.Vaudos 1: so it's a walking fence

This needs tidying up - but it's fun.  Sad little monkeys, aren't you, vicious narrow ignorant, hate love, hate mind, hate human.  Stuff it up your dirty arses, vermin, you're all fucking vermin, traitors, butchers, sickos, freaks.  Lap it all up, did you, Yong, hang on every word they said at the Free, fat slag Helen the Useless, the slime O'Mahony, the red-faced butcher-boy Abraham.  One might have thought Medicine could sink no lower than appointing Black as President of the RCP but there are no fucking depths to which the dirty animals of Medicine will not sink.

Extracts 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.
 
[New readers start here:
Cantilip’s friend called her.
                        “Are you OK, honey?  You sound a bit - you haven’t caught that virus going round?”
                        The stars, the stars, thought Cantilip.
                        “Everything’s just fine!  Just a bit - pre-occupied.”
                        “I hope I haven’t interrupted.”
                        “Kettle’s boiling,” said Cantilip with the sort of finality appropriate to announcing the end of the universe.  “Talk to you soon, promise!”
                        She got up.  She sat down again.  She decided, got dressed, drove to the airport and flew to Zur.  A cab dropped her at the hill, where Tar, Saski, Hass, Maya, Pietri, Caluna and Sarat were ensconced in Tar’s private private lair, the one only accessible through the Library, discoursing about (naturally) revolution in Kadun.
                        The phone went. Tar frowned slightly, having instructed they were not to be interrupted other than for anything much less than revolution in Kadun.
                        “I’m really sorry,” said Reakoed, “but there’s a tall, slim beautiful and I think slightly distressed young woman to see you.  Her name is Cantilip-za-fenan.  We’ve fussed over her and put her in The Room.”
                        Tar looked at the throng.
                        “There is a tall, slim, beautiful and apparently slightly distressed young woman to see me.  Cantilip.”
                        “What on earth - ?” said Pietri.
                        “I shall go,” said Saski.
                        Cantilip stood at the french doors looking out over the Straits.
                        “My dear,” said Saski.
                        Cantilip turned and smiled.
                        ‘Fidub, Fidub, Isles of the Blest/Jewel of the East/Star of the West’.  He winced.  He was a cultured man.
                        Saski laughed.
                        “I am Saski.”
                        “I apologize for the intrusion,” said Cantilip. 
                        “Unexpected guests are the most welcome.”
                        “I thank you.  Do you know Venga?”
                        “Let us sit!  Who is he?”
                        “Eban-tole,” said Cantilip, then realized that probably wouldn’t mean anything either.  “I need also to tell Cho. May I invite him?”
                        “Of course...”
                        Cantilip shook herself.
                        “I can only apologize for behaving like a lunatic.  Something has happened.”
                        “Clearly,” said Saski.  “I assume eso?” Cantilip looked puzzled. “My turn to apologize!  Esoteric.  The other matter. You do not run to Alzani-Meta because a drunk assaulted you!  But why us?”
                        “Zani,” said Cantilip. “I must ring Cho.”
                        “I shall call him,” said Saski.  “You will have a hot bath, a mug of chocolate and fresh clothes.  When did you last eat?”
                        “I am safe here,” said Cantilip.  “I thank you.”
                        “Maya can look after you!  She and Sarat are in the Library.”
                        Cantilip swayed.
                        “Sarat must know too.”
                        Maya came tumbling in.
                        “Great to meet you!  This is girls-only?”
                        Cantilip managed a grin.
                        “I wish!”
                        Maya led Cantilip away to the reviving qualities of bubble bath and Saski returned to the lair.
                        “Malik Zesh!  The poor child is hardly here. There is something she has to tell us.  It concerns Zani!  But Sarat and Cho need to hear it too.  I am bewildered.”  She rang Cho and expressed bewilderment.  “Does the name Venga mean anything to you?” 
                        “Eban-tole,” said Cho promptly.
                        “She said that!  Who is Eban-tole?”
                        “Fas-sigree.”
                        “She said she was safe here.”
                        That is not good, thought Tar.
                        None of them guessed.
                        By the time Cantilip and Maya returned, they were all arrayed in The Room, including Cho, who’d heli’d to the roof of the hill.  Introductions were made.  Cantilip was still pale, but more composed and grateful for the large plate of patsito put in front of her.
            “Venga and I, we went to Casin-ruhn.  We sat on the chair.  It’s all true!”
“I too,” said Cho very gently, “have talked to Kaminua.”
In the stunned silence, Cantilip said, “You do see I found it a little traumatic.”
“Talked.  Kaminua,” said Tar.  “Isn’t he dead?”
“That may be the question,” said Cho.”
“Venga,” said Cantilip, “said he wanted to know what was true.  Only one way to find out...We walked days, aeons through the trees, never far from the Gant, so we had water.  We could not have carried water.  We lived on berries, deer.  There are settlements.  They are senoki.  I am Van-senok.  We were welcomed, feted.  We rested.  Finally we entered Ciletij.  It was colder, the trees were thinner.  We ploughed on.
“At last we came to the lake.”  She looked at Cho, who looked encouraging.  “I shall try.  Has anyone got a piece of paper and a pen?”
Flurry of people looking mutely at phones and realizing how hip and paperless they were. 
Maya reached in her bag and produced a paperback. She tore out one blank pages at the end and found a biro.
“Thank you...You come out into a clearing.  The lake is in front of you.  There's an old wooden jetty.  In the far corner of the clearing is a wooden house, hut, cabin, rotting of course.”  She paused a moment.  “Only it's not.  What you see also is  newly constructed jetty, a newly constructed cabin with logs piled outside.  And there are things in the air, bats, shafts of light.  It's like entering a dream.”
“The commonplace element,” said Cho, “is that regrowth is rapid at the site of a conflagration.  Someone keeps the clearing open and someone of course built both cabin and jetty.  We think the Denzines but we don't know why.”
“Or both are illusion?” suggested Tar.
“Neither I nor Vax could break it.”
“Inside are a table, a bench, a bench intended for sleep, with a simple mattress, a fire  burning in the grate, furs, a cap.  It is impossible.  That is half the cabin.  In the other half stands the  throne.  We – we thought a guardian.”
“No guardian of this time,” said Cho.
“”Venga said, I mean announced, we are not trespassers.  It is our right.  It echoed.  I felt it could be heard in Azt.  He said after he wished he hadn't.   He – he sat on the throne.  For a moment  I felt a pang of disappointment.  He stretched out his legs.  Nothing had happened.  Then his face changed.  Intense curiosity.  Then he just wasn't there.  Mentally, I mean, not that he vanished!  I knew everything was OK, but he just wasn't there.   Then I got frightened anyway.  We weren't quite so stupid that we had no phones and yes you can get a signal.  Just like a thousand years ago, there are people up there.  Not close, but people need doctors, people need to be able to report wildfires and Ciletij is good at things like that.  We do actually have that in common, we understand living in the wilderness.  I still didn't want to ring the House.  Mummy, please can you come and rescue me from Casin-ruhn...But then Venga came back.  He sort of stumbled down and I moved towards him and then – as for a fraction of a second I didn't think he was real, solid.  I can't explain that either.  I hugged him and assured myself and he clung to me like a drowning man to driftwood.  I half led, half dragged him to the bench.  You have to understand rationality had gone out of the window.  I felt the water in the bowl was probably magic like in fairy-stories, but we didn't have much and so I got him a cup of water.  He sipped it and I half-expected him to transform into a bear or something but he slowly became coherent.  The first things he said were, so beautiful, so perfect, and obviously I thought – what I thought was oh shit, because I really didn't feel up to defending my honour against a deranged Venga.  But then he said, the stars, the stars. Ban-varna must know the stars.  Finally he was back to normal and he said he had to see Cho. Then it got worse.  There was a wooden chest.  Venga opened it.  Tinned food?  We must take it, said Venga.  I made squeaky noises about the occupant not liking our stealing his provisions for the winter.  Venga reasoned that if he could get tinned veg in the first place he could get more of them.  Venga said perhaps it is here for guests.  There is no harm, Cantilip, do you understand there is no harm?  Frankly, no, but it was getting dark and I was hungry and it was the first roof over our heads for what seemed like years.  We made a meal and a hot drink and huddled by the fire.  I can't continue.”
“They came, my lord, my lady of Kadun,” suggested Cho.
“Cho....” breathed Pietri.
“In furs, laughing, stamping their boots at the door.”
“He swung her round and she fell laughing into his arms.  They seemed to notice us and smiled.  Sir, said Venga.  My lady Asyrion.”
“They could have been anybody,” protested Sarat.
Cho laughed.
“Anybody,” said Cantilip, “is not the twin of your grandfather.  We have portraits of Asyrion at the House.”
“A story,” said Cho, “of a worm-hole in time and immortality for those who desire it.  They say he spent the rest of his life grieving.  Why so if they were to be together for eternity.  Let us pick other holes in all stories.  Aside from the morality, the Anile empress ordered the massacre of Ciletij,  Why was she there?  Immortality requires tinned veg?  Offered immortality, would you not choose somewhere more clement and less remote?”
“Discovery?” 
“There is a Ciletij Commemoration Society.  Each year they visit and plant a tree.  I have seen pictures.  There is nothing, no jetty, no cabin, nothing.”
“This is - “
“Out of this world?  Perhaps.  What happened finally?”
“They went out again into the snow, still laughing, holding hands.  Then it was like - I didn’t know if was awake or asleep.  I became aware.  Venga was out for the count, sleeping like the dead.  Perhaps I should have put that better.  I think I was pretty out of it.  I sat.  I don’t know.  It wasn’t my sanest moment.  Maybe I hoped the chair would tell me how I’d come to talk to Kaminua.  Nothing happened. Then - I’ve never taken drugs but I guess it was like tripping.  I but I wasn’t I was - with someone I knew was Zani and I knew the me was the Mistress of Van-senok. We were arguing but though I was arguing I didn’t understand what the argument was about.”  She looked at Tar rather shyly.  “Though I guess we can guess.  It gets worse.  He said: Marry me!  I said: My lord, I cannot.  Then I was travelling through the trees, very, very fast and there was screaming and flame, which was obviously.  Asyrion said, it is finished.  I guess then I lost consciousness.  When I came to I was slumped on the chair and Venga was kneeling beside me, patting my hand and trying to soothe me. We had more tinned veg then left and returned to the House.  Mummy took one look at us and demanded explanation.  We told her.”
“What did she say?”
“She knew.  All of it.”
“What you said about regrowth,” said Sarat, “Ciletij must realize there's no way a clearing could stay clear.”
“Unless the ground is polluted,” suggested Pietri.
“Or not ground at all,” muttered Tar.
“There was one thing. Mummy asked did I look?  Look for what?  She meant did I look at Kaminua and Asyrion, did I try to see what was really there.  No, I was out of it by then.  She kept on about it.  She asked if I'd been afraid to see thousand year old corpses. Apparently see.  I mean,if I'd been rational enough to look, I'd have been rational enough to grasp that rotting corpses were just another layer of illusion, rotting corpses weren't offering me tinned veg.”
“”Death does not sit on the Anile throne,” said Cho.
“What is this!” asked Sarat.
Cho grinned.
“Kaduna-gar-jaht, this matter of Kadun.”
“I had to return to the City.  Venga said he would go to Fidub.  That’s why I asked.”
“I haven’t seen him,” said Cho.
“I put together something,” said Tar, “which if true is wholly obliterated from the record.”
“On the word of a piece of metal,” noted Pietri.
“Our record.  What do PANTHER say?” demanded Caluna.
“I’m lost,” said Sarat.
“PANTHER have no record of Zani in the west,” said Cho.
Maya said, “The way we learn it in school, Zani marched to the Great Gates, then turned around and marched back again, which come to think of it is a pretty unlikely story, but here we all are. Another one!”
“Another unlikely story has just been contemplated at Mel’s Place.  23 valiant young Fidubi landed at Car-sandis.  How d’you get from that to emperor?”
“But here we all are!  So Zani was introduced to the chair, thanks but no thanks.”
“A simple guy,” cooed Maya.
“That,” said Tar, “is our story and we’re sticking to it!”
“It gets worse,” said Cantilip.  “I looked in our archives.  That whole period has obviously been destroyed, there’s nothing, not so much as a curling corner of parchment. I already knew the Rape was missing.  220 years obliterated.”
“Dates?” asked Pietri
“Year Nought, Narulis proclaimed emperor, and by the way why did Fidub adopt the new calendar. 917, Zani proclaimed King of Dabida.  694, Rape of Ciletij.”
“What does Marula say?” asked Cho.
“For most of those years we were at war.”
“May I have a word with you, Sarat?” asked Cho.  He smiled winningly at the company.  “I do assure you this is entirely personal, though possibly not prudent.  He is less likely to kill his dear grey-haired old grandfather with witnesses.”
Tar guessed and laughed.  Sarat and Cho disappeared into the library.
“You are furious,” said Cho.
“Mildly,” said Sarat.
“You are an outer and exo guy!  There has been time to fill in the gaps?”
“A psychedelic throne, dead people stamping their boots.  What is this!”
“I trust you see the importance of posting.”
“When I looked at that thing on the chair.  How I felt about it.  One of the things my poor little exo brain dimly grasped.  How people feel about the throne is on a level I don’t understand.  What it symbolizes.”
“Why you have to claim it,” said Cho.
“I guess.  What does it symbolize?”
“We don’t know,” said Cho.  “What we know is it is a piece of apparently ordinary silver that creates trips in time and space.”
“Has anybody assayed it?” asked Sarat.
Cho laughed.
“800 years ago?”
“You want me to get it back, don’t you.”
“That would be good,” said Cho.
“It’s in Ciletij!”
“Now it is,” said Cho.  “When it was put there, Casin-ruhn was in Van-senok.”
Sarat stared.
“Hi Varchulan, can I have my territory back!”  He looked up suddenly.  “The penny’s just dropped.  What they were saying on the Grid.”
“Oh yes,” said Cho.  “A guy gives you something like that, he gets to be emperor.”
“Whatever - whatever individual people understand, it’s all why you’re convinced Kadun wants an emperor.  They haven’t wanted one for 600 years.”
“We shall see,” said Cho.
“Do we tell Cantilip?  I mean, obviously - now, I mean, when she’s a bit fragile.”
“When better?”]

