- Most pernicious
- Be careful what you wish for...
- New Page
- New Page
- Homeric hymn to Pan
- New Page
- Home
- What the hell. I have nothing to lose
- My Adventures
- My Story
-
Essentials
- The earth is not flat
- The abolition of mind
- Things that only need saying once-one e tel
- Manners makyth man
- Coal in the bath and the victim culture
- The withdrawal of love and forcing oneself on others
- So some guys had the really freaky idea that we should love one another
- Jesus!
- 'Judge not that ye be not judged'
- Goo
- The way we were: Anglican England
- 'Avatars of living grace'
- Ditching the theology of love
- Reality >
- PANTHER: the argument
- Moi
- The new Marxism
- Dill's World (blog)
- New Page
- The collapse of education
- The Anile Heir
- For Katie: Harry Secombe: 'The Lord is my Shepherd'
- For Katie: He who would valiant be
-
'And now Amanda is seriously ill.'
- Otting
- THAT AM I >
- Medicine: the joke
- It's like this, Doc >
- Medicine: the continuing joke
- 'By Tummel and Loch Rannoch'
- The laughing-stock of the civilized world
- And be damned to you
- In the garden with Mummy
- Transforming the Na-Mhoram's Grim
- Blair: the icing on the cake
- Expecto patronam
- Scarlet battalions
- My family: any colour so long as it's red
- Back to the freaking juniper-tree (1)
- Back to the freaking juniper-tree (2)
- Our grandfather who art in heaven (though I doubt it), Howard be thy name
- So you have a problem with my family, fucker?
- 'Jew-Communists'
- Margaret, my great-grandmother, an Irish tart
- The FUQs
- Dear Wannabe Nemesis
- Shall we try again, Bobbles my sweet?
- Evil
- Dixi (that's Latin, you know, Father)
- The cultural use of the lamp-post
- A home from home
- All times are now (1)
- All times are now (2)
- For Katie: All times are now (3)
- For Katie: All times are now (4)
- For Katie; All times are now (5)
- For Katie: All times are now (6)
- Non serviam
- This colour doesn't run
- The balance
- Civilization - the balance
-
Gallery
- And be damned to you
- Catholic Encyclopaedia 1912: Obedience
- Voltaire and Jesus
- Tertullian, Women in Canon Law (1912) and Mulieris Dignitatem (1988)
- Padding through the Vatican archives
- The Vatican State
- Extra ecclesiam nulla salus: go to hell, go directly to hell, do not pass 'Go'
- A short history lesson
- A phrase-book for monkey-nuts
- Summary: the abode of the loon
-
Translations from Voltaire (mine): Concerning the Church of England
>
- Bukharin and Preobrazhensky: Communism and Religion
- Translations from Voltaire (mine): Freedom of Thought
- Translations from Voltaire (mine): Transubstantiation
- Thomas Paine: The Age of Reason
- Lenin: Socialism and Religion
- Marx: 'So much for the social principles of Christianity'
- The Horcruxes and the illusion of power
- 'And death shall have no dominion'
- Led Zep: Kashmir
- Buddhist meditation music: Zen Garden
- Karula
- Summary: the love way or the power way
- Flashtest
- The worst university in the country
- Just finishing off, Dolores
- Miss Smila's feeling for snow
- Death of an expert witness
- Interesting, those trips to Moscow
- 'His single hand portrayed it'
- Of course no-one pays any attention to poets
- The desire of the moth for the flame
- The Hospital
- The ghost in the machine was riled
- I am the very model of a medical practitioner
- I am the very model of a modern faith apologist: reprise
- I am of course reminded of a little list (of a little list)
- In the garden with Mummy when the Nine turned up
- Grow the fuck up, comrades
- Thin red line
- 'The Party', 'The Regiment'
- Once upon a time there was a big red giant
- Britain's not very secret weapon
- The headlines
- The waning of the age of aquarium
- Letter to MI5: Playing The Patriot Game
- Those in peril on the sea
- The Patriot Game (song)
- Country matters: 'Elf and Safety
- The Matter of Britain
- Marianne
- Riders on the storm with soundtrack
- The rat-catchers
- 'And gentleman in England, now a-bed, shall think themselves accurs'd...'
- The evidence no-one asks for
- England
- My father when young 2
- A few of my books
- The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism and Capitalism
- Barry's book-plate (evil grin)
- Barry: 'demob' if only from the MOI and redeployment at JWT
- Barry: publishing contracts with Curtis Brown
- Barry's funeral service
- Family album
- Barbara's 100th birthday
- And Nigel's funeral: read by Saul on the whale-backed Downs
- Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
- Class mum lives in a field with Dinge: the intellectual Left
- Within you, without you
- Because the world is round, it turns me on
- More Lattic and other incredibly cool stuff
- Hass and Venga
- The Lover of Jalaluddin Rumi and some things you never wanted to know about translation
- Love IS the law
- Shahriar's sites for sore eyes
- Islamic art and civilization
- Abu Nuwas
- Fisking Warsi
- Harry's Place v. Scumbag College
- Henrietta wondered if HP was too soft on Sparte-Smythe
- Koorosh Modarresi of the Worker-Communist Party of Iran
- Rumy Hasan of the Birmingham Socialist Alliance
- Sharia socialists
- ComSymp, ShariaSymp: plus ca change....
- Illustrations of the Rubaiyat
- Hell, objectively speaking: St Catherine of Genoa
- Joe Stote
- Katy Kianush
- 'Brothers, if you hear...'
- L'Internationale
- A Lioness's Quest
- The Battle of Evermore
- Rosa Luxemburg
- Love in a time of cholera
- TEKEL: Religious, guys? Doesn't that mean shit?
- Please do not feed the god. He really doesn't appreciate it.
- Instead of God eating people, people eat God. Seems a good swap
- Herstory
- Ultramontanism
- Multiverse defined by the sexual equipment of the human male
- Civis romana sum?
- Sunday School, 1913: 'THE GATES WILL BE OPEN TO ALL MANKIND'
- Huxley
- Consciousness 101
- Jesus Christ the apple-tree
- WE DO NOT KNOW
- Trial before Pilate
- 'For the sake of the nation, this Jesus must die!'
- Much how I feel about doctors and other forms of intellectual pollution in the University, really
- Jesus, a human being
- By all means get us wrong, Father
- 'They turned to Rome to sentence Nazareth'
- Buddhism: frightful threat to the Church, you know
- Dharma the Cat and the Barefoot Doctor
- Non-duality
- Exo, eso, balance, Balrogs et le Parti Communiste Francais 1939-1945
- ComSymp, ShariaSymp: Fit the Second
- Printing and the Reformation
- Glossary
- Early chess: more, er, gentlemen (and ladies)
- The Crusades: it's good to look at dates
- Richard and Saladin: perspectives
- Richard and Saladin: perspectives
- Nathan the Wise
- Portly and the Piper at the Gates of Dawn
- Otters return to Thames (maybe)
- The Ottery, TW9
- Spring: rain and shine
- Problems with numeracy: cardinals, generals and rock 'n' roll
- Franny and Zooey
- The tail does not wag the dog
- Try again? I think not: finale
- How many deaths does it take till they know that too many British Muslim women have died
- Who killed Banaz
- Sexism, racism, Islamophobia, Marxophobia and a rather interesting school
- Aaargh! The Terrible Tonge-Monster!
- Just hammering the stake a little further in
- A second English Civil War: women against women
- The vorpal sword goes snicker-snack
- You were saying...
- Of course I've slain the bloody Jabberwock
- Chapter One - Stalinism is just so yesterday
- The rightful heir, the usurper and the usurper's bloody wife
- Wiping excrement off the sole of one's boo
- Fascism victorious, gloating and spurious - for the moment, certainly
- Six counties (sob, the horror of it) lie under John Bull's tyranny
- Calling Lord Haw-Haw
- Cool Britannia
- 'Hell is just as properly proper as Greenwich or as Bath or Joppa'
- 'Any old iron, any old iron, any, any old iron...'
- The Front Line
- Taking it from the top...
- Happy birthday to m
- Extract from The Anile Heir including Lattic
- My body my self
- Culluket, Kastanessen and of course Coulter
- The Girl Who Talked to Otters
- Notes, some of which are Caroline's
- Our revels now are ended
- Pallas Athene
- More notes
- Pan pipes - conclusions - allegory
- Shit, man, they won't even state their problem in the Agora
- Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad
- Poetry in motion
- Ain't no use in looking down!/Ain't no discharge on the ground!
- Queen - We will rock you!
- Queen - Killer Queen
- The wrong shaped body, inferior product
- What a friend they have in evil, all their sins and griefs to bear
- In sum
- 'Building a remedy for Kruschev and Kennedy'
- Classic Islamoballs (and of course pure Stalinism)
- Deja vu
- Really, there are more important things to think about....
- Sleeping Pan by InertiaK
- Hymn to Pan by Faun
- Pan pipes
- Dirty old men
- For Katie: 'And death shall have no dominion'
- The Stone Table cracked
- 10 intellectual frauds of the orthodox religious and their slaves
- A Miracle of Exmoor: a Christmas masque
- WE DO NOT KNOW
- Intelligent women
- 'Tales of brave Ulysses'
- Coursera
- Free
- Milburn
- A fifth column
- Ain't there nuffink wrong with my back, apes?
- Gunfight at OK Corral
- Gunfight at OK Corral: the movie
- Harmonica and Frank
- Captain's Log: Star-Date Whatever
- Women, the US election, the President of the United States and other cool stuf
- The fury of a woman who has been raped
- "Are all American officers so ill-mannered?"
- The grand-daughter of not-quite-the-founder of the Labour Party
- Meanwhile...the lamp-post
- 'Sarat's little joke': the Economic Liaison Officer to the Anile Throne
- Where have all the SovSymps gone, long time passing...
- Roots and reductionism
- 'At anchor here I ride...'
- 'Against all things ending'
- New Page
- Verstehen Sie?
- Memoirs of London medicine
- 28th August 2010
- Irreducible evil
- Irreducible evil
- Just for you: Anthea Turner - and the python
- Goose-stepping morons should try reading books not burning them
- Just call me Serafina Pekkala, or possibly Lady Godiva
- A few reminders
- More? You want more?
- Grand finale
- It even has a pretty cover
- Bambi
- C'est nous qu'on ose mediter/De rendre a l'antique esclavage!
- A reminder of who is Marianne
- Voici Noel!
- Vicar of Bray
- Spanish Ladies
- Meanwhile back in Scilly....Song of the Western Men
- Twenty years behind enemy lines
- Family tree
- Pavarotti: Little Drummer Boy
- Walking in the air
- 'So you think you can love me and spit in my eye/So you think you can love me and leave me to die'
- Aw, come on, Doc, you're such an academic
- Je suis allee voir dans sa tete
- 16 chants de Noel
- 16 chants de Noel
- Talking of sheep...
- The distancing of Jesus from the churches
- So this is how it is to be
- And....And Stafford....And
- A limp prick and no balls
- Excuse me while I dress my hair with vine leaves
- Excuse me while I dress my hair with vine leaves
- Other notes
- Other notes
- Blair
- No?
- 'Are you still laughing, Sarat?' Pt One
- 'Are you still laughing, Sarat?' Pt Two
- If you're going to Acton Vale, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
- The truth about medicine
- Getting nowhere fast
- Bird in the bloody wilderness
- As I have so tiresomely repetitively said
- Untitled
- That which sustains
- Therefore, Vice-Chancellor
- The lies they tell and the drivel they spout
- Rising above the evil reptilian kitten-eaters
- We too do not do cowering
- What the papers say
- The closed (sealed/wounded/stunted/practically non-existent) mind
- Dust and sparkles: child of Dust and Light and Lenin
- Just screaming
- More ridiculous womanish screaming
- Look, children, do look, it's a Five-Year Plan
- Fictionally speaking...The House that Keir built
- The heavy mob moves in: "We're Ancient Greeks. We do reason. And of course democracy."
- What did New Labour achieve?
- Apollo speaks
- Physician, heal thyself - or not
- Wholly unnecessary footnote
- Ah, the dirty underbelly of medicine
- Artemis' arrows
- Dear Apollo, I think the mind-itch needs to be stronger
- A few hymns
- Rhinoceros!
- Begging them to sue me for 15 years
- 'Now that I lie here/My body all holes/I think of the traitors/Who bargained and sold'
- Of course, if anyone has a spare atom bomb
- Whatever it takes
- Shit on the sole of my boot
- Shit on the sole of my boot
- You will see me dead rather than support me
- Vultures waiting for the flesh that dies
- Would you like to see the state of my mattress?
- 'When you've shouted "Rule, Britannia!"...
- 'I vow to thee, my country...' Aw, come on, you know it makes your skin crawl
- The Fixers
- The prince, the cardinal, the duke, the politician and the professor
- The Enforcers
- Me charm. You just strange
- So what exactly am I saying here?
- Pussy Riot: Yet another day in the destruction of Ivana Denisovich
- Untitled
- Pussy Riot (2): no pasaran
- Just smile for the camera, fuckers
- PANTHER: the animations, though not yet the videos
- Theme music
- So-o-o
- Just a stupid woman screaming
- Just a reminder of the Miracle of Exmoor
- Mess with the best. Die like the rest
- The essential paradigm
- No-one wants me to survive. No-one wants me to succeed
- "Are you still laughing, Sarat?"
- You have heard of the University, Doctor?
- PANTHER: The Manual, out now on Scribd
- Going back to work tomorrow
- The gift of speech
- Point counterpoint
- To cut a long story short, therefore
- To cut a long story even shorter
- A few things you need to note
- Death rather than dishonour
- In brief, therefore
- Start of first draft - what do you think of it so far?
- Let me tell you a story, Jackanory, Jackanory...
- Phase II
- Thus we see the great esteem in which London medicine holds the University
- Washed down the drain
- Raped, butchered, destroyed means what?
- "I invoke Artemis"
- I invoke Artemis (II)
- The closing-down sale. Everything must go
- Murder by remote control
- Insufferable
- Befehl ist Befehl
- Order of play
- The Broadmoor annexe
- I say, don't they shoot collaborators?
- You pay them
- Dear British Public
- Graphically speaking.....
- I have taken a lead
- Endsum
- The good news and the bad news
- The education suitable to the masses prescribed by the C19th industrialist, therefore
- 'Are you still laughing, Sarat?/Medicine: the joke
- I shit on you daily
- It is fact
- A new continuum...Watch this space not
- Lady Sybil's swamp-dragons (footnote to the above)
- The Age of Aquarius
- But of course your usual Christmas present, little sick-bags
- 'Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before'
- There's just one huge and enormous difference, isn't there
- Shall we just highlight that bit?
- Untitled
- Untitled
- Off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz
- Untitled
- 'Don despicable, don of death' Could I leave it out?
- Finish with a summary of the facts
- Roll bloody up for the greatest show on earth
- Just thought to start to make a couple of videos
- Killer Queen
- It is concluded
- A short note
- I need help
- Get out of my university, animals
- Bluestockings
- Oh, when is this going to end?
- Go for it, fuckers, go for it
- Fnords, Jesus and the gerund
- Corsin and coradium
- TAH: Chapter One
- The cancer that is medicine
- The Petri dish
- Hanging them is good. Exposing them is better
- Lattic....
- Female = non-person
- That which sustains reprise
- Faun: Unda. To that which sustains, we can add...
- Non, c'est pas ca
- Quod erat demonstrandum
- To move on, therefore
- So there you have it
- The script
- Ars longa vita brevis
- PANTHER: the movie
- Animal Farm: the midden
- The word is psychopath
- If you prefer, a septic tank
- And the rest
- Twin cores
- Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit
- Here the matter rests at present
- So just what is this bloody nonsense?
- My knowledge of Photoshop has increased by leaps and bounds
- Question One
- Words and pictures
- Etched in acid
- Dear fucking world
- More
- Caniba and Hokabi
- I think - class (Lancashire A, puh-lease, rhymes with gas)
- What is the point of what you are saying? What is it intended to achieve?
- PANTHER was created in 2008
- Happy Samhain
- Profound concern
- The Road to the Isles
- And of course Andy Stewart
- 'Banks on every finger'
- Don't tread on me
- A Miracle of Exmoor: a Christmas masque
- Untitled
- Pretty much a classic, wouldn't you say
- Goose-stepping morons should try reading books not burning them (2)
- There is no reasoning with them
- A little give and take
- Extraordinary irresistible find
- Music
- So there it is, part solution, mostly not
- Reprise: 'Are you still laughing, Sarat?'/Medicine: the joke
- Mireille
- Espèce de pute!
- Etched in stone
- Hate Fal the most?
- Or Shav?
- Or is it Dill?
- Or is it Dill?
- Reminder: Ars longa vita brevis
- Reminder: PANTHER: the movie
- 'If you cannot make up rhymes/There are always the columns of The Times'
- Jarring blast: letter to my father 19th February 2012
- Vermin made simple
- You were saying
- And so, dear MI5, dear Labour Party, dear University...
- I who might as well be fucking dead
- Death rather than dishonour
- Strands
- Dolls on music-boxes wound up by a key
- Beyond death
- You can fit a lot into a five-minute video
- Je suis Charlie
- Marble Arch? The Brandenburg Gate? The Colosseum?
- Sort of cross between Athena and Artemis, really
- OK, lemme be rational
- Meanwhile...
- Meanwhile...
- As if: cui bono?
- Dark satanic mills
- Work in progress
- Welcome to sewer NHS
- Over my dead body
- Beam them up to the Great Prick in the Sky
- So there it is, part solution, mostly not
- That which sustains finale
- Messing about on the River: Lattic, Sarat and Shavli too
- Christ, it's a mad monkey
- Lots of nuffink
- Led Zep: Kashmir (2)
- The pillars of the West/By all means get us wrong, Father
- Evil reptilian kitten-eater
- Cockroach Protection League
- Happy Easter
- The very models of a medical practitioner
- The Act of Desecration
- No is the answer. What is the question? Loony alert, therefore
- The Grand Plan
- Go for it
- Waste of oxygen
- Prologue
- Intermezzo
- Just the time for a brief reminder
- Mess with the best - die like the rest
- Wailings of sick Trots not
- Heavy metal
- 'Allow me to introduce myself...'
- Freddie and Peter
- How to depict one of the most powerful men in the world
- Moog
- Anyone for tennis?
- Hair
- Hairier?
- Hairiest?
- Untitled
- Python and Allen
- Prepared for any eventuality
- Bad moon rising with soundtrack
- Riders on the storm with soundtrack
- 'Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before' encore une fois
- Not one foul animal among them will uphold freedom and democracy
- Flower power
- Meanwhile there's really only one song for Ardeshna (and Blair)
- Thin red line - the third of the set
- PANTHER: the movie - nealy there
- Do you like my channel art?
- Couple more soundbites to choke on
- Home movie
- Damaged goods
- How is Virginia these days?
- The Hunger Games
- Now on YouTube
- Second vid
- The Mutts
- The Mutt Pit
- The video I shall make
- Kindly therefore display all the wit, creaivity, intellect, education and intelligence you don't have
- The last picture show
- Faun: Unda. To that which sustains, we can add...
- Faun: Unda. To that which sustains, we can add...
- Faun: Unda. To that which sustains, we can add...
- The Last Picture Show 2: female eunuchs
- In tg
- New Page
- New Page
- New Page
- In
- In the heat of the night
- In the heat of the night
- Not a complicated image
- Vermin
- 'It is a slave's lot thou describest, to refrain from uttering what one thinks'
- Won't that be fun, Fitter?
- New Page
- Nous sommes tous P:aris
- Meanwhile back at the ranch
- You may remember the Squelch?
- DIXI
- I laugh at you daily
- The end
- Fuck your lies, your cowardice, your hypocrisy, vermin
- Got it all sewn up
- I am Dill
- PANTHER: the movie - a reminder
- And of course the manual
- They deploy
- New Page
- Traitors and would be murderers
- And the other video
- Yes, there are, aren't there.
- Zopiclone
- Hell
- No answer is a very clear answer
- For Katie: All times are now (1)
- For Katie: The Lord of the Dance
- For Katie and m: The heart will go on
- If it's the last thing I ever do, whcih I suppose it might well be
- My fine body twisted, all battered and lame
- Reflections
- For Katie: The trumpet shall sound
- For Katie: Hallelujah Chorus
- For Katie
- The service
- Reading from 'Burnt Norton'
- Going Back
- or in other words
- I need help
- Time past and time future
- Tomorrow
- How many other lives have you destroyed?
- Arundel
- After such knowledge, what forgiveness
- Let it be said - it will be said
- Information governance
- So----
- Sitting in their tin cans far above the world...
- Another shit-filled weekend
- The Cull
- Society has the right to require of avery public agent an account of his administration
- The laughing stock
- 'Sing while you raise your bow...'
- Simple questions
- For fuck's sake they're all vermin
- Functionally illiterate
- Of no significance to me whatever
- The best story
- Mess with the best. Die like the rest
- The visible difference
- Drop the dead donkey: UCH imploding
- It remains the case
- Oh, and it remains the case
- What matters
- Salvat regina!
- Nancy Wake
- Nancy Wake 2
- 2016: your annual treat - A Miracle of Exmoor
- Dunscreaming (shortly, anyhow)
- Any normal person
- Malice
- Keep your loving brother happy
- Surprised by joy
- University Challenge
- Meanwhile back at the lamp-post
- Except to speak of the absolute horror
- And in particular
- Because I screamed I needed help
- QED
- Sredni Vashtar
- The wild and wacky world of the Waffen SS
- Think I'm a bloody servant, do you
- Irrationality
- Literate, literary, educated, intellectual England
- Refinements
- Doesn't the University see the joke?
- The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
- On the whole, I think....
- Ain't taking it from a woman
- A great and mighty wonder I'm still standing
- The zenith of human possibility
- ' pilot of the storm who leaves no trace'
- 'Sing while you raise your bow. Shoot straighter than before'
- In the face of the evidence
- Watch this space
- Brennt Paris?
- 'I vow to thee, my country...' Aw, come on, you know it makes your skin crawl
- Within you, without you - especially without you
- Ain't I got no respet
- Goose-stepping morons should try reading books not burning them
- The Matter of Kadun: physics and metaphysics
- Cartoons
- Over-arching significance not
- They just wouldn't list
- 'And now that I lie here/My body all holes'
- Photoshoot
- I saved about half the books
- I just don't understand
- Fnords
- Pigs in clover
- See you in hell, fuckers
- Attempted murder
- Bog-rats
- Person or persons unknown but very guessable
- All you need is love
- One more time
- More
- Depict them in bondage
- In sum, Mr Benn's questions
- 'Arnold Lane/Had a strange/Hobby...'
- '...Doors bang/Chain-gang...'
- Etx
- Shoot straighter than before
- My moon and my wand
- My college, my university
- Inevitable and not
- painfully slow on the uptake
- This too you may stuff up your arse
- And of course this
- Pout
- TTFN
- Wiping excrement off the sole of my boot
- A West End comedy, perhaps
- Fascism
- I really don't think so, no
- For Katie: He who would valiant be
- For Katie: He who would valiant be
- For Barry: Danny Boy
- Epitaph: it's your funeral
- Yea, though I work in the Land of the Valley of the Shadow of Death
- Do learn to read, Doctor
- The crooked road the English drunkard made
- By Oak and Ash and Thorn
- Can't un read plain words of English
- I get the gist, I surely do
- The world of perversion
- The Ottery has moved to the banks of the Arun
- Snapping my claws at the foeman''s chants
- Yes, the crash of the waves on the foreshore
- The even longer march of Everywoman
- You tried so desperately hard to destroy me
- Evil reptilian kitten-eaters
- The five most evil men in England
- Love does not drown in corruption)
- Like something out of Hieronymus Bosch
- Harry Secombe: The Old Rugged Cross
- The Drivellers
- Insolence is so very vexing, is it not
- Protected by the faith of my fore-fathers
- Lost causes
- Solid Soviet steel
- 1
- Murderous vermin who jeer at disability
- Clarity
- De profundis clamavi
- Reprise: Nancy Wake 2
- Generals gather in their masses...
- Cry foul and bloody murder
- Tumour
- New Page
- Ludicrous
- I think I said get me out of there
- This is not life
- All bets off, fuckers
- New Page
- Dearest darling Katie and Barry
- You think you impress me?
- Manners, ladies and gentlemen, puh-lease
- I suppose the exact charge would be
- No-o-o I don't thik you should forget about Lattic
- Boys having a bit of a larf
- I thnk, you know, dear Artemis...
- Sttill drooling, are you
- 'Thou shallt not suffer a witch to live.;
- My YouTube channel
- Education is what is left
- New Page
- To su
- To sum up
- The endless road traversed (nearly)
- It's a mandala, stupid
- Happy New Year
- Keep your loving brother happy
- Not with a bang but a whimper
- I, however, have outstanding questions
- Feline groovy
- Suitable cases for treatment
- I have spoken
- Nothing taxing to the sane
- I have of course the utmost...
- Doctors and nurses cannot cope with quantum physics
- Addended: Etched in acid and have been for years
- The psychology of medicine
- No outcry
- A very simple question
- To which task I shall now..
- RIP the Labour Party
- First things first
- I a woman
- The Howard lion
- Lest we forget: I don't
- New Page
- Pat me on the head and tell mee not to be a silly little girl
- I a woman of over 60
- A hanging matter
- The gross falsification of history
- 'The writers by their presence...'
- One more time just for the hell of it
- Lastly...
- The answer is no
- So that was the Universiity that was
- Hey you, get off of my cloud...
- Off. off, off of my cloud...
- A right waste of make-up
- So what?
- Footnotes to the above
- So where - ?
- What is the name of - and can't they - ?
- The glorious first of June
- Why has the door not been smashed down/?
- Your professors, Vice-Chancellor
- Anti-dialogue
- Shall we finish with a quick...
