with As caroling all over the Grid.  The risk, it had been decided, of Dabida and Fidub coming up from the south was too great.
And of course there was a great deal I didn’t know about my dear elder brother or hadn’t bothered to think about if I did know it.  Afterwards of course the world grabbed frantically for fact it could understand, his first posting, I understand, a little strange perhaps that he grew roots, a conduit of course between east and west.  Since Mitch hadn’t understood it either at least I’m in good company.  He might have understood it if he’d been in VS, but of course he wasn’t, a fact for which he has been to remark that he could cheerfully shoot hmself.  Sorg was in Caniba and visited Carlin, often, whenever he could get leave, which was often since at the time there wasn’t remotely anyone to fight, other than the Cult of course, except he appeared to spend the rest of the time in Zur, because there really wasn’t anything to stop one, and yes, I think it, wish I’d asked him, his best friend was probably Mel.  And so the standard form of Sorg’s murder is he died protecting Sarat but I know how much he was hated and I’m really not sure that he himself was not the target.  I watched the recording many times, until I realized this was a hopeless and not particularly healthy thing to do.
 
This is not a drill.  You can tell.  They’re bombing us. Well, sometimes.  Other times they’re laying eggs.  These particular eggs burst open and appear to spew forth live snakes and spiders. Big ones. KAF/FAF/IAF, whatever you call them.  It became standard form to refer to the Kadun Air Fleet as KAF/FAF/IAF whatever-you-call-them. 
Not bad for beginners, acknowledge Caniba.  As fast as the fires start they are extinguished. For this very eventuality, a huge store of smoke-bombs, smoke-grenades and long-range weapons has been amassed.  The normal guys know their orders are to get as fucking far away as possible. Some, well rather a lot actually, vampires land.  Others stay overhead slugging it out with Whatever-you-call-them. The ones who’ve landed attempt to advance firing.  Are stayed.  Direct concerted assault. Deflected back at them.  Fuck, they’re good.  Sounds quite organized, doesn’t it, Sorg was to muse.  Actually of course it was screaming bloody mayhem.  Some of us turned the snakes and spiders into a flock of starlings, which rose as one...Beautiful to behold.  Some of the guys in the front were hit, said Karci.  We knew of course.  They knew a cat who is severely injured uses his mind-power to heal himself and has little strength left to defend himself mentally. Cats have self-destructed to avoid becoming the toys of the Cult.  It’s all in the archives.  We knew we had to get out to get them.  They turned everything on us.  Felt like it.  Some of us weren’t quite able. Had to get those bloody minds.  The grenades weren’t smoke.  Most of them - fuck, they were good.  Some of the guys were screaming.  Karci walked into the mouth of leering Death, complete with flickering forked red tongue.  You are mine.  Infinite pain awaits you.  And blah.  Didn’t feel and blah at the time!  I found stuff I didn’t even know I had.  Death crumbled. 
 
From the ah, perspective of military history the tactical mistake was to go for broke, to not even pretend this was a normal war, with normal guys as ground-troops, so what you have to appreciate is that in terms of normal wars, all this was relatively silent, sure people screaming and yelling, gunfire, but not constant ear-splitting noise and so there were moments of total silence. The actual moment on which world history turned  was clear voices in the silences.
 
Imperial Majesty, dinner is served!
 
Cho, puh-lease!
 
The opening bars of the imperial anthem.
 
And a hologram.  Which of them was responsible was never clear; it just came together, they said.  Oh, the dear old Rabbiters’.  Look at all the lickle bunnies running out of the Rabbiters’ and into Cho’s arms.  From the perspective of military history, this is probably the only war ever fought with a picture of little fluffy bunny-rabbits. 
 
Giant cats bounded across the Caniba Plain.  IAF arrived, dived at the vampires both on the ground and in the air and wheeled away.  Come and get us!   +Now IAF were behind the vampires and firing, but what were they firing, some of it was very real, very genuine, automatic fire.  What the fuck are they firing. Look like little boxes.  Instruments don’t work.  Something  capturing their minds and it’s bloody hard to dislodge, at least and fly at the same time, auto-pilot while we deal with, at least we can get the cunts on the ground.  Jammed.  We are being forced down.  I repeat we are being forced down.  Don’t fucking tell everyone! 
They have to be - fucking act of war - how do we sink Fidub?
They landed, seething with fury, which was of course also the point.  However good your mind-control, screaming fury erodes it ever so slightly. 
IAF started sky-writing:  Remember Hanif-Altan! Narulis rules, OK!
“The benefits of aerial supremacy,” murmured those on the ground not speechless.
Narulis’ rules, OK!
            Correct punctuation is frightfully important.
 
SARAT:  I went to Van-senok to say thank you.  Talked to a whole load of the guys.
Heela closed his eyes a moment.  This is how it starts in the modern age.  Talked to a whole load of the guys.
Sarat.  As in Sarat?  Is it a common name in Kadun?
MITCH:  Sarat and I had a most fruitful conversation.  I am now at Caniba, which is of course in Var-sega’
VARIOUS:  Hey, Mitch, the guys OK?
MITCH: Except the ones who are dead.
SARAT:
SUBJECT:  The Anile Throne
That’s my chair.  That thing does not sit on it.  Death does not rule Kadun 
DEATHSREGENT: What are you going to do about it?
OhIsee.  Sharp intakes of breath.  Of course they’re here.
Sarat’s answer was two short animations.  Death sat on the Anile throne.  Sarat appeared unconcerned, pulled the chair out from under him.  Death crumbled to the ground.  Someone handed Sarat a bin-bag and rubber gloves.  He collected up the dirty broken skeleton and put it out with the garbage. Now we are in Azt.  Maya with a scarf around her head has bucket, mop and a collection of bottles variously labelled PESTICIDE, RAT POISON, DISINFECTANT. Sarat comes up behind her and hugs her.  “Needs a good spring clean.” Azt is transformed, only it doesn’t look shimmering, unearthly, ethereal so much as like an advertisement for washing-up liquid, and indeed there is a bottle labelled PANTHER in the bottom right-hand corner.  It flashes onto the screen.  PANTHER PROTECTS.  KILLS ALL KNOWN GERMS.
“Sarat,” said Vanya piteously, “please do not make us hysterical also with laughter.”
Just kids.
SARAT: ‘They came, the skull-faces, but we laughed.’  Thus Narulis wrote in his journal.
(OhIsee.  Not just kids.)   Mock. Scorn.  Deride.  Condemn.  Destroy.
DR: The child is angry!  See the little boy wave his toy sword.  And when your friends scream in torment and Carlin, Var-sega’ are laid to waste, you laugh then?
SARAT:  It just isn’t going to happen, guys, (Baz finished making it a video call and the world was treated to Sarat lying back on his sofa, looking about as concerned as if he were doing his coursework.)
Yes, well, you can’t say he doesn’t look the part.  There ought to be a law against being that good-looking.
DR: Fidub seeks once again the rape of Kadun?  Have you not enough money?
SARAT:  Farce. Fidub took nothing.  History tells.  Narulis’ Azt still stands.  Look around you sometime.  Before Narulis Azt was barely more than a stockade village.
DR Lies.  You think the mangy toms will protect you?
SARAT: If we met in person you’d be quite surprised what I can do to protect myself.  The screen filled with images from Hokabi, entirely lost on some, totally unlost on others.  You are a coward.  Show me your face.  You have a  name?
DR: Death, boy.  We shall meet again.
SARAT: Kadun rots.  Kadun must heal.  Actually I’m a brash Fidubi brat who used to keep a lot of hamsters and thought he was going to be a vet.  It’s what I am.  I can’t not be.  Freeborn citizen of Fidub, mate, freeborn citizen of Fidub.
Zeshazesh, thought Sorg, he’s done it.  He looked around at his comrades.
“Speechless,” said Karci.
SORG:  Sir!
SARAT:  Sarat, puh-lease.  Are you OK?”
SORG: Getting better by the minute! 
MEL: I love you.
SORG: Mel, I never knew you cared.
Vanya turned from the monitor.
“If we may just ponder a moment what went down when the children played so nicely together in the green fields of Carlin.”
“He has just changed the world!”
“A Grid post!  It is a long way to Azt!
“I think not through Carlin!”
Still, noted Mel, the forum does not erupt.
The fourth wave of press-fiends descended on Sarat’s house.
“Besieged,” muttered Baz.
Similarly Tar had observed, “We appear to be under siege.”
“Yes,” said Mel.
Screens had been erected at the bottom of the hill.
Maya put away her lippy. 
“Show ‘em in!”
 
……….
 
Challin is in Carlin!  I repeat, Challin is in Carlin!
“Nobody is going to fight him.”
“How true that is,” said Challin. “But, gentlemen, if we are not to fight him, what are we to do with him?”
Prog laughed.
“Decide that after you have met him.”
“You have met Alzani-Meta, of course. Our young lord and master?”
“His father forbade him to come to Kadun.  Of course he was about 12 at the time.”
“And he obeyed?  Clearly an excellent young man.”
 
I think, said Cho, no, I know what they’ll do next.  An open road to Azt, eh?
 
Say thank you nicely, Sarat, thought Mitch.  Say thank you to Madam Minister for having given you the whole of the Army.
 
All this of course had been taking place against a  backdrop of general mayhem on the Grid, television and radio, general siege by press-fiends and monumental quantities of lizard spittle and Ciletij bluster.  Probably everyone who had ever sold Sarat a pack of hamster bedding had had his or her moment of air-time.  Essa and Cho had sat back, so far as possible, and let it run.
 
Essa decided to put the boot in.
“When Sarat first became political the target of his attentions was of course trees.  When he wished to say that which would irritate Ciletij his mother and I felt it necessary to indicate to him the difficulties of becoming a public figure.  He said, I quote, ‘I care.  I’m not going to have my caring bits cut off to satisfy a lot of prats in Ciletij.’  I am really remarkably proud of him.”
 
So Azt had to work out how not to invade Carlin.  How to do something that did not represent a complete loss of face.  How to walk on tippy-toes.  Azt wasn’t used to walking on tippy-toes, sssh, mustn’t wake anyone up.  Nudra actually rang Vanya and told him what they were going to do, knowing that cats’ eyes would track them every toenail of the way and if it wasn’t as described mayhem would ensue.  In other words it became more farcical by the second
In response to sabre-rattling from Dabida, we are moving contingents of the Army closer to the Great Divide, with the full consent of my lord of Carlin.
Great goodness, not right up to it; that might be considered a threat to Dabida or be otherwise open to misinterpretation.  A purely defensive stratagem, you understand. 
“Then we must join them,” said Challin.
 
“Chequers,” said Vanya.  “We play this by the book.”
The gallant Army of Dabida also moved closer to the GD.
Naturally Mel must review the troops.  Naturally.
 
The gallant Army of Dabida made its feelings known on camera before the world.
“This is bo-o-o-ring!”
“What would you rather do?” asked Hass.
“Watch paint dry?”
But Ciletij journos scented blood.
“Their attire hardly accords with military norms.”
“Headbands and stripy socks!”
“Do they even know the word discipline?”
“Ask us,” suggested a woman in a headband, stripy socks neatly folded over the top of her boots.
“Surely a walking talking argument.  The idea of the Army of All-Kadun accepting.”
“Guy, how about you talk to us, not about us?”
“Very well, then.  What do you have to say?”
“We do formal.  When we do formal, we do perfection.  Anyone find us a reason for dressing up to sit around here polishing tanks, we’ll hear it.”
“Surely a visit by - !”
“We know what Mel expects from us.”
“May I ask what that is!”
“Efficiency.  We’re mind-bendingly efficient.”
“Efficiency! From...”
“I’m waiting politely.”
“Give him a hand.  Bunch of scruffs.  Worse, half of them are women!”
“I did not say that.”
“You want to be rational about this - “
“Do they know that word?”
“How do socks impede efficacy?”
“Nail-polish stop us pulling triggers!”
“How can there be efficiency where there is no discipline!  No-one has even saluted.”
“So f-lipping what?”
“This is intolerable!”
“Who to?  The Ciletij Army?”
“That was uncalled-for.”
“You obviously don’t understand how it works.  There are jobs to be done.  If you don’t want to do them - basically, why did you join up? A range of jobs.  If you’re better at math than medicine, we don’t expect you to staff the sick bay.  If there’s something in the way of doing the job, you’re expected to identify it, ask, find a way to get it sorted.  We don’t do dodos.”
“Might find something else needs doing first.  Most of us are nattering.  The guys watching the border are still watching the border.  The guys preparing supper are still preparing supper. You could call that discipline.  We call it intelligence.”
“Two strikes and you’re out is essentially how it works.  Screw up and it’s thank you and goodbye.”
“We want to defend Dabida.  We think we’re worth defending.”
“As has repeatedly been said, no-one’s going to attack you!”
“That’s not the same as everyone on the continent loving each other.”
“Intent!”
“Every nation on this continent has an army.”
“Just how true is this Dabida impregnable fortress line?”
“Pretty true.  You need to see the GD close to.”
“Right now it’s pretty well dry.  Depends on the rainfall way over in the west.”
 “You could span it but people would sort of notice.”
                      