.............................................

Talking of weather, it’s getting colder, wetter and windier.  Good honest mud has to be covered by duckboard and southerners are discovering the delights of cable-knit and rubber boots.  They are saying of Sarat he moves too fast to feel the cold but yea, even he makes some small concession to climate: fur, faux of course.
 
No-one, certainly no ‘world leader’, has the right, it is generally agreed, at least among persons of the feminine gender, to look that damn’ sexy. Except possibly Hass, similarly clad.  There are of course gay men in the Imperial Army.  Some of them have even had a private discussion with Hass about coming out and agreed it can wait till peace.  Women have number on their side; gay men don’t.  Let us say they find all aspects of the new order not unattractive.
 
The young panther in his black fur gilet is explaining some stuff.
“We think, don’t know, don’t don’t don’t know, we have time on our hands. Two things they’re maybe keeping us waiting for.  One is Xu-Laman.  The other is snow.  Yes, fighting for every paving-stone in Azt in a blizzard is just going to be such fun.  Can it wait till spring? If we can take Vaudos it actually possibly can.  Is it not fun, Madam Minister, to hold such conversations under the watchful ears – did I just say that? – of the Press?  I think we have time to experiment.  Even Xu-Laman is six weeks away.  Shall we talk about Azt?  I understand you can’t shoot round corners.  I think what I’m trying to get at is when you can:  smart bullets.”
“Never quite figured the electronics, to be honest.”
“If I get hold of some, d’you want to play?”
“Love to.  If they’re controlled by the onboard electrics, I can see no intrinsic reason why you wouldn’t change the trajectory to anything you want.”
“Nor can I,” said Sarat.
“Like a cartoon.  Up, round, couple of circles.”
Not, said Bris, the sort of conversation generally associated with tree-hugging.  What, after all, has he said?  What is obvious, what is on the Grid.
“What guys need to remember,” Sarat was continuing, “is that neither Maya nor I have ever seen snow.  So we need to know everything.  Slipperiness, black ice, frost, all the stuff you maybe think is obvious.”
“Not – ski-ing and stuff.  Thought - people like you went jet-setting!”
“Laters?” suggested Sarat.  “Where to jet to!  Non grata in Ciletij. Cho and Amida have been to Blatni a few times, mostly to wind up the locals.  Not recently. Same with Harn.  Cho has mingled. No quesch of letting his little cubs near Searc.”
“Maybe next year! So you’d be interested in how our experience translates to the city.”
“Very,” said Sarat.
 
Just remember, said Varchulan, every word is meant for Azt.
So whatever he sounds like he’s going to do, he’s probably going to do the opposite!
 
There’s a bit more to the snow angle than that.  Driving snow into people’s eyes and freezing up their eyelids is so much simpler if you have the raw material to hand.
 
Need to fill in a few gaps here.  What would be a really good way of dealing with ‘It’, whatever TF ‘It’ is.  If ‘It’ is.  Are we convinced of ‘It’?  Well, unless it’s like a giant octopus or a squid or something.  Maybe it’s a shark in a giant tank!  If it’s going to explode, it needs to explode like a damp squib.  Not a few recalled the eggs laid at Caniba.  Be prepared! is the motto of this mission.
 
We also think it might be interesting to see if the son and heir  talks more at the scene of the crime.  Either they let us take him, in which case they want him to talk to us, or they don’t, which could be tedious.  Perhaps an invitation to my lord of Vaudos?  You mean he isn’t.  We have no firm evidence Vastulis is alive as of now.  If he renounceth all, he can tell Sarat that.  He won’t come!  His Imperial Majesty requests – requests and requires the presence – this is daft.  You’re just not forgotten, boy.   We’d just hate for you to think you’re forgotten.
 
Someone to see you, Sarat.
 
