The Brave Free Men Read online

  He specified two interacting organs of government. The first, a Council of Patricians, included the directors of transportation, trade and economics, communication, law and justice, military forces, an Aesthete of Garwiy, a musician, a scientist, a historian, two persons of eminence, and two persons selected by the second council. The Council of Patricians would be self-perpetuating, selecting its own members, discharging them by a consensus of two-thirds. One of the group would be chosen First of Shant, to serve a term of three years or until voted from office by a consensus of two-thirds.

  The second body, the Council of Cantons, comprised representatives from each of the sixty-two cantons and additional delegates from the cities Garwiy, Brassei, Maschein, Oswiy, Ilwiy, and Whearn.

  The Council of Cantons might propose acts and measures to the Council of Patricians and further might expel a member of the Council of Patricians by a two-thirds vote. A separate College of Justice would guarantee equity to each person of Shant. The Director of Law and Justice sitting on the Council of Patricians would be selected from the fellows of the College of Laws.

  Etzwane called together Mialambre:Octagon, Doneis, San-Sein, Brise and Finnerack and set forth his proposals. All agreed that the system merited at least a trial, and only Finnerack put forth serious objections. “You overlook one matter: at large and living in Shant are the magnates who won their ease through the pain of others. Should not the concept of indemnification be codified into the new system?”

  “This is more properly a matter for adjudication,” said Etzwane.

  Finnerack warmed to his subject. “Further, why should some toil for a mouthful of bread while long-fingered sybarites partake of Forty-Five Dishes? The good things should be divided; we should start the new system on a basis of equality.”

  Mialambre responded: “Your sentiments are generous and do you credit. All I can say is that such drastic redistributions have previously been attempted, always to result in chaos, and cruel tyranny of one sort or another. This is the lesson of history, which we must now heed.”

  Finnerack gave a non-committal grunt and offered no further opinions.

  Seven companies of Brave Free Men, augmented by the now enthusiastic militia, attacked the Roguskhoi on four broad fronts. The Roguskhoi, adapting to their new vulnerability, moved by night, sheltered in forests and wildernesses, attacked by surprise, seeking always women, sometimes at vast risk to themselves. Grudgingly they retreated from the coast, back through cantons Marestiy and Faible.

  Etzwane received a report from Doneis, the Director of Technical Achievement. “The Roguskhoi imps have been studied at length. They prove to be creatures of the most peculiar sort, and it is hard to understand their human semblance; nevertheless they require a human woman as hostess for their spawn. In what conceivable environment could they have so evolved?”

  “In Palasedra, so it has been suggested.”

  “This is possible; Palasedrans have long been evolving a warrior sort. Certain Caraz mariners claim to have seen the creatures. It is a great puzzle.”

  “Have you learned how the Roguskhoi identify women?”

  “There was no problem here. One of the female essences lures them. They are drawn as sure as an ahulph strikes carrion; they will detect the most evanescent whiff and strive through any obstacle to sate themselves.”

  The Brave Free Men now numbered over five thousand. Finnerack had become more remote and single-minded than ever; rancor seemed to burn inside him like fire in a stove. Etzwane’s uneasiness grew in proportion. To reduce the scope of Finnerack’s authority, Etzwane fragmented the leadership into five phases. Black Finnerack became Captain of Strategy; San-Sein was Captain of Field Operations; additionally there were Captains of Logistics, Recruitment and Training, Weaponry.

  Finnerack protested the new situation in a cold fury. “Always you make things more cumbersome! In the place of one Anome you give us a hundred politicians; for one responsible and efficient commander you substitute a committee of five. Is this sensible? I wonder at your motives!”

  “They are simple,” said Etzwane. “An Anome can no longer control Shant; a hundred men are needed. The war, the armies of Shant, their strategy, tactics and goals are likewise too large for the control of a single man.”

  Finnerack removed his black hat and threw it into a corner. “You underestimate me.”

  “This, I assure you, is not the case,” said Etzwane.

  The two examined each other for a moment without friendliness. Etzwane said, “Sit down a moment; I want to ask you something.”