The Zur Gazette screamed: Unkempt, uncouth - we love ‘em! The Times attempted a more measured note.  Nonetheless, the main focus for the eyes of the world was of course the relationship between Mel and his gallant defenders.
Talking heads on Channel Nine burbled. 
“Imagine if Sarat popped over to Carlin!”
“Which I personally should not put past him!”
“Hi, guys, how are we going to hack this?”
“It’s not imaginable.”
“I just imagined it.”
                                  
Of course not everyone was amused. If there is one thing that convinced Zur it was farce. it was Mardis’ vid.
 
Hi, dear world.  I’m Mardis, Asdinan’s cousin.  You might not know my parents and I escaped Corsin in Azt.  We are fugitives from justice, vile traitors.  I wish to protest to Madam Minister!  No-one has made the faintest attempt to arrest us for our crimes.  This is not good enough.  Kadun justice must be radically overhauled.  Those who govern in Azt must be instantly replaced by those capable of recognizing crime.
 
Oh, and a trio of Kadun officers lounging behind him.
And As clearly commuting back and forth as though there were no border
Naturally the press-fiends thought if he can we can.  Alas the gallant Army of Dabida was there to halt them.
“What about our civil rights!”
“Name me one international treaty that gives you the right to walk into a foreign country!”
 
That a great many people had not known.  Flaming heck, they’ve got some balls, that lot. Challin wandered over to the House to present his compliments to my lord of Carlin.
 
“Be there or be square,” said Sarat.
Of course, said Mitch, the Army of Dabida doesn’t obey anyone!  Except maybe Mel in a conflict situation in which there is no time to argue for government approbation.
If they don’t want to join in, they won’t, said Mel.
On the other hand if they do, but would like a green light!
And Cantilip began to laugh softly and said: “Well done us, to have contrived the one situation in which it matters.”
As had had to go and do something or other and now returned. 
“Can you give us directions to Carlin?” asked Mitch.
You will have noticed that Karula has dropped off the radar here. The kids were sick.
 
Duvi pondered. Shortly afterwards a small red bubble-car bounced into the track to the encampment.
“Sorry, miss, road’s closed.”
“I think not,” said Duvi.
“Perhaps you’d better take us to your leader,” said Soola.
Army brat myself, Duvi burbled.  Who knows, I might have grown up with some of you!  Always glad to see the Army in Carlin.  Soldiers deployed at sudden notice, family difficulties, my door is always open, drawled Soola.
“Of course neither of them said a word out of place.”
“Didn’t have to, did they, sir.”
 
Cioulis began extending delicate mental antennae to pick up the vibes.
          
As to how they were going to hack it, the  Imperial Army had a few ideas of their own. 
“If we had a limitless supply of balls - “
You mean we don’t?
“30 points for getting it into no-man’s land.  50 points for the ravine.”
“100 points for landing on the other side!”
“No, it’s not a cunningly disguised missile, it’s a tennis-ball.”
“Anyway, how can we ask Dabida if we may have our balls back.”
“Whatever you say about girls, they haven’t got the upper-body strength, they won’t be able to put it across.”
“D’you want to rephrase that?”
Raving, I mean, ravine tennis was born.
Sport, sir, nothing like it.  Keeps them fit.  If you have a barbed wired fence you are not supposed to cross there are two ways of drawing up tennis courts near it.  One is parallel to it and one is at right angles to it. Naturally they chose right angles. Urgent deployment to what some idiot has designated the front line tends to preclude packing tennis racquets.  A sports wholesaler was identified and a van of ‘essential military equipment’ swiftly arrived.  The maybe Imperial Army started to play tennis.  A lot of them had never played before and it was just bat and ball.  A few of them were pretty good.  One of them went on to become an national champion.
The Dabidan Army can play tennis too.
            In due course the upper slopes of the GD were decorated by a number of tennis balls.
What the –
Ladies, gentleman, said the President of Vasucula.  The future of our continent may depend on when it becomes a grave, a pressing necessity to ask Dabida for their balls back.
 
Cioulis hacked into the data-base, because that’s the sort of thing you do if you’re Sardun.  Then like a lot of the guys he discovered an interest in ancient history and visited the shrine.
Soola was gardening.
“May I offer you tea, Captain.  Perhaps something stronger?”
“Spider-blood?” suggested Cioulis.
They sized each other up.
“Challin’s men are a unit.  There are two things everyone knows about Challin’s gang.  One is that they are – socially conservative, shall I say.  The other is that they are clean all the way through. It could not have panned out any other way.  For the purpose of my analysis, therefore, Challin is irrelevant.  Who are the rest of them?  I hacked the database. None is carlini.  That should not surprise!  For the rest it’s 60-20-20, 60% Vaudos and Fas-sigree, 20% segani, 20% senoki.  I think they were selected by computer, like random numbers.  Few of them know each other well and trust as of course you know is the name of the game.  It matters of course not a toss that they have not lived, worked, trained together since they aren’t going to fight anyone.  What is critical is they are not a cohesive unit.
“They?”
“I just wandered by, gravitated to where the action is.”
“Trees are rare this far south.”
“I was at Hokabi. This is a good place for fugitives from justice!”
“Indeed.”  Then you are probably a hero.  “Why are they not going to fight anyone?  Except presumably Azt.  From the perspective of Azt. Why in your view are they here?”
“Textbook response.  Vanguard.  I think to wait for Corsin.  They have to retake Carlin or Sarat is in Azt by lunch. There is of course a number of adepts.  Can’t tell which degree without probing and risking exposure but none is Corsin.”
“But they do not expose themselves.”
“Imperial law.”
“Most certainly,” said Soolla, “Carlin is under imperial law.  At which point the bomb goes off.”
”I have been in Vaudos.  The slums, the decay, the usual, are appalling.  I do not think to come from Vaudos or Azt is necessarily to be opposed. Provided they know what they are not opposed to.  These are not men who are wired and of course Azt has expended a great deal of fruitless effort on disrupting reception.  Very boring, but not purposeless.  Take us out of circulation by making us act as telecoms engineers.  Against that, it’s all on the Grid.  Some of the lads have phones.  Most of the officers have phones.”
A most interesting and intelligent young man, but what is he?  He comes to me not goes to the House.  Why? 
“Of those who are aware.  Curiosity.  An appreciation of sheer balls.  Very little stupidity.  The Cult must go.  Change will come.  Nothing I think you don’t know already.  It may come down to this: no-one prefers having his brains fried.  And of course no-one.  Smudge. There is considerable anger.  Kadun shamed! We’re not all bleeding animals.  Someone said – someone proclaims, in the drawing-room, in the bar, women should not be doctors – until you’re dying and the only doctor around is a woman.
“I loved the bit about very special people.”
“Var-sega’ is value-added.”
“Corsin know imperial law, thus the extreme pacifism. This farce comes from Corsin. Corsin are bright.  They will come when they are ready.  I’d like them to come when they’re not ready, to force them to come. Sarat here of course would send them over the edge.  If I assess my man correctly, he would have been here yesterday, requires no reason to come.  He knows what will follow.  To this the drivellings of the continent are irrelevant.  I ask myself what stops San-yaega-baht raising the imperial flag and inviting HIM.  I conclude PANTHER too are not ready.”
“Or of course.”
“Oh yes,” said Cioulis.  “One or other is bluffing.”
“In other words all hell could be let loose at any moment.”
“A false sense of security is not a good thing to have.”
“We don’t have one.”
“I thought I’d ask.”
“I understand Hokabi was not without incident!”
“It wasn’t the whole of Corsin.”
“You think it?”
“Why not?  The west is lost. Only by securing the east can they hope to retain power.”
           “There are villages, towns on the road to Azt.  I cannot but think PANTHER will evacuate them at human cost.  And no invasion, PANTHER looking mad fools. What nonsense, cries Azt.  We invade our own territory, territory where our forces stationed?  It is a very difficult situation.  Unless of course it were no longer their territory.”
“I knew you’d understand,” said Cioulis.
 
Soola drove off to the House, where Mardis was generally considered the administrative hub of things feline. Wonderful preparation for life, running a soup-kitchen. 
“A most interesting and intelligent young man.  Only I am not familiar enough with the Sardun mind to be sure he is genuine.  Either he suggests we bait a trap or that we be the bait.”
“Eek,” said Mardis.  “The only senoki I know is Cantilip!”  He put out a general call.  “You want them to check out everything about the guy?”
“Cioulis-zar-tamri.  Non grata since Hokabi.  Probably therefore a hero who deserves a medal.  We have to be sure.”
Sama chuckled.  “Cioulis the Dude in Carlin and they can’t be sure!  I’ll go.  Do I need a chaperone?”
Sama and Mellow pitched up at the House.
“Friend of mine who is Sardun and actually knows Cioulis.  If Cioulis.”
“Let the dog see the rabbit.”
He unpacked slightly worn Kadun uniform.
“You wear that a lot, I guess.”
“Not as much as I’m going to wear it.”
“You need a tennis racquet,” remembered Soola.
“Essential kit?”
“He said he was off to play tennis.”
Fortunately Cioulis was sitting by the courts.
“Me old mucker!” cried Sama enthusiastically.  “Heard you were here.  Want a game?”
“Just finished one.”
“Free to head off to the village for a jar?”
“I am.”
“WTF?” said Cioulis as soon as they were out of earshot.
“The Sardun signal is unfamiliar.  They just wanted to be sure.  I was in Zur.”
“That rhymes.”
“Poetry is my middle name.  Sounds like you’ve been being interesting again.”
He listened.
“Ho-hum!  What are you doing here, anyway?”
“It’s a good place for fugitives from justice!  Then it got interesting.”
“I have a plan.  Heigh ye yonder to Zur and seek a right upright young Fidubi lad.  Because ye grapevine tells me this isn’t PANTHER’s op, it’s his.  He’s going to be right in the middle and – and I quote – cook ‘em.”
“That’s my boy,” said Cioulis.  “Hang on, won’t I get the same crap again?”
“I should rather doubt the pretty little minds surrounding Sarat-ban-essa-eban Narulis can’t tell a tree from a corpse.  I’ll sort it.”
                      
“Expecting you,” said Baz.  “Come in, please do!”
Sarat listened, asked questions, listened more.
“So I should have been in Carlin yesterday.  Will today do?”
“I like you!”
Go, go, go.
One person slipping in or out of Carlin is not difficult, happened all the time, as you will have gathered, at least until Azt set up 24/7 watching the border.  The Revolutionary Committee and half ot the H-W and PANTHER is somewhat more complicated.  Mel had said enthusiastically that he’d always wanted to drive a school-bus.  Since trade continued, trucks going in both directions were commonplace.  They were, however, searched.  Difficult that, searching.  The border-guards were quietly stunned and replaced by PANTHER.  They drove into Carlin.  Of course the mushrooms, as they were called, having sprung up in the night, weren’t the only military in Carlin and Prog at Stok-chasit and Ban-finoul at and the rest were only too pleased to help and sent several contingents to the mushroom field.  What’s all this then?  Orders! They replied cheerfully.  “We’re going to invade or something?”  “Ours is not to reason why.”  Of course most of the guys from Stok-chasit and   didn’t know why.  In relative chaos our heroes’ truck drew up, unnoticed.
 