- They don't want the Jabberwock slain
- ABOVE THE LAW?
- So - I think -
- "Sentence first = verdict afterwards."
- DA and TM
- Post mortem
- Everywhere I go people are collecting bloody food
- how many people are on PAYE?
- I am naturallly reminded...
- Where was I?
- Where was I (2)?
- Welcome to the NHS
- Let's play doctors and nurses
- 'Senior members of the University'
- These are {{DOCTORS}}} and {{{NURSES}}}
- The girl who talked to otters
- How you hate intelligence
- And you always get away with it, don't you
- And you always get away with it, don't you
- The Hundred Flowers Movement
- New Page
- In one line
- Belloc, Apollo and May
- While readiing The Four Men
- Golgotha, place of a skull
- Troll toes
- So go for it
- PUT-DOWN
- New Page
- The required result
- Sex and mind
- Their mommas told them...
- Greece or Rome
- The new normal
- Isn't this interesting?
- New Page
- Ruthless vicious evil old men
- The charge is atteempted murder
- The C-List
- Q&A
- Ludicrous propositions
- Chained to the oars
- Footnotes
- 1095 and all that
- The Anglican garden
- Or of course a Kabbalist
- I have some time ago...
- Cult, Death-Eaters
- Not forgetting Nathan the Wise
- Cultural exchange
- And of course not forgetting...
- In short, in my young day...
- Contemplating this Matter of Kadun
- Nearly there
- I detect, therefore
- 'That government by the people, for the people, shall not perish from this earth.'
- Tingle
- Follow-up
- Cave-meen
- Not ancient history
- I have indeed graphically
- 'By their deeds'
- So maybe you'll also like this bit
- Just to be exact
- Which?
- Oh, all right, just for you
- Left something out, didn't I
- Didn't quite finish that off
- Ciletij
- Ritawa
- Shav and Zik
- The party
- Spetzi
- senoki
- Punching the pixels
- Reality
- More tails from the riverbank
- The Sarat and Maya Show
- Perverts
- If we may now...
- In short
- progress
- A national joke
- The Spetzi Effect
- Quanta
- Who owns me if I do not own myself? Reprise
- Who owns me if I do not own myself? Reprise
- Boys having a bit of a larf
- You really have....
- And they all just sit there
- So exactly what - ?
- Hostile fascist foreign powers
- Personal, very
- Rubber dolly
- Essentially
- Fana
- LLLLOLLLL
- Unnatural, innit
- It's over, monkeys, over
- You might learn something but probably not
- So now Blair will tell us all
- Spetzi and Qine
- RL
- Qine and Spetzi
- Fucktards united
- Capital
- Well, didn't I just hand myself the short straw
- Do they actually understand?
- Quotable quotes
- 3D printing
- Ah, but can you print fluffy cushions?
- Taking an intelligent interest
- Vaudos 1
- Vaudos 2
- Vaudos 2.75
- New Page
- Anniversary Waltz
- Automation: ostrich land
- The Kirit and Micaela Show
- New Page
- Cookery time
- What are they like!
- Until we meet on camera...
- And just because I know you love Homeric hymns
- New Page
- Dear Artemis, Athena, Apollo and Pan
- Baz and Paw on the loose in Van-Senok
- Back to the fermions
- Buffy the Vampire Slayer
- A crude, vulgar, ugly, insolent, mad and evil little man
- RIP English Christianity
- And the outstanding question is...
- Foxes, fruit, fermions and fuck you where you breathe
- Varna's Wall
- Particularly working on
- From the Shrine to the Viledeen
- Spring
- Fisking Welby
- New Page
- And how is the great penis in the sky tonight?
- After-thoughts: don't forget Isis and her pal Sobek
- The cat I don't yet have
- The Greater and Lesser Lunacies
- To whom it may concern....
- New Page
- Frank
- Cock-suckers
- Should you not be a movie buff...
- Marked as property
- Questions, questions....
- You will publicly answer those questions
- And this was Margaret
- Reprise: Our grandfather who art in heaven (though I doubt it), Howard be thy name
- To remind you...
- England the poem
- Back to the Viledeen
- Come on, I just want you to...
- So this is the story
- New Page
- Theme from The Water Margin
- Turn off the bloody Horst Wessel Lied
- Is it -10 yet?
- Chesterton - and Belloc
- New Page
- So what have I proved?
- Mock you incessantly
- No problem, no problem at all
- They have only one interest
- Misa and ban-Razit
- Rowley and Saunders
- HARD WIRING
- Bad science
- Dereliction of duty here, comrades
- Taking it from the top..
- New Page
- Dot the i. Cross the t
- More Fal
- Maya's assassination
- So-o-o
- Well, hi there, Sar-fenan
- And the third reason
- Ysabel Belinda Felicity Jehan Howard
- 'And now that I lie here...'
- Ain't they really
- And so
- 'Of course she has to do this on her own.'
- Who the fuck are Bonnie and Clyde
- How the cards fall
- And don't forget Dill
- And Shav and Dill
- Squishy, Archchancellor: not a healthy diet
- Back to you, Sar-Fenan
- This is not a physics textbook
- e=mc2
- A NON-EVENT
- woo hoo
- Her story
- Oi, you, Sar-fenan!
- Bloody kitten-eaters
- HHGG 1
- HHGG 4
- HHGG 2
- Reprise: It reallly is...
- Dave Allen
- Some psycho schizoid freak
- So absolutely insolently irreducibly evil
- This site
- Under the block
- Do you not understand?
- Gee, it's so wonderful to know
- Parameters
- I might go so far as to say
- I might''ve finished losing my temper
- Archaeopteryx flew like a pheasant
- I am not a child. Children are under 16
- New Page
- Blair, Corbyn, WCPI
- Smile for the camera
- 'Labour'
- Nothing you won't surrender
- HTF do I hitch a lift to Betelgeuse?
- "We are the Daleks."
- Back as ever to the Viledeen
- Scream quietly or the neighbours will hear
- The products rejected out of hand
- ComSymp ShariaSymp Fit the Third
- How to defend England
- If you cannot get rid of the people who govern you...
- National Museum Wales
- Why is this continuing?
- My mission I seem to have been landed with
- Dixi
- Go it alone, suffer alone, what's new
- Deep breaths
- New Page
- Gratis
- Justt to complete the set
- About that grave
- Damn!
- About that clock
- Oh pilot of the storm that leaves no trace
- Last but by no means least
- After which
- Or in short
- Notification...
- I think perhaps tomorrow...
- C17th England
- Je suis comme je suis
- Whatever you do, take pride...
- Selfies
- There remains of course my mind
- If you failed to get the gist
- Alice's Left Hip Esquire
- Limp pricks and no balls
- New Page
- Never ask them to strip
- You, off my planet
- If they absolutely won't...
- Achilles' heel
- Oh just do begone
- No-one on Planet Normal
- Welcome to Labour's England
- Democracy...
- New Page
- Bringing back the dark
- The best story
- Is there one single point?
- To come up to date
- Evil
- The destruction of the intellectual basis of the free world
- The mad relations in the rafters
- Let this be my contentment
- Results
- None of which of course
- A purely indigenous evil
- Here the matter rests at present
- New Page
- New Page
- A toss-up
- Blair
- New Page
- Reality 105
- The wearing of the green
- Recently come to light
- Growly snarly wolf
- New Page
- Five years later...
- Bobbles
- OK, assume.
- A flight of fancy
- So long as we understand each other
- Footnote
- Fisking Warsi reprise
- Why was nothing done?
- Job well done, filth
- Being a galactic mail from me to Zaphod
- Beyond evil
- In the 61st minute of the final hour
- Doo-be, doo-be, do
- English Christianity until....
- New Page
- 'I AM KING AND GOD AND LAW#
- So I get this
- Bad mood
- Another book for you, Blair
- One should always write things down - in some form or another
- All cleared up in five minutes
- Of course I have worn such a hat
- Thus, bloody thus
- No pasaran
- I continued...
- You prefer Misa and Ban-razit
- The 3D printer in the town centre
- Labour's apotheosis
- Selling women by the pound
- Why, my own mother and father wouldn't recognize me
- And the punchline is
- Do just go and fuck yourselves
- Fruit Loop
- Only one interest
- The price of a woman's body
- Eris
- Just can't hear you
- VR
- Not as exciting as Hokabi
- 'Unfortunate'
- Oh look what they're saying about me
- Should one really not...
- I am intelligent.
- From the archives: fisking Warsi
- Do MPs entirely grasp what they're there for?
- Our servants not our masters
- New Page
- Or you could say the reverse
- The problem is that there is no problem
- Irrelevant
- From the archives: who killed Banaz
- From the archives: ooh, we are so sensitive
- From the archives: wondrous multiculturalism
- From the archives: Banaz' sister spoke out
- Neither right nor honourable nor gentlemen
- The carrion chorus
- And so
- New Page
- Can hear you from here, animal
- Forgot it at Christmas
- 'Blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain'
- So golly gosh
- And I laugh (2)
- What else can we talk about
- Thus
- Spare ribs
- Mene mene tekel upharsin
- And of course...
- Matthew 7: 3
- Blair
- This exchange
- Because it's a horrible way to die
- Peter
- Those convictions
- A purely pernicious twist
- The open mind
- They took away the post-its
- First part of Fal 2
- Sarat at the Shrine 1
- Sarat at the Shrine 2
- To continue...
- Contemplating this Matter of Kadun 1
- 2. Contemplating this Matter of Kadun 2
- Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- Dill and this Matter of Kadun
- Of course
- Ridiculous and viie
- From the archives: obedience (1912)
- I should imagine...
- From the archives: And who kept this bubbling?
- From the archives: Voltaire on the CofE
- From the archives: Extra ecclesiam nulla salus
- From the archives: The Vatican archives 1
- From the archives: the Vatian archives 2
- From the archives: The Vatican archives 3
- 2000 years making most of it up
- Proud Archbishop of York conducts his own daughter's wedding ceremony
- New Page
- Nothing may be said. Nothing may be done.
- It seemed a good idea at th e time
- Sarat, Maya, Cioulis, Spetzi,Ritawa reprise
- Aren't they gorgeous?
- A precedent has been set
- Something else for the animals to gloat over
- Let's play doctors and nurses
- Women beware women
- How best may we accommodate you, o master
- The Agora
- New Page
- Violence power coercion desecration
- BOURGEOIS MORALITY
- New Page
- Once more from the top
- So what do I think?
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2 2021
- Fal and Tet
- To conclude: to whom it may concern
- Sarat and Hass
- THis is what I look like, Vice-Chancellor
- Sonderkommando
- The balance of probability
- Can I keep this up for ever?
- How you hate intelligence 2
- Et freaking cetera
- Honestly, darling, that mantilla
- The prince, the duke, the cardinal, the politician and the professor
- The Fixers
- The Enforcers
- By the balls of Apollo!
- Cernunnos
- Burunda
- Solidarity
- About that new sofa I printed...
- A position it is entirely easy to understand
- Yes. Yes, you are ridiculous
- Yes. Yes, everything I have said about you is an understatement
- Meanwhile back at the ottery
- The flawed concept of Islamophobia
- Oh rats!
- The revolving door
- Ah yes, my future
- Explicit liber
- So now....
- Deep breaths
- Thanks awfully for the suggestion, old boy
- A list, therefore
- Previous reflections
- Ah, culture
- Ah, here you have the nub
- New Page
- Tropes
- Letter to my dead parents
- New Page
- These they left me
- Don't forget Lattic
- Is it a bird? Is it a plane?
- Song of the Western Men
- The new national anthem
- Wanna see the Deeds
- New Page
- Another very fine song
- Shamima Begum
- The perfect citizens of a fascist state
- Grease
- Love, Serafina Pekkala
- To whom it may concern
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2
- Also to whom it may concern
- So what happened then?
- New Page
- New Page
- Who has no authority in England
- I shall now potter off
- La trahison des clercs
- 'Those who cannot remember the past...'
- A little intellectual exercise...
- The view of the Labour leadership
- Take it from the top, Karl
- Is Abbott a feminist? We shall see
- Ooh, we are so sensitive
- Death before dishonour
- Listen very carefully. I shall say this only once
- Of course certain lines here
- Hide the Secret. Hide the Weakness
- The very model of a modern faith apologist
- Models of modern health practitioners
- Meanderings
- Negation
- Bloody certifiable
- Convert, comrades, convert!
- Found the articles
- Dangerous animals
- I name you the Duke of Plaza-Toro
- New Page
- New Page
- Christchurch 1
- New Page
- New Page
- To May, whom it concerns
- Shouts and whispers
- Hic jacet
- Hyde Park, London, England
- Condition of the Working-Class in England 1845
- Thus ComSymp ShariaSymp
- Ooh, you guessed
- You are so obvious
- In detail
- Hard wiring
- If mind does not exist., democracy is unnecessary
- Th Age of Reason, 1794
- Fisking Cantuar
- Danger: profoundly esoteric image
- The seer and that which he sees are one.
- Meanwhile hats off to the Guardian
- Letter to MI5 in case you missed it.
- Fucking Pollyanna
- The Greta Garbo Home for Wayward Boys and Girls
- Perhaps in five year old English
- Non serviam
- The 7 principles of public life. Pix too
- Tor and Tonge
- Barking moonbats
- Herr Hitler, I presume
- A rich joke, Blair
- Eire in the 1950s?
- Cold shower
- By definition 'God' has to know what a lepton is
- Ah, the Yorkshire Ripper
- Parallel government
- New Page
- You will not look at them
- The magic migraine
- From about a year ago
- La nausee
- Yes, it's Operation Mindfuck
- Book review
- Happy bloody Easter
- A little quiet attempted murder
- Fal 2
- The curse of the killer zombies
- So the next logical step would be...
- Don't my silly little arts degree mean nuffink?
- Oh dear I have upset someone(s)
- New Page
- A few questions
- There are no great ones
- Gets so horribly in the way
- Violence against women, it's what you pay your taxes for
- 'Bring me the head of Alfreddo Garcia'
- Just don't forget Lattic
- The House of the Rising Sun
- The initiation of force
- Yes, that's right, I said Bentley
- Turning now to this Matter of Kadun I
- Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- Shav, Petrush and the Matter of Kadun 2
- Do admire your handiwork
- Marche funebre
- Misogyny
- On this 75th anniversary...
- The Enchanted Forest
- If you should confront these filth
- Encore une fois
- Impertinent evil filth
- A successful outcome
- Therefore...
- Which end is up
- I shall create it
- PANTHER: The Manual, out now on Scribd
- Sarat, Maya, Cioulis, Spetzi,Ritawa
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2
- Indeed there are many interesting people to talk to in my mind
- Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof
- To dig a little deeper
- Of food-banks and reprographics
- No dark
- Just remembered another spectacular waste of money
- More about Tories
- And more...
- This and that and some of the other
- Or in short
- Don't forget The House That Keir Built
- Memo to the Senate of the University of London
- Turning now to this Matter of Kadun I
- Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- The fur does settle...
- Models of medical practitioners
- HARD WIRING 2
- Strange things happen in the quantum universe
- Strange things happen in the quantum world
- "Are you still laughing, Sarat?"
- Falsity
- Je ne regrette rien
- Of course you could always check the facts
- 'Do you recall what was the deal/The day the music died.'
- The family handbook
- Goose-stepping morons
- Riidiculous
- Welcome to the diverse and plural real world
- Does it not sound sweet?
- This half-wit waving her degree...
- O tempora! O mores! O mayhem!
- Sexism is a crime
- ''I can't be treated like this.'
- And here the matter rests at present
- J'ai vecu
- Extreme unction
- The free movement of peoples
- The rules
- The witch must burn in hell, he trumpeted,
- You can always ask Google
- Monsters
- Just think, then you can add murder to your CVs
- New Page
- No dark
- In sum
- Give them everything they ask for
- Good for a laugh
- The end. Full stop.
- Just grow a pair
- Bad moon rose
- To whom it may concern
- And?
- And don't forget Lattic
- The Hall of Mirrors
- Because of course
- How to murder a woman
- Bwahaha
- They gave them time
- My big brown eyes
- A n all-party statement from the House of Commons
- Fat pig
- Always remember...
- Always remember...
- The whole lot of them
- Clear and present danger
- Note to Jackson, Hughes and Ardeshna
- So...
- Oy, you
- They did not like the New Marxism at all
- Irritable Owl Syndrome
- The drivel show
- Oh, you know, Woodstock
- Aqiuarius
- One more time and once again...
- Anglican England
- Since I feel bloody annoying
- At cock crow
- Civilized behaviour
- New Page
- 'Thirty pieces of silver'
- 'I look for truth and find that I get damned'
- Found the quote
- Carrion
- Books
- Singer to my clan in that dim red dawn of man
- Five Prime Ministers
- The victory of the Tuatha de Danaan
- A briefer response
- Bonfire Night
- Conjecture
- Or as I said more lucidly...
- They really didn't like my poems at all
- Denis Diderot
- The Age of Reason
- Some years later...
- We the people
- Side-dishes
- So do tell
- Facts
- Reality
- Because I know you hate it even more
- So perhaps
- Termites
- So you go right on..
- I even told them about the SOE
- Transforming the Na-Mhoram's Grim
- Oh and this
- I think Hafiz would have liked Bunyan's hymn
- Fisking Warsi
- Welcome to Brighton, a plural and diverse community
- An 'All Party Parliamentary Group'
- Oh, when will this end?
- QEbloodyD
- To return to civilization.
- Fal continued
- Fal and Tet
- Dill and this Matter of Kadun
- Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- Maya's assassination
- They stripped
- For monkey-nuts: dixi
- Fisking Malik: Preamble
- Melodrama
- Fisking Malik: Part One
- The end is Nye
- Aberfan
- New York Mining Disaster 1941
- Resonances
- Don't talk to me about the law
- And so...
- And the other thing...
- you so love lies, don't you
- Writing things down
- I am the very model of a medical practitioner
- PAINLESS BUT PERMANENT
- Love from Serafina Pekkala
- A difference of opinion
- Just a theory
- What the hell do you think I am, you ridiculous little pieces of shit
- This will do for the time being
- This colour doesn't run
- The desired result
- No balls, 'Frank', just no balls
- Just call me Harmonica
- Hokabi
- In his tin can, far above the world
- Bloody psychopaths, in short
- Berchtesgaden, 1935
- You are so obvious, Blair
- So what happens next?
- So what is the matter with you
- End of the road
- Happy New Year
- Meaningless
- Kinky boys
- A sick joke
- So:
- Bottom-feeders
- New Page
- So why are you here?
- There, isn't that just so cute
- The Lizard of Oz
- And stuff this...
- And they have never heard of...
- Of course I'm a fucking witch
- Just getting out my tunic of skins
- Erudite, that's me
- In short...
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2
- So, as ever
- It is a slave's lot thou describest
- Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- Medicine: the joke
- Are you five-year-olds?
- The Directorate
- Murderers and traitors
- Books....
- Books, filth, books
- Since I have no intention...
- Oh, how they stripped.
- Indeed, it is like this, Doc
- Thus...
- And the fuss is about what?
- This and that
- And don't forget Lattic
- Lemme set the scene
- Diversity
- This matter of Kadun: (inner and eso) 1
- The matter of Kadun (inner and eso) 2
- They are the Daleks. They are Masters of the Universe
- I however do not remotely think that
- 'See how I die. Just watch me die.'
- A simple case of attempted murder
- The final act
- Our story
- So why did they not support PANTHER?
- Love drowned in Corruption
- All times are now (1)
- Transforming the Na-Mhoram's Grim
- 'The Father took from him the Keys and the Sword'
- 'That government by the people....'
- Ir's a fucking doddle
- The smoking gun
- Read all abaht it
- Woo-hoo, it's a full moon.
- Carrion
- 'All you need is love'
- Just not macho
- So what precisely - ?
- so when England's answer to Indiana Jones...
- And you filth at UCH
- 'When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald...'
- More history (after a bit)
- Exodus 32 (well, loosely)
- A 99% confidence rating
- Something of the kind..
- Come to my funeral, Blair?
- Do anything for them, anything to feed them
- Forgot to repeat the Bobbles letters
- England in the C21st and the C12th
- In the event of.
- My head held firmly under water
- The most basic standards
- Miscellany
- The primate pecking order
- Cancer Ward
- Locke, Hume, Kant, Mill, is there anyone they didn't ban
- Farce
- The Tories' own quest for ideological purity
- 'opium of the people'
- Blair's New Model England
- In English not Latin or Arabic
- Because no-one stops them
- The thin end of the wedge
- Intellectually sickening
- And don't forget Lattic
- Sickboy
- From the Shrine to the Viledeen
- The company of civilized people
- The care of the penis
- So you're happy now
- Unlikely
- I hope...
- So very much more interesting
- Astronomy for Kids of all ages
- Dill and this Matter of Kadun
- In sum....
- Shit
- And I laugh
- Feeesh
- And be damned to you.
- Avatars of perfection
- New Page
- Marked for extermination from the start
- i'm helpless and desperate and alone so just fuck you
- So just go and
- Wouldn't it be lovely to be in hospital
- Alice's adventure in hospital
- The NHS does not live by bread alone
- Just say cheese
- Clear and present danger to women
- There are those who despise being able to spell....
- I remain, yours sincerely
- Do you think I don't know what you are
- Thus troll toes
- Achilles
- Complete barbarians
- Bloody rings of power
- Lady Sybil's exploding dragons
- Mesdames, messieurs, faites vos jeux
- A societal archetype....
- Sascha doing his renowned impression of a baby zebra
- Pog ma thoin!
- The continuum
- Good to see the young people out in the fresh air enjoying themselves
- Look once again at spite-ridden lower-middle-class women
- So the hell with you
- Mr Morgan, Mr Paxman
- Ah, you're going to sue me?
- Or perhaps
- So which particular set of ludicrous and obscene lies?
- The opium of the people
- Throw them my body, throw them my life. Can't do enough for them
- The hell with all of you
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2
- Fal and Tet
- All any of them want, my destruction, the destruction of democracy, destruction of the University
- Maya's assassination
- Sarat, Maya, Cioulis, Spetzi,Ritawa
- Vultures
- They had one chance
- Monsters
- So the fuss is about what?
- Unrectifiable harm done with malice aforethought
- There was, you will recall, a bad moon rising
- Cool stuff
- Just what is your fucking problem?
- So now Emglishwomen are destroyed at the command of sadists
- Aggravating factors: adding insult to injury
- Selfies
- Evidence
- Bonnie and Clyde
- Chinese whispers
- Beyond evil
- Evidence
- They jumped from 40,000 feet without a parachute
- Kindle and things
- Bloody Operation Mindfuck
- What to do when they push Chinese writing under the door
- The word you seek is brainwashed
- The bloody cosmic laughter.
- I thought you might like to see...
- Women's bodies break easily
- They were told and they were told and they were told
- Not on the whole given to Schadenfreude
- Do they actually have IQs or do they flatline?
- Wouldn;'t it be funny if Bobbles were Francis
- All times are now, yet again
- Shame
- What you need to do...
- So all of it a right bloody waste of make-up
- 'There is nothing you can't buy'
- And of course I told them what would happen
- The sub-species woman
- Le quatorze juillet
- Oh and this bit, comrades
- 'Tell all the boys I'm back in the city...'
- Time for a wash and brush-up
- And, and, and
- Verse 5 of the Red Flag and don't forget Lattic
- New Page
- But of course
- Fill in a few gaps
- Merit
- Homo sapiens sapiens stands erect
- Bunch of boobs
- The required result
- Lower than vermin, much lower
- And another one
- The Wizard of Oz
- And the only outstanding question
- Cooking the books
- so come on....
- Hell and tarnation
- You did go to school, Blair?
- New Page
- New Page
- Sick-boys
- Pscyho-sexual cripples
- Understanding
- Oh and because I know you're thick...
- Another scalp for the sick-boys
- So, pig-bitch
- Pig-bitch 2
- Pig-bitch 3
- Functionally illiterate
- How you hate human
- The ghost in the machine was riled
- Dear MI5 person
- Or perhaps Linch and Goldstone prefer...
- Yes
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2
- Fal and Tet
- You, Blair
- This site will self-destruct...
- Left out repeating the juicy bit
- Hi to the University of Witwatersrand or wherever
- You are really very funny
- You are really very funny
- How very funny
- As if
- If...
- Can it be more obvious>
- Conclusion
- The initiation of force
- A busted flush
- Shall we have that again?
- The sum of the ravings
- This meanwhile
- But of course
- Point-blank rejection of the governing system of the country
- What part of fuck off does the Vatican not understand?
- Please save the crackling
- Happy Hallowe'en
- This bit's fun too
- Time it was
- Oh you know, like this
- Screw you....
- As if
- NHS bureaucracy strikes again
- More asses
- Show's over
- My body, my self
- New Page
- Hate intelligence, hate better
- The Library at Alexandria (and things)
- HARD WIRING A
- Hard wiring B
- Hard wiring C
- And of course they ain't fucking illitrit
- Index Librorum Prohibitorum and things
- New Page
- Jesus, look at them!
- So take a walk on the wild side
- But your Achilles' heel remains
- Addressing an empty crisp packet
- Empty crisp packets
- So here's to you, criminal vermin
- Only 4000 variants
- So they sat there jerking themselves off
- And on no account forget Lattic
- So, Mr Benn's questions
- The contents of the septic tank
- Lizard men
- Playing with my dolls
- Ah, yes, the funny farm
- Hic jacet 2
- New Page
- This was Anglican England
- I really understand
- First part of Fal 2021
- Fal 2 2021
- Fal and Tet 2021
- Trash
- The horoor
- The Reformation
- Uncle Joe and the Na-Mhoram's Grim
- Dixi@ I have spokwn
- And govenment is for what?
- And here is picture of Jesus with his beloved pet ferret
- Your Christmas favourite
- Peter
- And this is what happened
- Les Eleutheromanes
- I repeat, just for the hell of it.