Someone is wearing a short fur jacket Baz judges real.  T-t-t, not the way….She removes it and hands it to the nearest cat.  Also not the way.  Sarat is for once standing, by the window.  He murmurs, “My lady of Vaudos.”
“Order them to leave.”
“No,” said Sarat.
“There is no right of private audience?  It is common knowledge – “
“Other guys I talk to,” said Sarat, “are not nasty slimy creatures from the pit of desecration.”
“’Guys’!”
“Would you like a nice cup of tea,” asked Baz.
“Remembering to say ‘please’,” said Paw.
“I will not speak in the presence of these animals!”
“Do sit down,” said Sarat.  “Since you know perfectly well that whatever you tell me will be all over PANTHER in ten minutes, what else have you in mind?”
“Not that.”
“Then?”
Must I crawl prostrate beg.
No.
Our lives are forfeit.
“There have to be witnesses,” said Sarat.
“And the witnesses are reamed,” said Baz.
Then I humiliate, abase.
She fell on her knees and touched her forehead to the floor.
“Get up,” said Sarat.  “Or I sit on the floor next to you?”
She raised her head and glared at him.
Maya walked in.
“Drama!  I really did think a female presence was re quired at this one.”  She tumbled to the floor and sat cross-legged.  “Darling, falling at the feet of men is terribly yesterday.”
“Bitch!” said my lady of Vaudos.
“Lots of sharp white teeth,” agreed Maya.
Sarat joined Maya on the floor.
“The buzz-word is behaving intelligently.”
“You execute us or not.  Where is the intelligence!”
“It’s not down to me,” said Sarat.  “Heela, Saryulin and Marula.”
“You can intercede – “
“No,” said Sarat.
“You will not! I too can read law!”
“If you ask for my protection I have to give it.  You’ll still be locked up for life as a clear and present danger to normal humanity.”
“I cannot be – changed?”
“Only with your full consent.”
“’That they freely chose is but rarely unchosen,’” quoted Baz.  “Not sure where I got that from.”
“If you did not make it up!”
“We have the right,” said Maya, “to know what we’re protecting.  Have you killed?”
“Often.”
“And you enjoyed it or preferred the pain?”
“The latter.”
At which point there was a knock on the door.  Great goodness, there is a normal world.
Unless war’s broken out, thought Baz.  He went out to the summoner and closed the door firmly behind him.
“A lot of people,” said Sarat, “would love to know what ‘It’ is.”
“That is the price of life?”
“I’m confused,” said Maya.  “Thought you loved death.”
“Yea,” said Sarat.  “The Great Master shall hold you in his eternal embrace.”
“I have children.”
“A creature like you loves anything?” asked Sarat.
“What is ‘love’!”
“Something there’s not a lot of in Vaudos. Shall we keep to the point?”
“I can never go back.  My children.”
“Everyone go aaah!” said Paw.  “You must have thought of that.  What did you expect from this expedition?”
Baz slipped back.
“To see.”
“Get on line.  Read the papers.”
“A Fidubi lunatic Imperial Majesty!”
“Change sides?” suggested Paw.
“Know your enemy,” said Baz.
Sarat said: “You don’t get quivery at the mention of ‘It’.”
“Oh I see,” said Maya.  “You want to know if we can defeat ‘It’.”
“How likely are we to tell you!”
“The female mind may in some respects be stronger.  ‘Eso’, is it not?”
OhIsee
One duels, ma’am?
‘It’ is testosterone?
Find the secret find the weakness
Maya sits in a field of flowers.
Ground parched arid lifeless cracks
Maya back in overalls with a tin labelled SEALANT
Stop it! muttered Baz.  Sarat just grinned.
The land heals.  Tiny saplings appear. A forest of silver birches
Same old? questioned Paw.
The sound of trees falling, trees screaming as they are cut.
Maya sitting in a heap of sawdust crying.
Oh really.
Maya sitting in Zanocki Park with Sarat’s arm around her gazing fondly on their cubs.
Giant winged lizards with serrated beaks descend on the cubs.
Are turned into humming-birds, tiny jewels of colour giving off  rainbow rays of light
Maya and Sarat grow old, wither, become grinning skeletons.  Then comes the night.
Dark with no stars fills the room, and with it dread, at any rate if anyone in the room were prone to dreading, which they weren’t.  Voices shout and scream in terror and lamentation.
Oh really.
Maya sitting on a moonbeam swinging her legs.
Sarat’s voice in some irritation.  Can no-one change a lightbulb round here?
B+P looked at him.  Not me.
Would he interfere with a lady, would he!
The dark sniffs, paws, lacerations appear on Maya’s legs, her eyes turn red and begin to run with blood.
In real time.  Fractionally.  Maya shifts herself along her moonbeam and the blood hangs in rivulets in mid-air. 
Stain the floor.  A good squirt of new improved PANTHER  a skeletal hand seizes the can knocks Maya off her perch falls broken splayed
Getting antsy?
My lady of Vaudos falls like a rag doll screaming into infinite space.  Maya thoughtfully provides her with a cushion to land on sits beside her.
You lose because you always lose there is no death
There is no life
Garbage crap aren’t  you alive
Given surrendered no thing
I a star thing!
Destroy devour
Star deformed sucked torn
Maya nearly screamed.  In real time.  Sarat sort of moved. No, said Baz
Maya slammed the shutter down, a wall of apparent burnished silver with KEEP OUT emblazoned on it. Spurts of acid scorched seared pocked melted. Briefly.  Maya put smilies on the healed wounds.  Crush annul incinerate the outer surface a wall of fire.
It began to rain.  Heavily.
The fire sputtered and transformed into a wall of outward-facing spikes.
Strands of barbed wire grew from the tips of the spikes and encircled encaged my lady Vaudos
Your captive I cede
Maya waited for the counter-attack.  People rarely fight clean in this one.
Time does time not erode crumble destroy time tearing at the wound of life are you not weakened aged weary in your crumbling bones
Sun-ka-sun I shine I who am a star perceptual
Careful, thought Baz.
Even stars grow old and weary age and die can time not destroy all rock all land all seas
Time for lunch wet Viasdan in Carlin muddy field see stains on the floor in space Maya Talal ban-essa centred in the Whole, Anile Empress, Mistress of Kadun does Vaudos break its trust in time or space where are you?
Here.
Where?
Nasty shack no carpet tins.
And?
You wish in truth I bow crawl make obeisance to the Anile Throne.
No
Are we not all free to choose and choose death.
No.
Your meaning!
Is our meaning not made plain before the world death does not rule Kadun.
Then you must fight.
What are we fighting shall I ream
You would not it is forbidden
I would not.
Then an empty threat!
No.
These are riddles!
Find the key.
You command Imperial Majesty
Shrug
If I tell you
Have you not told
Perhaps or I lie
Lie and will lie why the truth
I must know
What?
What is death?
“A function of time,” said Maya.  “More than that I do not know and cannot say.”
That I see were time to stop and cannot. “Or we move and time stays still.”
“I think – “ began Baz.
“I think,” said Maya softly, “my lady of Vaudos is wondering whether.” She stopped.
“No,” said Sarat.
You take our lives we may not take our own.
“Not,” said Sarat, “at Xu-Laman.”
Shall we not be the final sacrifice.
He-elp, thought Baz. Unexpected, you could say unexpected.  Or they guess?
“Some kind of a fishing-trip?” asked Paw.  “Going to be a bit different this Xu-Laman, isn’t it.  Under the watchful eyes of Their Imperial Majesties.”
You cannot prevent the power.  [Image of dead cats nailed to a door.]
“Just longing for an excuse to invade,” said Sarat.
Corsin devour your rabble here assembled you will not.
“Exactly,” said Sarat enthusiastically.
“So what are we going to do?” asked Maya brightly.
“You are of course free to go,” said Sarat, “unless there’s something else you want to say?”
“I cannot.”
“Speak or go?”
“I cannot return!”
“Then you make no sense.” Or if you return the final sacrifice?
“Can you save my children?”
“If,” said Baz, “we were sure it wasn’t a trap and we’re not.  You were allowed to come.  Oh.  Knowing your children would be sacrificed at Xu-Laman.”
“We never thought they were nice.   If you do go back you are spared, must watch – “
“Yeutch,” said Maya.
“But how would they know you haven’t told us about ‘It’.”
“They want you to tell us about ‘It’?”
“They think themselves invincible.  I do not know.”
“And when we turn up ‘It’ is something different?”
“’It’ is always something different.  The results cannot be predicted.”
“Tear hair time?” suggested Baz.
“A field?” suggested Sarat.  “Not of course a boring muddy one.”
She looked intently at Maya.
“They say you cannot win. I do not know.  It uses silver.”
Sarat sighed.
“Does it by any chance confound space and time?”
“Then it is true!”
“What is?”
“The Throne.”
“Ah yes,” said Sarat.  “The kitchen-chair.  Or a load of old hooey.  A story to pique my personal interest.  What’s interesting is what I might do.  Desert Carlin.  Hare off to Van-senok.  Invade Ciletij territory.  Especially that one.”
“Sure you’d get a lovely welcome,” said Paw.
If my lady of Vaudos’ absolute bewilderment is faked then she’s an even better actress than we think her.
“Not sure,” said Baz.  “Are you supposed to know the chair in the museum in Azt is a fake?  Why does your brother freak over ‘It’?  And you don’t.”
“Do you actually have any children?” asked Paw.
“You torture me to verify truth?”
“No,” said Sarat.  “Not sure what we’re going to do with you – I think I know a real sweet guy who – “
He got out his phone, got through to M-P and asked for Taja, now, don’t care if he’s levitating.  Pretty-please.  Baz laughed out loud. 
“Sarat, he is busy.  You know that word.” 
“I have a problem here called Vastulis’ daughter.  Does that make him less busy?”
“Possibly!  How about Vax?”
“I’ll call Cho – “
“I mean Vax is around somewhere, only saw him about half an hour ago.”
“Could have left by now.”
“Just hang on a minute!”
At least the shrine at Maona-pri doesn’t torment you with jangling muzak when they put you on hold.  Sarat laughed and flipped the loudspeaker on.  The room was soothed by The Edes of Salva-va.
“Taja.  Idle, I think.  Nothing better to do than come to Carlin. Tell.”
“Pitched up of own accord query sent.  Strange story about ‘It’ being connected to silver, to the chair.  Sick strange story about being final sacrifice at X-L.  Can you spot the lies for us, please.”
“A pleasure.  I shall come.”
“Worse than that,” said Sarat.  “We don’t exactly have the facilities for caging monsters.”
“Of course.  Come and collect her.”
“I thank you.”
Sarat cut the call and looked at B+P
“I don’t have time to baby-sit.  Sort it would you please.  They’ll be here from the shrine as soon as.”
“Dialling as we speak,” said Baz.
Vasili said: “The shrine?”
“At Maona-Pri,” said Sarat.  “They really know about people like you.”
“Guess this will do,” said Paw.  “You’ll just have to find yourself another office.”
“I can cope,” said Sarat.
For the first time, thought Maya, she looks genuinely frightened. 
Sarat’s phone rang.  It did what?  Sarat’s and Maya’s phones are allowed to  ring. Only inside, puh-lease. There have to be some privileges.
“Vax.  I hear things.  Fox and I will come with Taja and Losig – female of the species.”
“I wondered about that,” said Sarat.
 