Sarat got out.
 
I – don’t – believe – it.  People turned as though in slow motion, sprang to attention.  Sir!
 
Relax, guys, said Sarat. We’ve got better things to do.
 
By this time the rest of the Revolutionary Committee had piled out and was disposing itself on the nearest whatever there was to sit on.
 
We’re here to be talked to, said Sarat.  That and finish a war.
 
Prog came up to welcome him.
 
Mardis wandered into the drawing-room.
Sarat’s at the camp.  Time to raise the flag. All of them, female people too.
This, said Duvi, I must see.
 
Could you take that thing down, please, said Sarat.  He indicated the flagpole.
New one in the truck, said Baz.
I guess you could use it to clean the latrines, said Mitch.
That’s my chair, said Sarat.
 
Imperial flag raised over Var-sega’!  I repeat, imperial flag raised over Var-sega’
 
Mitch just smiled.
 
Imperial flag raised over Van-senok! I repeat, imperial flag raised over Van-senok!
 
Not that we took it down, said Cantilip.  Well, the odd glitch.
 
The word you are looking for is coup.
 
Press-fiends yammering.  Sarat raised his hand for silence and didn’t get it. 
“If you guys don’t shut up and listen, I’m going to go away and do something interesting.” 
B+P made wide eyes and put fingers to their lips.
“OK.  Here we are in the lush green fields of Carlin.  The sun is shining, the sky is blue and in Azt they’re plotting my eternal torment.  That means they’re going to send the hard guys against us, not the nice normal people you see here.”
“Corsin, Sarat?”
“It can’t be any other way.”
“Oh-oh.”
“I knew you’d understand.  This is a war-zone.  
“Corsin are going to come and they’re going to lose. As you know, the Cult has a good line in special effects. We have a better one.  They will generate same old.  We shan’t.  It’s my business, PANTHER business to protect normal people from changes of the third letter.   What’s going to go down here probably won’t involve regular troops.
“Sarat!”
“I didn’t say no special forces.
“What the –“
“Naturally I’m here to tell Azt simply everything.  There are possible scenarios that do involve you guys more.  Depends what the Third Army in Vaudos does for instance. That is not what you could call the primary war.
“They’re going to lose because in a head to head they always do, most recently of course at Hokabi and Caniba.  But sufficient special forces haven’t been gathered to take Kadun.  Now they are.  I think it’ll amuse them to keep us waiting, but they’ll have to come.  Maybe 98% certainty.  So we’re going to be on edge for a while.
“OK, so here we all are, autumn sunshine and intelligent conversation.  Everything’s cool.  Do not for ten seconds forget that all hell could start to break loose, though you’ll have plenty of warning, because it will start outside Azt.
            “Now, dear ladies and gentlemen of the Press, that has implications for your noble calling.
“This is not the Sa’aanda Senta!  Talk to guys, sure. You ask nicely if someone is free to talk to you.  You do not press anyone who does not want to talk to you. Do not get in the way of anyone’s work and if anyone tells you you’re in the way of his or her work butt right out instanter. The word is polite, is civility.   If anyone tells me you’re being a pain in the ass, you’re catfood.  That’s Point One.  Point Two is I am going to have to cull you!  At this moment there may be more journos here than soldiers and reasonable sensible people that you are I am sure you see that is on the far side of sane. PANTHER will sort it out with you. Point Three is – haven’t I said I’m going to shorten working-hours?  Isn’t that cool, guys?  We let you in, dear journos, at 10 and and most of you vamoose at 1. Exceptions: press-fiends trailing the guilty parties, that’s me, Mel, Hass, Venga, Cantilip, Mitch and Karula by name!  We shall heroically suffer you until 6. Everybody has to have some privacy. There is a difference between public figures and private citizens which is of course clear to all civilized people.  You are civilized people, aren’t you.  Point Four is transparency ends at protecting guys on the ground.  Azt may not be doing anything but we are.  That means there are no-go areas.  You can tell that because they’ve got big signs saying NO GO.  Anyone, of any status, from any country caught either trespassing or hanging around after work will be incredibly politely interned for the duration in a really awfully nice country-house here in Carlin. Morons are non grata. Point Five is I am not Narulis and this is not ancient history!  This is a high-tech war with precision timing.  Any scrap of equipment that could conceivably or inconceivably get in the way is also non grata.  Phones mute please, film on them, record on them, but any bearer of a ringtone will probably be summarily shot.
            “That goes for soldiers too.  By all means tell the folks back home.  Otherwise there’s nothing to hide here.  We are an army.  We have lots of weapons.  Azt know which weapons we’ve got because Azt kindly supplied them. You may see things which are not conventional weapons, the property of the special effects department, a large stock of amplifiers, for instance. By all means comment – haven’t I just told the world?  Tell you what we’re going to do with them not.
            “More generally, our lives look like this.  A map was projected.  “Serious, chaps, serious,” murmured an officer.  Azt was readily identifiable on the map as a slimy fanged excrescence. “Third Army there…Vampires there and there….There are of course Corsin in Vaudos.  Not many but enough to control the Third Army and for that matter my errant steward Vastulis. 
           
            Spine-tingle time, thought As.
Mitch’s mouth tightened.  A word, my lord of Vaudos.  If you are not dead first.
 
It would be much simpler to them if they had air-cover in the west, but they don’t.  The rest of the Air Fleet is in Var-sega’ waiting for lunch. 
 
Imperial Kadun is informally recognized by Dabida and Fidubi as a fifth member of the Quadrant, what we must now call the Pentangle.  For formal recognition, universal consent is required.  Negotiations with Vasucula are nearly there.  Nothing I’ve heard tells me that Ciletij will consent any time soon.  The worst case scenario is that Ciletij move south to join with the Third Army and supposedly attempt to push us into the sea. Actually of course they would be the filling in a sandwich. That is the scenario in which it is most likely a lot of guys end up dead.  Do you have to be completely moronic?  Remember Tonsa!
 
            “Oh by the way….”  Tonsa in all her glory appeared on the screen, captioned ‘A Ciletij rabbit.  A sensible bunny’”
 
            “That’s about it for now.  If I think of anything else sensible to say, I’ll say it.”
 
Uproar.
 
            “Catch up with you later, guys,” said Sarat in a relative lull.
            “I just became Press Officer,” said Mitch.
            “Anything rather than!”
 
 ‘Reviewing’ perhaps not the word as the camera pursued him sitting on tanks, on tail-gates, on tree-stumps, on the ground, squatting to talk to some bloke halfway under a truck.
 
Like the rest of them.  The really good arguments draw spectators.
 
Sardun arrived.   Never ones to miss a good party. The gathering was enhanced by irtubi women throwing down their furs, though not their weapons, and telling any officers they saw, “You are idiots, you are fools!”, not necessarily in a particularly friendly manner.  Lovely conversation-starter. War with Van-senok? suggested Cantilip.
 
“I’m hearing things about you, Dude.  Well done you.”
 
Prog cocked an eye at Challin.
“Not yet.  I really hardly think it matters.  The practical is vastly more illuminating than the theory.”
“Not a word, not a syllable,” said someone.
Challin laughed.
“Might we not – all of us – require a little guidance on how to behave.”
“I should suspect that anyone who goes over the line finds out fast enough.”
Challin pouted.
“Is that not a little unfair?  An invisible line?”
“Personally I do not find ‘morons are non grata’ invisible. Delectable, possibly”
 
Varchulan darling flew to Fidub.
Meet him, darling, said Airoch.
Varchulan just looked at her.
In a field in Carlin? 
 
I just pulled the short straw said the Ciletij Representative at Zur.  Walking into a 100% hostile Kadun Army.
Aw, I’m sure they’re all puddy-tats.
 
Hi Sarat.
Sarat grinned. 
Welcome to Imperial Kadun!
I suppose there’s no point in saying you can’t say things like that in front of the entire world.  No, I thought not.  Or that we go inside and have a private conversation.
What on earth would we do that for?
Back-drop of press-fiends.
Shut it a moment, could you, guys.  Don’t you want to hear this non-private conversation?
 
Feit made climbing the wall gestures.
You cannot conduct international diplomacy sitting on a crate in a freaking field.
I expect Narulis did.  The field if not the crate!
 
Well-brought up lad: the Ciletij got chairs. 
We are not your enemies,  Sarat!
Ciletij will not tolerate an emperor in Azt.
It’s difficult.  You know that.
For whom?  Whether we can help economically depends on the state of the Kadun economy.  Since we haven’t seen the books yet, we don’t know for sure the state of the Kadun economy. The indicators are the cup runs over, which of course meshes with the observable  almost zero spend on health, education and so on.  We see the books before any promises. There’s a lot of work to be done here in Kadun, though against that there’re a lot of things that won’t need doing any more and people who won’t neeed paying to do them, the whole apparatus of repression and control.  But trade.  We can do that.
I see no reason why that should not be on the table.  The City.
We can turn screws in the City.  Remember what you’re talking about here not just the Kadun economy but private capital.
If I may interrupt, said Mitch.  Var-sega’ has certain investments which are now surplus to requirements and thus transferrable.
Press-fiend.  Have you just said Var-sega’ has funded resistance.
Yup, said Mitch.
Us too, said Asdinan. 
And of course us, said Cantilip.  You think Sardun armed by tree-spirits, wood-nymphs?
Not to mention us, said Mel.
And of course Cho, said Sarat.
There would seem to be a certain amount of surplus capital, allowed  If mney is pulled ot, there’s a loser.  Who.
Here there and everywhere.  Guys don’t have to be big to be profitable.
Mitch grinned.
Do you a deal.  We publish a full list.  You undertake to consider it.
I can see no reason to object to that.
I believe said Mitch Ciletij has certain mineral reserves of importance to industry in Harn, whether clean or dirty.
I negotiate with Var-sega’?  He sighed to himelf.  Guy has something relevant to say, say it
That is the case.
So certain changes of direction could hit Searc where it hurts.  All sorts of possibilities occur to me.  Guys neeed jobs.  One could set up a plant manufacturing whatever requires those mineerals for instance.  Win-win.
There may indeed be many possibilities
It’s good to talk
Sarat said: It is my reading you have got yourselves in hock because you have not believed the south could help with Kadun between you.  You are now in over your heads but the map as changed. The bottom line remains if Ciletij goes down to the Cult because she will not recognize the empire, Ciletij is out of it.
No, said.  The bottom line is what the empire does then.
I have said.  Sit back and have another cup of tea, while Dabida, Vasucula and Fidub cross Kadun to sort it.
We have your word?
You have my word.
We would wish to send observers.
Be my guest.
 
Harn would wish to send observers.
Vasucula would wish to send observers.
Be my guest.
 