- So I'll just go on thinking my own thoughts
- All times are now (1)
- All times are now (3)
- 'Be careful with that axe, Eugene'
- La Ballade des Pendus
- We do not know
- Banal
- The wrong kind of snow
- Oy, monkey-nuts
- Lizard-men
- And of course they all know too
- Fiver in the Death Warren
- And lo it came to pass
- One way to deal with sexual fuxk-ups
- Dill and this Matter of Kadun 2021
- Frauds
- Complications
- Yes, but I know who I am
- Today satirized as
- Dill, the bit in the middle
- Question
- Ah, but
- What can be wrong with that?
- So what have I done
- And this is the state of my body
- Absolutely insolent, absolutely evil, absolutely degenerate
- Dangerous wild beasts
- Cowardly, contemptible cock=suckers
- Farce
- Thus, m'lud, it is clearly demonstrated
- An offence against law, fact, reason, sanity
- So we go through it all again
- The empty swimming-pool
- So I have questions
- One more bloody time
- It remains the best way
- Get real
- Two to the power of 75000 to one against and falling
- Along with Oolon Colluphid
- Head honcho
- So why - ?
- Civilized behaviour
- 'Be careful with that axe,Eugene' (2)
- Deep Thought
- England in the C21st
- So what's next?
- I do understand
- Right bloody waste of make-up
- An aggressive cancer
- A question of degree (not the academic kind)
- McDonnell's little friends in Iran
- Ah, yes, McDonnell
- Everything was perfectly normal
- Blog
- So when did you hear - ?
- Time for a wash and brush-up
- Time for a wash and brush-up (2)
- So calming
- The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
- Google Images search
- Am enthusiastic amateur classicist
- It only remains therefore
- Aum mani padme hum
- New Page
- WHen everything fails
- Jackson
- Thus
- Tsk, tsk, tsk
- If I may translate...
- Perhaps you prefer - ?
- Roast aurochs
- Totally synbolic, totally not
- Just doesn't matter, does it
- Base details
- History, should there be any
- Libro de los juegos
- Yuck! Kitten-eaters!
- Sea-changes: writing the 60s out of history
- So do just tell
- The end of the world is nigh
- New Page
- The party of law and order
- Thank you, Prime Minister, that will be all
- Fit for human habitation
- Aw, Dimitri!
- Yes? And?
- Ah, bon, les putes
- Indicting Tories
- Poor Mr Sunak
- Falsity
- RL
- Untitled
- The D-word
- Nye, wouldst that thou wert living at this hour!
- Sp gp fpr ot
- Fortunately there are more elevated things to do than contemplate infected shit
- The parable of the respirator
- Arbeit macht frei
- Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
- It's the grapes that come from Chile
- Untitled
- The actual social principles of Christianity
- The social principles of Christianity as observed by Marx
- Bananas and eggs with your polio
- The hallmarks of the age
- Gilead
- Spinal tap
- Purr
- An atypical population
- New Page
- Leche-culs
- The Woman with the Book and the Woman with the Bow
- RTFM
- The ceding of democratic control
- I shit on you daily
- The ceding of democratic control pt 2
- Fortunately there are civilized people to talk to
- This is how to deal with pervert monkeys
- Pink stars and burquas
- Ditching the theology of love: reprise
- A happy communist life
- Or you prefer Nigel?
- Our papa
- My turf, bubba
- Guarding the pigs
- Just a little obvious
- New Page
- BDSM
- The deeds, Naylor, the deeds
- So Sarat, Maya, Cioulis, Spetzi,Ritawa
- And the hunt continues
- Jesus!
- Question for those with daughters
- So what has happened to Jesus?
- New Page
- All on prime-time television
- Lest we forget: I don't
- You know, like at Hokabi and Caniba and so on
- Until they learn
- Vaudos 1: so it's a walking fence
- Vaudos 2
- Vaudos 2.75
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2 2021
- Fal and Tet
- New Page
- Don't forget they ain't fucking illitrit
- There when it gets shitty
- Luke 23:46
- Of course he argued with himself about it.
- Democracy: a system devised to cage and contain power
- If there are any future historians
- What to, the Higgs boson?
- Maya's assassination
- Dill and this Matter of Kadun 2021
- 1. Shav, Petrush and this Matter of Kadun
- Astronomy for Kids of all ages
- 1. Contemplating this Matter of Kadun 1
- 2. Contemplating this Matter of Kadun 2
- 2. Shav, Petrush and the Matter of Kadun 2
- Who are pensioners?
- Party political broadcast...
- Look at all the little lungfish
- Unfit to govern
- Protozoa capering in the primeval soup
- Have you managed to be human?
- Life in a fact-free world
- And of course our dear friends the anti-vaxxers
- The wrong kind of Muggle
- Just put this on Twitter too
- Precisely how - ?
- Aroint thee, Muse!
- Death by government
- Cruel and unusual punishment
- It is, I think, the creation of Vernon and Marge
- Gee, isn't it just the market?
- There would not therefore seem to be an real difference
- The goose that laid the golden eggs
- The gifts that kept on giving
- Only 37.9 million tourists a year
- The Big Squeeze
- All the same gig
- Lolling insolent evil
- So now I walk with a rollator
- So, I deem
- Terror-tactics against a medically vulnerable woman
- New Page
- There is no dark
- Me
- The issues facing my grand-parents
- Don't forget the house that Keir built
- The desire of the moth for the flame
- The way through the woods
- Bit late for me and my steed...
- Art is individualism
- Magdalene laundries
- I told you not to put all the stars out
- Indeed the animals have a big problem with my family
- In the garden with Mummy
- ComSymp
- Chanctonbury Ring
- Doubtless too busy
- Light reading
- Reality 102: reprise
- Reality 103: reprise
- Reality 103a: reprise
- Reality 104: reprise
- Religious census of 1851
- Mortal sin
- If Twitter is anything to go by...
- The 1945 Labour landslide
- So just look at them all, Vice-Chancellor
- And of course an offence to UCL
- Time for a wash and brush-up
- The new Marxism
- Coal in the bath and the victim culture (2)
- Nice bit of bedtime reading
- Christ, you are so boring!
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2 2021
- And of course this
- Just don't forget Lattic
- Thus Bobbles
- Fal and Tet
- Mr Benn's questions.
- Mr Benn's questions. A good clear message. The IRA
- Just so - so - so
- None of this of course is subject to discussion
- Therefore, ain't I got no respect
- Nor do I tug my forelock
- Book of Common Prayer
- 'I know that my Redeemer liveth'
- Meanwhile an offal-fest on Twitter'
- Spine
- This is what they expected me to push
- What? Oh, the picture Jesus mentioned
- Our servants not our masters (2)
- His Majesty's the model of a modern major-general
- The withdrawal of love and forcing oneself on others (2)
- Sarat, Maya, Cioulis, Spetzi,Ritawa reprise
- Journey to the edge of the universe
- Oh they do get so antsy
- I am the very model of a medical practitioner: reprise
- I am the very model of a modern faith apologist: reprise
- Quid agas
- Balrogs
- C10th architects
- Truss and Braverman
- Imbeciles
- As for the rest of it...
- So:
- Totally ordinary Brits
- The corruption of history
- 'Imagination has seized power!'
- So, you, Blair
- Without fear or favour
- So a special round of applause for
- The Anglican garden: reprise
- It is remarkably tedious
- All times are now (1) reprise
- All times are now (2) reprise
- All times are now (3): reprise
- All times are now (4): reprise
- All times are now (5): reprise
- All times are now (6)
- Maya's assassination: reprise
- Lizard-men: reprise
- Doth it not say in the Book of Pious Crap
- That government by the corrupt and inane for the corrupt and inane shall not perish from this earth
- And answer Mr Benn's questions
- Thus the dirty shit-filled hierarchical fascist brains
- PANTHER...
- 'And now Amanda is seriously ill.'
- You might also enjoy Sredni Vashtar
- Girls. You were saying? About girls?
- 'And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, shall think themselves accurs'd...'
- This happened in RL
- Ooh
- HMQ
- How to lose operations other than war
- There, isn't that just so cute:reprise
- Ah, the sub-species woman
- How do you dare?
- Oh look what they're saying about me: reprise
- 'Blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain': reprise
- A lemur speaks!
- Welcome to London, Mr President
- HMQ (2)
- Gee, guys, what might have happened
- Neither benefiting from nor obsesssed by
- In sum, then
- The succession that matters
- In sum, therefore
- It has therefore been established
- And be damned to you: reprise
- Who did impose on a subject of Her Britannic Majesty
- How the cards fell
- Prefer high crimes and misdeameanours
- Time for something else
- Couldn't finish without your favourite song
- The Abbey
- The end of the world is nigh: reprise
- Men don't get it
- 'In order to rightly judge these efforts known as the "woman movement"'
- I'm sure Mr Kwarteng believes in equality
- Get real fast
- Roast aurochs: reprise
- It didn't work last time, peeps
- Doctors
- Ants
- Bellatrix
- Vaudos 1: so it's a walking fence
- Vaudos 2
- Vaudos 2.75
- It's like this, Nurses
- Letter to MI5: reprise
- And you do not make me into a porter
- I do so understand
- How you hate intelligence
- How you hate intelligence; reprise
- So how many people has Medicine destroyed?
- Don't you like my DNA?
- So you're going to sue me?
- I understand
- Hmm, so I guess...
- Yes I understand
- This is how it should be? Reallyy?
- Special mentions
- The wayside
- My country. Took seizin
- To whom it may concern
- Do tell
- A blank wall
- Democracy is so yesterday
- Nothing is too low
- https://www.coursera.org/learn/our-earth?
- No interest to me, old boy. No interest whatever
- Burn the witch at the stake! How much money we shall make!
- One quick question
- And something for Bobbles
- If...
- 'MI5's mission is to keep the country safe.'
- Reality reprise
- Reality reprise 2
- Your life in their hands, Episode 923452
- New Page
- New Page
- Never trust, never assume sanity will prevail
- New Page
- So in short
- The University in its death throes
- Narrow focus
- The absolute insolence, therefore
- In shorter
- Same old
- Same old (2)
- So there it is
- So they just couldn't possibly
- Ringleaders
- Encore une fois the manual
- Butchers and would-be murderers
- Nor of course response to my vid
- Or the second one
- The closed (sealed/wounded/stunted/practically non-existent) mind (20
- Please don't forget The House That Keir Built
- Sarat, Maya, Cioulis, Spetzi,Ritawa
- First part of Fal
- Fal 2 2021
- Fal and Tet
- So who knows
- As if I were capable of caring
- Above the law
- Depict them therefore in bondage
- Money talking
- Pure BDSM
- Please don't forget Lattic
- Meeee
- 'There is no dark'
- Hellenismos, tau-neutrinos, hanging
- Vita brevis ars longa
- True targets
- I a woman
- Boring
- Therefore, Vice-Chancellor
- Thus I refer you to...
- Break the stupid cunt's back
- So there it is
- irreducible evil
- Oversight
- Mock, yes, crawl, no
- All the things you haven't changed
- Cute family picture
- You can check it out on the DTIC site
- Eagles are rare in WC1
- High crimes and midemeanour
The utmost faith in British justice, in the integrity of the legal system. Bwahaha. All the rest of the pathetic crap. The law exists to protect civilized life from animals. That's another good one. Unless of course they're rich and/or powerful animals. Against the system? How can anyone reasonable be against the system? How can anyone reasonable who has experienced the system not be against it? Why have these creatures not been arrested, prosecuted? Why bother to ask? Animals are all that matter, the sicker, more twisted, more brutish,the better. Animals are to protected and upheld. I was left in the hands of monsters dedicated to my psychological and physical destruction. No-one ever had the faintest intention of doing anything. Nothing was and is more important than to preserve the evil, in particular the murderous IQ20 butchers, the twisted and the sick. And so I got older and older and more and more disabled and more and more desperate, thinking that I was facing annihilation when Katie died, as indeed I should have been were it not for Joan Crouch's legacy. I screamed and screamed and no-one lifted a finger. What lies did they tell, Linch, Goldstone and Naylor, what obscene filthy lies, if civilized life made tentative enquiry, if it ever bothered so to do, that it takes time. Oh really, 17 years of my life while I got older and older and more and more disabled and more and more desperate. What time does it take to charge those who mock democracy and overthrow it with giving aid and comfort to the enemies of the Queen, what time does it take to prosecute those who insisted on my sustained physical abuse for causing actual bodily harm? Do tell, just do tell. What time does it take to have sick animals who jeer at disability deemed unfit to practise? What time does it take to prosecute those who whine and babble to each other behind closed doors in order to pervert the course of justice for conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. The insolent brutal evil, the love of brute beasts, animals, criminals loving other criminals, all absolutely corrupt, is nothing if not obvious. It's all been fixed by the sly, the dirty, the evil and doubtless the rich, and no-one will do anything, in UCH or outside. Except of course me. No-one ever gave me a hug, offered me help and support of any kind. All fixed, a nasty disobedient little missy to be washed down the drain and destroyed psychologically as well as physically by the cold brutal ruthless denial of emotional support. Nothing must be said! That alone hangs them, I can be butchered, mentally raped, almost murdered, but nothing must be said. And so they all did nothing and nothing and more nothing and pretended nothing was happening and then after there was the constant harassment by the mental defective Grisales, the depraved brute who expected me to carry medical records to thee Cancer Centre on my back, the insistence I commute five days a week, after all I'd been having an easy time, but now I had to knuckle under, really easy time looking after my dying mother, forced to destroy my home. No animal has proved capable of even telling me what I'm supposed to have done. Never again in my life shall I trust anyone for anything, whoever they are. That is the extent of how they have psychologically damaged me. Physical damage of course is obvious. So-called doctors and nurses with the ethics of the street-corner gang, fake academics incapable of reason, who refuse to publicly establish the facts, reject all fact and reason. A huge mad sick obscene joke. Could I possibly have bloody well said that before?
Choke on it, vermin, just choke on it. You ain't fucking stupid and you ain't fucking illitrit. Isn't it a shame I can demonstrate what non-stupid and non-illiterate are.
Extract from The Anile Heir © 2006.I, Ysabel Jehan Howard, hereby assert and give notice of my right under s.77 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act1988 to be identified as the author of this book
1. THE QINE AFFAIR
Narulis kumsit var-goan Kada. Narulis kumsit var-goan Carla, Fas-sigreen, Van-senokka, Vaudon, Var-seganin, var-goan Kada. Narulis, author of Kadun. Narulis made Carlin, Fas-sigree, Van-senok, Vaudos, Var-segan and so created Kadun.
No, says Mitch. Five kingdoms united under the imperial crown. Mitch is heir to Var-segan.
It is helpful to think of the empire as a coalition, a pact, says Mitch. In business terms, it was an agreement, a merger: we were stronger together than apart. Of course there was a Chairman of the Board. In the end neither side complied with the agreement and so we went our separate ways.
The facts of the matter are these: invaders from Harn brought the Cult to Kadun from across the ocean. Narulis, outsider, scion of the House of Fire, formerly rulers of what was even then the Republic of Fidub, happened to be around at the time, together with 22 of his doughty shipmates. In consequence of his contribution to the war-effort, they made him emperor and the Masters of Carlin, Fas-sigree, Van-senok, Vaudos and Var-segan became his stewards to hold the land in trust.
Since this unlikely sequence of events actually happened, historians have tied themselves in exquisite knots inventing reasons for it.
Cantilip tells it differently.
Earthpower is the energy of the cosmos, the erosion of valleys, the movement of continents, the orbiting of the planets, the heat of the sun. As the source of life, it encompasses life. The true ancestral culture of Kadun is power in balance, the union of life with the physical world and the union of male with female. However, the universe is generative, begets life, and so is seen as female. The ‘female’, the universe, is both complete in herself and creative; the ‘male’, life, is not; life cannot exist in vacuo: the ‘female’ is capable of independent existence and the ‘male’ is not. This was not of course a perspective tolerable to the Cult. Most reproduction naturally requires both equally, despite the practices of High Harn - I believe some worms are hermaphrodite?
Sarat would know. Our men did as much running around waving swords and bashing each other as any other group of men. They did considerably less bashing women. The female was regarded as equally human. Kadun before the Cult was marked by some semblance of civilization. We had literature, learning, art, rather than human sacrifice. Invaders came from Harn. They tried to burn us. We fought. Into this tripped Fidub, who took the glory and replaced irturbi culture with her own.
Cantilip is heir to Van-senok.
History or herstory? Either way, it’s a long one, long and sticky. You have probably heard of the Lays of Cafanine. Possibly you can even quote them. It is less likely you know they were originally written in irturbi. (If you haven't heard of them, the reason so many people have is that the lays as in songs are also the lays as in sex, early examples of erotic poetry).
The empire turned rotten. Some 900 years later, when the great experiment
had failed, the empire was in tatters and the Emperor Jaizal deranged, Zani defied him before the Great Gates of Azt. A framework had been breached - what, again? Prudent men slipped away to discern the new new world order. In the slave-states of the empire, rumour grew. Sea-dogs told of a kingdom in not-yet Zur. What passed for Jaizal's mind broke and the empire shattered. They killed Jaizal. Later other prudent men wished Kadun to endure.
Jaizal's killer, usurper of the Anile throne, was murdered in his turn. That sort of thing went on for some time. One Cuisa-ban-paduan-coan said, Enough!
Enough or there will be nothing left. Slowly, fitfully they reached an accommodation: the return of oligarchy. Gentlemen, if we do not squabble, then all are supreme. For four hundred years nothing much happened. For the literate few, newsheets reported from an apex of ineffable superiority the prancings and prattlings of the barbarian hordes. The covens were abased, castrated, content. Where there is no justice, a veil is drawn over the odd human sacrifice. The Cult was a pestilence, always there, incurable. Our power is absolute over our serfs and vassals. Let us draw in our horns and be content.
Susheela, last Anile empress, daughter of Var-segan, fled with her children, and so the Aniles returned to Fidub. It was congenial. No-one bothered them with the ludicrous notion of ruling Kadun. Some 600 years passed. For old guard and egalitarian alike, there had been no benefit in restoration of the Anile throne. There were no Grid, no satellites to signal the Anile heir's mildest criticism to 160 million irturbi, make him the pin-up of millions of radical teens.
Sarat-ban essa, licit heir (Anile emperor, Master of Kadun) was born, so they said later, mobile in one hand, modem in the other. In fits and starts the generations ran in parallel and Essa, his father, close to Tar, King of Dabida. But Essa was an ecologist and so there are two sides to our hero, the brash Fidubi radical, and the other.
“Try seeing Sarat as the middle-class son of professional parents,” Vij will say. “I know it’s hard! It may make more sense then.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“How the other half of Sarat lives? Has lived.”
“I suppose Mitch is also the ‘middle-class son of professional parents’.” “Mitch is Mitch and things aren’t always how they look. Sarat is not
running off with Var-sega’s heir. OK, you can laugh at me for fatuous remark of the year. What bonds them is radical politics. Position gives them a vehicle, a relationship, the means to rock the world – do you understand how radical Sarat is?”
Sarat can’t rock Kadun without ending up on the Anile throne. It’s a problem. We are getting ahead of ourselves. Sarat starts obsessed with the natural world. He is going to be a vet. Bar a few genealogists and those of similar mind, people had forgotten there was an Anile heir. We need to go back just a bit, to Cho, Sarat's grandfather, and Airoch (not Sarat's grandmother nor yet President of Fidub) walking the river-front at Azt, straying into ill-lit streets where shabby workmen hurry home.
Darling, one cannot say, I abhor your urban conditions, I wish to restore the Anile throne! One has, said Cho, a responsibility. And so Cho entered Fidubi politics and changed the world.
Why not? Sarat did. But Kadun had changed – regressed. In the Age of Information, with a thousand Grid-sites from which to recruit, the Cult will be back.
Well, all right, it never went away. The graves opened, the creatures from
the pit of desecration once again walked the earth. Something like that. What actually happened is a question more of economics than of cerement.
The world discovered mass production. The wealthy literate few saw Kadun finally become a museum-piece, a fossil preserved in amber, powerless.
Labour was cheap in Kadun and wealth not lacking, a manuscript sold to Mukal's, a handful of diamonds to Enbahaluk - Kadun gained her factories and her trade. All-Kadun, rich in both oil and ores, verdant, is essentially self-sufficient. For this reason, the Houses elected to remain All-Kadun. As Karula will put it, it is a geopolitical convenience, a place at the world-table.
The men who make things became a new power in Kadun and the men who make things knew nothing and cared less and were gobbled alive by the Cult's bankers in the City and so were spawned the squirming guts of our story, Capital Warz. To keep it simple, Kadun doesn't have an economy: it has two economies, which interact. The guys at the top deal with their own and the guys at the bottom don't know who the hell they're dealing with, hence the interaction. Broadly, Var-segan, Van-senok and Carlin kept the Cult out and everywhere else welcomed it in. At the time of which I am about to get around to writing, the City owned half Kadun and naturally wanted to own the other half.
Kadun's other problem is geography. Between Var-segan and Van-senok in the west and Carlin in the east lie the badlands. If this were not the case, Kadun would have long since split, but it is and it didn't. Borders in the head maintain the integrity of Narulis' Kadun and make unthinkable for the moment Carlin allied with Dabida and Fidub in the south in one blocs and Var-segan and Van-senok with Vasucula in another. The maintenance of the fiction of All-Kadun keeps open communication between west and east.
Vaudos, which is not nice to be near, holds the bulk of the coal, but oil and natural gas spurt in a huge band along the northern border. Borders between the Houses were historically as currently largely a matter of people ceasing to call themselves senoki and starting to call themselves segani. The border between Kadun and Ciletij to the north is largely a matter of trees. Historically as currently the Morag-fahdi roamed the entire continent and so formed such trade-routes as existed, north to south and east to west, and the south and Ciletij equally content to let the MF be middle-men; foreign traders clung to the edges, the general consensus being that the interior was neither welcoming nor safe, with the chief exception of Tjulsit, at the junction of the great crossroads, but Kadun's great ports were ever bustling cosmopolitan centres. Wicked people like me thought it was all rather like the advice given to women out after dark: keep to the main roads and areas that are well-lit and populous, and never ever accept lifts from strangers.
The world began to speak in bits and bytes. As information lacerated Kadun, the people learned desire. The vast hinterland of Kadun was slow to become a
consumer society and no People's Revolt had propagated the strange notion of human equality but now there were stirrings. What happens to a bright boy who goes to the city and gets an education is he becomes a Nudra. It is debatable whether this
constitutes progress. Elementary education is good in Kadun; the people can read, write, calculate. Thinking is discouraged, there being too much it is distressing to think about, but bored soldiers hop about the Grid and senior officers turn a blind eye. Neither Army
nor Fleet is attuned to what is happening in Kadun.
“It cannot be a question,” says Mitch, “of changing just one thing or indeed of many persons working separately. All of us have tried that, the unions, my grandfather setting up hospitals. It makes not one whit of difference to the whole. There are lines you do not cross. Many people live decent lives. So long as they do not challenge the indecent. Not least the assistance of people like me enables some semblance of civilization to prevail in the country. In the cities people are buried alive. They think that tomb is poverty and lack of education. I say that tomb is there if you are me. I just get to stand upright. There is a granite slab above our heads and its name is infrastructure. You make people better and you send them home to damp rat-infested tenements. You shorten their working-hours but they can barely afford to eat, let alone engage in what the south called leisure-time activities. And the food is crap anyhow. I hold there is that which is not negotiable, over which there is no choice. What Fidubi landlord asserts his right to let property unfit for habitation? Everything must change, what and how people think, whether they respect all people. Entrenched power shifts only with revolution.”
How can you charge rent when you don’t own the land? Oh, right, in trust. Imperial Majesty, here’s 600 years of back-rent! How come he owned the land? Thus Mitch at 16, the age when every compromise, every inconsistency of the elders is an offence. Mitch at 17 wanted to give the whole lot away. There are a lot of stories about Mitch and Qine. Some of them are even true. It’s nonsense that Qine left school at 14 to work in a factory. Qine went on to college, too, not the Schools, but a decent education. Qine worked in a factory to pay his way and there he joined the union. Qine’s good with numbers. It didn’t take him long to work out he was being paid 50% of what it costs to live decently.
The pixie, they call Mitch’s lass in Var-segan. Big bloke like Mitch, doesn’t he squash her. Apparently not, because they have one, two, three in quick succession, the get it over and done with school of child-rearing.
Karula’s friends have been appalled by the whole thing, marrying a rich man and settling down to breed, as the less than friends put it, even if he is a
fellow-revolutionary. Karula argues her corner forcefully. Correct me if I have missed something, but the revolution is not I think tomorrow. I could be menopausal before there is change! As I see it, there is possibly only one thing worse than being in a crisis situation with teens or tweens, and that is being in a crisis situation with infants in arms. At least the tweens are mobile and able to feed independently and fetch Mom more ammunition should she need it.
Mitch too comes in for flak. Mitch has established a marketing consultancy in the City, Harn’s horrendous capital. Glam biz, Mitch. That has what to do with the struggle? There are powerful international civil liberties organizations with a Kadun section, gatherings of exiles, but these too are part of the furniture of stasis. Mitch subscribes to Liberty Now!, the Movement for Economic Reform and the rest, but as he has matured and reached his own analysis of this matter of Kadun it seems to him they don’t understand. Anyhow, says someone, conditions in Kadun are a non-issue.
Unless you’re living in them, shoots back Mitch. Worse places, look at Enbahaluk! Beneath this Mitch detects something dirtier. Bloody irturbi! They don’t want to change anything. They like it like that. They’re cattle. The lads in the union have had a lot of
time for Mitch, but now it seems Mitch has mellowed, too much to lose, and anyway it’s the way of the world, young men start families, have other commitments. Mitch clearly dotes on his daughters.