Marula looked up from her monitor and laughed.
“I think I have received an imperial command.  Shall I obey?”
She moved over so Behna could read the screen.
“What will you tell him?” asked Behna.
“Whatever he asks.  Is it not his chair?”
“About the rest of it?”
“Why should he ask?”
 
So now a further meeting of the General Staff is convened.  Plus one.  Sarat says he didn’t know at the time about Challin’s affair with Marula and even if he had he had a few million other things to think about.  Cioulis and Karmen, however, took a profound interest in a number of interactions, especially perhaps the one that began “Mummy.”
“Took your time,” growled Saban.
“You see Heela, Saryulin?” retorted Marula.
“It is different.”
Marula’s eyes met Challin’s.
“Many roads,” he said, “one destination.”
“Carvena sal-tan sulit enemeri,” said Marula.
“Sulit -vastingi, bars ilamin enemeris!“ said Challin. “My apologies.” He waited for Marula to translate.
“The wanderer has but one home.  Home is where one rests one’s head. Broadly.”
OK, thought Karmen, they just get away with referring to their famous difference over empire. Cioulis showed him a mental image of two hearts entwined.  Karmen continued gazing into the middle-distance.
“The phrase-book,” said Cantilip, “sadly never got finished.  Hallo.  What is your name? You mean you actually eat this stuff patsito?”
“Could I possibly persuade you to marry me?” added Mel.
“One condition,” said Cantilip.  She  reached into her hair and extended a bottle-green tress. “You must promise to attend to my roots.”
“Dying to,” said Mel.
Sarat and Maya arrived.
Marula turned.
“My lord, my lady of Kadun!  I am summoned!  I come!”
“You’re going to love it,” said Cantilip.
Sarat said: “Maya and I had a visitor, Vastulis’ daughter.  After multiple layers of crap, possible-crap and not-crap, she is now incarcerated in the shrine at M-P.  Not something you would wish to meet, my lady Vasili. After extensive examination, Taja at the shrine reckons the following has a 95% chance of being true.  She was sent to tell us we are doomed and probably to send me off chasing wild geese to attempt to evade doom.  Explain in a minute. 
She started by throwing herself at our feet, literally.  We joined her on the floor and a good time was had by all.  What she wanted was life, except on closer examination it appeared to be death.  The psychology is a little murky.  She has three children.”
“Poor little bastards,” murmured Karmen.
“We don’t choose our parents,” said Sarat.  “Since she freely came, I told her she could freely go away again.  She repeatedly said she couldn’t go back.  This was puzzling, since it seemed this was no daring escape but permitted.  Her choice, she said, was between death and death. They can of course all go wherever they choose, Enbahaluk, Ciletij indeed, at least in principle.  It seemed a little unreasonable to wander up my garden-path and then say death was forced upon her.  At the other end there would seem a 95% certainty that Corsin wishes to celebrate its final Xu-Laman in Vaudos by immolating all Vastulis’ family. Of course she would have to watch her children slaughtered first.”
Karula was very pale.  Mitch held her hand very tightly.
“As for our supposed doom.  ‘It’ may be made of silver.  Taja thinks she doesn’t know.  Like the Anile throne.  Like the Anile throne ‘It’ has curious effects on the human mind.  One does, however, have to plant one’s delicate backside on the throne in order that a chorus of dancing bears high-kicks across the floor of the Ciletij Senate – “
“Sarat!” said Mel.
“You know what I think about the more highly coloured versions of the other matter.  It doesn’t change just because I’m apparently fighting a war with them!
“That gives me my next hologram,” said Sorg.
“No, Sorg, no,” said As. 
“I do not know that they would quite understand in G-T,” said Mitch.
“This,” continued Sarat, “is where it stops being repulsive and gets merely juicy.  Unfortunately any story you have heard about the Throne is true.  Also unfortunately the one in Azt is fake.  The real one is at Casin-Ruhn, the site of the Rape of Ciletij.  Why, I have no idea, I think it has been said to keep it safe when the empire collapsed. When the border was drawn it ended up on the other side.  I am not about to invade Ciletij to get my chair back!  Some people, Van-senok-type people, have always known it was there and indeed have sat on it, why not, after all, a convenient resting-place in the middle of nowhere.  Marula, Cantilip and Venga have sat.  The other known person who has sat is my revered grandpapa, Cho. He gets around, he surely does.  The problem  given us on a plate – it is noted - is how the hell these interesting physical properties can be – if of course they actually have been – transmogrified into supposedly the ultimate weapon.  Telling me this tale of the ultimate weapon I reckoned was meant to cause me to leave Carlin – could I, could I! – and invade Ciletij territory.  Sure I’d get a warm welcome. The Vasili person has not actually seen ‘It’.  It seems her partner, now gone to the Great Master, was involved in its creation.  She thinks she’s telling the truth.  Could be she’s repeating lies she has been told are truth.  We still don’t know for sure any more than we did to start with.  Oh and alternatively I am perhaps not supposed to know the throne in Azt is fake and to concentrate our attentions on Azt.  Fun this, isn’t it.  Possibly all a complete waste of time.”
     “We have to set eyes on ‘It’?” asked STB. 
     “No more FAFfing about,” agreed Sarat.
     Cioulis stood up, unusually taut.
     “I too.”
     “Normal day out for a senoki,” said Sarat.
     “Not I,” said Challin.  “But I knew it is there.”
     “There is no physical border,” said Saban.
     “Then it would be possible to claim one was wandering Van-senok hopelessly lost?”
     “No, Sarat,” said Maya.
     “Just a thought.”
     “It would.  We have.  Have I not said, Ciletij there are not our enemies.  We share danger from cold, from isolation.  If you find a fellow human, you assist not ask what he is doing there.”
     “Of course if you find a sick animal,” said Baz.
     “Then you put it down,” said Saban.
     “We can follow that up later,” said Sarat.
     “Now,” said Saban.  “What is the point of preserving such a creature?”
     “To get information from her,” suggested Mitch.
     “As Sarat has said,” said Maya, “once in Carlin she could have got a flight to the other side of the planet.  It is not the same as arrest in Azt.  Or for that matter Vaudos.”
     “That is understood,” said Saban.
     “The fundamental question,” said STB, “is change.  Or does attempted changing so damage they are better dead.”
     “Talk to them at the shrine,” said Sarat. 
     “One more thing,” said Maya.  “We duelled. When she was trying to pulverize me, the ultimate weapon was time.”
     “Would you be able to explain precisely,” asked Karmen.  She showed him. “Whew!”
     “Was a bit,” said Maya.
     “The illusion time has stopped?” asked Mel.  “What can that possibly mean?”
     “Whatever it is,” said Faun, “the key point is surely that we’re not supposed to be able to counter it.”
     “A stopped clock cannot be restarted?”
     “If one is dead,” said Sorg steadily, “is one not so to say a stopped clock?”
     “Be ye all of good cheer,” muttered STB.
     “I merely suggest!”
     “Wrong way round,” said Maya, “not stopping, speeding up.”
     “But it’s still an illusion!”
     “If you are crumbling into dust, do you know that?”
     “Did someone use the word ‘hairy’?  Or these fun things are what we are supposed to think, of course.”
     “However,” said Maya, “I appeared to constitute evidence ‘It’ is not invincible.  Do we bomb the House?”
     “Or are we simply dying of curiosity.”
     “We thought we’d play with them a bit,” said Faun.  “Of course it might bite our tails off.  On the whole Plan One.”
     “There is another possibility – roll of drums.”
     “Never!”
     “You don’t say!”
     “Suppose – some people.  Don’t know.  Group of Corsin.  ‘It’ isn’t finished.  They don’t have a lot of faith in ‘It’.  Not least because if ‘It’ is as described could we possibly know more about the Throne.  Some people are going to be thinking about cutting and running, stands to reason.  They say the Delta is very beautiful at this time of year.”
     “Then she was sent to check us out.  OK, the doubters let her out. But they have no control over the upcoming shit-fest.  They might have guessed she would not go back and in any case why would they think she had a choice.  So they wanted her out?  How is she doing?”
     “Taja has no analogy.  Like sharing one’s time with a poisonous snake maybe.  Something that may strike suddenly at any moment! It doesn’t, learned that much.  But it could. However, a talkative snake.”
     “A disinformative one?”
     “The properties of the Throne?” asked Challin.  “Possibly hooey, but it may matter.”
     “Apologies,” said Sarat.  “Cantilip is going to tell us a story. I’m sure others can chip in with their own experiences.”
 