 “Must one really!”  He sat opposite a gang of Sardun.  “Not officers only mess. As for the ladies with toy pistols pretending to be soldiers.”
You might have gathered you don’t talk to Sardun like that if you like living.
“Well now what kind of primitive do we have here.”
“Farce, all of it,” he declared.  “Image manipulation to create justification for empire.  Hokabi, Caniba blown up out of all proportion.”
“I was at bloody Hokabi!”
“Make the tea, did you.”
“Stake him out for Corsin,” suggested one of the Sardun guys.  “Educate him there.”
“I fear that would be cruelty to dumb animals,” said a Kadun guy.
“I suspect there’s only one rule right now. You tell Sarat what you think.”
“Or PANTHER,” said another of the guys.  “I’m PANTHER.  You want to tell me all about it.”
The perp made to stand up.  “Here will do just fine.  Don’t want any drama.”
“How about a practical?” said the Sardun girl.  “I’m only a woman, right.  So take me down.”
“Then I can eat!” said someone in the doorway.  Various people had of course turned up to find food and waited to watch the show.
“Sure, it’ll be very quick,” said the Sardun girl.
The PANTHER guy thought sooner or later this was going to happen.  You’re only a girl, you can’t hack it. 
“I don’t think we’ll go that way.”  She is furious on two counts.  He is a dumbfuck.
“Maybe I show you what happened at Hokabi.”
Now the guy is trembling, sobbing, curled in the corner, hands over his eyes, sobbing “No!”
“You stupid bitch!” said one of the Sardun guys. “We are under imperial law!”
“Sarat is a sensible guy.”  He picked up his phone.
The throng parted as though sliced to let him through.  The PANTHER guy is on the floor, encouraging the dumbfuck to take slow sips of water. He stumbles up.
Sarat listened. 
“Where d’you come from?”
“Segani,” sighed the dumbfuck.
 “Senoki?”
She nodded.
“We do not wastes of oxygen.  We do not do piss-artists.  I do not do having my time wasted by morons. He paused.  “You’re probably on a list to give a medal to sometime.  Mostly anyone at Hokabi is.  Not the defenceless.  Ever.  Under any circumstances. At all.  Clear?”
“Yes.”
He turned and left.
So that’s the imperial wrath, is it.  Of course within about 30 minutes the story was all over the camp.
The perps emerged from the attentions of Mitch and Cantilip.
So that is the doom of the miscreant!  I think flogging preferable to Var-sega’s tongue.
Challin laughed, being inclined to agree.
 
If there’s one thing we’re all sure of, they all have tongues in their heads!
 
That’s one thing.  The real question is of course Sarat.
Munzi raised his hand in  imitation.
“Cool it, guys!”
“It’s not that the authority isn’t there, it’s that it is.”
“There you have the nub, I think.  Undoubtedly there is metal under the paddy-paws.  What is its chemical composition?”
 
What, we wonder, warms it up around here?
 
“We cannot sit opposite the Third Army and not involve the regular guys.”
“This is where the fun begins.”
 
            “You cannot have an army without the bo-o-oring bits!”
            “What are we supposed to do instead?”
            “Guess.”
            “Needlecraft?”
            “I suppose one could describe it as a craft.”
            “Battle-readiness,” murmured Challin.  “An excellent idea.”
            “Please!”
            “Working in tandem with the irregulars.”
            “Ah-ah!”
            “Thus introducing us to the notion our commanding officers – “
            “Do we still have those?”
            “Instructor, shall we say.”
            “May be an instructrice.”
 
            Jaizi examined her pupils.
            “I was born in Tjulsit. My mum’s a cleaner, dad’s a builder. They wanted me to work in a shop.  I wasn’t having it.  Joined the gypsies and ran away to Fidub.”
1)      Thought Varulin, common as muck.  2) why do I not ask what ‘it’ is.
 
“We cannot be expected to eat together!”
“Why not?”
“Tastes are not the same.”
“Everyone gets a wider choice.”
 
“Of course they’re always ready to listen in the south.  Isn’t that sweet.”
Challin came in.
“We were planning a little intolerable insolence,” said Ritawa
“Entirely insufferable behaviour,” suggested Munzi
“An experiment,” murmured Challin
“We do not entirely understand.”
“Clarification,” murmured Challin.
 
After that he had other things to think about.  Sarat invited him for dinner to talk about Vaudos. All of them.  This may possibly be educational. Rewn of course I know, Gutaah. 
“San-galden.”
            “Faun, the Shadowy and Mysterious Head of PANTHER.” 
            Ah.
            Sarat said: “Obviously we can’t even begin to think about Vaudos without involving you guys.”
            Faun said: “Perhaps less obviously, Vaudos will not be a question solely of regular warfare.  How - cognisant would you say you are with the other matter?” He turned to Challin. “Your experience of course I know.”
            “Quite so.”
            “Can you not tell?” asked Rewn
            “The standard parallel is with sex!  There is consent or it is rape. Were there anything of the skull about you, that would be evident, of course.  An aura, shall I say.”
            “Informal,” said Gutaah.  “I have worked a great deal with PANTHER.  One picks up.  Theory rather than practice.  We had an unfortunate experience at Canda-saq.  Fortunately PANTHER came to the rescue.”  He smiled.  “I do not know that at the time we said thank you.”
            “The pleasure was ours.”
“I also,” said San-galden, “have  seen more than I should wish to have seen.  Some years ago now.  I thought it prudent to learn self-defence.”
“First off,” said Faun, “there is the precise status of Vaudos.  To Azt, Vaudos is a province of All-Kadun.  Sarat looks at it as traitor to the empire, but if Vastulis were to secede from All-Kadun, it would  simply be an independent state that has gone its own way.  Probably!”
“In theory,” said Sarat.  “Vaudos cannot survive independently.  It’s just not a viable life-form.”
            “Azt cannot prop it up any more than currently.”
            “The essential question would seem to be which way would it go!”
            “Ask for help?”
            “I’m really going to prop up an unrepentant and unclean Vaudos sniggering on my border that I can’t touch it because it’s a sovereign state.”
            “On the other hand of course,” said Challin.
            “Depends on his mental condition.  If he is coldly, irreducibly evil, like those in Azt, he hangs.  If he is a gibbering wreck, then of course not.  He  is not seen publicly.”
            “All of the above,” pointed out Mel, “depending therefore on Vastulis being sane.  If there should be disturbance in Vaudos and someone else emerge to speak for it that is of course yet another ball-park.”
             “How long would he survive?” asked Karula. “I am not talking about imperial law.  Is it not likely that, once stasis is shattered, one side or other will simply cut his throat.”
“He may be dead already.”
“PANTHER have no intelligence?”
“As I’m sure we all know, the House is generally regarded as the hub of evil, the area in a wide circle around it desecrated spook-land.  No sane Vaudosi goes near it. Further, there are alarms exo and eso.  The House however is a semi-ruin, a derelict property – “
“Another thing I have against him,” muttered Sarat.
As grinned.
“We assume, however, it is inhabited because it uses water and electricity –“
Mel cocked his head.
“Machinery could do that?”
“What machine runs non-stop?”
“We take nothing for granted.  Part of our ethos is that there are no no-go areas in Kadun.  There does, however, have to be something to risk cats for.  Apparently, I say apparently, there is not.  Apart from a little cautious sniffing around, we have left that area and a large region around it alone.  The only concrete evidence we have is Hokabi: no back-up from the House for them.”
“Where is Corsin HQ?”
“Saaba.”
“Nearly alone.  We always intervene on the Days Celebrant.  We, VILE, the H-W, to keep the numbers up and not leave other areas exposed.  We think Corsin are probably going to keep us waiting until Xu-laman.”
“Or else of course that’s what we’re meant to think.”
Karula said: “One has of course heard.”
Faun said, “Whatever you’ve heard it’s worse.”
Mitch asked, “I take it no mail gets delivered?”
“Assuming the house is inhabited, no mail because because no-one will go near the place and Corsin presumably have better things to do than deliver the mail or force anyone else to.  No idea what happens to it if there is any. Having had better things to do than assault the sorting-office!”
“Telecoms?”
“None.”
“Family?”
“My lady of Vaudos is dead.  They had three children two of whom now live in Basit and one of whom is in the City, who – inwardly and outwardly – appear as innocent as the day is long.” 
“This is  toto nuts.  If those kids grew up in the House, innocent they conceivably could be, though how, unscarred they cannot be.”
“We need to talk to the kiddie-winks of course, though whether they’ll talk to us.”
“Welcome, therefore, to a really first-class script for a horror movie.”
 “From my purely exo perspective the guys in Vaudos are disadvantaged.  We only have to look in two directions.  They have to look all round.  They do not have the fine green pastures of Carlin, the intelligent conversation or the dashing young emperor.  They are on a cold wet plain and bored shitless. We may assume nothing about their attitude to Sarat.  They may adore him but they have Corsin among them and are not about to express that adoration.  The only way we can get Corsin out from among them is by a stunt so huge that they think – what should we like them to think?  Vasucula is invading!  Azt has fallen!”
“Point One is since we haven’t got the faintest idea what they’re going to do, as in no evidence whatever, we’d like to do something first.  Point Two is we’d like every possible scrap of information about Vaudos we can get from the guys here, particularly if anyone at all has seen Vastulis.  It would be ridiculous to be sitting here and pretend we have no interest in Vaudos of course but we should not like to convey it’s an obsession. One of many cards on the table.”
“I’m sure we can help with that,” said Rewn.
Mitch laughed.
“Even semantics are against us!  No, honestly!  We speak of the Houses as discrete entities.  Everyone in Kadun does it.  Probably everyone in the world does it!  Thus we confuse ourselves.  As equally all of us know it is rather a matter of gradually fading spheres of influence. Of course each of the Houses knows where the line is on the map, but since the creation of All Kadun there may be no physical boundaries at all, not so much as a wooden fence.
 “Oh I see,” said Sarat. “We don’t even know where Vaudos is.”
“The de facto border changes in the night,” said Karula.  “All the de facto borders must be in a constant state of shift right now.”
     Carlin and Var-sega’ swelled gently as Vaudosi from that useful sphere of influence joined the party and the useful sphere of influence edged a little further into Vaudos.
Venga finished doodling.
“Two of the three of you have had unhappy experience.  They came only for the officers or that then is also true of your men?”
Sarat looked up sharply.
“You ask if we have walking wounded?  Undoubtedly a few.  We do not talk about it, but if a man start raving about things unseen we understand.”
“For that,” said Cantilip softly, “there is the emperor’s peace.”
“The emperor’s war,” said Sarat.
 
A deeply casual announcement:  If guys have anything they’d like to talk through, remember there are lot of Welfare Officers around in thick black fur.
 
Sloti sidled up to a cat. 
“Don’t want to waste your time.  Only I thought it might be intelligenee.”
“You’ve started remembering?” asked the cat.
“Seen things.”
 
            “Seen ‘im, Vastulis. But it’s like he’s not there, you know.”
            “We know.”
 
            Karula turned away from the screen and was violently sick.
            “No, Mitch, no, they do not do this.”
            Mitch rang Venga.
            “Karula looked up Xu-Laman on the Grid.  I am holding her close.“
            “I come,” said Venga
 