  Finnerack went to a divan, leaned back, thrust his black boots out across the Burazhesq rug. “What is your question?”

  “A short time ago you disappeared for three days. When you returned you gave no account of your whereabouts. What happened to you during this time?”

  Finnerack gave a sour grunt. “It is unimportant.”

  “I think not,” said Etzwane. “A short time ago I went to my suite and was drugged by some sort of gas, or so I suppose. I awoke three days later, without any knowledge of what had transpired. Is this what happened to you?”

  “More or less,” Finnerack brought the words forth reluctantly.

  “Have you noticed any consequences of this event? Do you feel yourself different in any way?”

  Finnerack again paused before replying. “Of course there are no differences. Do you feel differences?”

  “No. None whatever.”

  Finnerack had departed; Etzwane still lacked insight into the workings of Finnerack’s mind. Finnerack had no obvious weaknesses: no yearning for ease, wealth, drink, fair women, soft living. Etzwane could not say as much for himself, though recognizing the dangers of self-indulgence he tried to live in relative austerity. Dashan of Szandales, either by her initiative or his own — Etzwane had never felt certain of the matter — had become his mistress. The situation pleased Etzwane because of its convenience. In due course, when once again he became a musician, the situation no doubt would alter.

  San-Sein, the Captain of Field Operations, one morning came into Etzwane’s office with a roll of charts. “We are presented an opportunity of great promise,” he stated. “The Roguskhoi have broken; they retreat toward the Hwan. One horde moves south through Ascalon and Seamus, another in Ferriy has pulled back into Bastern, and this column from Cansume has entered South Marestiy and marches toward Bundoran. Do you see where they tend?”

  “If they plan to return into the Wildlands, they more than likely will pass up Mirk Valley.”

  “Exactly. Now here is my plan, which I have already discussed and cleared with Finnerack. Suppose that we harry the column close on the rear, enough to keep them curious; but that here at Mirk Defile we prepare an ambush.”

  “All very well,” said Etzwane, “but how do you bring troops to Mirk Defile?”

  “Notice the balloon-way and the prevailing winds. If we loaded forty balloons at Oswiy and let them fly free they would reach Mirk Defile in six hours. The winch-tender need only put down to discharge troops, then continue south to the Great Ridge Route.”

  Etzwane considered. “The idea sounds appealing. But what of the winds? I was born in Bashon and as I recall they blow down the Mirk as often as up. Have you spoken to the meteorologists?”

  “Not yet. Here are the wind arrows on the chart.”

  “The project is far too chancy. Suppose we run into a calm? They often occur about this time. We’d have forty balloon-loads of men lost deep in the Wildlands. Rather than balloons we need gliders.” Etzwane suddenly remembered the builders of Canton Whearn. He reflected a moment, then bent over the map. “Mirk Defile is the obvious route. Suppose the Roguskhoi learned of the ambush? They might very well turn aside at Bashon and head west, past Kozan, before turning south into the Wildlands. We can put troops into Kozan without difficulty; the balloon-way passes only twenty miles west. Here on Kozan Bluffs is where we must set up our ambush.”

  “But how do we apprise the Roguskhoi
of the Mirk ambush, so that they will turn aside?”

  “Leave that to me. I know a subtle method. If it succeeds, well and good. If it fails, we are no worse off than before. Your instructions are these: confide to no one that the Mirk Valley ambush is non-operative. The secret must lie between you and me alone. Ready your troops at Oswiy; load the balloons but, rather than allowing them to drift free, send them south along the balloon-way into Seamus. Disembark, march to Kozan Bluffs and establish your ambush.”

  San-Sein was gone. The plot had been set into motion. Once again Brise would be the instrument of news leakage to Aun Sharah.

  Etzwane went to his telephone and called the Intelligence Agency radio operator. “Make contact with Pelmonte in Canton Whearn. Request that the Chief Superintendent be brought to the microphone, and thereupon notify me.”

  An hour later Etzwane heard the voice of the Chief Superintendent of Whearn. Etzwane said, “Do you remember when Gastel Etzwane, the Anome’s assistant, passed through Whearn several months ago?”