     “He is frantically in love with her,” deemed Cioulis.
     “She is besotted with him,” opined Karmen.
     “Both their subsequent matches therefore doomed!”
     “Just watch the Announcements,” said Karmen.   
 
Sarat is bombing Vaudos!  I repeat, Sarat is bombing Vaudos!  Sarat is sort of bombing Vaudos?  Sarat is dynamiting in Vaudos?  Sarat does not – yet! - own Vaudos! WTF is Sarat doing in Vaudos? Are you sure he’s not bombing Dabida!  We are assured, announced Vanya solemnly, we are not under attack. This is of course in part because we are doing so to speak the attacking. 
 
OK, Sarat, the  people who are really, really going to object to this are your erstwhile bosom buddies in NoZone.  Guess they won’t bomb you back!  WTF you doing with the Great Divide?
 
Major public works, guys.  Just in time for the forecast torrential rain to fall in stair-rods. Up in the Lausanine the Hyla is in spate.  Excellent.
 
It is a truly terrible thing to have a past.  People observed with some awe that Sarat was probably getting more shit than had he committed mass murder. The lizard of course lamented the collapse of youthful idealism in the face of lust for power, but even the lizard failed to come up with an even slightly plausible explanation as to how irrigation helped Sarat get the rest of his empire back.
 
Nonetheless, it really brings home to you how a united Imperial Kadun will change the shape of the continent.  Literally? All the same, the plans for a national park look really good.
 
Call for you, Sarat.  Important. Cile (this mouthed, not spoken).  Sarat grinned and took the phone
“Sarat here.”
“What the hell are you doing, boy!”
Sarat grinned more.
“May I ask whom I have the honour of being shouted at by?”
“Varchulan, as you damn’ well know.  Well?”
“Finishing a war before you start one.”
“Listen before you act, boy!”
“I’m over 16.  I have a name.”
“Sarat, damn it, listen!”
“You haven’t spoken.”
Ah well, at least they’re talking to each other.
“I wish my grand-daughter to speak to Maya.  In public.  Perhaps even on a crate.  Is that clear?”
Ah.
“Entirely.  Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
 
Nothing by the way that wouldn’t dry up nicely if we just block the breaks.  Having encircled the House with water, what do we do for an encore, hope it’ll float away?  We shall wait and see if anything happens.  And if nothing happens?  Drones for this, we think.  Drones drop high explosive to create spokes of water, radii from the House.  Maybe we’ll erode the foundations.  Maybe ‘It’ is in a cellar or a dungeon below ground.  You know those stupid water-bombs you can get for kids’ parties.  What’s stupid about them?  Look, dear ‘It’, why don’t you just come out with your hands up – tentacles, whatever. Just leave it to soak a bit – marinade.  Oh good, it’s chucking it down again.  Where can we get that much water from?  I think it may be called the sea.  Thought you said you weren’t going to turn Kadun into a flood plain. Hydroelectric dams.  If I have this right, vast quantities of water falling through a confined space create the sort of pressure at the bottom that cracks mountains.  On the other hand, if the water isn’t confined.  You can kill with water bombs.  Some kids here, thought they were just messing around, bit of fun.  Unless presumably they’re so flimsy they collapse on impact – but then would they survive the flight?  We all secretly know in the bottom of our little furry hearts we want to drop something straight through the centre of the House.  The question is what?
 
The vampires came once and were wiped out.  We appear to have total control of the south of Vaudos.  Oh goody.
 
Let us assume something sentient somewhere.  Then the answer has to be what can’t be redirected straight back at us or at least easily and what can’t be transmogrified, at least easily.  We come back to water.
 
Actually we come back to the foe not having so much as twitched a toenail, not in Vaudos, not in Azt.  Verily they have great faith in ‘It’? How comforting.
 
Immolation, immolation, everyone gets immolated?  Why then do they not start partying?
 
Dead silence.  Gulan strolls through the camp in black leotard and wolf accessories, flanked by the Ciletij Rep from Zur and two Ciletij officers, one female.  Press-fiends slavering of course.  There is a message here about Ciletij women.  Well done, guys.  Who’d have guessed.
Maya emerges, similarly clad.  Aieee!  Well, after all, she did bloody invent it!  All the same, a teenager is not Anile Empress!  You want to tell her that? Similarly, not the same: Maya’s leotard is imperial silver and her furs of course black.  
“Absolutely frabjous to be here,” said Gulan.
“Darling,” said Maya.  “Lovely to see you.  We thought we’d have a picnic, still warm enough.  Canope in case it pours.”
“Cool!” said Gulan.  “Simply masses to talk about.  The situation in Ciletij has to be clarified.”
It does?  Not by persons of middling years and the masculine gender?
“Want to start with basics,” said Gulan.  “We are a free country.  We are a democracy.  We have no interest in returning to a past in which the dress of women or our presence in bars is problematic.  Whether we can fight wars or run countries.  Grandpa is nothing if not what in Kadun terms – sorry, does that sound patronizing – is a feminist.  Neither he nor any of my male relations has ever given me reason to think I’m ‘just a’ woman, separate species.”
Sure, honey, quite, same in the south….
“So you’re representing modern Ciletij.  Like Maya represents modern Kadun.”
“Try representing sanity.  In both cases.”
“Guess the Cult doesn’t see it like that.  In both cases.”
“The only way Ciletij could ever invade Kadun is if the geralis take over our Army.  As has been shown indeed by Sardun, by PANTHER, to believe in womanpower is not to be pacifist.  Some of us would hang them. Under the radar we are in a state of civil war.  The word you are looking for is coup.”
Lotsa noise. 
“Shut it, I’m listening!  Hard.”
They shut it.
“You may ask what stops them.  Ciletij, the people of Ciletij, are mostly sane.  Then there is the Sarat Factor.  Maybe I should call it the Maya Factor!  Whatever.  The point is Imperial Kadun is not going to be happy with a Ciletij run by the Cult on top of it.  But Sarat has of course given his word to keep out.  Not that PANTHER obey anyone, even Sarat.  It may be argued the letter of that word is keeping out of a Ciletij with a democratically elected government.  For a variety of reasons from older hostilities to the plain fact that we think Kadun is quite big enough already, the consensus is keep out.  At the point where irturbi are plainly living in a hip cool modern democracy and we are being routinely tortured and murdered, that could change.  I’m talking about now.”
And we are listening, babe, we are listening good.
“Sarat drives the Cult out of the Kadun to establish that hip cool modern democracy!  Oh wow.  Where does he drive them to?  You think we want them? Maybe they all live happily ever after in Zur? He can’t drive them into the sea, geography won’t let him.  Maybe that’s the point of waterways?  Anyhow, so long as Vaudos is not part of the empire, Dabida, Vasucula and Fidub can’t help us.  At any rate with ground forces.  I guess we could be bombed from bases in Carlin and the west?  So among about 500 other things, some Ciletij don’t particularly want the Cult driven out of Kadun, not because they’re particularly pro but because we don’t see ourselves as Sarat’s rubbish-dump.  Whether Sarat and Maya see us as the local tip is one of the things we need to talk about.  I imagine not because they really really want us dominated by the Cult as above.  Is this circular or is it circular? 
“Now let’s talk about our old friend capital.  Suppose the Cult has a fit of pique, withdraws entirely from Ciletij.  Leaving us up a well-known creek.  Who can help?  Yeah, right.  Well, the south, then.  Don’t think many people see much difference.  The word you are looking for is economic imperialism. Why on earth would it do that?  So what do we do, go down on our knees, beg the City banks to come back, look at all the concessions we’ll make to them?  Anything rather than rule by Imperial Kadun.  We have a few problems with no solution so we thought we’d talk about solving them.
“Try another scenario.  PANTHER obey no-one!  It might even be true but that doesn’t mean anyone believes it.  Load of stuff on the Grid about how PANTHER is a Fidubi-Kadun set-up.  PANTHER’s mission is to fight the Cult in Kadun.  They look pretty good at it too.  Missed out a bit.  Some people think the Cult’s aim is ditch the west of Kadun, retake Carlin, redraw the map so they hold the east, Azt of course, and us.  What’s common to all this is the Cult want us eaten and we don’t want to be eaten. By anyone.  Though of course we have been.  So what’s PANTHER’s mission re a Cult-infested Ciletij, a constant threat to Kadun.  I don’t think anyone sane thinks Sarat has the faintest interest in our daily affairs,  the normal activities of a democratically elected government, the tax-rate, where we’re building a new town – maybe that, what about the trees? Sorry.  You know what I mean.  The hebade geralis are something else.  So PANTHER do us all a favour and kick the – geralis out. Onto the ice-cap to freeze to death.  Cool.  Are we grateful?  Do we say thank you, Sarat?  Having been effectively reconquered by southern capital.  By the time we’re smothered in black fur – of course it suits some people – we might just as well be the bloody empire.”  She realized what she’d said, capital B, capital E.  “Sorry.” 
“I don’t offhand see solutions,” said Maya.  “Shall we try harder?”
 