So here is long trellis table.  It is not an exciting table, slatted and of a dirty brown.  There are many of its kind around.  Sarat and Maya are sitting at it, along with several other people of various species.  Behind them there is a hot-water dispenser, a basket of tea-bags, powdered milk, sugar and a box of polystyrene cups.  Other guys mill around, listening or themselves conversing.
Ritawa and Munzi sprawled themselves nearly opposite, waiting for a good opening.
Maya turned, cup in hand and half-rose to make herself another cup of tea.  Some nice person took the cup from her, and she sat down again.  Gripping this, isn’t it.
“Ah,” said Ritawa.  “The Dabidan whore.”
Heads jerked up, people half-moved, started to speak, fulminate, as people do in situations in which an electric current has passed through them.
Sarat raised his hand signalling my call.  Ritawa’s eyes met his, quizzical, mocking.
One duels, sir?
And of course journos routinely trailing Sarat around broke into sweats.
            “Not the Azt Star again!” said Sarat.  “Do they never give up!”
“Be saying I am The Star next,” said Maya.  Jaizal’s favourite tart, you will recall.
“Haven’t they done that yet?”
One chance to say just quoting the papers?  Fuck, they’re good!
            “Did someone speak?”
“Hearing loss?” asked Maya.
            “Guess he should be invalided out,” said Sarat.
            “It seems we have a Fidubi homosexual and a slut from Zur Master and Mistress of Kadun.”
            Maya bit her lip.
            “I think he doesn’t like us!”
            “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
            “There was this guy Narulis.”
             “How slut?” asked Maya
            “Clearly you were sold to gain power in Kadun.”
            “Clearly,” said Maya, in a voice that -  clearly – said loon!
            “You can scarcely claim to hide it!  All too plainly the only coup here is one by AMI.”
            “You have the absolute insolence to bring half your bloody family and you expect us not to notice?”
            “Mel and Hass have been coming to Carlin since they were 10.  AMI has been trading with Carlin since practically ever.”
            “AMI hasn’t been around for practically ever,” pointed out Sarat.
            “I was being diplomatic!”
            “If I were gay, I’d say so.  I’m not, so I don’t say so.  It’s called logic.”
            “Naturally this farce could not have begun had you said so!”
            “You call me a liar?”
            “Suppose I say yes.”
            “Oh shock, oh horror.”
            “Gay is a problem to you?”
            “It is perversion!”
            “Are you from Glitz?” asked Maya. “All a bit chaotic, thought you might be a press-fiend who’s stolen a uniform. Trying to goad us into revealing the secrets of the imperial bed!”
            “After all,” said Sarat, looking extremely innocent, “we have promised transparency.”
            “Not that transparent,” said Maya briskly. “I can sincerely assure you Sarat isn’t gay.”
            What do you do with it!  Raw unforgivable insolence, I think
            “You are of course too scared to command, take refuge in puerile repartee, a pansy who defends neither his lady’s honour nor his own.”
            Sarat looked at him with interest.
            “What commands d’you think I should give?”
            “Oh for -  get on my feet! Apologize, retract, crawl at my lady Maya’s feet.”
            “But you want to be a fuckwit,” said Sarat. “Why should I get in the way?”
            I do?
            “You are the bloody Anile emperor!  Supposedly.”
            “Prove I’m the boss?  I know I’m the boss,” said Sarat.
            “Hardly if no-one obey.”
            “Define ‘obey’,” said Sarat.
            “You did go to school?”
            “It is a transitive verb meaning do what one is told.”
            “Try again.”
            “Fidub speaks a different language?”
            “If I command you behave like a fuckwit, undoubtedly you obey.”
            “Implicit is doing something you don’t want to do.”
            “You’re all here because you’ve been made to do something you don’t want to do?”
            “Of course not!”
            “You want to be made to do something you don’t want to do?”
            “Of course not!”
            “Why should I want guys to do something they don’t want to do, something which has no purpose other than to prove I can make them do it, prove I’m more powerful and important than they are.  Prove I can jerk people around like puppets.  That’s what the other guys do.”
            “Surely authority has to be established in the face of gross insubordination.”
            “But it’s phoney,” said Maya. “Either everyone here wants broadly the same thing and so wants to work together to achieve it or they don’t and we pack.”
“OK,” said Sarat,  “suppose I enter into your dumbfuck game, order you to get on your feet. You refuse.  If I accept that, I’m weak, scaredy-cat, in your view.  I play your game. What then? PANTHER drag you to your feet?  Oh the drama! What has been achieved that is of the remotest use, help or interest to you, me, Kadun?”
            Of course we want it! There is the small detail that we do not understand what ‘it’ is.  Let us continue.
            “Our job is to listen,” said Maya.  “Doesn’t mean we have to like what we hear.  Doesn’t mean we have to coo over it.  Doesn’t mean we accept having our time wasted if it’s garbage.”
            “We need to listen,” said Sarat.  “See if there’s any non-garbage.  You decide how you behave.  If it’s gross, you’re pulled up and you go on with it, then you’re a waste of oxygen.  That has nothing to do with military discipline.  That’s true in the Sa’aanda Senta, in the student caff.”
“Student caff, guys just walk away,” said Maya.
            “Bo-o-o-ring,” said Sarat.  “Hey, it’s an offensive little shit.  Leave it drivelling to itself. But if I walk away you say I’m scared, yes?”
            “Yes.”
            “Why?”
            “You have noticed you are Anile emperor?”
            “So?”
            “Leader of the pack, was it not.  People in senior positions do not tolerate – drivel from people in junior positions.  Nor get displaced!  I should have thought that was pretty universal, even in Fidub!”
            “And here we are at a board meeting of Sohenoil.”
            “What would happen?”
            “The fuckwit would be asked to wait until it was over, when he or she could scream at Cho all he/she liked.  I prefer here and now.”
            “Why!”
            “If someone’s at the screaming stage, s/he has a problem or thinks s/he does.  It needs hearing.  Maybe it’s garbage, maybe not.”
“The tolerating,” said Maya.  “What does it indicate?”
            “If we get away with it, then everyone will think they can get away with it.”
            “That,” said Sarat, “presupposes that ‘everyone’ wants to, that it’s only being crushed from above that maintains order.”
            “That is rather what we’re against,” said Maya.
            “And a loss of face, I am -  we are supposed to be lessened by your crap? Is that what you think?”
            “No.  It is a – an element in some people’s thinking.”
            “So ‘scared’ is – scared to do that which maintains an order which is essentially corrupt – why should I want to do that!  Suppose I tore your balls off verbally while you stood rigid, forbidden to speak.”
            “I’d have asked for it.”
“It’s still a grotesque  abuse of power,” said Sarat, “to insult, anger, distress a man who cannot answer back.  Like hitting a man who’s tied up. Do you have a partner?”
“Yes.”
“Suppose for instance I amused myself abusing her, with the pathetic excuse that it was just tit for tat.  Wouldn’t that be pretty filthy?”
            “Yes.  I really can’t say I should like you very much after that.”
“And  you would have no means of redress, no means of making it entirely apparent I was a total – consider the third letter changed! And of course you would have to continue obeying me.  Isn’t that a pretty filthy way to run a country?”
            “Of course.  The answer to -  unconstructive conduct not equally unconstructive conduct, then?  That is interesting.  It may even be correct!  Nonetheless - let us list our offences!  We have called your lady a slut and a whore, your lady who is by the way Anile Empress, Mistress of Kadun, to whom our loyalty is pledged.  We are therefore probably guilty of high treason. Additionally we have accused her and with her the Crown of Dabida of – actually I’m not sure what of, fraud, theft? General venality.  Called you a pervert, a liar and a coward.  Denied and mocked your authority.  How can we possibly be permitted to get away with it?”
            “Don’t forget wasting my time. Yea, mine honour is besmirched.  And of course Maya’s. Why should your drivel be of the slightest importance to either of us?”
            “Does it come out in the wash?” asked Maya.  “Smirch.” She began to examine her sleeve for stains. 
“I think it’ll wash out with new improved PANTHER,” said Sarat.
“You have just said people have to be heard.  Now you say – drivel has no importance.  Would it be at all possible to clarify?”
“Emotionally,” said Sarat, “to us personally.  Ravings no importance.  Do we strike you as having hissy fits?”
Whew!  Many things strike me.  Not that.
“Truly,” asked Maya, “you expect me to be stung?”
“You have said you want to know what people actually think.”
            “Yes.”
            “I am telling you what people actually think.”  This in the tone of one addressing someone of limited mental endowment.
            “You are telling me what some people think.  If it were the view of everyone I shouldn’t be here.”
 “Let us say it is a segment of public opinion.  May I not introduce to you something called reason?  On the one hand you say you wish to know what all people actually think.  On the other when presented with what some people actually think you mock it, dismiss it.  Is that entirely logical?  Further, you have said that you recognize that persons of socially conservative opinion are not necessarily, what was it, creatures from the pit of desecration – “
            “That was Mitch.”
            “But you concur.”
            “I concur.”
            “But you treat their opinions with complete contempt.”
            “I find them contemptible.”
“So you will ride roughshod - ?”
“Basic human rights are non-negotiable. Women and gays are about 60% of a population. How can a country be fairly governed by 40% of its population? Nobody knows exactly what All-Kadun thinks.  Until everyone is equal in rights, free to speak and in the polling booths no-one will know. You appear to be saying my conduct should be shaped by the Azt Star!  If you want no part of this, vamoose, scram.”
            “I thought it was two strikes and you’re out.”
            “It is.”
“So if we can think of nothing better, more constructive to do with our time than call my lady of Kadun a  whore we are surplus to requirements.”
            “You decided to behave like a waste of space.”
            “You seem to be saying  lack of courtesy is frowned upon – “
            “My lord Cile, do you have to be totally moronic?”
            “Among other bons mots…”
            Morons, I think, are decidedly non grata.
            “How else would you describe what is probably the only course of action anyone anywhere on this continent right now can pursue which ensures that lots and lots of guys with partners and kids get dead?”
            “Let an insult be only true!”
            “Broadly based in fact! Or rational argument.  I’m also saying, fine, you’re concerned about Dabidan and Fidubi influence in Kadun.  You get a few facts and figures together. You present me with arguments. It’s all on the Grid, AMI, Sohenoil.” Pause.  “There are two – can’t think of the word, must be my limited education – “
“Realms,” suggested Maya innocently.
“There is the world of the mostly sane based on fact and reason and there is the world
of the out of it.  Insult falls into one or other category.”
            “Insult is then – merely a joke if grounded in nonsense and directed at the mostly sane.”
            “And a weapon against the out of it!”
            “The Cult owns approximately half Kadun.  It is just a little kooky to rave about me rather than  Madam Minister.”
            “Perhaps there are concerns about exchanging one set of masters for another.”
            “A valid point.”
            They looked at each other and started laughing.
            “We appear to be having a civilized conversation. But of course those in the world of the out of it think themselves in the world of fact and reason. It would  be fair to say you don’t like idiots?”
            “Don’t do idiots,” said Sarat.
            “It would seem to me,” said Maya, “that the basic – perception is that most people are idiots and require their idiocy controlling.”
            “Except,” said Sarat, “the people who want to control other people generally are the idiots.”
            “Freedom,” said Maya, “sort of idiot control mechanism basically.”
            “But it has to work both ways?”
            “But it has to work both ways.”
             Maya said: “Someone tells us we’re out of it, nuts, we can’t possibly take Azt.  No, we’re not going to explain how we can, we don’t know whom the person might sing to.  But we need to know that people are worried and need some reassurance and we need to hear why.  They might know something we don’t.”
            “There is nobody,” said Sarat, “who can’t be wrong, misinformed, flawed in his or her reasoning.”
            “And obedience is the opposite of that?”
            “Deference is the opposite of that.”
            Oh, right, lad, thought Varulin, so that’s why I want to fall at your bloody feet.
            “So here are Sarat and I in the lush green fields of Carlin,” said Maya, “a couple of screaming loons who think they’re going to take Azt and establish democracy in Kadun.  Who are these nutters?  Where are they coming from?”’
            “Obedience is switching off one’s brain?”
            “There isn’t an insult in the world that isn’t coming from a point of view.  Next question is whether that point of view has any basis in fact and reason.”
            “Could we possibly behave intelligently!”
            “Pretty-please,” said Sarat.
            “I think – among some – there is a – perception that the mere act of questioning shows a lack of respect.”
            “For what?  Omniscience? Psychosis?”
            “Who,” asked Maya, “is actually being treated with a total lack of respect in that scenario?  The only serious offence is to think people are your property, your tools, creatures of your will.”
            “We have of course observed the extreme deference of Zuri”  He stood.  “My lord, my lady, we have been moronic.  Our abject apologies.”
            In days of yore, thought Baz.  Will he do it?
“Accepted,” said Sarat. “Kilana siy tan.”
“Kilana siy tan.” said Maya.
            “Spring has the to-do list,” said Sarat, “if you want to hang around.”
           
LIVE FROM KADUN…
 
Gee, Bal, he’s just bonding with his officers.
 
Karmen (Harn State Security) rang Faun: “Purr, purr, purr, such a cutesy little pair of cubs, I deem!  I may invite myself along?”
“Wondered what was keeping you,” said Faun.
“You have a fairly international gathering, I hear.”
“Nobody wants to miss this party.”
 
What was that about!
“It is an ancient formulation,” said Mitch, “as old as Narulis.  It is generally translated as ‘there is no harm’.
“And the modern formulation would be ‘everything’s cool’!”
“Forgotten, over.”
“That is mind-bending.”
“We are mind-bending.”
 