  “I do indeed.”

  “At such time I recommended that you build gliders. What progress have you made in this direction?”

  “We have done your bidding. We have built gliders, to the best design. With a dozen complete and with no word from you we have somewhat slowed the pace of our construction.”

  “Proceed once again at full haste. I will send men to Whearn to take delivery.”

  “Do you plan to send flyers?”

  “We have none to send.”

  “Then they must be trained. Select a contingent of your best, send them to Pelmonte. In due course they will fly the gliders wherever you wish.”

  “This is what shall be done. Thanks to men like yourself the Roguskhoi are in retreat. We have come a far way these last few months.”

  Chapter XII

  Brise spoke to Etzwane. “I have followed your instructions. Aun Sharah knows of the Mirk ambush. It is a job for which I do not consider myself fitted.”

  “Nor more do I. But the job must be done. Now we will wait for eventualities.”

  Reports came hourly to Etzwane. A Roguskhoi column formed of four raiding parties, representing the total force which had subdued northeast Shant, marched south up the Mirk Valley, accompanied by an unknown number of captive women. Brave Free Men mounted on pacers harried the Roguskhoi flanks and rearguard, and themselves suffered casualties as a result of Roguskhoi counter-maneuvers; the way of the column was marked by a line of corpses.

  The horde approached Bashon, where the temple, deserted and forlorn, had already entered the first stages of decay.

  At Rhododendron Way the column paused. Six chieftains, conspicuous for bibs of metal chain hanging over their chests, conferred and peered up Mirk Valley toward the Hwan. There was however no indecision; they swung west along Rhododendron Way, passing under the great dark trees. Hearing the news, Etzwane remembered an urchin named Mur playing in the white dust under these same trees. At the end of Rhododendron Way, with open country before them, the chieftains paused once again to confer. An order was passed down the column; a score of warriors stepped off into the foliage beside the Way. The threat of their scimitars effectually prevented any close pursuit by the cavalry, which must now retreat and circle either north or south of the Way.

  The Roguskhoi left the main road and slanted south into the Hwan foothills. Above them bulked Kozan Bluffs, a knob of gray limestone pocked by ancient caves and tunnels.

  The Roguskhoi approached the bluff. From the west came a company of Brave Free Men; from the east paced the cavalry which had harried the rear. The Roguskhoi jogged up toward the Hwan, passing close under Kozan Bluff. From the holes and crannies came sudden white streaks of gunfire. From the east the Brave Free Men cavalry approached; and likewise from the west.

  Placards of purple, green, pale blue and white announced the new government of Shant:

  The Brave Free Men have liberated our country. For this we rejoice and celebrate the unity of Shant. The Anome has graciously given way to an open and responsive government, consisting of a Purple House of Patricians and a Green House of the Cantons. Already three manifestos have been issued:

  THERE ARE TO BE NO MORE TORCS.

  THE INDENTURE PROGRAM IS TO BE HIGHLY MODIFIED.

  RELIGIOUS SYSTEMS MAY COMMIT NO FURTHER CRIMES.

  The Purple Patricians include the following:

  Listed were the directors and their functions. Gastel Etzwane, a director-at-large, was declared Executive Director. The second director-at-large was Jerd Finnerack. San-Sein was Director of Military Affairs.

  Aun Sharah occupied the top floor of an ancient blue and white glass structure behind the Corporation Plaza, almost under the Ushkadel. His office was very large, almost eccentrically bare of furnishing. The high north wall consisted entirely of clear glass panes. The work-table was at the center of the room; Aun Sharah sat looking north through the great expanse of glass. When Etzwane and Finnerack entered the room, he nodded courteously and rose to his feet. For five seconds a silence held; the three stood each in his attitude in the great bare room, fateful as players on a stage.

  Etzwane spoke formally: “Aun Sharah, we are forced to the conviction that you are working adversely to the interests of Shant.”

  Aun Sharah smiled as if Etzwane had paid him a compliment. “It is hard to please everybody.”

  Finnerack took a slow step forward, then drew back and said nothing.