“We’re experimenting with a lot of models of labour,” said Maya.  “Suppose the workers take over the plants.  It wouldn’t need violent revolution if there was a simple law to say they had the right.”
“With help from?  OK, we must have some money of our own.  I don’t know too much about manufacturing but I know Kulax is Ciletij-owned.  Make white goods.  Export them to Kadun indeed.”
“You export.  We buy,” said Maya.  “Depends what.”
“Gap in the market for state-of-the-art women’s clothing!  Probably even as we speak some eager irtubi…Is there a law saying you, anyone has to sell though.  Just because I love this field and make an offer, doesn’t mean Carlin’s going to sell it me!”
“Withdrawal of labour,” suggested Maya.  “I don’t actually mean strikes.  Just mean people get hard-up.  All the info we’re getting is that we have a practically limitless capacity to employ people, for the moment at least.”
“Hmm!  Isn’t that when the Cult throws a wobbly, though. ‘Cept maybe – I’m not going to say it isn’t needed any more, that’d be crazy.  Less needed?”
“A more fluid situation,” suggested Maya.  “Suppose we open the Ciletij border and see what happens next?”
“A couple of guys with pistols and rubber-stamps aren’t keeping the Cult in or out.”
“We’re open to ideas,” said Maya. “From anywhere.”
“None of that – what do we do with your garbage!”
“Arrest them for crimes against humanity?”
“Ooh, we couldn’t do that, they’re rich and influential.”
“Not my remit,” said Maya.  “But if a few people I could name, Krarlik, the Spider, Nudra, Con-venin, to name a few, take refuge in Ciletij you can’t exactly expect us to love you.”
“Waste of resources, keeping an eye on them.”  Gulan sighed.  “Can’t you just see the headlines.  His Imperial Majesty’s most obedient slaves.  To what depths has Ciletij sunk!  I suppose you own the international courts too!”
“Nope!  The trouble with big capital is that you can get people to think that we do.”
“Obviously this evil and defamatory assault on refugees from All-Kadun…But it’s all on the Grid.”
“Oh yes,” said Maya.  “Like with PANTHER, that’s something people choose not to believe.”
“PANTHER really wouldn’t take an order from you or Sarat?”
“PANTHER do what PANTHER think need doing, which is probably worse!  Wild cats.”
“Then I need also to talk to PANTHER.”
“You called?” said Jaizi.
Gulan scrutinized her.  Cat.  Female.  Fairly heavily armed, machine pistol and knife.  Against all the propaganda, also very pretty.  My new look?  Hope not. Really don’t want to gun down lots of people. Do PANTHER have ranks?
“Hi!  You can speak for PANTHER in general?”
“Kadun is a big place.  The continent is a bigger place.  A group of us identify something that needs doing, we do it.  If there’s anything to consult about and time to consult in we consult.  If it’s likely to raise a shit-storm, we consult.  If there’s time to consult in.”
“Like creepy things crawling over the border, maybe!  Honestly, there’s no – policy on, what shall we say, international relations?”
“Ciletij, even.”
“Even there.”
“As hath been said, 20 million times or so, we’re Narulis’ cub.  Kadun is our turf.  We don’t care about your tax-rates either, ‘cept maybe if you take in refugees could you tax them to the hairline please.  And their offshore capital.  Greenbacks every corner of the planet, who doesn’t know it.”
Gulan grinned.
“Maybe a lot of people who now do!”
“Cho wants them floating on their backs looking sightlessly at the stars.  Everywhere.  Including Harn.  Bankrupt.  On Welfare.  There is the slight matter of the global economy, which thankfully isn’t our remit. Our remit is making and keeping Kadun clean.  We are not going to invade Ciletij!  Train you guys, that’s something else.  The cat-flap is always open.”
“Historic difficulties,” murmured Gulan, a lot more smoothly than she felt.  “Ciletij PANTHER, why do I like that idea!”
“Lynx,” suggested Jaizi.
“Or wolf.”
“Always were dog-people,” said Jaizi.
Don’t think I’m going to ask exactly what that means.
“But it comes back to the economy.  Would – Cho not – “
“Ride over Ciletij sensibilities for the greater good?  Really wants his grandson’s nice new empire invaded.  Maybe you should talk to him.”
“Even bloody Sohenoil can hardly control the global economy!”
“Your friendly neighbourhood representative of clean capital?  Lot of people have had enough.  Tar.  Pamada Freight.  Qasi-Li in Vasucula.  Mitch!  Saryulin.  This is the modern age and they’re something out of the primeval stew.”
“Do hope you’re listening in, Bal,” said Maya. 
Bal’s response is generally held to be unrepeatable, but then a lot of people’s responses were unrepeatable. 
“Higher wages, of course.  Nothing about this enterprise suggests grinding the faces of the poor into dust.”
“The work is necessarily finite.  That has to be clearly understood.”
“They come back loaded.  Or of course they don’t come back.  If they have any brains, why would they come back.  Have we entirely considered all our talent stolen by the hip cool empire?”
“Or they find a nice girl or boy and don’t come back.”
“He still has to take Vaudos.”
“Surely not a problem, squeezed between east and west.”
 
Wish life were that simple, guys.
 
OK, if you can refuel in mid-air you can re-water.  If anything forces them to do something that will.  Defo unmanned/womanned!
 
OK, we hover above the House, make a neat hole in the roof and direct through a pipe a couple of oceansful of saline into its midst.  Simple.  Why did I not think of that?
 
So we did and nothing happened.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Sarat.
“Language, diddums,” said Sorg.
Well, there was always a chance it was all crap.  Still, it will be a nice national park.
“What do I have to do?” asked Sarat.  “Knock on the front door.”
“There may be something in that.”
 
Qine naturally knows some of the Sardun folk and looks up Wiran
Qine: How are you finding the revolution?
Wiran:  Suits me fine but then I’m not the one with the class politics.
Qine: Maybe we can all learn.  I would be interested to hear what you think about interaction between the young master and those who might have been thought of as the lower orders.
Wiran: You, interested in that? It’s not difficult.  The language is Normal Human.
Qine: Say I don’t speak it and not met many who do.
Wiran: Not hard.  You’re working.  Sarat wanders over.  First of all he asks you if you’re free to chat.  Took a bit of time for lads to learn to reply in Normal Human of course.  If you’re pressed for time, love to laters, that’s cool.  If you’re happy to chat, he doesn’t just get himself some tea, he gets you one too.  Settles himself down, probably on the ground.  Don’t mention crates! If you’re fixing something, engine, anything, and you tell him you think the part you’re struggling to insert is badly designed and how it could be better, he listens.  You know he listened because next thing you know you’ve got an engineer wanting to hear all about it.  Same goes for all of them, of course, and all the cats.  Yes, there are people with ears in Kadun!  The shock was considerable but it seems to me recovery was remarkably fast.
Qine: And.  I would not be an idiot about these things.  I can see that anyone can be maybe a dumbfuck.  The young gentlemen would get an earful that would not be quite appropriate?
Wiran: I think incapable of cruelty to dumb animals.  Think of the hamsters.  Say Sarat weren’t who he is. Vet, my arse! is my personal view, but maybe you can make revolutions as a vet.  I think he’d have started an IT company, probably made himself a packet on the Grid.  That or joined CLIK of course! Led the revolution from your side!  But I think my point is, he’d run his IT company exactly the way he runs this place.  No yessir nossir, no faffing about. No dumbfuck crap. Does that make sense to you?
Qine: It does. Running it like Sohenoil, maybe.  Learned how to run things from grandad, no question he wouldn’t be doing the running.
Wiran: ROTFL.  I think – in any open system people like Sarat.  Or Mitch.  You can’t think Mitch wouldn’t impact, even if he weren’t Var-sega’.  You’d say privilege perpetuates itself.  I’d say: yes and no.  There has to be a brain attached.  You cannot say Sarat is here because he was born with a title.  Hey, guys, I’m Anile Emperor.  The observable fact that I’m a stupid, lazy, vicious little fuck doesn’t matter. 
Qine: Who expects to be waited on and treats everyone else like muck.  Maybe my question is about little boys. Going to go on with the high life?  Always find a few to fawn on them.  Places like bloody Blatni.  On Welfare?  Doing a honest day’s work, more like!
Ski-resort in the Lausanine.
Wiran: Maybe not tomorrow! The head’s been taken off it.  No idea what that means in practical terms. Cutting off their oxygen.  Bit hard for us proles to gauge what it means to them that His Imperial Majesty thinks they’re human vomit. 
Qine: But he clearly does.
Wiran: No quesch.  Doesn’t Mitch?  Why don’t you come and look round? 
Qine: Got an entry-ticket.  As I hear, everyone’s got one of those.
Wiran: But you don’t want to talk, you want to watch?
Qine: Data collection. Must be some as don’t like it. White-gloved officer-types.
Wiran: Same thing.  Marked change in air-quality.  Again it’s not hard.  “I am to be obeyed!”  Oh really?   The whole structure used to support them.  Now it leaves them gasping for air. 
Qine:  And they accept it?
Wiran: Real loons not of course.  The slightly sane might be a bit bruised.  It works, that’s the point. 
 