            Comrades-in-arms had gathered round him, cooing:
            “Is oo ickle fuckwit.  Who am I to stand in your way?”
            “I flushed, didn’t I.”
            “Just a little.”
            “Psychologically, it’s really interesting.  Why is it worse?”
            “Obviously because it puts the buck back where it belongs.”
            “Never met anything quite like them.”
            “As in them.”
“A decidedly plural them..”
            “Naturally my lady Maya burst into tears and asked you how you could possibly, how you could bring yourself, what kind of monster are you,  to say such  awful, awful things about a poor helpless little girl like her.”
“It wasn’t like that!  She ran to Sarat and he said that.”       
“I did not expect that!”
“That she’d speak or that she’d cry?”
            “That’s quite a double-act.”
            “Now touring All-Kadun to rapturous reception!”
            “Empire, puh-lease!”
            “I do fear we have to courageously confront what bloody little oinkers we are.”
            “It didn’t occur to us, did it.”
            “An active role in the proceedings?  Inconceivable.”
            They caught sight of Mitch who had strolled in and was now half-choking with silent laughter.
            “Just wondering if you’re still alive.  What did you think, guys.  Zur, well, that’s Zur, but this is Kadun, this is war, this is command, this is men’s business.”
            “Ow!”
            “Witty, is she not.”
            “I think perhaps I need to know her better before pressing her on the subject of transparency.”
            “The other place I nearly cracked wasn’t even addressed to me.  Smirch.”
            “What did you expect?”
 “Not that!  Does he know, Mitch?”
            “I should not think so.  I at least have not told him.  He will of course have absorbed your demeanour, that you are a very upper-class young drivelling moron.”  Many splutters of laughter.  “It will of course be my delight to tell him.  Truly, what did you expect to happen?”
            “I honestly don’t know.  Something more – formal. I assumed he’d be civilized, of course.”
“Mitch, we don’t have the vocabulary for this.”
“A limited education.”
“Assumed what?  He’d be tougher, harder…Does that not then imply?”
“What, you did not find him weak and soft!”
“There was no way to get into it,” said Ritawa.
“What?”
“The backchat.”
“Ah, the puerile repartee.”
“I thought that was rather good.”
“Except of course by joining in.”
“Oh yes, I recognized the invitation to the party.”
“I think they would say that once you laughed and turned into natural normal human being game over.”
“I sort of recognized that. That I was under full-scale attack!”
            “With the fell purpose of making you laugh!  You saw the vid of course.”
            “Loved it, loved it.”
            “PANTHER kills all known germs!”
            “How did Challin react?”
            “He laughed. You couldn’t help it.  It was like – what’s the freshest thing you can think of?  Sea-spray.  Made you feel clean.  Oh, and ready to throw oneself at his feet, at your service, sir!  I suppose precisely because there was no hyperbole.”
            Mitch grinned. 
“It is perhaps a little outre to throw oneself at the feet of the cleaning-lady and the refuse-collector.  You feel that strongly?”                     
“You know how we hate them!”
            “We do.”
“You sure knew how to show it!”
            “It had to be done, Mitch.  We had to know.”
            “If I did not understand that, I am frankly not sure I should be honouring your freedom of expression.  I found the list of offences truly impressive.”
            “Mitch – if I have this correctly, just observe the normal rules of behaviour, and everything’s cool.”
            “And?”
            “Behave in the same way – behave as you would among your peers – to everyone.”
            “I do not think Sarat said anything to you that one young man would not say to another who was being an offensive little shit.  It was you who kept dragging in the emperor crap.”
            Ritawa leant forward, put his head in his hands, pushed his hair back and looked up and around at comrades blinking like owls in daylight.
“The – that’s what he thinks of it, truly?”
            “I should not wish to be inexact here.  That is what he thinks of the entire apparatus of hierarchy.  It is not what he thinks about the chair, about his heritage.”
            “You can’t have one without the other…”
            “9/10: the Aniles have managed that for 600 years.  You cannot have one without the other with the Cult in Azt.”
            “But that’s not exactly so, how can it be.  It wouldn’t have been like that if we’d be inarticulate, working-class.”
            “I cannot of course write the script but I should suspect in essence it would.”
            “Differently worded, essentially the same.”
            “Or if we were Cult!”
            “For this we have to wait I think until some working-glass guy in Azt quotes the Star!”
            Ban-rehna came in with Challin and Rewn.
“Ah, that damned anarchist Var-sega’!”
            Mitch turned.
“Well now.  It has been a long time!  May I ask your opinion of anarchy?”
            “Cool, I think,” said Ban-rehna, “on the whole decidedly cool. You will observe I am learning a new language.  I find particularly delightful ‘hissy fit’.”
“If you have not already come across it, I think you will like also the word ‘antsy’”
“Perhaps you would give examples?”
In a fair imitation of Sarat: “You expect me to get antsy about this?”
Ritawa gave way to laughter.
“Mitch – is that what cool really is?”
            “Is what?”
            “That bloody nerve-racking detachment.”
            “One is who one is,” said Challin.  “And knows it.”
            “He just doesn’t think it should be allowed to get in the way,” said Mitch.
            “A species of animal too long absent from our shores,” said Rewn.
            “Differently worded, essentially the same!”
            “Perhaps at bottom,” observed Challin, “that was our question.  Is it the genuine article?”
Karula appeared.
            “Come to find you.  Gentlemen.  Should I perhaps retire, not speak until spoken to?”
            “Have mercy!” said Ritawa.  “We are feeling a little delicate on that point.”
            “Great goodness, they have learned women can speak! I would say to you not only ‘Remember Tonsa!’, surely by now a household name the length and breadth of the continent, but whose idea Tonsa was.”
“Who indeed named her a sensible bunny.  What’s up?”
            “Vasucula have recognized us.”
            “Oh dear, dear, dear,” said Mitch. “Varchulan darling really will not like that at all.”
           
            Varchulan darling sat glowering at the monitor.
            “So that is – His Imperial Majesty.”
            “The theory, Cile, really does not constitute adequate preparation for the practical.”
            “The gulf was too great – rebellious student tree-hugger in the safety of Zur.”
            “Live on camera, that is how one behaves.  Impossible to retract a word of it.”
            He rang Vanya.
            “We are approaching civil war.  You understand that?”
            “That is my intelligence.”
            “Half say – is he cool or is he cool.  The other half appear to wish us to bomb Carlin.  Fortunately that is sufficiently insane to be dismissed. The man is a bloody pin-up!”
            Vanya laughed.
            “You saw of course.”
            “It does not help!”
            “Varchulan – Sarat is sitting in a field waiting for Corsin.  He has enough problems without your contributing to them.”
            Demographics, thought Vanya.  How fortunate that no-one ever called Tar boring and as for Mel! Unlikely therefore that young Dabidans would demonstrate over rule by boring old farts.
            “Damnit, I understand that.”
            “Your essential problem.”
            “My essential problem is that if they take over half the Army I shall not be able to prevent – moronic behaviour.”
            “I tell you frankly I have no idea what Sarat is going to do about Vaudos but I understand it is on the menu.”
            Unexpectedly Varchulan laughed.
            “Could they not simply walk into his arms like the rest of them!”
            “Corsin.”
            “I know.  I tell you frankly that I have considered talking to him.  What point?  Even if he trusted me, which I should very much doubt, in the current situation I cannot guarantee it would not leak.”
            “I wondered,” said Vanya.  “Might you talk to Cho?  He of course will tell you nothing specific but there may be financial information worth sharing.”
            “Some hold on them?”
            “There remains the ocean between you and Searc.  I do not think Cho fires all his guns at once.”
            Varchulan snorted.
            “After all, he only needs one.”
            “A most disruptive young man,” said Vanya primly.
 
            “Inevitable,” said Essa,
            “That they’d push it? Absolutely inevitable.”           
            Cho went on laughing softly to himself.
            “Do we know who he is?”
            “They would hardly choose anyone else as live bait.”
            “Family?” hazarded Essa.
            Oh what a lot of long-lost rellies you have to meet, Sarat.
            “Not us.  Mitch’s second cousin.  Been with Challin.”
            “You think Mitch stage-managed – “
            “Actually no.  I don’t know.”
            “Challin possibly!”
 
            “You are homosexuals.”
            “Pansies who will not defend their lady’s honour,” suggested Venga.
            “We’re frightfully well brought up,” said Hass.  “Courtesy is our middle name.  We didn’t think we’d raise the subject till you did.”
“It upsets the balance.”
“How the hell can it be part of the Whole?”
Woo-hoo, thought Venga, at least we’re going to be intelligently insulted.
“Truly you think the universe is modelled on, defined by the heterosexual human male?”
“Ow!”
“Who knows,” said Venga.
“Hermaphrodite aliens,” mused Hass.  “The kind with green skin and antennae.  Your perception of the balance is male and female?  That rests on the notion a man is all male and a woman all female.  But each of us is both male and female.”
“Your perception then of homosexual relations is that the male in one man finds the female in the other and vice versa.”
Hass nodded.
“That is also our perception of heterosexual relations.  So to speak!”
“So – any heterosexual couple, your parents, my parents – that is the surrender?  That is not the Tradition.”
“It is in M-P, Maona-Pri,” said Hass. 
“Surrender is a gloss,” said Venga. “For surrender there must be separation.  That is not the case.”
“Riddles.”
“Take any polarity.  Strong-weak, hard-soft, rational-irrational these are continuous lines.  Arbitrarily strong, hard, rational are supposed in less reconstructed circles to be ‘male’ qualities and weak, soft, irrational, female, but every human is somewhere on the lines.”
“The Flame.  What does it mean to you?”
“Union.”
“Of what, with what?”
“We talk metaphysics or we talk sex!”
“There was something about a special forces war.  Let us say I am curious on a number of counts.  You are Hadin-Wadud?”
“Of course.”
“What’s of course about it?”
“There is no member of A-M who isn’t.”
“Maybe that’s what I want to talk about!  May one similarly say Sarat is PANTHER?”
“One may.  Of course he’s basically an outer and exo guy.  Maya is the frantically eso one.”
“With due respect they are young.  My lady Maya could in principle.”
“She could.”  The unspoken question hung there.  “I could.”
            “I am thinking much of our thinking on gender assumes the female mind weaker.”
            “How can mind have gender?”
            “There are the outer and exoteric aspects of things, are there not.”
            “The obvious,” agreed Hass.
            “AMI, if I may dare mention!  The title, of course.  Simple representation of Dabida in the interesting situation in which we find ourselves. Would you say any of that was remotely relevant to the restoration of the Anile throne.”
            “Remotely.”
            “To why you are here.”
            “Narulis’ gig,” said Venga.  “It had to be rethought after the Kadun cock-up.”
            “Then this is not Narulis’ gig.”
            “Oh no,” said Hass, “this is Narulis’ gig accept no imitation.”
            “What, then?”
            “Democracy is the modern construct to maintain the party.”
            “The building, shall we say, that protects it from the elements.”
            Hass nodded.
            “The metaphysical elements of the Kadun cock-up.”
            Venga shook his head sadly.
            “They cut their caring-bits off.  If not to satisfy a load of prats in Ciletij!”
            “Once one accepts – mistreatment of one’s fellow-beings, night falls, do we not know it!”
            “Simply and crudely,” said Venga, “if one is not free to tell the Spider to go fuck herself, night falls.”
            “Fear,” said Hass, “we don’t do fear!”
            “I can see Sarat would not tolerate any being too frightened to speak his mind!  But we are – what was it, nice normal people.”
            “Be afraid, my lord Krarlik, be very, very afraid.”
    
            “Well, howdy, is this not hands across the sea, our common cause!”
            “Wondered when you’d pitch up.”
            “Involving the Harn military is next week.  We have concerns.”
            “Are they painful?”
            “Aw, you know how much Bal loves bankers.”
            “You want to meet the guys,” said Faun.
            Por, Saban, STB
“          You guys have had one hell of a war.”
            “Had?”
            “And we have watched like dumbasses at the races, jumping up and down, he’s coming into the final straight.  I get to meet the cause of this unseemly commotion?”
            “I think I have to explain,” said Faun.
            “Sure, sure.  Meanwhile I would wish to observe.”
            “Bal has a stooge here already.”
            “I know it!”
 