Not Mitch, says Changri
The lads consider. There’s reasons for thinking not Mitch, all right. Ask Qine! The thought niggles. What’s he doing then?.
Changri chuckles. Lad and his lass…What do you think he’s doing? “Taking a little R+R, I reckon,” says Changri. “Before the real war.”
Regrouping, Mitch calls it. Unfortunately I am a group of one. So I start my own organization! He ponders. I want this to work, not unravel at the seams because all they see is Var-segan. We secede from All-Kadun? He grins to himself. Now there’s a thought!
Someone has to make a non-issue into an issue. What else is marketing for? Karula logs on and gets on with the real family business, Kaduna-gar-jaht,
this matter of Kadun. She reads through the economic reports from the Schools, makes notes and intermittently nurses, soothes, gets on the floor in the playpen, recites nursery rhymes and constructs castles out of brightly coloured bricks.
Mitch too has problems with Fidub.
“I hold there are human values and anti-human ones. We do not wish to go the way of Harn! That is the cry. The south ripostes: we do not go the way of Harn!
That the way of Harn is precisely – is a powerful counter-argument in certain circles where values antipathetic to those of Fidub are held to be indigenous and Narulis’ values alien. The empire civilized almost a whole continent. It then uncivilized it, made Kadun so hated, so base…We abandoned the values brought from Fidub and reverted to those that had been dominant. That is the kernel of truth. But it is argued no native held those values called Fidubi, which is belied by history or how did thousands back Narulis. And it is argued that after 500 years Fidubi culture remained separate, imposed. And it is argued that Jaizal represented the true culture of Kadun. All these arguments are trash. There is of course the anomaly. When the empire was a force for good it is held to be Fidubi. When it was evil, it is held to be irturbi. I do not think anyone has ever called Jaizal Fidubi. Narulis' values were squeezed out of Kadun on the pretext they were foreign.”
For most of 600 years, the Cult has been contained by PANTHER, formed by Narulis to eliminate the Cult from Kadun. PANTHER cleave to the simple notion they're the best there is. They’ve been at it longest. Neither of these statements is entirely true, as we shall see. Pioneers Against Nutters Threatening Harm to Everyone's Rights is a bit contrived, but when you've been called PANTHER for 1500 years you have to make it stand for something. Where there is FATCAT (the Federation Atrocities Tribunal Can't Abide Torture, just never does anything about it), there must also be PANTHER to chasten it.
PANTHER was not in the Age of Jaizal so sensitive of academic freedom that it refrained from destroying the odd grimoire and much knowledge was lost that only the rampantly psychotic would miss. PANTHER taught a public lesson. For six hundred years the Cult had had much the significance of a sect of snake-worshippers and the big cats had become part of the mythology of Kadun, oral history garbled in transmission.
To this day, historians, not zoologists, true, but they really ought to know better, teach
that PANTHER took its name from an indigenous wild cat now extinct and naughty children are told the big cats will get them. Kadun is kept from closer links with her friends in the south by the sensation the south is not quite safe and travel does nothing to dispel these ancient notions. Fidub, the Singing Isles...Shaken visitors return - well, they sing. What, demand the scoffers, is the tune? It's not like that it's more like - I don't know what it's more like, it just makes you feel that life is wonderful. The Institute of Geophysics in Arit has failed to find a satisfactory explanation and those who are less than lovable are made distraught by the Isles, as though the heat of the ground was burning through the soles of their shoes, but Kadun always had sent her young men abroad, to further their education, let them experience the wider world. To become civilized, though Kadun did not admit the word.
There were other links. There had to be. Dabidans had always got on well with the Kadun Fleet. They'm be honest sailormen. Coastguards, meteorologists,
rail-engineers, road-workers - sweet, lovable people they found them. But there's a case to be made that the power of the past is stronger than that of the present; at any rate the multiplicity of contacts with Ciletij along the northern border has never noticeably done much for cementing bonds of friendship between their two great nations.
PANTHER maintains a presence in Kadun, loose, transitory, mentors, artists and iterant labourers, curling up by the hearth only if welcomed. These proved enough to keep the Cult abased but the debt is rarely acknowledged. There are 1500 years of reasons for this which we shall unravel slowly. When the young reach an age to question, they find their elders disparaging. Nothing like a good ratter, only let him stay in the barn. Cats and rats, the image is as old as Kadun. But when they meet the ratters they find them educated, entertaining, and sometimes even people like us. It is the kittens, they discern, who are unwelcome, freedom, democracy, disrespect. The workers and peasants have less difficulty with the kittens. Working-people, country people, above all know which end is up. It is not my lords and ladies invited to gatherings under the stars. From generation to generation it has been passed down, Kinsqol, Xu-laman, Vasemalis and Jihina, solstice and equinox, the four Days Celebrant as the Cult called them. On these they performed their repulsive rites but because these days are equally the festivals of earthpower they are celebrated throughout the entire continent and (bizarrely) known even in the free world by their Cult names not their irturbi ones and so on Kinsquol Dabidans take the children to the zoo or visit Aunt Marsilva, but if you are invited to a celebration in Kadun, you say no – politely, mind.
You got your cooking, your carving, wood to chop, kids to tend – more latterly, you got calls to make, you got your homework. You stay inside. But we are in the modern world. Things like that don’t happen any more.
From Zani Fidub established the dynasty Alzani-Meta, a second attempt at the great experiment, ruling the lands south of the Great Divide, the ravine that separates Kadun from what is now Dabida. To understand fully the curious history I relate, you have to grasp the vital role played by the hotel trade and the food-processing industry.
The source of A-M’s lucre is Alzani-Meta Industries - the Cannery, the Confectioner's and the Cooler. Well, actually it's fish. In days of yore, Zuri dried fish, which they bartered. Then they canned it. Finally they froze it. Later, they dried, canned and froze fruit. You get the gist.
What you probably don’t get is that it’s irturbi fruit. The relationship
between Dabida and Carlin you could, I suppose, call fruitful. What one wants the other has, Dabida possessing apparently limitless supplies of natural gas, about which in due course even worse jokes will be made. Carlin stretches from south of Azt to the Great Divide, by which time it's scrub and the Master of Carlin lets it grow wild rather than struggle to cultivate that which resists cultivation, but in the spring there are flowers and people bring their kids for picnics and wave if they see someone on the other side.
There's a bridge. For the more athletic there're cramponing down the almost vertical face of the ravine, spanning the torrent (poetic licence; in the dry season you can wade across) and cramponning up the other side.
OK, let me try to be chronological. A number of young persons of roughly similar age could become confusing. It may be better, though not much better, to delineate them by their year of school and later college than by their birth-dates; Mel (Dabida's heir) and Asdinan (Carlin's heir) are in the same year, though Asdinan will confuse things by dropping out and starting again. Cantilip (Van-senok's heir) is in the year below. There are only two months between Sarat and Hass (Mel's brother) but, the cut-off point of the school-year being what it is, Sarat is the year below Mel and Hass two years below, with Maya (Mel's and Hass's cousin) in Sarat's year. Despite Asdinan's being the heir and his papa, Saryulin, the elder of two brothers, the twins Sorg and Sarshi, Asdinan's cousins, are seven years older than he, and Mardis, their younger brother, two years older. Vij, Maya's brother, is 11 years older than she, she having been something between an accident and an after-thought. Fal, Kyse and I are the year below Mel. Lastly, you may be relieved to learn, Mitch and Karula are some 14 years older than Mel and As, with whom we shall start. 'Where the woodcock sleep and the fox-cubs leap/Carlin, the prize'.
Saryulin, darling, there is nothing to do. The new Mistress of Carlin had been young and beautiful and kind and even loved animals; for a time she and Saryulin were besotted with each other, but she was bewildered by Carlin. She was also an airhead.
She put up such struggle as fitted her self-image as the perfect mother to sweep her grey-eyed boy off to Azt. He would be deprived? asked Saryulin coldly. Indeed he
would have been, a mere accessory to be shown off then tidied away. If she missed him, she hid it well. He grew not to miss her, pedalling around Carlin after his father on a little blue tricycle with special wide puncture-proof tyres.
Thus Asdinan, at 4 much as at 24, pink of cheek, ruddy the word, indeed, stocky, wavy brown hair. Sorg looked the dashing heir, a cause of irritation in years to come. Worse, Sorg looked soulful. As was the bookworm. So we saw it at least. It took a long time, after Sorg’s head had been blown away and Fal stood trembling with her knife at the murderer’s throat, for us to learn Sorg wrote good poetry. Most of us lived.
Duvi returned to Carlin. She had left when she was 17 to travel the world, thought now to explore closer to home. She had spent 10 months at the commune on the Delta my mother was at three years later. My mother of course is Estanzia Morsen, Harn's leading exponent of womanspirit, as they think they call earthpower in Harn. To get Cantilip on this subject is dangerous, her basic position being that Mum’s main achievement is to make all women look as stupid as she is. True, this is much the conclusion I reached by the time I was 15, but she is my mother and she is actually not stupid, it’s just she has crossed wires on a couple of basics.
Soola (Carlin's mentor) invited Duvi to talk about her travels. As was 6. Saryulin had fallen hard for one of nature's morons and in retrospect was surprised at himself, mistrusted his judgement in these things. That Duvi was a non-moron was evident but that she had passed 30 without settling seemed to indicate she had no great desire for her own children, let alone anyone else's. Nonetheless he invited her to the house and soon all three of them were on the floor with Asdinan's trains. Duvi talked of the wider world, and even to As it was obvious Duvi was more interesting than his mother.
The following afternoon Duvi turned up at Soola's cottage. "I've come to gossip. What happens to As during the day?" Soola laughed.
"The hairless terrier school of child-rearing. Loike un pup. Half the business of Carlin is conducted with Asdinan curled up on someone's lap. He behaves himself as tiresome pedagogues might put it because he has no reason not to."
“It must be hard for him, though. May I ask?”
“It's a complicated story. She had certain preconceptions. These were not met. A constant social whirl is not Saryulin's style." Sweet and stupid. And she came to me in tears, said no-one respected her, everyone laughed at her. He must have been mad. “Nor – other things. Deference is not part of the package.” He smiled “You know that.
Farvia didn't. They met in Azt, of course, at Pilo's, a whirlwind romance. For a start she was appalled at the size of the house.” At twelve rooms Carlin is hardly bigger than a large farmhouse. Sorg called it our little wooden hut. “I think you get the picture.
Even were Saryulin persuaded to entertain, there is nowhere for the legions of guests to stay.”
different.”
They talked on.
“Change must come,” said Duvi. “He said, we do not know how to be
Soola laughed.
“I do not think Saryulin intends Carlin overtaken by history.”
“What, then?” challenged Duvi. “No, not what. We know what. How?” “Half Kadun asks itself that.”
Duvi found herself a small flat in Car-sandis, continued her freelance work
and after a while wondered if she intended being overtaken by Saryulin, whose hostility to entertaining clearly did not extend to not inviting her to dinner, tea, As's school's Open Day and anything else he could think of. When she went into the village, everyone was very, very, very nice to her, as though she were someone special, and she had no doubt tongues wagged.
“We should go away,” he said. Their eyes met. “I think that would be nice,” she said.
They planned a trip to the Lausanine suitable for small legs. While As dissolved into the coma of a particularly weary little log, they sat by the fire in the bar and discovered each other. Now she is telling him of camping on the Leolisle and he is reciting poetry, a dangerous sign, if not terminal. 'O know ye not the Singing Isles!'
"We must go again to Fidub," he said. "We?" she said.
He laughed and took her hand.
"There are difficulties?"
"We are independent," she said. He laughed again.
"We are."
"There must be a party!" said Duvi.
"We require no public ceremony," said Saryulin. Soola nodded approvingly.
But the neighbours must come to the party, if only to maintain the link which is never wholly acknowledged and never wholly severed, and so Mel, Tar’s eldest, first visited Carlin when he was nine.
Por stroked the house. The whorls and spirals smiled back at him. I was not prepared.
As threw open Ye Greate Door of Carlin. More poetic licence there, but it’s shorter than listing every step of enabling a nine-year-old to pretend to fling wide a door that weighs about ten times more than he does.
The sun pranced through the Window, bouncing off a thousand prisms. "Zeshanzesh," breathed Mel..
The Dacunine Window shimmered remorselessly in the afternoon sun. “Who is that?” asked Saski.
“Kaminua.”
“Cho!” said Mel. “That’s some profile!” “It is Narulis’ Window,” protested Tar.
Kaminua lived 600 years after Narulis.
“It was – repaired,” allowed Saryulin. “Carlin has not always been so
tranquil.”
The hall in Carlin stretches to the foot of the stairs which rise to a
half-landing dominated by the Window. Beyond it is the Great Hall: there is another Window on the other side, but people never get so excited about that one. Beyond the Great Hall is the courtyard, around which the remainder of the house is built. There is music trapped in the Window, but Mel doesn’t know that yet.
It is a wedding-party with many guests and even the lizard (the Azt
slime-machine) can’t make much of it, even though the guests do include Mitch's parents, Heela and Kile (Marula, Cantilip’s mother, had a prior engagement; Vastulis, Master of Vaudos, is not the sort of person with whom one cares to mix, and Fas-sigree had been subsumed into Azt, another long story, not immediately relevant), but Mel and Hass discover ‘Opshar’s Glade and fall in love, and worse, hit it off with Asdinan. They stay on a few days.
Of course you must come to us! carolled Mel..
When the children had gone to bed, Tar bit the bullet.
“And the next thing is why don’t we all go and stay with Essa.” “And then we can all have dinner with Cho,” added Saski.
“I see no objection,” said Saryulin. “Perhaps in the summer, towards the end of the holidays.”
Plenty of time for Mel to babble about Carlin to Sarat and Sarat to demand to be taken to Carlin, but that would have happened anyway.
“It’s educational, it’s history. Anyway, it’s my heritage.”
“You do not enter Kadun,” said Essa. He didn’t use that voice very often, the one that meant N-O, no, no room for negotiation, no space for argument.
The boys retreated to Sarat’s bedroom to confer.
“It’s politics,” said Mel. “Azt will think Carlin is plotting.” “Plotting what?”
But Mel couldn’t make the leap to Cho on the Anile throne. “Plotting against them.”
“Conspiring with the enemy!” said Hass.
“You are the enemy!” said Sarat. “The hated, the loathed, the despicable, the foe, right?”
Mel was unfazed. “That’s different.” “How?” demanded Sarat.
They went back to Essa. We're not arguing. We just don’t understand.
Hmm, thought Essa
“Sit down, kids.” You understand, he thought of beginning, but what do you understand, you’re eight. “You understand we are all us protected by PANTHER.”
“Because Cho’s leader of the Senate,” said Sarat. “”Because I might be kidnapped!”
“Because Cho is head of PANTHER,” said Essa. Mel’s eyes widened.
“He’s head of intelligence and it’s top-secret!” Essa laughed in spite of himself.
“Not exactly.” Then he wished he hadn’t said it, because it’d do. “It’ll do.
PANTHER is active in Kadun. You would be a target to get at Cho.”
“OK,” said Sarat. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But Mel said: “It still doesn’t make sense! Aren’t we targets too?” “Tar’s head of the H-W,” said Hass.
“But not Anile emperor,” said or possibly sighed Essa. “To some people the Anile throne is significant, whether or not there's anyone on it.”
“It’s 600 years!” said Sarat.
“Being head of PANTHER sort of makes him emperor,” hazarded Mel More being emperor makes him head of PANTHER. It'll do
“The simple bit is we, the Aniles, are hated. The complicated bit is that Zani's heirs have a formal position in the world and Narulis' heirs do not. As Mel said, it's intelligence! The rules are different. Anyone of course may be targeted by some lone wolf, some stray nutcase, but what we are talking about is action by government agency. We think Azt would try to kill us if we set foot in Kadun.”
“Wow!” said Hass.
After three years of hard labour, Zulagan was thrown out of Kadun, for there are still powerful elements with an older and relatively more civilized approach to dissent: the door is over there, let us hold it open for you. He founds the Campaign to Liberate Kadun (CLIK) in Zur. That is not part of the jolly old game and he is mauled by the lizard, an ex-convict, a common criminal. Do his politics not amply display his criminal mind! Zulagan has little time for the rights of property and CLIK an agenda more radical than is usual among the earnest. People imagine groups of honest working-men in floppies and
dungarees sitting at slatted tables, probably with sawdust on the floor. Clean sawdust, mind.
Anyone targeted by the lizard must be a good bloke and there are plenty of hardened bruisers in Dabidan politics spoiling for a fight. Zulagan is a good bloke and readily makes friends. At a conference on Kadun: which way forward? he gets deep in conversation with a trio of Fidubi.
“Interesting chap,” he says afterwards. “Knows an 'eck of a lot about
Kadun.”
His Dabidan comrade chortles. “Well, he would, wouldn’t he!” “Why’s that, then?”
“I’m really not sure you want to know this. Guy’s full name is
hoit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis.”
“Flaming hell!” says Zulagan. “You’re kidding - I understood he were in
politics.”
“Oh he is. Thirty years in the Senate, my son. You want to know how
things work around here, you talk to Cho.”
Working-people know PANTHER is not on the side of the ruling class. “Social workers!” said Mellow. “If someone's ill we make him better. The
problems are ingrained, part of the fabric of society. What are we achieving for Kadun?"
"What do you suggest?"
"There's nothing to suggest. There has to be a whole new infrastructure, someone who can form a government, hold the asylum together. Narulis had a policy! All we can do is destabilize."
As the young Krarlik bent to his books, as he deepened his unique personal knowledge of the Cult, so he knew in his bones the Great Master ultimately must triumph, the flaw in irturbi at the critical moment they had weakened, his mission to crush the barbarian Ciletij, avenge. Jaizal's weakness had been his pride. He had not thought serfs and peasants capable of wielding such power. He Krarlik, must be humble, learn.
Meekly he must defer desire. Krarlik has an interesting streak of self-abnegation, his ancestress no Mistress of Kadun but a concubine, a worthless whore.
Cho and Zulagan had dinner. The agreement lay on the table between them. “Call it giving something back,” said Cho.
“Looks to me as though it’s giving rather a lot back. Without wishing to seem ungrateful, I would like to ask – to note that our policies are not – I would not be suggesting because frankly I do not see we pose any threat.”
“The opposite,” said Cho succinctly. “If there is a price, it’s turning the heat up, not down. Someone has to put a bomb under them.”
“You have a reputation as a radical,” conceded Zulagan. “We have not talked frankly about – “
“My other aspects? We have not. “ “Kadun is a personal concern, should I say.”
“There were,” said Cho. “accommodations. You may call it a protection racket. In sum dues became paid to the Houses, taxes, security.” He smiled. “By them as int paid nowt before. In Carlin and Var-segan, much has been given back. In
Van-senok no charges were levied. In Vaudos the word is extortion. Fas-sigree of course disappeared up its own. And then there is the sale of land not theirs by right to sell. There is an issue, charging rent for land one does not own.” He smiled again. “What duty can one owe to a non-existent emperor? They went their own way.
Effectively each became an independent state. Only in the modern age did they agree once more to be All-Kadun to be a power in the modern world. The propertied class. I think the propertied class needs shaking up.”
Saryulin received notification tank-traps were to be laid across the meadow, barbed wire fences erected. Clearly it was insufficiently macho a nation of the importance of Kadun cease as a matter of mere geography. He responded tartly. This is twice nonsense! Shall our friends in Dabida invade? Do their tank have wings? Duvi drew irresistible little winged tanks fluttering across the Great Divide. The Straits Times published both letter and cartoon.
The actual problem of course was it's perfectly easy to get out of Kadun if you're reasonably athletic. You walk out.
Bluff? thought Tar. They wish to see what they provoke? Whom? Let us be provoked!
"Darlings," said Airoch to the journos, "Fidub would have no alternative but to see it as a hostile act. We seek closer links with our friends in All-Kadun. Are we not both signatories to the Convention?" You know, the one that upholds free passage of peoples.
Carlin!
The Dabidan Representative at Fidub looked plaintive.
"Don't talk about us as though we don't exist! Makes us feel in the way." A buffer-state between Fidub and Kadun.
Naturally Alzani-Meta resists any threat to her lucrative trade-links with
An old war, not even sabre-rattling, more like kicking tin cans, verbal
wall-paper, a radio permanently burbling in the background. This time it might be serious, but as ever 95% of the people on both sides of the border spared it five seconds' attention then got on with their lives,
That is how it was, but how it was was not precisely how it would have been, but for Qine.
By the time the summer came, Duvi was pregnant, and in fact she too had three in rapid succession, first Omnian, then Liande, then Auscu. She subscribed easily to the hairless terrier school of child-rearing. The tiresome bit, surely, is having them, get that out of the way. There were other perspectives. At it loike rabbits. No-one had ever thought Saryulin short on hormones. Nor did he lack former-single-parent guilt but, like most sufferers from this dismal ailment, he was not sure what to do about it. We must act as a family! he thought fervently. How, when the age-gap is so great?
Mel and Hass went regularly to Carlin but the Great Visit was postponed and family holidays taken at 'Dunswimming', the beach-house. Asdinan seemed content to tag along, build or help build sand-castles, and read and scribble. True, he was soon more than old enough to go to Zur on his own, but that too was postponed until the dust had settled from the Qine affair.
Wandering the Grid instead of doing his homework, As suddenly went, “Waaa!” and ran downstairs, but it was spring and a warm one for Carlin, everyone was
in the gardens soaking up the first hot-rays of the sun. Aargh! Try the herb-garden. There Duvi was pottering, Saryulin lounging and Omnian failing to help,
“The news!” babbled As. “Turn the TV on!” Reverie turned to consternation.
“It's Micheal!”
Not harmed, we trust. No, no, it's just, look, just come!
Mitch was in his final year at the Schools. Now he was speaking to the world from Var-segan..
“I have known Qine since we were born. I do not think I am a bad judge of character. He is not capable of not having done it. His politics come from his being a decent man, are in fact those of CLIK, which you will know is a wholly legitimate organization based here in Zur. Qine stands, as do I, for a society in which people are not executed for crimes they did not commit, a society in which there is the rule of law, a society in which people are not executed for their opinions. Qine is a workers’ democrat. He is outraged, as am I, by the condition of the working-class. That condition rests in good part on the right of landlords to let property unfit for human habitation. When you have finished fulminating, nowhere else on the continent, though there are rich and poor, large houses and small, is that right accepted. No Vasuculi landlord is allowed to let
rat-infested hovels, as no Vasuculi employer is allowed to fire workers who reject unsafe conditions. I did not think Kadun had sunk so low that it hanged the innocent for their politics. There is not one scrap of evidence. You cannot even bring a man to court with no damn’ evidence. There is something called Justice and there is something called Evil.”
Kadun on trial. You next, Mitch? Mitch at home.
“Qine, you stupid, stupid bastard!”
He’d been shooting his damn’ mouth off about the capitalist class, rich bitches, bloated bastards, exploiters of the poor. One poor little ‘rich bitch’ had been raped and murdered and Qine had no adequate alibi.
Mitch displayed an awesome talent for agit-prop even at that early age (that and getting the best damn’ lawyer in the entire City). Var-segan became packed with every student agitator the Schools had spawned. Then the world’s press arrived.
Mitch remembered to mail his tutor.
There is a quota of permitted international incidents. There may on occasion be points awarded in camera, as opposed of course to on camera, for bringing such an incident to a successful close. You will return to the City to sit your Finals if you have to commute daily to do so.
There was a rally in Var-segan.
A red-headed pixie called for revolution. Mitch thought: I like red-headed
pixies.
“Great speech. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” “Why, thank you! Karula.”
There was a rally in the Saa’nda Senta.
“Hi, I’m Vij. I’m Tar’s nephew if you be folk from far away – Tar’s the guy
called King who lives in the rabbit-warren on the hill. So I get to speak on behalf of
Alzani-Meta and everyone yells at me that I’m talking garbage.” [Shouts of hey Vij, we love you!]
“I have fans!”
[Of course he has fans, muttered foreign journos. He looks like a bloody
rock star.]
Vij, like Mel, is striking: large with lots of black curls and on this occasion
the attire of a beachcomber.
“”I just grabbed the mic to say that as far as I can tell there is no-one at all in this country who is not on the side of Mitch and Qine. I’m also of course a beneficiary of AMI, not to mention a share-holder. Mitch isn’t the only one who knows guys in unions. I was at school with some of their kids. What is the big deal? And if they think things aren’t right, they say so, which is how it should be. That’s it, really. Except of course they are both very, very brave. They say what they think in a society that goes ape over people saying what they think. As we all shoot our mouths off here, I think we should remember that we’re fortunate to be able to without fear.”
Mitch spilled his coffee. Heela smiled.
Chants began of so-li-da-ri-ty!
“Shut it!” said Vij (amicably). “Guys have serious things to say.” Several hours later Vij plugged ‘Varsegan’ into the search-engine. Did you mean Var-segan?
Vij scowled. Since when did search engines do hyphens?
Var-segan’s Gridsite invited anyone who cared to go join the party. Anyone? thought Vij, anyone at all?
He rang Tar.
“An excellent notion,” said Tar. “I do not think they will close the border with Alzani-Meta on the wrong side.”
“Alternatively,” said Vij after a moment, “my quiet unassuming life just got interesting.”
He mailed Mitch.
Love to have you, mailed back Mitch.
Even with the H-W? Tar doesn’t want me to be lonely. Always room for one more, mailed back Mitch.
He wandered into his parents’ bedroom.
“How does one announce a prince of Dabida?” “Look it up,” said Kile.
“You invited him?” asked Heela. Mitch looked shocked.
“Oh no, papa. He asked if he might come.” “You require my consent?”
“I suppose,” said Mitch, “actually I do.” “Meaning he is coming anyway?” Mitch nodded.
“I shall speak – “ said Heela with mock ferocity, “ – to the guy who lives in the rabbit-warren.”