Qine doesn’t drive but he can catch a train like anyone else.  He had to like the standard class carriage that whizzed him the width of the continent.  He also had to like that no-one by Kadun standards looked poor.  Of course no-one had much on, either.  When it’s cold, it really shows.
So this is Zur.  There’s a band playing in the middle of the station.  There are lots of things in the station.  Jugglers.  You don’t get that in Kadun.  Stalls.  Business before pleasure.  Info desk.  How would I get to Carlin from here?  Bus.  That would be an entrepreneurial spirit, I think.  Hmm.
Where’s it go?  Car-sandis.  Got a timetable, have you, please.  Sure.  Carlin village.  That would seem to do nicely. Got a map, have you, lass.  Please. 
He sat at the bus-stop and reckoned it too far to walk, take all day.  Could be interesting, mind.  No-one stopping me, got papers, have you, lad.  Must be folk coming and going. 
The bus-stop in the village is outside the post-office.  Anyone knows his way around, it’s the postie.
“I’m wondering how I get up to the camp.”
“Get un boicycle?  Hoire un arp art Sooti’s. Take ee abowt 2 hours.”
Qine grinned.
“Puts off city-folk, does it?”
Gerdi grinned back.
Qine pedalled through the hedgerows of Carlin.  Ooof!  Last thing I am is unfit.  Long time since I’ve been on a bike.  Must be different muscles.
He dismounted slowly and wheeled his bike up to the gate.
“I’d be looking for Mitch.  Old friend of his from Var-sega’.”
Mitch and another are making marks in mud with sticks.  It appears the scale of the subject of their discourse is too big for phones (the marks in the mud may just resemble a map of Kadun) and of course the poor benighted creatures are yet to discover holograms.
“What is imperative,” Mitch is saying, “have we not just heard the riot act, is to block the Ciletij border.”
The other guy nods.
“We should do more.  Surround Azt.”
“I like it – Qine! Welcome to Carlin!  Old friend of mine.”
“Thought I’d have a look round,” said Qine.
Sarat’s over with the aircrew, thought Mitch.  Tact is my middle name.
“What do you think about garbage disposal?”
“Keep our rubbish to ourselves,” said Qine.  “Will he hang them?”
“Yup,” said Mitch.
“Good,” said Qine.  “All right if I have a bit of wander, is it.”
“Sure.”
“I was wondering if I could have bit of a brush-up.  Biked here!”
“Not from V-S!”
“Nah!  Up from the village.  Came on the bus from Zur.  That what they call entrepreneurism, is it.  Soon as there’s an opening, someone grabs his chance.”
“Excuse me, we can get a bus to Zur?”
“That is extreme!”
“We avoid the village,” explained Mitch.  “Journo plague.  I too did not know.  Sounds cool to me.  Pretty much I should say so.  But probably an existing bus-company.”
“Want a shower?”
“I would not say no to that!”
“Follow me!”  Half a dozen strides on.  “Known Mitch long?”
Lot of answers to that, thought Qine.  Keep it brief.
“Yes. Politics in common!”
“Anarchy, nothing like it!”
“Enjoying the new order, then?”
“I am.”
“Might I ask why?”
“No bloody crap.  Here we are.  Got a towel?”
“I have.  Everyone use these, do they?”
Usual communal shower.
“Up to and including. Not the girls.  We are modern, we are cool.  We don’t go that far!  I think you have to understand – we didn’t. They’ve all of them swum nude, been on the beach nude.  Don’t think they have the word modesty in Fidub.”
Qine felt mischievous.
“Treat for the gay lads.  Not that they exist, of course.”
“That one – some of the lads, be the only bloke among 20 women and that’s fine, but not, under any circs.  Funny that, don’t really understand.”
“Hasiyata and Venga too?”
“Yes, well.  Yes.  To certain people’s.  Rumour is there was an eruption.  Rumour is Sarat said tough shit.  Rumour is Sarat said, OK, stink then.  Just keep away from me. Just rumour.”
“I like rumour. Certain amount of tarting up.”
“Could call it that.” 
A couple of dolphins who just might look like Sarat and Maya leapt out of a wall of spray.  Elsewhere were a number of heavily armed seahorses. An extremely aggressive looking bar of soap defied the world: Tread on me! One of the seahorses had a crutch.   
“The lads did this?”
“Once they’d got the idea.  Only took a couple of ticks.  They don’t see why the boring bits should be boring.  Can’t put it better than that.  Not a way of thinking we were used to, but not one to reject. The quality of the hot water supply has probably improved too. Been to the Canteen yet?”
“Saw something about that in the papers.  The word was ‘bistro’.”
“Yeah, well, the Press.  It’s nice.  Nothing fussy. Leave you to decide!  AMI lent a hand there.  If there’s one thing those boys know about it’s food.  Daddy made ‘em work there in the holidays. Mind you, some of the blokes got a bit twitched. If there’s one thing the Army’s never been stupid about it’s food hygiene and of course some of us are country boys.  We do know one end of a cabbage from another.  Wasn’t like that.  We think they’re all simple creatures at heart. If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.  If it’s not good enough for me, it’s not good enough for anyone.”
“Still the ones with the cash.”
“Never thought Mitch was poor.”
“I have heard it said, before our little revolution, Army was the first decent meal some of the lads ever had in their lives.”
“Lot of truth in that.  ‘Course like just about everything else it depended on where you posted.”
“Laundry?” asked Qine.  “How would I wash me shorts?”
 
Well, now, here I am.  Just go for a wander and see what there is to see.  So he walked into Tana from Sardun.
“Well, now, the revolution’s really here!”
“Taking an intelligent interest,” said Qine.
“Catch up with you laters.”
 