            “It’s fundamental to us, isn’t it.  Somewhere.  I’m thinking – if the four of you had got together without the Anile heir, it sort of wouldn’t have seemed right.  Something missing!”
            “So long as he kicks the – out of my stinking lord of Vaudos.”
            “I am sure that is on the menu,” said Karula.  “I have not met, but Mitch of course has, calls him the worm, soft, pink and slimy.”
            “I’m not making excuses, but until about three days ago he had no choice.”
            “Got a bleeding choice now, hasn’t he!  Sorry, language.”
            “Has he?” asked someone.  “Imperial law.”
            “Real sorry to be a dumbass,” said  Keeda.  “I have heard that two or three times now.  At first I thought it just meant law?”
            “Under imperial law each of the Houses retained total autonomy in certain areas. Among them was the execution of anyone found guilty of certain Cult practices.  That sounds a bit vague.  Actually it was specific, dependent on the degree of the adept. Since Vastulis is the criminal, I guess the call would fall to Sarat.”
            “No,” said  Karula.  “Mitch has talked about it.  In that case it would be down to Var-sega’, Van-senok, Carlin.  I think this conversation has taken a down-turn.  Should we perhaps cross that bridge when we come to it?”
            “We shall come to it in Azt.” 
            “Yes,” said Karula. “There the call is Sarat’s. Azt belongs to the emperor.”
            Their eyes met in perfect understanding.  Ask him.
            “I thought eban-tole - ?”
            “Things can get quite complicated in 1300 years.  Venga is eban-tole but a divergent branch.  If there is an heir in the main line, he or she sure has not piped up!  In any case it does not matter because Fas-sigree was ceded to the emperor and became Azt.”
            “So would you say Azt is personal to Sarat.  Obviously, with due respect, not the way say Mitch feels about Var-sega’, the Aniles have been in Fidub.”
            “They have, remember, never wholly surrendered Kadun.  PANTHER.”
            “Then why - ?”
            “Puh-lease,” said Karula, “when they weren’t invited?  As you know, or maybe you don’t know, the Houses reverted to virtually independent states.”  She got up.  “I have to ring our kids, if you will excuse me now!  They are in Fidub with Sarat’s parents, going ape, what’s happening, Mom!  Mom, who are these guys?  Does this mean I don’t have to go back to school! Fortunately they like swimming.”
            “How old are they?”
            “Dill is 12, Baria 10 and Qirl 8.”
            “Old enough to understand something is happening, but not old enough to understand what.”
            “Exactly so.”
            “His mum and dad are looking after your kids.”
            “They’re real nice people!  They’ve got four of their own, so they’ve had plenty of practice.”
            “Ah-ah-ah?” queried Karmen.
            “Three girls, Shavli, Zika and Ven.”
            Somebody laughed.
            “Not meaning to be rude but I don’t think a bloke with three sisters is allowed to forget women’s rights!”
 
 “Might we not entertain our gallant allies from Dabida?”
“Thought you did that already.”
 
 “It’s so damn’ open it’s draughty.”
“The young ladies and gentlemen?” asked Bal.
“Are every damn where. Talking.”
“Just damn’ talking,” purred Bal.
“Asking damn’ impossible questions. How much are you paid? What work does your mom do?  What happens when your daddy gets sick and can’t work?”
 “In one line give me the message,” demanded Bal.
“We don’t think you treat people properly.”
Bal grinned to himself.
“That is apparently somewhat condescending, superior, is it not, except to the 90% of people who are not treated properly. What does the officer-class say?”
“They like being the Imperial Army.  Makes them feel clean.”
“No grunting sexist pigs left? That I do not believe.”
“It’s more complicated than that.  Not sure I can explain, Bal.  It’s bound up with how girls are raised.  The kind of woman they could not conceive among them  – I doubt our guys could, either  – she’s been raised in a certain way to think only certain behaviours are – womanly, and so it’s bound  up with how boys are raised to think that’s all a woman can be, but now they’re meeting women who were most certainly not raised like that.  Irtubi women.  Women who have been fighting for Kadun.  The ladies of Sardun make their views known.  I think I may say that.  They are not sensitive about the reservations!  They trash them. I think there have been incidents but nobody’s talking.  It’s one think to have worked in the field with a female cat or cats but there is probably not enough time to observe much beyond the fact that she is armed and dangerous!  The ladies – why am I using that word, my sexist conditioning  - the women of PANTHER are less – apparently upfront than those of Sardun but the competence, the independence observable all day every day necessarily provides food for thought!  Some of course have travelled more than others, are more worldlywise.  Esseentially if it was your belief that women can’t be like that you are now confronted wth the fact that they can.  That is something they have to sort out themselves. The ungainly analogy that occurs to me is digestion!  You have eaten an unfamiliar food.  It is by no means harmful, indeed it is highly nutritious, but your body has to become accustomed to its stimulus!  The paradigm is that if a woman is determined, decisive, she’s pretending to be a guy, but obviously every woman besides their moms and sisters isn’t pretending to be a guy.  That leaves about 5-10% who think just that, that the education of girls in the south turns them into pretend men.”
“I should imagine that the gloss in the field has been honorary male and similarly Maya, Karula, ladies, a separate species.  But they stay put, they do not have a fit of the vapours.”
“It’s too important for that.”
“Die for him.  Why?”
“One is of course a gentleman.   I think it means something in Kadun you won’t find in any dictionary. Not just someone who does ot surrender to the Cult but someone to whom it does not occur to surrender to the Cult, who’s clean all the way through.  One dominant theme is that there are real gentlemen and then there are those who just think they are gentlemen and are jumped-up snotty little pricks.    Jumped-up, snotty and little prick are of course key features of an adept!”
 “Hass.”
“Ah, now that is interesting.  As you know, he has a certain – aura.  He radiates cool, embodies cool. And he’s Sarat’s best friend.  One may suspect that the imperial wrath would be considerable except that I am entirely sure Hasiyata can look after himself.  I would say that he radiates that too!”
“Emotional vulnerability, total lack of.  Of course they all – radiate that. One simply does not do hissy fits.”
“Was that not glorious!  And of course balls.  A openly gay couple wandering among the notorious in that respect Kadun Army, even though protected by position – I have good gay friends but I do not know that they would make that trip. Concerning Hasiyata, I come up with a crazy image.  You have a fawn wandering around in a wolf-pack only just when the pack are poised to spring they realize it’s not a fawn, it’s something that kills wolves on contact!”
“A little greeny tree-hugger,” cooed Bal. 
“I would not disagree that to some extent the image was past tense true equally of Sarat! He has a tongue in his head and knows how to use it.  The nature of being roasted in the imperial flame is of course known.
“Sure you’re free to say what you like.  Unfortunately so am I!  It continues to defy belief.”
“Lastly, that  bastard Karmen has pitched up.  I do not recall – “
            “Law unto their damn selves.”
            “I did not think you would like it.”
            “I look forward to talking to him on his return.”
“VILE also, I think.  When I see Vasuculi I do not conclude that Sarat has opened a holiday-camp.”
 
“You  have something of the nature of a  commanding officer?”
            “On a good day.  Would you like to talk to her?”
            A lot of people gathered for that one.
            “Men.”
            “What about you?”
            “Perhaps I mean particularly young men, who can be crude and cross the bounds of civilized behaviour.”
            “If they are extraordinarily stupid.”
            “I am aware you do not stupid!”
            “We are not conscripted.  We have a choice.”
            “We, however, are. You do not need me to tell you that attitudes to women in Kadun are closely tied to – if not adherence to the Cult then sympathy with its views.  For some all women are fair game. They are brought up with such attitudes.  Let us suppose a woman soldier is alone, working late perhaps.  A group of men of dishonourable intent approach her.  What then?”
            “On the whole it doesn’t happen,” said Tannan.  “I recall one incident.  It is not expected to happen. We have thought about it.  I should suggest rape-alarms as standard issue.”
            Challin inclined his head.
            “And the fate of the men?”
            “Twofold.  We do not have separate military courts for serious offences.  Trial in a civilian court.  And Tar tearing them apart.”
            “You are the Army of the King or of the State?”
            “Throw in the People!  The Constitution of Dabida is a slightly complex business.  Crown, State and People.  Basically nothing happens without the consent of all three.”
            “The consent of the Crown is usual in constitutional monarchy?”
            Tannan grinned.
            “You probably don’t know what we say about ourselves.  We’re a constitutional monarchy – the monarchy wrote the constitution.”
            “Indeed!”
            “In its own sweet little Dabidan way it works.  If A-M were to go haywire, State and People would over-ride.  If the State were to go awry, A-M and People.  If People were to go awry, then State and Crown would over-ride.”
            “That is not remotely the sovereign will of the people!”
            “They can do anything,” said Tannan, “except turn rotten”
            Challin frowned.
            “I should imagine in recent years you have been subjected to a very great deal of propaganda.”
            “We call it the lizard hissing.  As we both know, lizard spittle is a most unpleasant substance, both highly adhesive and capable of penetrating the skin.”
            “Similarly, one must presume, were it to have become apparent that your government were being manipulated by Azt.”
            “Exactly.”
 
            “My sister, lives near, took a job at the House, don’t get me wrong, only work around.  Couldn’t stand it.  Says it’s like someone’s screaming the whole time.  Don’t hear nothing.  It’s just like.”  He shook his head.  “She moved.  Works in a factory now.  Wages are crap, treated like crap, but at least it’s not – “
            “Insane,” suggested the cat.  “What job?”
 