Vij walked into a barrage of cameras.
This official, Vij? You representing A-M, Vij? What does Tar say, Vij? “I sit back,” murmured Essa, “and count the tripwires.”
The Zur Star picked up Vij’s line. What is the freaking big deal here!
Nothing, nothing in the politics of these two guys would merit more than two seconds’ attention in the civilized world.
It’s that word again. Kadun has not thought to be democratic but considered herself on the whole civilized.
Rape the Dabidan model. It’s all garbage, put on for the camera. Bollocks! said three million Zuri.
The lizard gave its first belch in Vij’s direction. This disreputable juvenile presuming to comment on the internal affairs of a sovereign nation. Surely Dabida is a constitutional monarchy.
The Dabidan Press guffawed. You know what they say. Dabida is a constitutional monarchy: the monarchy wrote the constitution.
Enter the Dabidan Constitution, smiling engagingly for the camera. Effectively there is only the Constitution. If the State tear it up, there are the
Crown and the people. If the Crown tear it up, there are the people and the State. If the people tear it up, demand anti-democratic legislation, there are the State and Crown. It is not classic democracy. That is why it works.
Mitch blinked.
“Who in hell devised that one?” “Need you ask!” sighed Vij. “Fidub?”
“PANTHER! We shall establish a kingdom in Dabida! cried Fidub. You know, like the last one we established that’s just gone right down the tubes…We shall devise further checks and balances to ensure that this time it works!”
Come on, Tar. Mitch, Tar. My lord of Var-segan, Tar! You got views on
Mitch, Tar?
“Certainly I have views on Mitch. He seems to me an excellent young man.
We are all of us aware that differences of approach exist between the south and Kadun, differences that have been respected. There can be no respect for indecency. Clearly if one shred of decency remain in Kadun, if she is ever again to hold her head up in the community of nations, Qine must be instantly released.”
The lizard dribbled over the personal power of Alzani-Meta and attempted to convince Dabida she was an absolute monarchy.
“Cho is livid,” said Vij. “Cho?”
“Micheal!”
“Have I put my foot in it?”
“Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis, head of Sohenoil, former leader of the Senate of Fidub. Known universally as Cho.”
“I feel myself blushing,” said Mitch. “I rarely blush. It is a strange and novel experience.”
“You wish me to present you?” teased Heela.
“It is with the deepest regret, sir – this appalling object is my son. You know
the guy.”
with them.”
“I know the guy,” admitted Heela.
“Essa and Tar are like that,” said Vij. “Mel and Hass spend the summer
Pause.
“Ban-varna has grand-children?”
“Four. Sarat’s the eldest, then three sisters, Shavli, Zika and Ven.” “Your cousins visit Carlin, I understand.”
“Mel and Asdinan are about the same age.” “And - Sarat?”
“Sarat’s more Hass’s age.”
Azt continued to treat the affair as though it were a trivial local incident
involving young malcontents. Consequently when Mitch dressed up and went to Azt to see the ‘Minister for Justice’, the Minister refused to see him. Nothing continued to happen.
“No-one,” said the hot-shot lawyer, “really believes they’ll bring it to trial any more. Digging their heels in.”
In such circumstances the Press tend to lose interest. Fortunately there was the story behind the story.
Even here in Fidub there are guys with a strong personal link to Kadun. One such man is Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis, head of Sohenoil, eminent politician, notorious radical. Cho lives in Narulis’ family residence, no less. You have seen shots of Var-segan. It’s a pre-fab in comparison.
Camera dwells lovingly on the family home. All-Kadun convulsed.
A little it is like the Summer Palace at Khole, Cho's des res on the Sohenisle. The front consists in one enormous highly polished room supported by pillars, ball-room, throne-room, who can say for it is not precisely a room but roofed space, the front open, protected from rain by a covered terrace. Perhaps it is the scene of amateur dramatics for there is a stage along the right-hand wall, stage or dais. In the far left-hand corner there is a small door to the rooms beyond and the courtyard.
“It would be slightly less appalling,” said Essa, “coming from me.” “Would it?” asked Tar.
Essa shrugged.
Press-fiends at the gate, Cho.
“We say the Anile throne has a symbolic significance, regardless of whether there is anyone sitting on it. That significance, the fight for truth, justice, decency, is epitomized by Mitch’s current struggle. I am delighted to see we still breed ‘em right.
Ciletij began to froth at the mouth.
“I maintain close ties with PANTHER. I have seen the file on Qine. He seems to me an excellent young man. The conditions of the urban working-class in Kadun are an affront to all civilized people. They are wholly unacceptable and from Wintawa to the Leolisle they are not tolerated. There are no unfettered rights of property. There is gross cowardice, is there not, in the refusal of open debate on the matter. No evidence exists against Qine. Must I really turn the screws?”
Airoch cold.
“The Republic of Fidub does not presume to dictate to Sohenoil with whom it
may trade, still less to AMI.”
“He has threatened Kadun!”
“He has expressed an opinion. Darlings, one understands that to express an opinion is in Kadun a capital offence. This is not Kadun."
“One says,” murmured Vij, “what one thinks not what others would wish one
say.”
“Of course,” said Heela.
Brazen it out, thought Vij. He began to laugh.
“Couldn’t you have tried, Cho!” He grinned what he hoped was engagingly at
his hosts. “To sound like any other outraged democratic politician.” “We need the south,” said Mitch hesitantly.
“Ciletij too is part of the Quadrant.”
“How damn’ dependent are we? Surely the banks in the City - ?”
Eggshells, thought Vij. It is his politics that are offended or his nationalism?
Both! Ah me, the global power of capital.
“Between us,” sighed Vij, “we can turn screws in the City.” “Zeshazesh!” said Duvi. She took Saryulin’s hand.
“His Imperial Majesty,” said Saryulin, then stopped. “Who?” said Qine’s mates in the union.
Zulagan said: “He’s just bloody declared war on Kadun!” “Notorious radical,” said Hunri.
“You gonna boycott Kadun, Cho?”
“That would scarcely benefit the urban poor.”
The lizard didn’t hiss. Why should it have when Ciletij was howling the door down?
Kind of inflammatory, Cho, why did you say that, Cho, walking a tightrope, Cho, careful you don’t fall, Cho.
“Fall where? The true empire,” said Cho, “united five kingdoms under the imperial crown. It had no designs on neighbouring territories. The perversions of the years of decline have come – perversely – to represent the whole. Pick,” added Cho, “my lord Krarlik, on someone your own size!”
Who the hell is Krarlik?
Statements are being made, thought Mitch. I am not sure that I understand the language.
The summer holidays began and Mel and Hass went off to Fidub.
Essa and Tar are like that, babbled some chatty Zuri. The camera arrived at the white house on the dunes. Click, Ven is talking to the donkey, click, Shavli is just off to a party, click that is Zika in the pool. Click, the camera rests adoringly on the
pin-up.. Darling, he is delicious! Death, really one had thought the Aniles atrophied! This pin-up the Anile heir. There is an Anile heir. His father is an ecologist, I understand. How – extraordinary.
Sarat’s first encounter with the press, Gorse was to recall fondly, was not harmonious.
“Why don’t these guys get a life!”
“What happened to the agreement?” asked Mel.
There had been an understanding with the hill. Take all the pictures you like
of Tar’s baby boys, so long as you do it with a zoom lens.
Rumour, new evidence, rumour, discussions at the highest level, rumour, gross miscarriage of justice, rumour some poor dumb bastard will be scapegoat. Qine was released.
“I’ll be off in the morning,” said Vij. “Books to read, essays to write.”
“Tell me about it!” said Mitch. “I really cannot thank you enough.” Pause. “I have written thank-you letters. I should appreciate it if you would be so kind as to deliver them.”
“Not a problem,” said Vij.
Qine, leaner, paler, harder, walking slowly up the drive to the House. Mitch came out to meet him and they went off into the Orangery. Only two people know what they said to each other and they aren’t telling but to his mum and dad Qine said, “I can’t repay that. Can’t stay here, neither.”
“I understand that,” said his dad.
“There’s one more person I have to talk to,” said Qine. “So I should hope!” said his dad.
Heela looked up.
“I have brought more trouble to this house.” “Nonsense. We thrive on it.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” “No matter. What will you do?” “Go underground.”
“We won!” howled Mitch. Heela raised his eyebrows. “We?”
And so now it is acknowledged there is another player in the game of Kadun or, as people put it more succinctly, the cat is out of the bag. On warm summer evenings when all is still the strange sight can be seen of people lying on the ground on their sides, grazing their hip-bones and getting dirt in their ears, listening for the sound of money talking. It is thought. It is understood. It is believed. All these are good beginnings for sentences that people don't know how to end. The emperor (not that there is one, of course) concerns himself with this matter of Kadun. The empire is 600 years distant and as near as the expression of taut fury on Searc's face when he is
out-manoeuvred. A lot of years will pass before I rejoice in the ludicrous title of Economic Liaison Officer to the Anile Throne. For the moment Cho's main achievement is probably contributing to men and women of good will doing exactly nothing. There is a variety of reasons for this. As Cantilip was more or less to put it, lads 'ave their pride, don't want ter go cap in 'and ter big 'ouse.
No-one knows what Cho would do in the event of whatever the latest plot was coming to fruition and no-one wants to ask him. Asking the leader of the Fidubi Senate for assistance in overthrowing the government in Azt is treason and overthrowing the government in Azt oneself is patriotism. What is asking assistance from Narulis’ heir? Wicked people like me said that Kadun was like a teenager pretending it could operate independently of its parents. Even more wicked people said that Kadun was schizophrenic about the empire By this they meant not that the empire was both its
glory and its shame, thought that was true too, but that empire was both Fidubi and irturbi.
After all, Fidub had spent the last 600 years being the official enemy and the unofficial friend.
Grid-sites appeared devoted to the Cult of Death of High Harn. Denzine Master Chief Preceptor Fugitry contacted Alzani-Meta, Fugitry who was to be Mel's tutor and also mine: later Kyse will describe me as 'world-expert' in the Cult of Death, but there are a lot of years to go there too. The number of titles I shall accrue, deservedly or not, is itself ludicrous, and that's just the flattering ones (I'm also the Harn-bred whore, a camp-follower and Sarat's little joke, the more printable ones). For the moment thinking irturbi were disturbed by encroaching centralization not encroaching sorcery and nobody much was getting excited, except of course PANTHER: snake-worshippers have Grid-sites too.
Kadun is old, Kadun is subtle. You went for meetings with the management team of the refinery at Tjulsit. They were civil enough (in, you said to yourself, the inevitable, patronising irturbi way) but you knew you never wanted to meet those people again. Telecoms as advanced as they are now, what need? You skied in the
purpose-built resort in the Lausanine Heights. The scenery was magnificent, but the hotel was awful. I swear the staff tried to make you feel in the way! Next year, you tried Ciletij. As a gust of cold air on a summer's evening drives people indoors, fewer people visited Kadun.
Small-ads in thick smudged lettering promised charisma and pornography flooded Kadun. Grid-sites multiplied, bureaucracy festered and PANTHER were grim. Rules for a past age! What price derring-do in the sands with the world's media watching? Shall Dabida invade Kadun to stamp out sorcery! Shall Fidub violate the integrity of a sovereign state by sending the Aniles to conquer, occupy and rule? And what is PANTHER in this modern age but a bunch of castrate tom-cats? In this modern age, with its electronics, its telecoms, its in places free Press, its Federation, its technological warfare, rules could be broken.
Kadun has never led the world in respect for human rights, but now the allegations grow darker and even insane. Malcontents. Blown out of all proportion. Any bloody fool can get a load of gobbledy-gook off the Grid. What is unbearable cannot be real.
What are PANTHER doing!
But it becomes evident that though things are bad they could be worse, that the Cult is being stayed, covens blossom but shortly afterwards wither and perish and this of course adds to the schizophrenia. The old gentleman in Fidub who keeps cats is clearly operational.
Ship of the Vasucula Fleet Torrential Haze (some people think Vasuculi are a bit strange) mooched into northern waters, supposedly, if anyone were so gross as to ask, or search them or something, loaded with materiel for their gallant allies in Ciletij, though why their gallant allies in Ciletij, whose life-blood is heavy industry, should want materiel from Vasucula is less clear. Anyhow, they ran out of steam before they reached Ciletij and found it necessary to put in at the naval base at Samandit in Van-senok, which they could do since technically there is absolutely no war, and even if there was even Corsin acknowledges that the cunt witch bitch Marula, Mistress of Van-senok, far away in the northern forests is a law unto herself. The only way to get Van-senok is to kill every tree in sight The Kadun Fleet joined them on board for a drink and found it
regrettably necessary to requisition their cargo. The Vasuculi smiled. The first time they had wondered how much of it actually reached the resistance, but they’re good capitalists in Vasucula and of course the middle-men get a cut. It turned out to be 20%.
Long-range weapons are at a premium in Kadun, their distribution curiously limited. This is because ordinary guys can take on Cult guys so long as they can stay out of the range of the Cult guys’ minds. What that range is depends on the degree of the Cult guys and people can make and have made bad mistakes. You will swiftly riposte, ah, then ordinary guys can take on PANTHER guys. The key is of course that ordinary guys do not on the whole want to take on PANTHER guys because the PANTHER guys aren’t threatening to tear their brains from their moorings.
The most obvious long-range weapon of course falls from the skies. Most of the Kadun Air Fleet cannot be wholly relied upon to bomb the right people. There are people in Azt who would actually rather most of the Kadun Air Fleet didn’t exist but since clearly its non-existence would leave Kadun a sitting-duck, its existence is grudgingly tolerated, if not its possession of long-range weapons from Vasucula. Gosh, one never knows when they might come in handy.
Anyway, think of the bears: if Kadun is perceived to be not merely divided, which she obviously is, but fragmented, Ciletij opportunists may seek to join the party.
The Cult achieved governance in Azt, but really, mused people, it appears to be more they have achieved governance of Azt. There had been troop movements and a flurry of ill-reported incidents, even air battles. Civil war in Kadun! But then it became clear to outside observers that Kadun both resisted and succeeded in resisting and large swathes of territory continued to behave largely as normal. Borders have been redrawn. Only a matter of time before Kadun splits. From time to time something exploded somewhere, there was a vid on the Grid of rubble and a few guys were reported dead. If the bang had been loud enough, the southern Press asked: Is this civil war in Kadun?
The furore quickly died down as it obviously wasn’t and in fact Kadun appeared to be in stasis. Why is Kadun not bombed into submission! The word was rather that, if anyone was bombed into submission, it would be Azt. Certainly Azt terrorized people but it had failed miserably to terrorize the right people and in particular the military, who clearly held the balance of power. Some people who’d never had much time for Kadun’s officer corps now markedly warmed to them. Others continued to wonder when and if they were ever going to do anything about the conditions of the poor. Why on earth does the Kadun Air Fleet not simply bomb Azt! I guess some of the guys are loyal to the government? They don’t want to fight each other? To horrific allegations of torture and murder were added stories that, thought outside observers, were just plain weird. In the age of the smartphone complete with video recorder, both sides tended to a maidenly coyness regarding the exercise of the more graphic aspects of mind-war, at least until Caniba, but from time to time stories surfaced of air-battles which didn’t look like air-battles, but much more like firework displays or maybe the kind of stuff you get at air-shows with pretty coloured smoke. Someone is making this stuff up! Like maybe cat-people. Everyone knows what kooks there are on the Grid. Probably made up by a kid in Harn. Close analysis would have revealed two sets of aircraft, both apparently members of the Kadun Air Fleet. But one had VS emblazoned on its wings and occasionally a silver birch, and the other had FV and a death’s head. FV is the motto of the Cult squadrons. It stands for Forever Victorious. Depends which circles
you move in: others render it Fucking Vampires.
Corsin collectively describes the six Cult regiments. The vampires are their air-arm. There’s a very simple concept at stake here. What your mind tells you is happening to you is what is happening to you, unless you tell it to stop drivelling and start freaking out the other guy, and if your mind tells you there’s a very large boulder falling on you and that notion overwhelms you, you will curl up into a ball to attempt to shield yourself or try to run, without the other guy working on your bones and soft tissues, which if he is Corsin is what he will do next, slowly separating the constituent parts of your body while holding your screaming mind intact and alive. Not a lot of people know that. Fortunately, not a lot of people can do it, either. Also fortunately, some people can resist and destroy it. Corsin are based around Azt and do not routinely concern themselves with events in the vast hinterland of Kadun, which either do not require their control or are for the moment at least beyond their control. True, if they scent fresh blood they may suddenly appear, torture and kill a large number of people and go away again, but there aren’t so many of them as to be expendable and being hanged by PANTHER is not part of their agenda. They like to know what’s on the ground first. Still, their mere existence exacts a certain docility.
And their growing numbers. Couple of things here about training-times. If you are PANTHER, you can fairly rapidly adapt your skills to other media but it takes much longer to become either Corsin or capable of destroying Corsin. An air-arm is of no use to Corsin if all it can do is drop bombs and provide transport like the regular guys. It has to be able to do what Corsin suspects Fidub can do, but doesn’t know. Of course Fidub being able to do it doesn’t mean KAF can do it. If Corsin dominate the skies, then it’s all over. On the other hand an expensive mistake could cost them everything. On the third hand, insufficient aerial mind-warriors could still be defeated by very large numbers of regular guys. Finding out how to do things on your own by trial and error takes longer than being taught how to do them. Lastly, Corsin do not think it inconceivable in the particular eventuality they conceive that Dabida and Fidub would come to the aid of KAF. All they would have to say to the public is that the Cult tried to get the regular guys. Since they scarcely even govern Kadun, Corsin are not ready for war with Dabida and Fidub.
KAF can think too and what it thunk was how to get our guys trained by
Fidub.
Couple of things about the skills themselves. There is the mechanical skill
of acting on muscle and the more complex skill of acting on mind. Thus you can stop someone shooting you without interfering with his free will, just as you can physically. Acting on his mind somewhat deflects his attention from shooting you to the giant cat lunging at his throat. It still doesn’t interfere with his free will: he reacts as he would physically.
Thus Kadun is two countries. One is Cult. No-one is quite sure what the other one is. Some people are loyal to an idea of Kadun which leads them to obey what they like to call the lawful government, oblivious to the cat-calls asking what is lawful about it. Others are loyal to a different idea of Kadun whether that be Kadun before the Cult crawled back or the ideals of Narulis’ Kadun. Some people want democracy. A lot of people are loyal to their Houses but it is not as simple as wishing Carlin or Var-segan seceded from All-Kadun; Narulis generally creeps in somewhere. Then of
course there are the rationalists, some of whom back or at any rate obey the ‘lawful’ government because they have never seen the Cult in action and so don’t believe it can be as black as it is painted. Obviously there must be order. So far as there is a government of .Kadun at all, that government is Corsin, who are something the members of the civilian administration which is the face Azt shows to the world are not: intelligent and informed. Thus when the Minister squawks there must be a show-trial of General Prog or of Nodsi, Regional Commander (air) for the entire Lausanine, Corsin say get real. Or at any rate not yet. For the moment the keys to the submission of All-Kadun are stealth, cunning and undermining the moral authority of the old ruling-class. Corsin understand that if they do anything stupid they can lose, particularly if Kadun were to split, Var-segan and Van-senok in the west allying with Vasucula and Carlin in the east allying with Dabida. Thus the fiction of a united Kadun must at all cost be maintained and the Great Divide between the south and her neighbour imprinted on every irturbi’s brain. Their ways are not our ways, particularly of course with regard to women and gays. To be a gallant flier fighting with every brain cell and sinew for Kadun’s soul does not mean you want a woman in the cock-pit next to you.
That said, few in Kadun think the south would be a push-over because of the composition of her forces and the gender of the President of Fidub. Beyond the knee-jerk reaction, all possible futures are on the table, though some less likely than others. There is general recognition among civilized people that Kadun must change at the socio-economic level. Grinding poverty must be alleviated. People should not die of readily treatable diseases. And of course the criminal justice system could be improved upon.
If Kadun wished to come into line with the south and become a freedom-loving democracy with equal rights for all, Sarat’s story would be a simple one, but Kadun has yet to be persuaded of the necessity of these things and it isn’t. In a nutshell, for the moment all shades of sane opinion are united against Azt. Nonetheless, people acknowledge a time may come when they may end up fighting each other. The Army in particular regard this eventuality with horror.
So much for the backdrop against which our heroes and heroines grew up.
2. MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN PICTURES
Mitch has a boat on the Delta. She noses through the reeds, emerges in clear water, moors at Kreel. The family book in at the inn, fake ye olde, with ten-year-old timbers. After dinner Mitch and Karula relax on the veranda, the babies safe in the arms of the gophers. Later they dance. Besotted with each other.
“Impatient, charming, dominant – and kind. Maybe even tender. Oh, and
bright.”
A veritable paragon. The sort of guy who could really rock Kadun. PANTHER watch Mitch and Mitch watches everyone.
Sear and Ravish launch their new campaign for Marquis. A beautiful
woman in a cage. Upper-class porn. Harn’s feminists rage, midst the counter-cries of Prude! Censorship! It echoes an older image, the feminists say, can we not move on! Any spotty adolescent in an agency can pick on an image. There is no censorship in Harn, at least that kind. The ancient spidery things behind the scenes keep their
activities well concealed. These guys do what? Is not something you would catch the Chief Minister of Harn saying. Torture, murder, general humiliation and abuse? We know, guys, we know. So Harn is seamy. There are boats you do not rock. You let PANTHER rock them. PANTHER, a little discreet enquiry tells Mitch, hang out in the cat-house, an annexe of the Fidubi Rep Centre.
The Jumesit Palace still stands in Azt, its delicate ironwork gates padlocked, and people go about their business just as though it weren't there. Where else could it be? is a surprisingly good question, but of course Krarlik didn't know that as he slipped one night inside the gates, dogged in his search for the throne. There was a banshee howl.
Good evening, brother, riposted Krarlik. Children ran across his path in the broad daylight of their time. One has heard something, muttered Krarlik.
There is a step up. It is all pale green and white and gold; no harsh bands of solid colour here despoil. A huge floor seems to stretch endlessly, giving an impression of limitless space and light, and beyond it a garden, the people-space where Azt met and talked and laughed. There is an arch. Krarlik walked through into more of the same. The Star came tumbling into the throne room, naked, shaved, lithe, every fraction of her body covered with fragments of silver, an intricate metal head-dress cascaded, cartwheeled, twisted turned, tumbled, then fell to the ground before Jaizal.
Master. He smiled. Krarlik continued his search. There came the Bronzes, so called because against a copper sky in a copper world unfolds a panorama of line and curve and perhaps those are horsemen but who can tell, at least until one stops, silhouetted against the skyline, and raises his spear. The walls of time and space are very thin here but there is no passage. Our radical young heroes and heroines are in for one or two shocks.
Occasionally Mitch visits his parents. “It is nonsense,” said Heela.
“History written by the victors? It’s the biggest con in history. How many people subscribe to this garbage?” Mitch rambles on. “You ever think CLIK has a whole load of money behind it?”
Heela and Kile exchange glances. “Truly you do not know?” “Know what?”
Heela logs on.
CLIK is proud to list its sponsors. “Sohenoil! Oh come on!”
And who does the PR? And who does Sohenoil’s PR? Lo, it is the same firm. I am so surprised.
Mitch sits back cackling.
“Fidubis are good democrats. Maybe the decision came from elsewhere.
What do we actually know about sir?”
Steamy affair with Madam President in her wild youth. Well, well, well!
Rumoured to have trounced his chances of her job. Don’t get that. If holier-than-thou Fidub operates a double-standard, wouldn’t it be her chances?
“Perhaps he had no chance,” said Kile.
“Maybe, maybe. Even Fidub baulks at being governed by the Anile
emperor.”
I see. He lives in the Summer Palace. He is almost never seen without
PANTHER. He is hand-in-glove with PANTHER and probably is PANTHER. Sohenoil makes generous donations to CLIK (I love that one!). Former leader of the Senate of Fidub, thirty years in democratic politics. Of course he has absolutely no interest in this matter of Kadun. Who knows that better than I. It is absurd, is it not, sir, to think that you would be interested in anything so uncouth as putting a fire-cracker under them.
“I should prefer,” said Mitch, “to be hanged for the coup I am plotting not the one I’m not.”
“Indeed,” said Heela. “Meaning?”
“Talk to him.”
“I have your consent, father?” asked Mitch, suspiciously meek. “Why?”
“I trust him to protect the interests of our class? I do not.” Heela assumed the expression ordinary parents might assume for initiating discussion of contraception. “Micheal, there is the question of your education. You must speak with PANTHER!”
“You just told me that, papa.”
Sarshi took herself off to college in Zur. She met Vij not through Carlin but at the party. That's the party, not a party. The party is what they call the caff attached to the shrine. You go to the party if you're distressed, you go to the party if you're cool and of course you go to the party if you're curious.
Sarshi held her glass up to the light. "'The wine they sip...'"
"This is the question?” asked Vij.
"'The vision gone now, stars are laid to rest, the moon lies sundered. Comes to every stricken breast the weird of night, the tapping of the blind man's cane and governance. By death.' Isn't that our version?" She laughed. "I spoil the party."
"No chance," said Vij.
“What about your average ego-maniac? "We're not naive."
"In the worst there are hidden depths! Everyone's all right, really. Excuse me, I come from a country where they torture people."
We were out all night! wrote Sarshi. We talked about you-know-what.
Enlighten you when I get home.
My daughter becomes Hadin-Wadud.
"A few steamy affairs," said Pilo wistfully.
Sorg is Sarshi’s twin. He completed basic training and crossed fingers and toes. Where would they post him? Some transport depot in the back-streets of Tjulsit! But no! But worse! Aargh! Caniba.