  Etzwane, somewhat nonplussed by Aun Sharah’s agreeable demeanor, spoke on. “The fact of your actions is established. Still, we are puzzled as to your motives. In fostering the cause of the Roguskhoi, how do you gain, how do you serve yourself?”

  Aun Sharah, still smiling — peculiarly, so Etzwane thought — asked: “Has the fact been demonstrated?”

  “Abundantly. Your conduct has been under scrutiny for several months. You prompted Shirge Hillen of Camp Three to kill me; you put spies on my movements. As Director of Material Procurement you have in several instances substantially lessened the war effort by diverting effort into non-essential projects. At Thran in Green Stone your ambush of Brave Free Men failed, by luck alone. In the engagement at Kozan Bluff we have achieved decisive proof. You were informed that Mirk Defile was to be guarded, whereupon the Roguskhoi veered aside and were destroyed. The reality of your guilt is established. Your motives are a cause for perplexity.”

  The three again stood silently in the center of the vast bleak room.

  “Please sit down,” said Aun Sharah gently. “You have pelted me with such a barrage of nonsense that my mind is confused and my knees are weak.” Etzwane and Finnerack remained standing; Aun Sharah sat down and took up stylus and paper. “Please repeat your bill of charges, if you will.”

  Etzwane did so, and Aun Sharah made a list. “Five items: all wind and no substance. Many men have been destroyed for as little.”

  Etzwane began to feel perplexed. “You deny the charges then?”

  Aun Sharah smiled his curious smile. “Let me ask rather, can you prove any of the charges?”

  “We can,” said Finnerack.

  “Very well,” said Aun Sharah. “We will consider the items one at a time — but let us call in the jurist Mialambre:Octagon to weigh the evidence, and Director of Transportation Brise as well.”

  “I see no objection to this,” said Etzwane. “Let us go to my office.”

  Back in his old office Aun Sharah waved the others to seats, as if they were underlings he had summoned to conference. He addressed Mialambre: “Not half an hour ago Gastel Etzwane and Black Finnerack entered my office and delivered themselves of a set of five charges, so preposterous that I suspect their sanity. The charges are these:” Aun Sharah read off his list.

  “The first accusation, that I notified Shirge Hillen of Etzwane’s coming is no more than an unfounded suspicion, the more vicious in that Etzwane has made no attempt to find an alternative solution. I suggested that he investigate the balloon-way offices;
this he neglected to do. I made a few quiet inquiries; in twenty minutes I learned that a certain Parway Harth had in fact sent out an intemperate and somewhat ambiguous message which Shirge Hillen might well have understood as an order to kill Gastel Etzwane. I can prove this three different ways; through Parway Harth, through a subordinate who took the message to the balloon-way radio, and through the files in the balloon-way radio office.

  “Item Two: the charge that I put spies upon Gastel Etzwane. The reference is to a surveillance performed by one of my trackers: an act of casual interest. I do not deny this charge; I claim that it is too trivial to be significant of anything whatever.

  “Item Three: as Director of Material Procurement I have in several instances diminished the war effort. In hundreds of instances I have augmented the war effort. I complained to Gastel Etzwane that my abilities did not lie in this direction; he stubbornly ignored my statement. If the war effort suffered, the fault is his alone. I did my best.

  “Items Four and Five: I arranged a Roguskhoi ambush at Thran and I attempted to betray an ambush of our own in Mirk Valley. A few days ago I stepped into the office of Director Brise. In a most peculiar and embarrassed manner he contrived an elephantine hint as to an ambush in Mirk Valley. I am a suspicious man, skilled at intrigue. I detected a plot. I declared as much to Brise; I further insisted that he leave me alone not for an instant, day or night; he must absolutely assure himself that I had transmitted no information. I convinced him that such was his duty to Shant, that if an ambush were in fact betrayed we must learn the true culprit. To do this, we must be able to demonstrate my innocence beyond argument. He is a reasonable and honorable man; he agreed to my analysis of the situation. I ask you now, Brise: did I, during the applicable period, inform anyone at any time of anything whatsoever?”