            Introductions were made.  Sort of.
            “The man with no name,” sighed Faun.  Small, tubby and balding smiled.  “Karmen, Harn State Security.”
            “Bal has told me so much about you.”
            “Damn kids raising hell in my City,” said Mel.
            “Ban-sarndit-vaq and better half!  We watched you so hard our eyes popped.”
            “Well done you, well done you!  My daughter is gay.”
            “My once lady Van-senok.  I do trees.”
            “Gentlemen, welcome to the party.”
            “The Dude.  Quite a reputation.
            “As for you three, I hear things, I hear things, well done you
            “The stars of the show!  I have to say we can only gaze in awe and wonder at the capacity to mate hamsters with hell-raising.  Also rabbits.  I would have you know that remember Tonsa has become a byword whenever we feel close to strangling Ciletij.”
            “And of course I already know my fellow chiefs.”
            “Do sit down and shut up,” said Faun.
            “My honeyed words do not please?”
            Challin asked: “Harn has assisted resistance?”
“I do not see it so: Harn has fought our common war.”
“High Harn,” said Gutaah.
“Than which indeed there is nothing lower.  We have been fighting these bastards for something like 2500 years.  We do not let a stretch of water get in the way.”
“We thank you.”
Karmen inclined his head.
Baz said, “No-one’s had a tete a tete but three guys have seen him around.  The odds are Vastulis is alive and zombie.”
“Oh dear, dear, dear,” said STB, “This is a save Vastulis mission or  a save Kadun mission?”
“That’s a choice?”
“That was not my meaning!”
“Does he have a home?”
“Precisely what is ‘seen around’?
            “Cult rally in Craknan.  Silent but on the rostrum among the ‘dignitaries’. Similar shit-fest in Bar-davit.  Also entering a government building, surrounded by heavies, Vastulis I mean.  And the building!  Also Bar-davit.”
            “And the little kiddy-widdies?”
            “Aaaargh. Now that is where it does get hairy.  We paid a call on the eldest. Practically s-oiling himself.  Dreaded this moment, etc.  And babbled about something he just called ‘It’ at the House.  We asked sensible questions, size, shape, no deal.  We tried reason – can’t be bigger than the House, can it, or it wouldn’t fit.”
“You are not the only ones,” suggested Karmen.  He smiled.  “Not using same old.”
“It occurred! And they’d keep it in reserve.  Not necessarily true, of course.  I mean bomb small, area affected by explosion big.  Anyhow, we’ve got the archivists on it, any scrap of ye ancient lore that might be relevant.”
“A deadhead?” asked STB.
“First sight, yes, second sight, yes, third sight, no, so we reamed him.  There’s something unclean there and it’s not same old! You remember the misunderstanding about Cioulis. Soola, that’s Carlin’s mentor, wasn’t able to – “
“Tell the difference between a tree and a corpse,” said Saban with some irritation.
“Yes,” said Baz, “but why?”
“The Sardun signal is earthpower.  It is therefore non-human.  It contains life.  It contains human.  It is ignited by life.  But it is not human.”
“The point is,” said Cioulis, “we can impersonate them.  It does not fool the highers, of course,they just try to burn you out,  but so often all one needs to do is get past low-lives.”
“Some kind of reversal,” suggested Sarat.
“It occurred!”
Karmen looked intently at Cioulis.
“I have to say I am fascinated, riveted.”
Cioulis laughed.
“One duels, sir?”
“Imperial Majesty!  Your consent?”
“Kilana siy tan.”
Ah-ah-ah, said Karmen in the minds of all present, oh nice one, oh pretty, can almost smell the corruption after all decay is living, oh nice, let me just push good the gaping maw of Death is good…t-t-t, begone, foul spawn of desecration oh you hit back too, that is good, paddy-paws, of course, are you sure you’re not PANTHER-R-R-R, come on now, creature of desecration…NOW. Death began to crumble, turned into the Head of Corsin, sighed it was nice while it lasted and evaporated.  Leaving a  silver birch and now the silver birch stands in the middle of the room and tiny silver leaves flutter down on them, leaves which dance, swirl, form themselves into a silver coronet above a silver chair. Only little me, said Sorg, as it became suddenly cold  I asked to learn and was taught does war not advace human knowledge asked Karmen Sorg tried to twist the chair but it grew brighter and its radiance a beam pointing at Sorg Phew! Surrender! said Sorg.  Want to try something said Maya oh oh oh Sarat is appearing on the chair I seem to have seen this before….The words PANTHER PROTECTS.  KILLS ALL KNOWN GERMS turned to panther cubs rolling on the floor at Sarat’s feet, batting butterflies with their paws it’s just part of the little show we’re putting on for Corsin said Her Imperial Majesty, Maya Talal ban-essa, Anile Empress, Mistress of Kadun. There was a rapid exchange of glances between STB, Karmen and Saban.  A couple of kids have taken Kadun, huh?  What is that about?  Cioulis bubbled over. My lady of Kadun! Maya replaced Sarat on the chair in a grove in a strange wood of silver birch, strange because the trees were alive, dancing a stately minuet. The road to the Great Gates opened before them and the trees lined it, bending their branches to gently sweep away debris.
Normality.
“I love it!”  Karmen
 “Where are we putting it on for Corsin?  It strkes me we now have a choice of venue.”
“The PANTHER Repertory Company is now touring.”
STB tapped his fingers on the table-top.  There are, are there not, two angles.”
“Sure,” said Baz.
“May we have a little more detail!”
“One is assuredly that what might strike the uninitiated with terror may be little more than a trainee could handle.  The other of course is that we are sensible, intelligent and rational people and therefore do not lightly take on the unknown.”
“Should we be provoking?” asked Sarat.
“Inflammatory,” suggested Mitch. 
“Incendiary.”
“Don’t use that word!  Our biggest problem is going to be a conflagration covering half Kadun.  Just because it won’t be real doesn’t mean people won’t notice.”
“Are you sure that’s our biggest problem?” asked Sarat.
“No,” said Faun.  “Speak, o great one.”  He didn’t mean Sarat.  “Mel of course is a student of cults and rites and things.”
“Jogged my memory,” said Mel.   “I read up on it.  We good guys used to celebrate Xu-Laman too.  I mean more than tea with aunty. It was because of not separate from, a sort of cleansing ritual.”
“Oh goody,” said Karmen.  “We’re going to celebrate Xu-Laman in Vaudos. I have always wanted to do that. What was that about a conflagration?”
“Get a word in edgeways,” said Baz.  “I had not actually completed my gripping narration.  An apparently normal girl, some bloke’s sister, took a job at the House. Before we all palpate, it was seven years ago.  That is the most ‘recent’ we’ve been able to find.”
“And?”
“Now working in a factory.  Did not like it one little bit.  Described as a constant silent scream.”
“You just can’t get the staff,” sighed STB.
“Vastulis?”
“No sighting of my lord my lady.  Did see kids.  Little shits who treated her like dirt, but apparently normal little shits.  Cleaner in the nursery.”
“We’re morons,” said Faun suddenly.
“Speak for yourself!”
“The House was closed when my lady died.”
“Yeutch,” said STB. “Begone, foul spawn of desecration’. I read.  What was the rest of it?”
“Creature of slime and destruction, fell servant of dark and despair, I say to you, begone!”
“I must use that in Azt,” said Sarat.
“Suppose we display an intelligent interest in the House. I do not think damage to human occupants need concern us.  As Baz has said, nice normal clean well-scrubbed bombs. One thing we can surely eliminate from our options is dropping a bomb on the House. Stealth and cunning are required!”
“Just don’t say curiosity killed the cat.”
“We wondered about water,” said Sorg.  “A geography lesson. 90 nani to Var-sega’.  As crow fly.  Natural obstacles: assorted trees decoratively arranged into woods, copses, and the forest of Craal, there, on the lower slopes of the Lausanine. River Hyda starts up there somewhere, north-eastern ridge of the Lausanine, has cut a valley through the uplands, passes within 20 nani of the House and trickles off into the south of Var-sega’.”
“Drowning,” said Saban.
“I think you may have to explain,” said Faun.
“A spate, a torrent, a flood, a lake, water in which a man may drown.  The hebade geralis do not like it.  They must use their power to prevent drowning and so are helpless.”
“I like it,” said Sarat, “but I don’t think I can turn Kadun into a flood plain.”
“Illusory water, Sarat, illusory water.  As we know – some of us – the human eye perceives a wall of fire coming towarde it fractionally before the mind, however trained, kicks in and enquires if the fire is real. It cannot biologically be any other way. The same must be true of a tsunami.”
“How do we fit FAF into our non-existent grand plan?”
“You have repeatedly mentioned conflagration,” said Karmen.  “A cleansing fire?  How does one celebrate Xu-Laman?”
“In advance,” said Venga promptly, “when unexpected.”
“A good one.”
Mel told them what to do.
“Dabida will watch your/our/insert pronoun of choice backs.  Tar holds that no defensive alliance worthy of the name could possibly let anyone get between us and the border.  To quote my revered papa, he is entirely willing to take the fall-out because after we have taken Vaudos there won’t be any fall-out.”
“Oh, is that what we’re going to do.”
“Vanya?” asked Faun.
“When push comes to shove,” said Sarat, “the all-purpose cop-out clause, as you perfectly well know, is  PANTHER business. Just conceivably doesn’t cover moving three armies around but after we’ve won who’s noticing.”
Faun looked at STB
“I feel sure Vasucula will be of like mind.”
“I do not know if this runs, I am thinking aloud, something along the lines of using the entire border as bait, force them to spread out.”
“Cleansing fire,” said Cioulis, “always wanted to go back to Hokabi, never been anywhere quite like it.”
“Perfect!”
“OK we merrily go off to exorcise Hokabi.  What’s Azt doing meantime?”
“Maybe we need to rotate through 90 degreees,” said As.  “I don’t know if this runs either – instead of the border, how about the coast.”
“You interest me strangely.”
“Out of my depth,” said Saban
Saban has a sense of humour? thought Faun,  I should imagine only among those he accepts as his equals.  Well, well, well we’ve passed our exams.
 “Da will not turn a hair at Dabida floating all over Carlin.  Azt may become possessed of the curious notion Zani is about to drive up to the Great Gates.  Meanwhile, we’re floating all over Vaudos.  We’re not the only people who can’t be two places at once.”
“That has potential,” said STB.
“Lad’s got it up top,” said Sorg.  “Vastly better from the international perspective than Dabida in Vaudos.  Most people think Dabida and Carlin are the same place.”
“That may be a slight exaggeration!”
“Ask the Rabbiters!”
“If our purpose” said Karula, “is to unite east and west, surely it has to be as As says.”
“Oh yes, our purpose.”
“Do we have one of those?”
“Suppose,” said Venga, “our purpose is to take Azt first and Vaudos is the bait that will facilitate it.  All is supposition!  The only fact we have is that Corsin is gathering in Azt.”
“That’s back to Plan A,” aid Sarat.  “Force them to come for us here.”
“What can make them so furious, so desperate that they abandon any other ideas and do just that?”
“The loss of Vaudos.”
“That’s going round in circles.”
“The illusion of the loss of Vaudos.”
“They have guys in Vaudos.”
“We have to get rid of the Third Army.” 
He looked at Sorg.
“I may be beginning to dimly grasp.”
“That makes two of you!”
“Wonderful birds, starlings,” said Sorg.
Mel choked
“Sorg, my sweet, you do not turn an army into a flight of starlings.”
Karula said: “I would think Venga’s question has been answered here tonight.  Surely the image we already have of Sarat on the Anile throne is what will make them flip.”
Karmen kissed his fingers to her.
“Now that is a peach!”
“I know,” said Mitch.
“Commanding the exorcism of Hokabi,” said Cioulis dreamily.
“No, no, no,” said Karmen.  “That is small-scale.”
“I don’t think we can do that,” said Faun.  “The whole of Kadun.”
“I get some of the guys over.  They like dead Searc.”
“Bal will never – “ began Mel.
“Who is Bal? The situation in Harn, ladies and gentlemen, is that we are outlaws, who entirely ignore the elected representatives of the people.  We are disowned.  Of course they go on paying us because they know what would go down if they didn’t, paying us and funding us.  They do not want another Kadun cock-up.”
“That is crazy,” said Mitch.
“Indeed it is.  The public charade is of course that HSS is a regular intelligence outfit.  We do not exist.  Irregular activity has nothing whatever to do with any government agency. I come now to a small but embarrassing point.  Your PA Tingle – “
Mitch collapsed.
“Oh no!”
“We had to be sure.  Let us say class and wealth enabled you to mix in circles not entirely virtuous.”
“We were good, honey!” said Mitch.
“You were and are good.”
“I thank you.”
“We had to be,” said Karula.  “We have kids.”
“That of course was taken on board.”
“As for you two and your appalling display of what does not exist for which I understand you were hauled over the coals, at least so far as was possible, by the good Van-sandos, that was pure delight.”
“Little boys,” said Mel, “should not come to grown-up parties.  Dear world!  Hass and I lived at the Rep Centre.  The Rep Centre has a monthly drop-in party for obvious reasons of networking.  Sar-fenan and Searc’s lout turned up and invited one to duel.”
“Basted,” said Karmen, “crushed under the heel.”
Hass grinned.
“I trust you did not judge us by the company we kept!”
“Bal, you mean? Now Tingle has met a real sweet guy in Zur and we are not heartless, not ones to stand in the way of true love.  She has expressed a strong desire to join this party along with her beloved.  I have looked around.  I have observed a number of ladies with dark green hair so I do not think she would unduly stand out – on your side of course it is a political statement.  To Tingle it was simply the kind of thing City-chicks do.”
            “The Press Office,” said Mitch, “needs all the administrative hands it can get.”
            “I take it she is genuinely administrative?” asked Karula.
            “She is genuinely an organizational whizzo.”
            “We do not yet,” said Sarat, “appear to have decided what we are going to do.”
            “It’ll fall into place,” said Karmen.  “Just let it marinade.  But what you said, Venga, about taking Azt first.”
            “What,” asked Sarat, “about what Venga said?”
            “If the head is removed,” said Saban, “the body cannot survive.”
            “I should not be entirely sure that rocks,” said Mitch.  “Perhaps the day-to-day ramifications of taking Azt, establishing government, talking to ordinary people about ordinary things, require the rest of the country settled.”
            “That is undoubtedly a good point.”
            “I add,” said STB, “that resistance in Azt can only be strengthened by the knowledge that Vaudos remains – free is not quite the word!”
 
It’s really quite extraordinary being me, you know, apparently the last person left in England capable of telling the difference between good and evil.