Caniba Base is an odd place, a law unto itself. It accommodates Layat, General Commanding the Fourth Army, on the grounds (according to Caniba) of being the Fourth Army's brains. The cultural arm, they call themselves. Caniba is the home of the cerebral, the educators and the intelligence gatherers, the odd-balls, according to the rest. Officers and men come from all over to attend courses. To the relief of the residents, they go away again.
"We do not squander talent," said General Prog smugly, Uncle Athanou to Saryulin's children, not a real uncle but an old friend. Saryulin made positive noises.
Sorg from a tender age had been described as 'difficult'.
Sarat 16 babbled only about a demo to be held outside the Ciletij Rep Centre against development of the northern wilderness. He's signed the on-line petition.
Baz and Paw exchanged glances. “A little talk, I think," said Baz "Birds and the bees," said Paw.
"'Wanton destruction of one of the few remaining - '" said Baz. "The Anile heir thinks they're a bunch of total savages, right?"
"Him and half Fidub," said Paw.
"And whose name are they going to pick on?"
"Oh come on! You mean anyone reads these things?” “And then he went to the demo!” said Baz enthusiastically. “Thinking of it,” said Sarat.
“If no-one reads them, what's the point?” “Numbers!”
"We, the undersigned, we think you should talk about this."
"Make a speech, you mean? Are you telling me I can't sign petitions?" "You can't pretend you're just a citizen of Fidub."
"Of course I'm just a – Cho.” “Cho.”
“OK, somebody tries to make something - I didn't mean it! I bleat. I do mean it, just not like that. Everyone can say what he thinks except me?"
"You have to think it through," said Paw. "You can't be just Sarat. I know you don't like it. If you so much as said you like Crumbles, it'd be Anile heir endorses Crumbles!"
"Calm down. Be a good little teenager and talk to your mum and dad." He talked if not calmed down.
"I thought," said Baya cautiously, “you wanted to be a vet."
"I do. I care. I'm not going to have my caring bit cut off to satisfy a load of prats in Ciletij. I mustn't care enough to actually say so, right?"
"You will be defined," said Essa. "Others' expectations, others' behaviour to you. they will assume you are something you are not. You must resist definition, remain Sarat. Think before you speak. Or sign petitions.
“People will see,” hazarded Sarat, “a whole lot of stuff that isn't there. I can't make a speech about all the stuff that isn't there before I – add a note to the petition, no, I'm not winding up Ciletij, I just care about trees.”
“Just be aware,” said Baya.
Essa suppressed a sigh. Kadun must blow. It is important Dabidans, Fidubi play their part in her reconstruction. Steer her away from pernicious elements bent on turning the Caniba Plain into a multi-storey car-park. It is just possible Sarat's chosen sphere is such he may escape - definition. Fat chance.
Sarat went off to see Cho.
“The message I'm getting – you and PANTHER – people will think - “ “What?”
“That – I'm somehow part of it. I want to go to a sit-in.” “About what?”
“Ciletij want to rip the forest open. I do know about the rape.”
Emperor Kaminua massacred Ciletij by burning them alive, setting fire to the forest they hid in, or not, according to whose version it is.
“A sensitive issue to this day.”
“I'm not completely thick. Most people don't even know about you and PANTHER.”
“Sarat – the people you talk to in, what is it you call it, RL, they know you. Once you speak to the world, you speak to people who know nothing of you, who can readily be manipulated by – the people who know about me and PANTHER.”
“People will think – I'm making some kind of statement.” “Fidubi moral supremacy springs to mind.”
“Then I can't speak out. No way!”
“Use it, then. Use it and be heard. But think first. What are people
hearing?”
“I can't help what people think. Dad said I had to – reject it, just stay me.” “Do not be drawn by it. Do not explain. Your turf is – fairly clear-cut.
The chief polluters of the continent are Kadun and Ciletij, but that is at least known to be the south versus the rest. The micro is better than the macro. Perhaps not bacteria!
The threat to feeding-grounds or migration of a particular beastie, perhaps. Pictures of its cute offspring.”
“Aw,” said Sarat. His particular obsession was the skagga, a sort of large and repulsive hairless rat. “Lichen! Truly, there are lichen on the ancient trees of the northern forests found nowhere else.”
“Lichen are excellent.”
“Would it be right – steer clear of people. NoZone is about people.” “Be especially clear about that. You are a biologist or a politician?” “I'm me,” said Sarat. “That'll really impact, talking about lichen!” Cho looked at him thoughtfully.
“We are not in fact discussing your profound scientific concern - ?” “There's no point if you don't get people's attention.”
“We appear to have moved on from a voice in a crowd.”
“You're making me think,” said Sarat reproachfully. “What you're saying -
“
“People will hear you if you say grass is green. Except they won't. They
will find an alternative meaning. Fact is better than moral judgement.”
“What they're doing is wrong,” said Sarat. “Mum said be aware. Of – of people making an issue of what they think I've said, not what I have said.”
“Sarat – if you envisage a future in front of the camera – I do advise not yet! ” Ancient spidery things take a discreet interest in the proclivities of Var-segan,
and here is Mitch, with difficulty containing his temper, while around him is spewed contempt for the rest of humanity.
It has been made clear these are men-only gatherings or at least business meetings at which the attendance of partners is not expected (to which it happens that no female business-persons are invited). Mitch wants to tell them where to put it, but Karula wants to know what the bastards talk about on their own. I have my babies!
What more can a woman desire?
“I do not think that is the case,” says Mitch. Searc (known as Shark) smiles.
“You have a reputation as a radical!” Beejay thinks to rescue him.
“We are all radicals when young! Dear boy, you must dine with me, present your case. A certain intimacy with Kadun may be required to understand you. Then of course I shall demolish your arguments.”
“Indeed? I think I did not catch your name, sir.”
“Karba ban-jaizat-stoan, Kadun Representative at Harn.” Shark’s voice is expressionless.
“A charming habit of the Vasuculi, is it not, calling the aged and decrepit ‘sir’.
Come now, we shall leave these gentlemen to their own devices.” We shall? Out of the frying-pan….
“Offal,” says Beejay in the safety of the car.
“Lord Shark has an interesting reputation,” says Mitch. Mitch returns.
Make you some coffee? Well. Ha!
He is wicked, Mitch reports. He is wicked about Shark, he is wicked about Dabida, he is wicked about Zani, he is wicked about the workings of the government of Harn. He is especially wicked about the machinations of Azt. He is universally wicked, witty, a delight.
Only how does he survive if he’s not a front?
He asked me about my education! I dished back some tripe about life being a continuing process of education. Mitch can’t help laughing. Here I sit, product of some of the most rigorous and not to mention expensive education in the world and people hover over me like I was some poor kid in a tenement.
“He told you,” said Karula, “what to do to survive.” “Interesting, isn’t it.”
The Imperial Air Fleet is a group of Fidubi pilots wearing Kadun uniform who have appeared out of the mist and built a nest in the heart of Regional Command. They are instructors. They are providing training in special ops (an elite corps, you understand). They are also PANTHER. Intricate negotiation had been required, culminating in Cho meeting senior officers of KAF. . Clearly assistance from Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis is entirely different to assistance from the Republic of Fidub. Indeed, Cho had made that most clear. There are two distinct aspects to this matter of Kadun. That thing does not sit on a silver chair. The other of course is the future of Kadun after the Cult is defeated. These subtleties would be lost on Azt and indeed most people do not care to look too closely at the deep water under them and all the sharks in it. We are practical men. All cats are grey in the dark. (Joke: Kadun uniform is pale grey.) Whatever else they are, they are hardly a threat. We have other concerns. Can they do the business? How can we use it? What is life like in FAF? About half FAF are female. Life’s little difficulties arise over gender politics and other questions of mores, not enemy aliens training our pilots. These are friendly aliens, but aliens nonetheless. Of course it could never work in Kadun.
“You cannot tell me the female mind is not weaker.”
“You want to meet some of the girls, you really do.” “It is not appropriate. It is not feminine.”
“What is feminine?”
“You accept a woman in command?” “I have a woman in command.”
Evil Fidubi grins.
“We all do. Her name is Airoch.”
“The exception that proves the rule?” teased one of the Fidubi, but there was a certain tension in the air. Time to talk about the weather again. Maybe when we know each other a bit better. Just what is it, guys? What is your problem? We are guests.
Thus too of course in Carlin but in Carlin they were more used to our good friends from the south.
Mel returned babbling from Carlin. “You could have warned me!” “About what, darling?”
“About the music!” “Fidubi timbers.”
“Window. Music. In the.”
“Oh that,” said Saski. “Hardly our business.” “Cho’s, possibly,” said Tar. “Not ours.” “What is it!”
“That’s a rather long story,” said Tar. “Why has no-one let it out!”
The music. Window. In the. Trapped.
Tar grinned
“Ancient legend has it,” he intoned. “When the emperor returns.”
“Oh,” said Mel. Pause. “Couldn't they let it out anyway! I mean things have changed.”
I don't suppose they know how to, thought Tar. Should I teach them! “You made that up,” accused Saski afterwards.
Tar grinned again.
Professional advice, thinks Mitch. One should not be too proud to take professional advice. So I walk into the Fidubi Rep Centre? I think perhaps we should be a bit subtle about this.
The PANTHER site is uncompromising. If you have a problem with the guys with the strange head-gear, click here.
“Gulp,” says Mitch. “The trees,” says Karula. He laughed.
“Oh indeed the trees.” He played with his pen. “The Isles sing. Carlin sings. These things are troublesome, are they not, to the modern rational mind. Because they are indisputable.”
“It would be a pity,” said Karula, “if we ended up at the bottom of the river because we didn’t know how to look after ourselves.”
“But that is in any case true,” said Mitch. “It requires no mind-games. Let
us just have a little look at the other matter.”
The true face of Kadun. Death sitting on a silver chair and wearing a silver coronet leers at her from the monitor. The image of desecration, they have been taught to call it, but now she wants to be exact. The name of the Anile Emperor is mud. And if this is perceived to be his true face who is surprised. Something stirs in her mind, something she learned as a child, but she can’t quite remember. More links to click on. Same old image. What do they actually think, so to speak. ‘The mystics confuse with an objectivist overlay the fundamental truths of existence.’ Oh, right. Death the only and ultimate reality.
Discussion forum? OK, who shall we be? Kaminua and Asyrion! But there are many Kaminuas and Asyrions already, which may or may not be revealing, since opinion is divided as to whether Kaminua and Asyrion were the good guys or the most evil people who ever lived. Asyrionn32 and [email protected] begin to read the messages. They post: oh puh-lease! What century is this? They post again: I have never in my life read such a load of confused babble. They’re rather enjoying
this, but duty calls. They return to the search engine. “Anile Throne” +myths. Got it! ‘The Anile Throne permits only the true Master of Kadun to sit upon it.’ So Death is Master of Kadun? “Silver coronet” +”silver chair”. ‘Beyond the edge of the sea lay the legendary kingdom of Va, the realm joyeux, the earthly paradise. Here in truth no pain, no death, no fear, its symbol a silver chair. This Narulis took as his symbol. This may
be considered just a leetle presumptuous, but explains a great deal about the subsequent history of the empire. It was supposed to be inviolate. It is. People aren’t. ‘ It is? little Grid-site author. You are who? But they looked in vain for a bio and couldn’t find anything about the coronet. They went back to the results of the search. And Carlin and Carlin and Carlin and the Dacunine Window and Carlin. They grinned to themselves wondering if Saryulin quite understood there were approximately 30,000,000 mentions of Carlin on the Grid. Indeed the world changes. “Dacunine Window”. Now we are out of fantasy-land into academe. One of the masterpieces of the Silabrian School.
We must visit, Mitch! I have to see that Window.
“Death is Master of Kadun. Do you not find that a somewhat unyielding piece of baloney?”
Marketing. Looks like someone’s had the same idea. Man, there is such shit on this Grid!
“It sings? The Anile throne sings? Oh come on!” Mardis raged about urban blight.
"Let's pretend it doesn't exist, then we don't have to do anything about it!" "What do you suggest I do, take my trusty revolver and shoot the bloody
rats!" rodentia."
"They'd just come back."
"They would indeed. You tell me truly Fidub is rat-less, devoid of
"What I'm telling you is it's like Carlin!" Sorg fiddled with his ear.
"Come again, I fear I may have misheard - "
"The cities are like they are because no-one gives a shit. Saryulin gives a
shit. Fidub gives a shit. It's not difficult."
shit."
"Perhaps a trifle shitty? So what you're saying is someone has to give a
"That's what I'm saying," said Mardis. "One has a responsibility." Whoops! What says the sage elder now?
"One, perhaps. Two, no. Finish your education first!" "Don't start!" said Mardis. "Would you help?" "Mardis, for - you're recruiting me?"
"No! Just curious." Sorg took a deep breath. "What we have to do is
work out what we're going to do next."
"We?"
"You know you're a good chap underneath it all. Everybody sits on the
fence."
again.
"There are worse places. Under it, in a shallow pit pushing up daisies." "Why shallow?" asked Mardis.
"I don't know. Sounded more sinister?"
Cho looked at the message from the cat-house and laughed: Karula preggers
“Darling,” challenged Amida, “name me one theory of revolution that takes
into account both the necessity of reproduction and the primary role played therein by the female of the species.”
Cho laughed again.
Sarat and Hass at the annual conference of NoZone in Zur were ravished by the camera, followed back to the hill. His short presentation on lichen and liverworts even earned him a nod of approval from his biology mistress.
Sarat bought his first pair of mirror-shades. Mel edged around the subject of the Window.
“It’s my heritage!” Sarat growled mutinously, but said nothing more.
That's sick, that's garbage. Such were the sounds of the Sarat in its natural habitat, but his head remained firmly in the ozone layer. There was school, there were family, the menagerie to tend, the skagga to be saved, that unappealing little beast with its pink piggy eyes, probably threatened with extinction solely in order that someone with an exceptionally soft heart dive to its rescue, but Kadun could not be dismissed from consciousness, a pimple under the skin, a whitehead an unreachable itch, the bane of his life, a part of his being. Every grown-up he knows is concerned about Kadun. It’s getting worse, not better.
The quickest way to Var-segan is through Vascula and so Cho, delegate at some conference or other in Wintawa, turned into a black cat at midnight and disappeared into the dark.
“Dad works in the estate office,” said Changri.. “Like his grandad and his dad before him. Qine thought young Mitch was a right pain in the – all his talk about rights. What does it mean to a bloke who’s starving? Qine got his pecker up. Oh well, if the young master says so, that’s it, isn’t it, sir. It doesn’t mean anything, you stupid little prick. There was people around. They got a bit – flustered, you could say…You have to understand..”
Cho laughed. “I understand.”
“Say what’s on yer mind but be polite about it. Mitch said, you call me sir, you mean it. You call me Mitch, you stupid bastard, you mean that. You do not say what you do not mean. That’s how I see it. Qine said, all right, you stupid bastard, you come with me! Took him down the tenements.”
“That were when it dawned on Qine Mitch couldn’t do owt. His dad couldn’t. Because they didn’t own the land. Live on the estate, you live decent, you get a good school. You get a chance. Other places, you haven’t got a hope from the time you first see the light of day.. The whole of folks’ lives, their health, their kiddies’ schooling, it all depends on the capitalists.”
“Young Mitch went off to college, had his young friends to stay, took them to poor folks’ places. Bad as him? They were worse! Qine had his mates. So there they all were, up half the night drinking and arguing. Lads behaving as lads do, and then of course.. But then lads find lasses, get more settled in their ways.”
“Or more measured in their plotting,” said Cho. Changri laughed.
“You want this straight up?”
“Being polite about it, mind,” said Cho.
“Buggered to that! What Mitch wants to do and what Mitch can do, they're poles apart. You want to know what I think his problem is?
“Aye, lad, that I do.”
“He can't do it on his own, can he. Him and his radical friends can no more hold Kadun together, so all he ends up with is a civil war and lot of people dead.”
“So?”
“Needs to talk to people. Marula, she has her own views. Carlin, I don't know. I know young Duvi were right radical before she got herself Mistress of Carlin and I would not think Saryulin would wed someone opposite in views. The three of them, that's what do-you-call it, a pincer action, but as you well know, it's a lot of other stuff besides.”
“The Fidubi model?” asked Cho.
“Ah well, there you have it. Now we get to the juicy bit. He does not like Fidub, calls it the Fidubi scam.”
“Calls what?” asked Cho cautiously.
“Everything good the empire did was Fidubi. All the crap was irturbi.” Cho bit his lip.
“A certain amount of horrible truth in that.”
“Aye, Jaizal, our last Fidubi emperor. There's one other thing you might bear in mind. He's a rationalist. I don't ask how you crossed the border on your
paddy-paws because I know. That, you will see, is an – aspect, the Cult is trying to retake Kadun and Micheal ban-sarndit-vaq dismisses the other matter.”
Cho looked perplexed.
“How can he! By which I mean how can he be a frequent guest in Van-senok, as I know he is. Marula could show him.”
“That, you'd better ask him. Or her! What I am trying to say is he doesn't understand Kadun. I know that sounds very terrible. He has all the facts and figures, probably knows everything from the movements of the Fleet to the cost of a loaf in Tjulsit, but if he moves he will fail because he has no idea what he is moving against.”
“Die,” said Cho. “Is Heela mad?”
“I would suggest also you put that question. I think you are asking me if he's given up. Never. Like the rest of us, if we knew what to do, we'd have done it.”
Cho and his party proceeded on their way. “I don't believe I heard that,” said Fox.
They slipped into Van-senok. From deep in the forest there came a howl. “The werewolves,” said Cho.
“I’m a southerner,” said Vax then after a while. “Uh, Cho, the path is opening before us.”
“Of course,” said Cho. “Note equally it is closing behind us.”
“This experience,” announced Fox, “gives a whole new dimension to the word ‘safe’.”
In Van-senok is the headquarters of the underground because nothing penetrates the trees. They learn fast, the rebellious, the resistant, the scarred, the enraged. Little in Kadun is as they thought it. Qine has changed. He walks better, no longer challenging the world but confident of his place in it. He talks better, don’t help to lose your temper. Someone wants to see him, head of PANTHER, they say, that’ll be interesting, no doubt of it. A tall bloke, but slight, bit like an ash. Face seems familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Tell me about you and Mitch,” said Cho.
“On me own I’m just a piece of trash shooting me mouth off but I weren’t on me own. ‘Course I’d never have admitted it, but I thought I was protected.”
“Instead you were a threat.”
“So when he’s back at the Schools, it’s his final year,they thought he wouldn’t be bothered. Tell you something, would have shot meself if he'd failed!”
“You may not wish to answer this. Does he want to be Master of Var-segan?”
“Or do you mean why?” “Both?”
“How the world works. Opens doors. It’s his family, his history.” “His views on land. Rent, for instance.”
“He doesn’t think that’s right,” said Qine after a moment. “But you don’t think it’s your business to talk to me about it.” “That is correct.”
“Why?”
“I think you are here because PANTHER is thinking of backing him and if that is the case there is only one person you should be talking to about what he thinks.”
“Mostly right,” acknowledged Cho. “The trouble is no-one knows what there is to back. He’s dropped out of politics entirely.”
“Don’t believe it,” said Qine.
“Nor do we. But we’re not quite sure what to do about it.”
“I assume you – investigate people. My future lady Var-sega’.” Cho grinned.
“Oh yes,” said Cho, “we have investigated the politics of my future lady
Var-sega’.”
“They’re plotting, all right.” Pause. “I’m not the only one as found people
hate him.”
“I understand that,” said Cho.
“Do you understand,” said Qine. “Mind, I’m not quite sure how to put this.
There’s some say, in the City he’s seen what the odds are. I would not wish to be thought to be speaking for Mitch but – “
“He can’t do it on his own,” said Cho.
“I would not think he likes that,” said Qine. “I would not think he likes that at
all.”
Sarat and Hass were profiled in The World This Week: 'More Beautiful Than
Pictures?' Tar and Hass went into a huddle. Tar knew Hass was gay. So far no-one else did. Sarat beamed at the camera but the shades veiled his eyes.
"Gods’ teeth!" said Saryulin. “Wa-a-a,” said Karula.
“Photogenic,” observed Mitch. He doodled. “CLIK + Ban-varna may be bad enough. CLIK + a media-savvy and photogenic grandson.”
“Boys become men real fast these days,” said Karula. “It can’t work in Kadun, Mitch.”
“It did once.”
He typed in Alzani-Meta +protocol.
Alzani-Meta is of course notorious for its rejection of all propriety. “Oh this is sniffy! I love it.”
According to A-M, the point is that everyone is fundamentally a fellow human being and one can say anything to them one would normally say to anyone with whom one is on first-name terms. One may note that one is answered in kind! I have observed that to be dashed rude to His Highness earned the comment: Are you always this rude or is it something you ate? spoken, I may add, with great good humour. This is clearly an alien form of communication to us. I would not hesitate to emphasize that what it is not is meek acceptance of incivility.
It may be useful to contrast this with an alternative approach most notoriously articulated by Micheal ban-sarndit-vaq. Mitch, as he is commonly known, said: You call me ‘sir’, you mean it. You call me Mitch, you stupid bastard. You mean that.
You do not say what you do not mean. One hesitates to associate the heir to Var-segan with vulgarity; there is, shall we say, a crude honesty in this approach
“You suggest I am vulgar, sir? How dare you?”
Sarat +family. Sarat +friends. Sarat +education. Sarat +politics “Eeek!” squeaked Karula.
“Eeek?”
“His Imperial Highness is an item with Maya Talal, Vij's sister.”
“I do not believe it! I suppose if one considers they all grew up together.” “They're kids. It won't last!”
“Honey, why do you not look up Vij?”
Mitch went on doodling. It looked like a little daisy, five petals around a central core. Karula knew what it actually was.
“OK, the kid has a brain. He has access to more money than most people can conceive exists. The camera falls down and worships him. He is clearly deeply socially aware. He is 17. His grandfather, however, is not 17. Nor are his grandfather's
politics apparently centred on the ozone layer!”
“Mitch, it’s obvious to whom we should be talking.”
“Carlin, the prize. From where did Narulis start? I cannot think Ban-varna unaware of these things.”
“1500 years!”
“Much has changed, indeed. Our question may be what hasn't. There are things here of which I should like further clarification. I do not think I shall get that by walking up to the front-door. If there is a plot, it must surely eventually show itself.
There is something here we are missing. Fidub, Fidub, Fidub! What in hell is the relationship between PANTHER, the Aniles and the Republic of Fidub?”
Karula grinned.
“Lost in the mists of pre-history!”
“That may not be a joke. These guys have been going so unspeakably
long…”
stuff! Oh.
“Notes my lord Var-sega’. The House of Fire used to run Fidub.” “Used to? Let’s just try…”
Choit ban-varna +PANTHER.
Protected by PANTHER. Lives with PANTHER. Yeah, yeah, know that
“According to this dude, His Imperial Majesty heads PANTHER. Implicitly.
PANTHER are Narulis’ cubs and agents of the House of Fire.” “That’s crazy.”
“Most things we read these days are. Ever notice that?”
They return to the PANTHER site, sift through the dreary but necessary stuff about lines of accountability. So this Faun guy reports directly to Airoch. And the rest? History of PANTHER Ah-hah. Huh?
PANTHER was founded by Narulis and spread to Fidub, not as is commonly believed the other way around….After the collapse of the empire, PANTHER came from Fidub to assist our comrades in Kadun…
For a history of PANTHER in Kadun, click here. “There are two PANTHERs?”
Oh dear.
PANTHER were left up a well-known creek without a paddle, betrayed by everyone in sight – the Houses, the Aniles, the people, everyone let us down! We do not forget that. The fact remains we are Narulis’ cub. We stand for Narulis’ values. Narulis founded PANTHER. Narulis was a sprog of the House of Fire. The House of Fire ran Fidub. PANTHER spread to Fidub. Not, note, the other way round. Some 900 years later, a handful of limping cats, scarred mentally and physically, arrived back in Fidub.
The House of Fire did not want to know that Narulis’ little venture had gone pear-shaped. PANTHER understood, Fidubi PANTHER, that is. They paid not the slightest attention to the House of Fire or of course to the cavortings in Azt. PANTHER obey no-one, never have and never will, especially after the Kadun cock-up.
In the midst of all this a guy called Zani had a personal quibble with the Anile throne. PANTHER was re-established in Kadun as watch-cats. As some tell it, we ran off with Zani. But we weren’t going to travel the same road twice: we could have but did not put Zani on the Anile throne. Jaizal was defeated in front of his court, in front of
what counted as his world. We got Jaizal’s empress out to Fidub with her children. Jaizal went over the edge and was assassinated elder sons. The collapse of the empire began.
So far as our relationship with the Aniles went, Sheheela, Jaizal’s Mrs, and daughter of Var-segan, who (poor girl) had spent her every second in Azt being scared out of her wits, felt she had a duty to us moggies and we had a duty to Kadun. We argued about it. We came back to where we started. We’re Narulis’ and this is what we’re supposed to do. In between we had to rethink the universe. We say the Anile Court turned rotten. They didn't see it like that. Metaphysically they arrived at a sort of amoral detachment. This they called the doctrine of essence. From it, it was easy to go either way so they did. Consider Kaminua’s Court. They discuss UnMaking. Do they not look as though they discuss the weather! Hunger, weariness. urination, menstruation, the messy parts of being human, these they do not care for. The doctrine of essence leads them to wish not to be human. Comes now the Master of Kadun.
Enough! My lord Heba. shall I command my servants strip the clothes from your body and the flesh from your bones that you become this essence of which you prattle! Is not all One! he mimics, pain an illusion, life and death but one continuum? The Anile Court believed – arrived at affecting to believe – the Creator separate and detached. Nothing human had any reality. They were mad. Consequently they became indifferent to human suffering. Human suffering no longer evoked human responses. A man viciously beating a screaming child. PANTHER could not and cannot be everywhere. After
Casin-ruhn we felt a Creator concerned with its Creation would have intervened. PANTHER arrived at its current metaphysic. ‘Can Light fill Light/The One become more whole?’ The Creator is co-terminous with the created.