Maya is having another of those fascinating conversation about cold, partly from the social justice angle, partly not.
“That’s something to get angry about.”
“Get used to it.”
“That’s the truth of it, you just f-lipping get used to never being quite warm enough.”
“It’s me nan I get angry about.  Trapped, with her legs bad.  Can’t go out three months of the year.  We’re not so poor she’s cold but they don’t bother to clear the streets our district.  If we don’t sweep ‘em ourselves, it’s an ice-field out there.”
“You need good grippers.”  He turned to Maya.  “That’s like spikes you put on over your boots.”
“Real fun fighting in Azt,” said Maya.
“We’ve got a couple of ideas about that.”  He glared at the press-fiends. “Tell yer private-like.”
“That’d be great,” said Maya.
So that’s it, thought Qine.  Nowt to get worked up about.  That’s ‘Her Imperial Majesty’ and that’s that.  Just see if I can take a look at the other half!
The other half evaded discovery so Qine thought he’d have a bite.  CANTEEN.  Oh, someone has been having fun.  The sign was a collage of foodstuffs, bowls of steaming stew, sizzling sausages, and even heaps of patsito.  A limpid-eyed fawn cow displayed a poster saying ‘Fresh milk and cheese.’  The inside was pale grey and the benches and tables a freshly painted black.  Nice lighting too.  Bloody Army not a flaming bistro.  Why not a flaming bistro.  He mused on the probable civilizing of behaviour in showers.  What’s the grub, then?  That stew smells good. Nothing fancy. Don’t know what that is. That, however, is salad.  Why not, after all, probably this year’s crop. Not a lot of lettuce grown in Giraga.  Bet everyone in Carlin ate better than most folk  He settled down with his stew and watched and listened.   Need to work out where I’m going to sleep tonight.  Roll me sleeping-bag out against the side of a hut, probably no-one’d take any notice!  Oh!
Sarat had come in with Cioulis.  Only problem I have with this is no-one’s paying a blind bit of attention.  But that lad I know.  Can’t resist.
He got up and went over to them.  Sarat was just passing Cioulis a tray.
“Haven’t seen you for some time!  Thought I’d introduce meself to Sarat.”
“Hi,” said Sarat.
“Qine.  Friend of Mitch’s.”
Sarat grinned.
“Spetzi’s comrade in arms.”
We are informed, aren’t we.
“Or just comrade,” said Cioulis.
“I do revolution,” said Sarat.
“That you do, I grant.  Just might have a few questions.”
“Food,” said Sarat.  He made to get Qine a tray.
“I just ate, thank you.”
“Get you a coffee, then.”
Cioulis was examining the fare.
“Veggies? It looks good.  I’m not saying it doesn’t look good.  Smells delish. What is it?”
The lad behind the counter caught Sarat’s eye.
“Think Sarat can tell yer.  Thought we’d experiment a bit.”
“Fidub eats a lot of it,” said Sarat.  “So far we’re alive. Sea veg.”
Baz said: “The curly stuff is esintia, the strandy stuff is rarzin, and the chopped up bits are caline.”
Paw said: “It’s actually pretty yummy.”
“I shall be bold,” said Cioulis, “I shall be daring.”
“Cultivated, are they?” asked Qine.  “I mean, undersea farming?”
“They are.”
“I have visions,” said Cioulis, “guys in the Rabbiters’ in snorkels.”
“Milk, sugar?” asked Sarat.
“One, if you please.  No milk.”
“Five coffees, please,” said Sarat.  “Three black. One one sugar, one two.”
“Bring ‘em over to you, if you want to sit down.”
“Thanks.”
“Window-seat!” said Cioulis.
“The view is amazing,” said Baz.
They settled themselves.
“There’s good boys,” said Qine, “like you and Mitch.  What are you going to do about the crap, the idle rich.”
“As in,” asked Sarat, “stopping them being both idle and rich?”
“That’s what I had in mind.  Sort of folk who hang around in places like Blatni.”
“Shit on them from a great height?” said Cioulis.
Qine laughed.
“Aye, but how?”
“You’d make work compulsory?” asked Sarat.
“For – I would.”
“No,” said Sarat. 
“All right, why not.”
“People are free to be shit,” said Sarat.  “The difference is other people saying so.  Whether they spread disease.”
Qine cocked his head.
“I think I can see you, your – government, an elected Senate won’t pay no heed.”
“Can you?” asked Sarat.
Qine laughed again.
“Nothing made me think you pulled your punches. Bottom line is they’re – people like you.”
“So I’m going to pay more attention to them than to you?”
“I would not think that.”
“So?”
“You would say, capital has rights.  You have to or give it all away. You keep it.  They keep it.  It’s power.  More power than folk without.  You, Mitch, you use it to do good.  Not for a moment denying.  They use it to do bad.  How can you stop that if you don’t take it off them?”
“So there’s a bias.”
“Say a lad’s making trouble somewhere.  In a factory.  You’ll say law’s on his side.  You’re on his side.  Everyone’s on his bloody side.  But what does that mean?  They buy people.  Buy the cops.  How does the lad keep his kiddies safe?  That’s what I mean. Kadun’s a big place. Can’t give protection to everyone who has a run-in.”
“Maybe.  Depends on how much of it.”
“What we’re for,” cut in Baz.
“We do cutting crap good,” said Paw.
“’Course,” said Baz, “could do with a hand.  All the local people. Not to mention the Press.”
“People have to stop being frightened,” said Sarat. “That’s the point.”
“What happens,” said Baz.  “Your example.  All his mates get scared or most of them, back down? .   What happens if everyone says piss off?   Maybe someone tells a cat.  Maybe that fixes it. First thing is call in the Press, just to make sure.  What do they do then, whine to Sarat about the sacred right to fuck people over?”
“That’s what’d happen in Fidub?”
“All over the papers the next day.  Juicier the better.  Threats, blackmail.”
“Friend of mine, he says you cut off the oxygen.”
“That’s the idea,” said Sarat.
“And say they do whine.  It’s their money.  They have a right to judge how to use it.”
“Within the limits of the law, of course,” cooed Baz.  “Which are a bit hazy at the moment, as you know.  They do whine.  You should see Sarat’s Inbox.”
“That had not occurred to me.”
“Maybe you’d like to answer some of it!”
“Of course it’s not quite as acid as your example.  No-one’s saying I’ve bought the local coppers and you can’t touch me.  Am I to understand, then, sir.  You got it, guy, in a nutshell.”
“If there’s one person,” said Baz.  “Some people are just not very bright.  Would Sarat be interested in some kind of deal.  Most of them are quite bright enough to grasp the last thing they want is Sarat on their Board.”
Sarat’s phone rang.
He listened.
“Something’s happened in Vaudos.  Not sure what.  Catch up with you later.  Or possibly sooner.”
And that will be all over the camp in 10 seconds.
He stood up
“Have your attention, guys…This is where it starts.  We are not, repeat not under attack.  The guys in Vaudos haven’t so much as twitched their toenails.  Only there’s – call it enemy activity, aim as yet unknown.  Tell you more when I know more.”
 
Something is happening at the House, on camera 24.  Oh right.  Shimmering, motile maybe-metal.  A little it looks  like a fence made of fine gold wires: it is flexible, curves.  Hovers.  Moves.  If you wanted to physicalize  - is there such a word – a force field, you might make it look like that.  It does not appear to have any affect on the ground over which it passes: for instance vegetation does not wither and die.  Is someone having us on?  Also, the Cult is not renowned for doing pretty, and it is, very, glinting in the moonlight.  It doesn’t even stop the clocks.  Maybe it has to be activated.  Maybe it isn’t real. 
 
It is undulating very slowly north, towards the Third Army.  And Corsin.  This bit of Vaudos, you will have gathered, is pretty empty.  It’s going to meet people.  Won’t they notice?  Will anything be left of them?
 
Sarat arrived.  It’s a walking fence.  Does it talk, does it play the piano.  Does it sing?
 
A fox appears, stops, approaches.  Passes through, vanishes.  Whoops!  But no, re-appears apparently unharmed on the other side.  And the point of that is what?  What happens to the human mind in that millisecond of disappearance?   Don’t do animal experiments, especially on humans.
Maybe didn’t really disappear, went into?
 
“There is a creature,” said Saban, “who is expendable.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” said Sarat.
“Then one of us?”
“Show her the pictures,” suggested Cioulis.
 
“This,” said Taja, “appears to be ‘It’. Your comments?”
“Death,” said Vasili. 
“That is an expletive?”
“It is death.”
“How is it death?”
“Madness and death.”
“Try again.  What is it?”
“Extinction.  Annihilation. Death.”
“You seem more knowledgeable.”
“I lied.”
“When do you ever tell the truth?”
 
“What is death to them,” said Venga.  “I will go.”
“If I forbid,” said Sarat.
“I shall pay no heed!”
“No,” said Hass.  “It should it must be me.”
“I sort of follow,” said Mel.  ”Let me talk to Qartly.”
“Ah-hah!” said Karmen.
Mel on the phone.
“A load of possibly screaming garbage about the Anile throne, a walking fence. It doesn’t appear to harm foxes.”
“There must be propulsion,” said Qartly.
“That may be too rational for the current scenario.”
“Human?”
“Where?  The House!”
“Is behind it actually the same as in front of it?” wondered Cioulis.
“A force pulls it forward,” suggested Qartly.
Mel went outside and continued the call.
“We have perhaps triggered it?” asked Karmen.
Maya said: “Maybe it’s not meant for us, just has to freak normal minds.”
“Nice one,” said Sorg, “but then why isn’t it heading for us.  Sort of shield?”
“It’s going to have some effect on us.”
“The stars, the stars,” said Cantilip.  “I get there.”
“Last person,” said Marula abruptly.  “As Hasiyata of course understands.”
Venga laughed.
“May I not grow!”
“Visible waves?” asked Challin.
“That’s an interesting one.”
“Don’t have anything intelligent to say about it, but it’s got to be interesting!”
“I do surely think we have to gaze upon it,” said STB.
“Cunningly disguised as foxes.”
“If we knew what kind of wave, couldn’t we deflect it or split it or something?”
“I think we know that,” said Karmen.
“Time-waves?” sighed Faun. 
“Small detail missing there.”
“I think we’ve been a bit thick,” said Maya.  “Haven’t we assumed only nice people know about the chair?”
     “We are such fools,” said Marula.
     “Gee, where did they get the raw material?” suggested STB.
     “Where are the Ciletij military?” asked Faun.
     Saban sketched rapidly.
     “There.  There.  There.”
     Sarat began to laugh.
     “Sorry.  Tickled my funny-bone.  The lake.  Maybe it likes water.”
     “We aim to please!” said Faun.
     “I suppose the chair is still there?” asked Hass.
     “Not transmogrified into a golden wave!”
     “Mine, all mine?” suggested Sarat.  “I think that would make me unhappy.”
     “We can witness,” said Saban.  “You can never prove.”
     “No,” sighed Sarat, “I could never prove.”
     Mel came back.
     “Qartly’s verdict, for what it’s worth: Kilana siy tan.”
     “We may just have got there ourselves.”
     “There are still unanswered questions.  If it were heading for us.  It is not.”
     “If it leads the Third Army.”
     “Good to know what is pulling/pushing/propelling.”
     “Suppose which I doubt we can change its direction.  What do we do with it!”
     “Nonetheless,” said Mel, “I think we have to get going.”
     “Whole new meaning to going with the flow?”
     “Just working out,” said Sarat, “how to tell the guys they may be under imminent attack by a walking fence.”
     “Which we think will blow their minds and make them useless.”
     “That’s the one,” said Sarat.
     “Do we have the nerve to ignore it?” asked Hass.
     “An interesting idea,” said Karmen, “but I should vote not.”
     “OK,” said Sarat.  “We do exactly what we were going to do. Except.”
     “Change of venue!”
     “None of that’s the problem, though,” said Mel.  “You can see why she thinks we’re doomed.”
     “We can see,” said Karmen.
     WTF that mean?  It means Corsin have learned how to handle, and so be immune to, positive energy. 
     “Oh I see,” said Maya and STB practically at the same time.
     “Why the brother is a quivering wreck,” said Maya.
     “Someone was an experimental animal,” said STB.
 
Hi, little fence.  Come out with your posts up.  You are surrounded.  What you are surrounded by may/might confuse even you.  Or it may not.  Be prepared!  Sigh. We were going to do this round the House.  Oh no: and we’re going to do this  around the House.  And at Hokabi.  Ooh, ooh, isn’t life exciting.  It’s basically our own ‘cleansing ritual’, Faun had explained.  You could not recite some of that ancient-speak and keep a straight face.  But so far as anyone can tell, all the movements are genuine.  It has to look really really good. And who is watching?  That is what we’re going to find out.