“There are things we learn,” said Mitch a little drily. “You get dirty. You get sweaty. You roll up your sleeves. One had not previously endowed them with metaphysical significance.”
“Mitch, what is this all about!”
Mitch typed “Kadun PANTHER” into the search-engine.
Jaizal all but destroyed PANTHER in Kadun. When after the collapse of empire help came, it came from Fidub.
So Kadun PANTHER became Fidubi PANTHER. Then our pet cats are foreign agents? I do not believe it. That is not the tradition.
He clicked on. PANTHER allowed Jaizal. Someone’s made a conspiracy theory out of it. PANTHER engineered the collapse of the empire. Here a voice for the defence. PANTHER found themselves out on a limb. Yup, I got that bit. He reads on. This is heavy stuff, man! And the thought niggles: this is the modern world. All of it, it’s so much hooey. Party-tricks. You check your facts. You do your research. I cannot play this game until I know which game I’m playing.
“Look at the Hadin-Wadud,” suggested Karula. “If anyone knows about this crap, it has to be Alzani-Meta!”
Mitch grinned.
“Why don’t we just climb the hill!”
“Why don’t we? Because, Mitch, if you don’t I shall.” “Honey…”
“We have all heard the stories, Mitch. They only have to be one tenth true.”
Jaizal +”Great Gates” +Zani.
“Oh man, what a story now! This has only to be one tenth true!” “Zani smashed the empire, Mitch.”
“PANTHER smashed the empire. PANTHER built it. PANTHER knocked it down. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.”
“How about you stop wondering and ask!” Other people thought like that too.
I am, said Hass. I’m not, said Sarat.
There was of course a very great deal of lizard spittle. Their ways are not our ways. Inconceivable the perversions of the south gain a foothold in our glorious Kadun. Etc. How can I put this? Sarat’s choice of best friend did not immediately earmark him as emperor material in the eyes of Kadun.
“It did occur to me,” admitted Karula, “but then why would he not say?” “Waiting for his sister to marry?” suggested Mitch. “Heirs are expected to
produce successors. They do not do gender, any more than we, but all the same.”
Karula arrived at a gay forum where the matter had been enthusiastically discussed, not least by Maya.
Oh, I see! Maya had posted, it's a plot to make me reveal the intimate secrets of the bedroom to Glitz! Guys, take it from one who knows. SARAT IS NOT GAY.
No need to shout, darling. Scream? Maya had suggested.
Then Hass posted two words: I wish!
That, posted the moderator, would kind of seem to settle...
Of course as far as the lizard was concerned it settled nothing. The combination of 'anile' and 'probably gay' was a gift to the slime-machine even when Hass was paired and Sarat had shown himself remarkably effective. We ignored it and concentrated on lichen. Reasonably sophisticated people reached their own more or else accurate conclusions about the youthful experiments of upper-class young men, about which more later. Probably more words were wasted on How The Aniles Got Their Name than on any other single aspect. We didn't bother with that, either, because we didn't know.
Asdinan took himself off to college in Azt in the mood of a man who thinks he has to serve his jail-sentence. You cannot wholly evade, Saryulin had said. As had sighed and even introduced himself to his mother and him who was referred to as her friend. Seems a decent chap, Pilo had remarked. People mature, Asdinan. Farvia was a child. He had hesitated. Not, you know, the most profound of thinkers. Mardis has become a sort of social worker, helping run a soup-kitchen.. Asdinan observed they neither campaigned nor lobbied (argued, questioned, criticized) but merely did. That's observed as in uttered not observed as in saw and Mardis promptly expounded his theory of revolution, which was so far largely limited to appearing to be completely innocent. There is just no point, said Mardis, in getting a reputation as a sort of flea-bite. Fleas get squashed. He talked of the level of disaffection in the Army and assumed at some point there would be a coup, saw the Army as establishing a framework in which change would take place slowly but surely rather than the instigating overnight change, a framework in which people could talk intelligently about how to do things. As had
murmured, PLU? and Mardis had laughed. Exactly! Anything so long people don't get any power. As remembered something he'd read about revolutions taking place not when people are at rock-bottom but when things have improved enough for them to have the strength to revolt and suggested the possibility of working-class revolt being crushed. Mardis pointed out that the squaddies are the working-class and that the working-class as a whole was pretty conservative. Of course they wanted better food and housing and pay but all the stuff from the south about women and gays was hardly on the immediate agenda. Unless you are women and gays, suggested As, but took the point that the Kadun masses were unlikely to go to the barricades in support of gay rights.
In other words it was like hundreds of other conversations taking place in Kadun, the nub of which was something must be done but we're not sure what.
Karula dug further and discovered the Seismic Six, Mel, Hass, Reakoed, Maitlan, Fal and Tet. Since Sarat now spent his summers mostly in Zur to be with Maya, Mel and Hass no longer went to Fidub but cluttered up the Saa'nda Senta with the rest of the Six.
take it.”
be eso.”
“Schoolfriends,” she said to Mitch. “Seem to be real ordinary Zuri.” He looked at Fal.
“If that's the Dabidan model, who's objecting! That would be Mel's girl, I
“That too is the subject of hot debate! She is apparently Maya's best friend.” “But Maya is not - “
“The word,” she said cautiously, “they use for Maya is eso.” “What in hell is eso?”
“Inner and esoteric as opposed to outer and exoteric. Hasiyata is also held to
“These terms are common currency?”
“That would appear to be the case. At least in certain circles. The nearest I
have got is – expressing a relationship to the other matter, an enthusiasm for – what shall I call it?”
He grinned.
“What will you call it?”
“The inner journey. I picked that one up.” “We all know dreamy poetic types.” Karula took to reading The Straits Times.
Oh my word!
“Show you something, Mitch.” “Ah-hah?”
“Some cartoons.”
Sarat and Hass armed to the teeth as before them cowered a range of scrawny sly-looking motor vehicles emitting noxious fumes.
Sarat and Hass as young ash-trees about to come into leaf.
Sarat and Hass valiantly barring the path of cross-eyed leering axe-men trying to grab the big bucks behind them..
Sarat and Hass gazing into each other’s eyes and holding hands while little pink hearts fluttered above them.
“I found two nasty ones.”
Sarat and Hass in thick furs, a chauffeur holding open the door of a limousine, while axe-men thin to the point of starvation pointed piteously to their equally emaciated children.
Sarat and Hass wrapped in each other’s arms and laughing at Maya.
“And blog posts of pure hate. Once again the Aniles rape the poor of
Ciletij!”
“Inevitable,” said Mitch. “So?”
“To which at least some people have responded, this is a Fidubi kid who likes
trees - knock them for AMI, knock them for Sohenoil, but puh-lease! Nonetheless, I should suggest that reaction is complicated by an unwillingness to go for Alzani-Meta. If we assume the relationship with Maya is genuine, that will similarly be the case. I am trying to talk about something it is probably not possible to gauge! If Grandaddy should seek to install himself in Azt, the knives will be full out, I trust not literally. But she is Tar’s niece.”
Mitch laughed.
“Certificate of good character?”
“Not one but two families embedded in the political life of the south. It is more than that.”
“Ciletij making herself look absurd.”
“He has been in Fidubi politics for 30 years. It is hard to imagine the Senate of Fidub doing anything other than rock with laughter.”
“The implications for the Quadrant,” said Mitch, “and of course for Ciletij.” “Ciletij needs the Quadrant.”
As tagged along with Farvia's set, dabblers in the arts. Though shallow, they were at least clean and great gossips. They asked him about Mel, about A-M, about the hill, and were disappointed, but it was there he first heard 'the Dabidan model' and the consequent cracks which were to become standard – lovely legs, what about the top half? He was astounded and threw out a few of what seemed to him the more obvious obstacles, the chief one of which was there would first have to be a revolution, a new government in place to install constitutional monarchy. Cho couldn't exactly just fly in, take a cab to the Jumesit and announce all change! If we had a new government, why would we need an emperor. The answer from Farvia's set at least seemed to be that it would be rather glam, and As couldn't quite make that a political necessity, but there were a couple of young officers present, clearly trusted, thought As, and they too seemed to think it would be rather glam and more, that they could hold their heads up again, Imperial Army being more appealing than military arm of desecration. As said that he thought it was a pretty common view in the south that if our government got any madder it might try invasion, and was astonished to hear that 'some of us' thought that in that eventuality they'd just have to do what Jaizal's army did, namely desert and join forces with the foe, and also that, although PANTHER were clearly active, 'some of us' also thought that Cho could only finish off the Cult if he held the reins of power.
“Still,” said someone, “a Fidubi emperor!” “Not for the first time,” said As.
“I think we can take it Carlin would hardly object!” “Challin of course appeals to raw nationalism.”
revolt.
Colonel Challin was generally held to be the only serious contender for
“Women and gays,” said As.
His new comrade looked amused.
“I do not deny our knees jerk. No-one thinks the south a push-over because
of the composition of its armies and the gender of the President of Fidub, Tannan a sop to feminism. Except the obvious no-one.”
“Tannan?”
“General commanding Zur region.” “Eeek!”
“It's very much a class thing, isn't it. One does have some sophistication - “ “Candidly,” he said, looking at As, “it's very much a House thing. My lady
Duvi, I believe?”
“My step-mother,” said As, “has travelled the world, lived on a commune, written a book, and generally made the lives of most Dabidan women look staid. Not to mention Marula!”
“Ah yes, the mysterious Van-senok! Challin trades on being senoki, of
course.”
“His exact position?” “Keep it clean!”
“Change must be incremental.”
Mardis said he thought Challin will just perpetuate the status quo, change
would be cosmetic. We've got workers' councils! They have all the power of a new-born lamb.”
“I take the point. Challin is no democrat. He is, however, fundamentally decent. He has a sense of right and wrong notably lacking in the current corridors of power.”
“Sohenoil is hardly going to infringe the rights of capital.” “Surely in that sense the change would be equally – cosmetic.”
“If southern capital can kick out the City, that can only be to the good.”
As started to do a couple of sessions in the soup-kitchen. Mardis' team was witty and well-meaning but his observation was confirmed. Revolutionary fervour was wholly absent.
“The revolution,” he said to Mardis, “does not start here.”
“I think it's too big for them. Changing the whole system. What we do here, I mean really, mice nibbling away at something the size of a planet!”
“Exactly what do we want?” asked As.
“And how do we get it! What we're talking about is putting a whole new government in place. For a start, some people find that a bit scary. Not that it isn't or anything! But – people say, reform, as though it was just a question of a few tweaks, putting a new fuse in a plug. Who are this squeaky clean new government going to be?”
“Well, there's you and me,” said As.
“The thing is,” said Mardis, then stopped. “We have to understand Ban-varna isn't an idiot.”
“There has to be a plot?” suggested As.
“There must be other people committed to democratic change.”
“Put an ad in the Gazette?”
“This is stupid,” said Mardis. “I mean, if anyone has contacts we do.” “I suppose we could always ask him,” said As, “time-honoured tradition,
everyone has access to the emperor!”
“Whatever you and Mel talk about, presumably it isn't.” “Mel's quite eso - “
“He's what?”
“Esoteric! Interested in the other matter.” Mardis began to laugh.
“This relationship with Dabida's heir that is the talk of Azt is centred on the music of the spheres?”
“Levels of reality. Something in common. Both of us have to at least pretend to be exo because of our positions. Hass is the really eso one but it doesn't seem to worry him.”
“Sarat and Maya are still together,” said Mardis. “Of course they're just
kids.” removed?” 'this' is.”
“Her Imperial Highness, your sister-in-law – can't be right, sister-in-law once “We're in this up to our necks, aren't we. It would be nice to know what “Mel's younger than me. He might not know.”
“His cousin on the Anile throne?” “Sorg,” they both said.
“I cannot believe Sorg would betray – well, the emperor basically.” “Do you have the faint feeling this conversation is insane?”
“Time to talk to grown-ups,” said Mardis.
“We think we're at the centre of a web of intrigue!” he said to Pilo. “Despite
being innocent as the sky is blue.”
“Well, fairly innocent,” said As, “apart from wanting revolution.” “Hanging the government, that kind of thing,” acknowledged Mardis. “The detail,” said Pilo.
“You know the detail! Sarsh is paired with A-M's fourth in line. His sister Maya is an item with Sarat-ban-essa. Sarat and Hasiyata are bosom buddies. As discusses metaphysics with Mel. Half Azt is murmuring about the Dabidan model.
Everyone knows Ban-varna is an active force, both in Kadun and in the City.” “And we're just nice young chaps who want things to change,” said As.
“We assume we're not alone but we have no idea what anyone else thinks.” “Not Mel? Metaphysics.”
Mardis sighed theatrically.
“Of course we talk about Kadun sometimes. Not the future of Kadun.” “A reason for that?”
“We got there.”
“You want to know if your brother is a traitor?”
“I – didn't think of it quite like that. You know what Sorg is like. Pretends
to be.”
About the most unreliable person on the planet.
”Sorg is not working for Challin. Sorg is PANTHER.” “Wow!” said Mardis.
“I'm impressed,” said As. He paused. “Confused but impressed. If even we – Challin can't think Vij is going to share the defence of Zur.”
“The social circle,” said Pilo, “is as described.” “Oh I see!”
“You are perhaps unaware of the inordinate amount of time Sorg spends in Zur. It is held at the highest levels that his supposed work transcends regulations.”
“He has to feed them something.” “A rare talent for disinformation.”
“Is there a plot,” said As steadily, “and if so how do we join it.” “You have discussed this with your father?”
“No.”
“Do so. Asdinan – we all play complex games. Most of Azt thinks I back Challin. Do you understand what Challin's game is?”
“Limited reform,” said As, “hanging on to power. No question of people getting any real rights.”
“That is certainly the case. Even members of the government exhibit a strange enthusiasm for the frequency with which Alzani-Meta visit Carlin. Sorg has persuaded a number of people that Dabida is truly impressed. No-one starves. No-one dies of curable sickness. Carlin is our model future, the south neutralized.”
As felt a little dizzy.
“When they talk about me and Mel – I'm not supposed to be plotting with him, I'm supposed to be – neutralizing?”
“If Dabida is – neutralized, Ban-varna is isolated. As you know, Saryulin is not a great socializer. Other than with Ban-varna.”
“Waa! He – comes to Carlin!”
“That man,” said Pilo, “does exactly what he chooses.”
“We thought,” said As, “I mean we weren't really serious about it. Everyone has access to the emperor!”
“They do,” said Pilo.
Mel had become peripatetic. He went to the Schools to study under Qartly but the holidays are long and often enough he was in Zur. He went to the Denzines in the Outlands where there are no holidays. He went certainly to seize the chance of relative anonymity. He went, some people said, to nurse a heart broken by Fal's pairing with Tet – he went, some people said, to get away from what some people said.
The tribes gathered on the hill for Pietri’s 50th birthday. Sorg was explaining to Caluna’s sister and brother-in-law the finer points of the position of the Army of
All-Kadun regarding women breaching the citadel.
“Suppose there were an epidemic, or of course a war. Certainly you may say we are strange, but we are not stupid, and there are many civilian women doctors in Kadun. Some of them are reservists. In the event they were required, they would be called in. What they would not do is wear uniform. I suppose you could say it has a curious logic to it, all or nothing, and even that it is not discriminatory - it is not that only certain roles are regarded as suitable, but rather that women do not exist at all!”
Sarat was passing by.
rationale.”
“You could say they need a bomb under them!”
“You obviously missed,” said Sorg coolly, “my dramatic expose of the
“Raw sexism?” suggested Sarat.
“I’m not going to deny,” said Sorg, “but anyone who is not a complete
idiot - and particularly you, who should know better - “ By this time half The Room have stopped to enjoy the show. Tar says everyone was imagining it in the Colonnade. “ - must surely understand its roots, a deeply embedded desire to keep the girls safe. It is not the sexism of the Cult, it is a reaction to it. It is easy to mock the notion of universality of gallantry, to drag in class - Mardis does. Oh how delicate and protected is the working-class woman working ten hours a day in a factory. Nonetheless she may be safe at a level I really do not think I have to explain.”
“I can see that,” said Sarat, “but anyone who isn’t a complete idiot must see the answer is regard women as human beings able to protect themselves. Or you could say guys are just as vulnerable. Isn’t what’s deeply embedded fixed ideas of men and women?”
Sorg shook his head.
“You’re still missing the point. Safe from predation by superiors? Get real, Sarat. This is not Fidub. What happens to a woman posted to one of the Cult regiments?”
“Point taken,” said Sarat. “But - oh I see. Gays don’t exist at all in the
model.”
Sorg laughed.
“1) They do not. 2) We could hardly have an army with no men either.
3) Of course I hear whistling down the line: the Cult regiments are a recent - innovation. Give or take 1500 years. It would be naive to claim that certain reaches of this man’s army for ever have subscribed to the mores of the rest of us, but rather that they dared not cross the line.”
“Whew,” said Sarat. “I’m trying to work something out.” He grinned. “It may be whether I need to apologize! If anyone touched Maya, I’d break his neck. We all would, Mel, Hass, Vij. But that doesn’t mean we don’t recognize that Maya would probably have broken it already.”
“The male instinct to protect,” suggested Mel, “doesn’t mean the female needs protecting.”
“That’s the one. But of course in Sorg’s example. We’re talking about a lot of things besides what’s ‘male’ and what’s ‘female’.”
“We are,” said Sorg. “I do not doubt for a moment that a woman in the Dabidan Army is entirely capable of taking care of herself. But if she were not, the infrastructure is on her side not that of her assailant. She is free to yell the place down and she would be heard.”
“So what you’re really saying,” said Sarat. “It comes from the whole structure of Kadun society. So if that changed, people could see - what is actually sexism and what isn’t.”
“I think it’s time to cut the cake,” said Mel, who was later cornered by Sorg: “Imperial Highness, I didn’t know you cared!”
remote?”
Mel laughed.
“No-one really quite knows what Sarat thinks about it all.”
Tar and Pietri felt they were beginning to get a rather good idea.
“But then,” said Pietri hopefully, “he returns to Fidub. Is it not all rather
The tribe gathered to debate the matter of Sarat. “The media interest him,” said Amida.
“He interests the media!” said Faun.
“The image, man!” said Cho. “Which he cultivates, I think.” “Oh yes,” growled Essa, “he cultivates. Those damn’ shades.” “The medium is the message,” said Cho.
“The message is what?” asked Airoch.
“Here are all these pretty Fidubi values we wish you to imbibe, so let’s make them a bit glitzy, shall we.” Faun seemed to be talking to himself.
“Narulis,” observed Cho, “didn’t wow Kadun by being boring.”
Sexy, thought Faun, the Aniles are sexy, as the kids put it, but this in the company of Cho’s past love and his current one he did not say. And know it.
“Pizzazz!,” he said.
“He’d be so terribly good at it,” said Cho. “Maya,” said Amida.
“Ah, yes,” said Cho. “Would she not be terribly good at it too?” “Darling, at their age – it will never last!”
“It's a plus or a minus?” asked Faun.
“That of course depends on who's looking.” “Dabida will not tolerate an emperor in Azt!”
“600 years,” suggested Cho, “but we did it in the end.”
“Where they’re looking from,” said Faun. “The Fidubi scam?” “’Fess up,” said Cho.
“Mel,” observed Tar, “says Maya thinks you do not greatly like Sarat.” Pietri laughed.
“Silly girl! Of course I like Sarat. Is not the problem how eminently likeable - ?”
Tar laughed.
“I thought that might be it.”
“True, were he mulish, introverted, shunning the company of his fellow mortals – my daughter becomes a target for every psycho in Azt?”
“You and Essa,” said Saski. “Spotty would help.” “So I console myself.”
“I had acne,” said Tar. “How has he dared escape - ?” “Probably that damn’ diet.”
“He’s really awfully good about it, as a guest, eats what he’s given.” Did someone say macrobiotic?
“You can’t even hold that against him,” sighed Tar.
Asdinan went to an end-of-term party and found it appalling, left with a girl he barely knew equally horrified.
"Nihilism," he pronounced. "What is good, they destroy it."
"Dad's an artist. Depthlessly venomously hates them. The new barbarians he calls them, draws them as savages with bones through their noses and skulls round their necks. Exploits them, dare I say. Paints the crap they want to pay for painting what he wants."
"Have I heard of him?" "Smudge?"
"That's brilliant!"
As they talked on began to feel he'd hit gold but she laughed.
"Oh come on! Can you really see me as Mistress of Carlin? I've got it.
Whether I've got it with a capital I. Maybe I'll never be as good." He reached for her anyway.
"One for the road Celebrate life!"
After he said: "I want out. If one more facile piece of tedium expounds to me his career plans - they are twisted!"
"Have a little tolerance," said Midi cautiously. "They do have to earn a living. They're frightened of being poor."
As pondered. "No."
"Arrogant sod, you are, metaphorically speaking..."
"No," he said again. "They don't like sunsets. You're the artist, you have to understand! Sunlight on autumn leaves, the sky at night. Haven't you ever felt you could sit and look at it for ever? Something is - completed. It's nonsense, whoever you are. People have to eat, sleep. Something is filled. There's a need. They fill it with things. They are - need, gaping holes. That's what's wrong."
And Midi said she didn't entirely disagree, they were shit, essentially, but all the same he'd never been short of money in his life (though she didn't quite know why she was playing devil's advocate) and As got quite cross and said they never would be poor, they'd be accountants, salesmen, managers, it was all acquisitiveness, talk to Mardis about poor and Midi was so surprised that she shut up and listened and later in the week wrote to Smudge. Unlikely recruit to the cause of the urban poor.
What planet do you live on? thought Smudge.
Back to civilization next week, mailed As. Mardis is coming for a week.
Masses to talk about.
"The whole place stinks. As for the course! It's completely - " He searched for the word. "Soulless. Metre! What about meaning!"
Worse was to come.
"It's great to be back," he said after dinner.
"A walk would be good," muttered Mardis guiltily. Nobody smokes in Carlin, not out of concern for mere people but out of terror some ill-extinguished butt send the house up in flames.
“OK,” they said to each other. “This is it.”
They wandered, they hoped nonchalantly, into the drawing-room. “May we talk? Grown-up stuff!”
“Indeed,” said Saryulin.
“We see,” finished Mardis, “if we get some kind of reputation as radicals, it
could rather mess things up.”
“We also see,” said As, “think we see, anyway. Whichever side people think we're on, they're going to think we're in it up to our necks, because of who we are.”
“It makes us feel fragile and insecure,” said Mardis, “ not knowing anything.” “The immediate question,” said Saryulin, “is whether Sarat wishes to involve
himself in Kadun. That he is no shrinking violet at least is clear! It is a large step from that to the face of the Anile throne. That determines how Ban-varna moves.”
“Whew!” said Mardis.
“There is broad agreement with Challin's analysis. Thereafter the paths diverge. Were a democratic government to be installed tomorrow, it would fail. There is therefore to be a campaign for hearts and minds. Thus Micheal – I understand he is in marketing. As you perceive, there has first to be revolution. Whether it is followed by the Dabidan model or the Fidubi, Kadun will decide. Ban-varna has no curious desire to live in Azt! He has a responsibility. As instigator of change, naturally it is a possibility.”
“Marula?” asked As. “Certainly.” “Challin is senoki.”
“Challin is disowned. Naturally he does not make that public.” “Does Marula?”
“I gather if the question arise.” “What should we do?” “Continue with your studies.”
“We thought of joining PANTHER.” “I see no reason why not.”
“And go on as usual! Begins to sound a bit interesting.” “Does Mel know?”
“Only Tar, Vanya and Airoch.” “Just quite big,” said Mardis.
“Is any of this for sharing?” asked As. “For instance if the question arise. I haven't seen Marula for about ten years but people don't know that. They assume we all talk to each other.”
“Disinformation,” said Mardis. “Da said Sorg disinformed. Why on earth should an elderly gentleman enjoying his retirement in Fidub wish to move to Azt?”
“You may possibly have a talent for this,” allowed Saryulin. “Remember to take very great care.”
Karula thumbed through a back-copy of Glitz
“Whey-hey! I thought you told me Saryulin was a reclusive old bird.” “He’s in Glitz?”
“His house-guests, hon.”
“That is a nice shot.” Mel sitting on the stairs, the Window sparkling behind him, Sorg lounging against the bannisters, Auscu sitting a couple of steps down pushing a toy train.
“I have to see that Window! All that's missing – oh my word!” Mixed doubles. Maya and Hass versus Asdinan and Sarshi. “This is flagrant!” said Mitch.
“And you love it!”
“What else is it? I know, I know, ask! If we consider AMI is a major employer, then any shadow of distress or disruption falling on Carlin necessarily impacts on Dabidan pay-packets, quite apart from the more obvious considerations.”
“Mitch....”
Returning for the second term, As felt something inside him had hardened. He wrote a short (for him) note to the Preceptor and went back to Carlin. He threw his cigarettes in the bin at the station. A perversion, an aberration of Azt.
"What will you do?" asked Saryulin. "Write."
"Write what?"
"Propaganda! I'll find a way."
It wasn't enough. He sat by the stream and scowled at his lap-top. His mood was not good. Shit, he thought, I'm an addict
Nor was this his only souvenir of Azt. Asdinan, my dear, come in. And Asdinan knew, the way young men who've had one-night stands do know when the girl's parents turn up three months later. Fortunately Smudge was more interested in Carlin than continence. Carlin must have the baby. No-one else wants it. She is very young, thought Duvi. The hairless terrier school triumphs once more.
"Cretin," said Saryulin.
"The miracle of new life? The will to life that will not be gainsaid?" For the first time he talked about Azt. "They're clever, no? Rebellious youth is not suppressed but encouraged to shock, to deaden sensibility. Our rising generation of artists portrays decay and mutilation. But they are innocent! our glorious public education system ensures they know nothing. Ten centuries of power and privilege have taught me to recognize evil. How do I convey that, Father? In this modern age."
"You look terrible." As grinned feebly. "I know."
He was spending most of the night writing long letters to Midi he hadn't the faintest intention of sending. He regarded himself as having been motherless though he didn't go on about it because it upset his mother. To have brought another semi-orphan in the world hurt somewhere he was still struggling to reach.
He considered his options. Do a Sorg and become Challin's right-hand man! His admiration increased as he realized he really couldn't do that. Continue his studies somewhere sane. Zur? Maona-Pri? The City? Would they have a drop-out!
Lounge around Carlin with a baby on his hip. Find himself some kind of job.
Although it had been made clear to him he wasn't wanted, he visited Midi and offered to make an honest woman of her. She looked at him with interest.
"We could make it work," he said. "It's not as though we were - culturally
separate."
"You're very sweet," she said. "Do you want to feel?" He must have
looked shocked. "If you'd been that shy in the first place…"
It's alive, he thought. The horror of what he'd done threatened to overwhelm
him.
"Brill," he said.
He returned to Carlin.
Either I get to the bottom of what's freaking me or I dismiss it and get my act together. Or I cage it and examine it when I feel inclined. Let me start by asking myself a few intelligent questions.
Eventually he pitched up in M-P having attempted many letters beginning, I walked out of college in Azt. Does that instantly disqualify me? Then crossing out or qualify me? He made his way to the campus and asked to make an appointment with the Admissions Tutor, murmuring slightly mature student, unusual circumstances.
To his surprise he could be seen in about an hour. Asked why he had dropped out, he gave a succinct talk on the failings of Kadun education on the basis of which, together with exam results and his analysis of Silban-Hi’s Theory of Revolution, he was accepted. Feeling rather better about himself he wandered off to explore M-P and would have bumped into Baya, had he recognized her. The usual, the Admissions Tutor murmured to his colleagues. What have you read lately? I just managed to keep a straight face. Your next question was how far is this applicable to Kadun? Oh no. I didn’t have to ask.
Karula decided the immediate problem was her other half. OK, what he wants is what he gets from the Grid, a one-sided ‘dialogue’ where the other guys spill the beans and he gives nothing away and retires to process the data, then tells them his conclusions. Life ain’t like that, honey! Except it’s considerably more like that if you’re top of the heap. Ain’t that the truth, Your Imperial Majesty. Now, Mitch, I do not think you insist on being top of the heap. I think you know you will not lead this pack. I do not think you reject the idea. Nor do I think you have fully come to terms with it.
Mardis came to stay with As for a few days to see the new pad.
Mel was invited over.
“I grew up with it,” said Mardis. “People so bloody cold and
hungry. Of course at the moment all I can do is alleviate it. Everyone knows there has to be some kind of revolution.”
“People in the south don’t know what poor means,” said As. “Tell me,” said Mel.
The Alzani-Meta Gridsite is formidable. The nook called Mel’s Place appeared shortly before he went to the Schools. It was originally intended as a virtual table in the Saa’nda Senta, a conduit for people to talk to him when he wasn’t around, but in these troubled times a lot of people besides Zuri wanted to talk to Alzani-Meta.
Karula arrived at Mel’s Place and multiple allusions to people she didn’t know and places she’d never heard of.
After a while she thought, I guess this is where you find the real Zur. She went on reading. Interesting!
It is appropriate that I post here. Is it appropriate that I mail him? Dashed classist! She wriggled her way through that one. Dear Mel, Mitch and I are going to move to the south, from where we intend to start a revolution in Kadun, and we should appreciate your perspective on this. I think not. Dear Mel, Mitch urgently requires a little basic education. I think not! I shall make a list. It will (might) clarify my thinking. Possible approaches. Mel, Tar, Cho, Airoch, Vanya, PANTHER, CLIK. Does that not depend of what he wishes to establish, without seeming to appear too
grossly ignorant? Or committing himself to a single course of action.
Exactly what is going on here? It does not intimate anything concerning your political intentions, Mitch. What, then? It makes contact, establishes a link. Mitch, if someone said you had to live in a tree, you would not hesitate to learn from others who lived in trees! What, then, do you perceive as the baggage attached to instruction in tree-dwelling?
If the Cult is real, and the Cult is real, if the danger posed by the Cult is real, then we cannot do this on our own and we cannot in any case do this on our own, because Var-segan cannot lead All-Kadun, Carlin cannot lead All-Kadun
Only the emperor can lead All-Kadun. It's crazy.
In unison why should the Houses not lead All-Kadun. After all, they are
All-Kadun.
Van-senok is imperialist and Carlin appears to have colonized Zur, the precise
implications of which are at present unknown. Sounds better than we don't know. What, then, can we say? We can say there would appear to be a bias towards monarchy. I am deflecting myself towards the political. Let me amend the above. We cannot do this on our own unless – unless what? Unless there is a purely irturbi PANTHER independent of Fidub. Which is probably impossible but even it were not the last irturbi on the planet to putatively lead it is Mitch! But all PANTHER is Kadun PANTHER.
That was then. This is now.
On both levels he has no-one to play with. Except Ban-Varna. And of
course me.
Damn this! Do I not believe in direct action!
That was before I discovered the world is complicated.
OK, let me calm down here. We shall move to Zur. There we shall
conduct extensive fieldwork. In the mean time, I think I can do a little preliminary work of my own.
I read the whole site,” reported Karula two days later. “What this place is is a virtual party. You could think of it as that bar we went to on the quayside, real friendly towards lost tourists, but it is more than that. No-one is put down here for dumb questions. You may say Mel is a well-brought-up young man and would not tolerate the kind of crap you get elsewhere on the Grid but it is more than that. It is a hub. There are Harni, Vasuculi, Fidubi and indeed irturbi here.”
“No on-line courses?” asked Mitch. She threw a cushion at him. “Guess you’d better post under your own name.”
It had not occurred to her not to but she knew what he meant. She tried one more time.
“There is no commitment in hearing the theory, Mitch.” He laughed.
“I have heard the theory. You know that.”
“You do not want anyone - not even Marula? She is old enough to be your
mother!”
Boys do boys and girls do girls to avoid the pupil getting hooked on the
teacher, unless of course the pupil is gay.
“We have been through this before. There are questions of violation,
questions of privacy and questions of politics.”
“We know,” she began, but they’d been through that too: the moment they engaged in politics, if they remained in the City, Searc would be after them. Solution One: get out of this damn’ City.
“You need to see this,” said Vax. “An irturbi mother of three under-tens by the name of Karula is real pleased to be relocating to Zur. She and her partner are currently in the City but that sure is no place to raise kids. Several posts later, she is murmuring that she really knows very little of these things, but she and her partner have visited Van-senok and have some experience of earthpower and she is curious to learn more of the model standard, so far as she understands, in the south. There are of course many sites dedicated to the other matter but it sure is hard for someone who knows nothing to distinguish what is accurate and what is not, so we thought to learn from the horse's mouth.”
“I can't wait to meet her,” said Cho. Mel had looked at Hass.
“You're the eso one.”
Hass: Hi! Welcome to Dabida. Karula: I thank you. Hi to you!
Hass: Obviously, I'm just a kid, a beginner. I thought maybe we could chat and all the pros could tell us when we're talking garbage.
The Army of All-Kadun read Mel’s Place but found Karula’s posts, which were either eso or domestic, somewhat underwhelming.
“What the hell is he playing at?” “He is segani - “
“He is Var-sega’!”
“Presumably when they ‘relocate’ all will be revealed.” “Nowadays we ‘raise kids’ in Kadun? Is she a City-chick?” They searched their memories.
“Irturbi, I’m sure. Think her father is something professional, dentist, architect, can’t remember.”
And don't forget to convulse over Fal in the shrine at Maona-Pri. You, McGuckin, you, Plucinski. Analyse. Line by bloody line. Attempt to explain to an English-speaking world prostrate with laughter why this is cause for my destruction.
Lattic said the shrine at Maona-pri had scared him, partly because anything that old defies any puny inadequate meanimg you previously attributed to the word ‘old’, but mostly because he couldn’t understand it, understand what it did to him. He said he felt absolutely safe there. Nothing inside or out could hurt him. It’s in the stone, he said, rather helplessly. The power is in the stone. The mentors put the power in the stone, Narak had told him. I knew Lattic’s first impression of the mentors (it lasted about thirty seconds or until he started to explain his problems, whichever was sooner) was along the lines of sweet gentle folks who don’t know they’re alive. Fidub has not remained a Cult-free zone for 6000 years going on ever because they don’t know they’re alive.
Not transformed. Free. Free to be Lattic.
I wonder….The ferries run nearly all night in the summer. I grinned to myself. Sarat would know. Sarat probably still knows, underneath the avalanche of further fact that must have crowded his brain. If they haven’t changed the timetables of course, which they almost certainly have. I logged on and looked up the exotically named Fidubi Ferries while composing a letter in another part of my brain, which went something like, Dear Tet, I understand that I appeared with a good reference! I mean you value Hass’s views and he thought I ought to talk to you and I’m not saying it would have been different if I’d appeared off my own bat (bat-wings?) but – but what, Fal? There was a ferry in an hour which I could catch if I moved it, and one back at about 5 in the morning, which suited what I had in mind just fine. I ought to be able to create an absolutely soothing, silent and safe atmosphere in my own den of course, but I hadn’t. I couldn’t go to Zur’s shrine, too many people would recognize me.
So of course the first person I saw was Vax. He gave a quick yelp of laughter.
“I have travelled many leagues,” I said, “lit and fig. Whether I’ve got anywhere is something else.”
“I look in from time to time,” he said. “I hear things in our island fastness, you know.”
“Maybe one corner of the puzzle is complete.”
“I’m around.”
There’s a café for when you need to eat and the party is in the basement if you want to talk I didn’t want to eat or talk.
Carlin just thinks it’s old. Did Narulis ever sit here? No, why would he, he was young, adventurous, a sea-farer – so maybe he went to sea to escape from a broken heart! If Sarat failed, if he were ever driven out of Kadun – where on earth did that thought come from? It had to work, it had to. With very little encouragement I could work myself back into a state wherein it was dependent upon me to make it but no, that had never been exactly. If everyone didn’t do their utmost that would be a betrayal of Sorg. The thought sat more easily now that I had defined my utmost and set it in motion. The pillars the colour of damp sand, intricately carved, just a little bit crumbly, shimmered in the candle-light. I looked more closely and cocked my head. Were those letters? If so it was no language I knew. I closed my eyes and no, it wasn’t a time-slip, just an awareness of time, of waves of time, past, present and future, which I suppose is another way of saying the bloody Whole. No, that hadn’t been what I meant, Sarat hadn’t been what I mean, when they did fail, when they returned to Fidub, they must have come here to recover. All times are now. I might just as well have been some Fidubi wench from aeons past. It was easy to be like that here. I am sitting in a pale-green tunic – well, at least it wasn’t crimson corrugated iron, but I guess that’s part of the bloody Whole too. I surrendered myself because here I am safe. The shadows came but could not touch me, not here, shadows trying to blot out the light. ‘They came, the skull-faces, but we laughed.’ I didn’t laugh, I just went on sitting. Somewhere it seemed Vax was saying, “And what does Hass say?” and I almost looked round before I realized the conversation was in my head. “I have to stop,” I replied. “I just stopped.” I did laugh then. Because it was all so funny. It never works when you try to put words to what is – the messes people get into, that’s OK, but people being killed, people in pain: It is all so funny. That makes more sense, the bloody gurgle of cosmic laughter. Inside. That’s the point. It is inviolate. It is untouched. It is real? And all the human crap is not real, but we are human and have to be human. I knew enough to know better minds than mine had lurched at this one, but that is the balance. I had a sudden image of myself on – not exactly a tightrope, because it wasn’t much more than knee-high and it wasn’t that there was no safety net, the trouble was on the contrary that nets to catch me if I fell abounded, catch and trap me, but I was skimming along, easy-peasy. Suddenly I felt sure the rope was going to break but no, I told myself, and it didn’t. Yet. Suddenly it snapped. This, I thought, is not totally unfamiliar but this time I know what to do! I threw myself clear of the nets. I didn't seem any the worse for wear but I was sure I was somewhere else, thought it didn’t seem to be anywhere. Despite this mental circus-act, I was feeling very lazy, very relaxed. I suppose very safe. I wanted to stretch out and found myself another cushion. There were a few other people around but they too were lost in their own little mental worlds. I wondered about other people’s pain, grief, fear (that makes a change, huh?) and where it went. I mean, I had no doubt that some of the people here were as distraught and devastated as I had been but it sort of melts away. Because it isn’t real. I sighed. OK, so let me in this safe place ask myself what the hell is my problem with reality, but it really didn’t seem to matter. Maybe that’s the only way to look at it, casually, creep up on it unawares. The central fact of my life is – oh, do I have one of those? A determining fact of my life is that once I was in Azt – what? Unreal is such an unhelpful word. No, my relationship with Tet didn’t seem unhappy or boring or even not what I wanted, it just didn’t seem real. And Tet is not a wishy-washy person. It was just – somewhere else. Like everything else is right now, which might just tell me something important if I only knew what. There is a crossed wire, a plug in the wrong socket, like – like putting the headphones jack into the power socket. A little mental game came to me, unplugging all the major connections – like I knew what they were or anything, but just pulling out any plug I could see! And Hass would say, I said to myself sleepily, just leave all the loose ends alone, don’t try to figure which should go where. I can’t honestly say that this little exercise made me feel the slightest bit different, but I did drift into that really nice waking dreams state – is it alpha rhythms, can’t remember – and had a really nice though not remotely revealing, so far as I could see, trip. I came to eventually, blinking and reflected that – possibly – spending the night with myself on the floor of the shrine at Maona-pri counted as my most insane act yet. Thirsty. Where is the caff? I got up and looked around. Half-open door with light on, that must be it. It wasn’t very much lighter, the sort of people who want a drink in the middle of the night don’t want to walk into a blaze of neon, and much as described by Lattic, benches with cushions on and broader benches in front of them to serve as tables, and really rather strange lamps on each table, like mini-inverted chandeliers which, Lattic had said enthusiastically, give you enough light to read by without disturbing the ambience, which was pale pink; the walls were pale pink, and there were paintings which looked rather good, even in the half-light. [The loos, I discovered, were pale pink too, everything including the bowl, with good paintings, and well lit. There was a rather gorgeous one of a tree in bud. I wondered if I could get a reproduction. Somehow I had no doubt these were originals. I didn’t think the shrine lacked funding and I wondered.] Behind the counter a middle-aged man with a bushy beard was engrossed in a book. There was a water dispenser. I drank thirstily. There was a solid wall of books, vids and disks cunningly illuminated by under the shelf lighting. Lattic had raved about this. I made my way to the counter. The guy looked up and said hi.
Hi, I said.
Hunger? Thirst?
Hot drink?
Anything in particular? You will be amazed at our range!
I looked around. I shall?
Under the counter.
Lemongrass?
Come to think of it, I thought, right this moment, I could do with apple-stock! I wondered if I actually could or whether that was me tweeting Carlin at me.
And ginger?
And I’ve suddenly realized I’m ravenous!
Do you an omelette?
That would be brilliant! Thank you!
Give you a shout when it’s ready.
The laughter gurgled up from somewhere
You shout here?
Didn’t you notice the juke-box?
I grinned and wandered over to the books.
The Illusion of Time. That sounded a bit heavy, a bit theoretical. Why Am I Here? You pick that out wondering where is here. Here turned out to be the universe. Something a bit more local, I think. Why is a Zuri in the shrine at Maona-Pri in the middle of the night? This enchanting collection of meditation music from the Age of Calpedene. The what? Oh, it’s the name of the performers. You don’t call yourselves The Age of Calpedene unless there was an Age of Calpedene. Slap your wrist, Fal, you should have paid more attention to Fidubi history in school. I could certainly try that one, my place could just do with enchanting music and indeed there were headphones and a drive to try it with. Oh yes, oh this is gorgeous. All I need now is something to read while listening to the enchanting music – er, do you buy, do you borrow, do you donate? Oh, right, a sort of ledger with a pen tied to it. The box for donations is in the wall to your left. We ask you to write the title of anything you take so we can keep stocks complete. That’s simple enough. I continued browsing. Put The Light On! Why are you so darned unhappy? So life has dealt you a lousy hand. You are in charge. I think I’m going to like this… Eternal Flame: A History of the Shrine at Maona-Pri. I picked up a vid, Treasures of Maona-Pri, while I was at it. Who are You and What Do You Want? That sounded – pertinent. Death: It’s All One Continuum. That was definitely going to engross me, but not one for reading in a caff, even this caff. When the chef brought my omelette I asked him if he was one of the mentors and he confessed he was. I felt suddenly shy but came out with it anyway. My partner died and I had a sort of experience with what might have been his – ghost. Some people said it was projection. I have talked about this, I mean. I wondered is – there anything you can recommend. Anyone saying anything sensible about – that sort of thing. Oh you poor girl, you, he said. I felt immediately swaddled in love. Oh I see, I said, that’s what you do. He cocked an eyebrow. People can say anything, everything because they’re safe and warm and cosy and smothered in love. That’s about the size of it, he said. Whom have you talked to, may I ask. I sighed. Hass. Hasiyata Talal. His lips twitched. And you want a – second opinion? I’ve had second opinions, third, tenth, I said. I think I’d like some kind of – overview. That’s a good one, he said firmly, pointing to Death: It’s All One Continuum. Let’s see now, hope we’ve got one…We do try and keep everything in stock…There we are! He triumphantly produced a small cream paperback entitled Matters of Life and Death. Your dinner’s getting cold. Unless you want to talk. Thank you very much. No, I said. But I’d better…I gestured at the ledger. You eat, he said. I’ll write! Thank you, I said again.
After a while I went back to my cushions then got up and walked slowly up to the Flame. It rather seemed to me that I saw things in it, sparks and flashes, but I rather prosaically put that down to tiredness, except I couldn’t stop looking. ‘Love and cannot leave,’ I said to myself softly. I looked up at the Window THAT AM I and an incredible collage of starburst and flame but – rather prosaically – I guess I’d disconnected again – what had me really gaping was the structure of the Window, its divisions, though the images were different. Yes, well, I’d seen that before; so that’s where the Dacunine Window comes from.
I was just thinking time I was mooching off when the first rays of sun hit the centre of the starburst, were refracted. Yikes! It was as though the whole shrine had been set alight.
A voice behind me full of laughter said simply, “Good, isn’t it.”
“Is there music in the glass?” I asked.
Just laughter.
I turned to face the stranger. He was a tall, thin, elderly guy, slightly stooped, now looking at me with frank curiosity.
“The lady knows Carlin.”
“Oh,” I said, “the lady knows Carlin!”
The lady, I thought to myself, has just found another – project. Ancient history!
Though I have a theory that it's Dill you hate most.
Dill: “Is this what’s called a propaganda war, Dad?”
Mitch: “No, I should not say that. This is what’s called wiping excrement off the sole of one’s boot.”
Choke on it, vermin, just choke on it. You ain't fucking stupid and you ain't fucking illitrit. Isn't it a shame I can demonstrate what non-stupid and non-illiterate are.
Extract from The Anile Heir © 2006.I, Ysabel Jehan Howard, hereby assert and give notice of my right under s.77 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act1988 to be identified as the author of this book
1. THE QINE AFFAIR
Narulis kumsit var-goan Kada. Narulis kumsit var-goan Carla, Fas-sigreen, Van-senokka, Vaudon, Var-seganin, var-goan Kada. Narulis, author of Kadun. Narulis made Carlin, Fas-sigree, Van-senok, Vaudos, Var-segan and so created Kadun.
No, says Mitch. Five kingdoms united under the imperial crown. Mitch is heir to Var-segan.
It is helpful to think of the empire as a coalition, a pact, says Mitch. In business terms, it was an agreement, a merger: we were stronger together than apart. Of course there was a Chairman of the Board. In the end neither side complied with the agreement and so we went our separate ways.
The facts of the matter are these: invaders from Harn brought the Cult to Kadun from across the ocean. Narulis, outsider, scion of the House of Fire, formerly rulers of what was even then the Republic of Fidub, happened to be around at the time, together with 22 of his doughty shipmates. In consequence of his contribution to the war-effort, they made him emperor and the Masters of Carlin, Fas-sigree, Van-senok, Vaudos and Var-segan became his stewards to hold the land in trust.
Since this unlikely sequence of events actually happened, historians have tied themselves in exquisite knots inventing reasons for it.
Cantilip tells it differently.
Earthpower is the energy of the cosmos, the erosion of valleys, the movement of continents, the orbiting of the planets, the heat of the sun. As the source of life, it encompasses life. The true ancestral culture of Kadun is power in balance, the union of life with the physical world and the union of male with female. However, the universe is generative, begets life, and so is seen as female. The ‘female’, the universe, is both complete in herself and creative; the ‘male’, life, is not; life cannot exist in vacuo: the ‘female’ is capable of independent existence and the ‘male’ is not. This was not of course a perspective tolerable to the Cult. Most reproduction naturally requires both equally, despite the practices of High Harn - I believe some worms are hermaphrodite?
Sarat would know. Our men did as much running around waving swords and bashing each other as any other group of men. They did considerably less bashing women. The female was regarded as equally human. Kadun before the Cult was marked by some semblance of civilization. We had literature, learning, art, rather than human sacrifice. Invaders came from Harn. They tried to burn us. We fought. Into this tripped Fidub, who took the glory and replaced irturbi culture with her own.
Cantilip is heir to Van-senok.
History or herstory? Either way, it’s a long one, long and sticky. You have probably heard of the Lays of Cafanine. Possibly you can even quote them. It is less likely you know they were originally written in irturbi. (If you haven't heard of them, the reason so many people have is that the lays as in songs are also the lays as in sex, early examples of erotic poetry).
The empire turned rotten. Some 900 years later, when the great experiment
had failed, the empire was in tatters and the Emperor Jaizal deranged, Zani defied him before the Great Gates of Azt. A framework had been breached - what, again? Prudent men slipped away to discern the new new world order. In the slave-states of the empire, rumour grew. Sea-dogs told of a kingdom in not-yet Zur. What passed for Jaizal's mind broke and the empire shattered. They killed Jaizal. Later other prudent men wished Kadun to endure.
Jaizal's killer, usurper of the Anile throne, was murdered in his turn. That sort of thing went on for some time. One Cuisa-ban-paduan-coan said, Enough!
Enough or there will be nothing left. Slowly, fitfully they reached an accommodation: the return of oligarchy. Gentlemen, if we do not squabble, then all are supreme. For four hundred years nothing much happened. For the literate few, newsheets reported from an apex of ineffable superiority the prancings and prattlings of the barbarian hordes. The covens were abased, castrated, content. Where there is no justice, a veil is drawn over the odd human sacrifice. The Cult was a pestilence, always there, incurable. Our power is absolute over our serfs and vassals. Let us draw in our horns and be content.
Susheela, last Anile empress, daughter of Var-segan, fled with her children, and so the Aniles returned to Fidub. It was congenial. No-one bothered them with the ludicrous notion of ruling Kadun. Some 600 years passed. For old guard and egalitarian alike, there had been no benefit in restoration of the Anile throne. There were no Grid, no satellites to signal the Anile heir's mildest criticism to 160 million irturbi, make him the pin-up of millions of radical teens.
Sarat-ban essa, licit heir (Anile emperor, Master of Kadun) was born, so they said later, mobile in one hand, modem in the other. In fits and starts the generations ran in parallel and Essa, his father, close to Tar, King of Dabida. But Essa was an ecologist and so there are two sides to our hero, the brash Fidubi radical, and the other.
“Try seeing Sarat as the middle-class son of professional parents,” Vij will say. “I know it’s hard! It may make more sense then.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“How the other half of Sarat lives? Has lived.”
“I suppose Mitch is also the ‘middle-class son of professional parents’.” “Mitch is Mitch and things aren’t always how they look. Sarat is not
running off with Var-sega’s heir. OK, you can laugh at me for fatuous remark of the year. What bonds them is radical politics. Position gives them a vehicle, a relationship, the means to rock the world – do you understand how radical Sarat is?”
Sarat can’t rock Kadun without ending up on the Anile throne. It’s a problem. We are getting ahead of ourselves. Sarat starts obsessed with the natural world. He is going to be a vet. Bar a few genealogists and those of similar mind, people had forgotten there was an Anile heir. We need to go back just a bit, to Cho, Sarat's grandfather, and Airoch (not Sarat's grandmother nor yet President of Fidub) walking the river-front at Azt, straying into ill-lit streets where shabby workmen hurry home.
Darling, one cannot say, I abhor your urban conditions, I wish to restore the Anile throne! One has, said Cho, a responsibility. And so Cho entered Fidubi politics and changed the world.
Why not? Sarat did. But Kadun had changed – regressed. In the Age of Information, with a thousand Grid-sites from which to recruit, the Cult will be back.
Well, all right, it never went away. The graves opened, the creatures from
the pit of desecration once again walked the earth. Something like that. What actually happened is a question more of economics than of cerement.
The world discovered mass production. The wealthy literate few saw Kadun finally become a museum-piece, a fossil preserved in amber, powerless.
Labour was cheap in Kadun and wealth not lacking, a manuscript sold to Mukal's, a handful of diamonds to Enbahaluk - Kadun gained her factories and her trade. All-Kadun, rich in both oil and ores, verdant, is essentially self-sufficient. For this reason, the Houses elected to remain All-Kadun. As Karula will put it, it is a geopolitical convenience, a place at the world-table.
The men who make things became a new power in Kadun and the men who make things knew nothing and cared less and were gobbled alive by the Cult's bankers in the City and so were spawned the squirming guts of our story, Capital Warz. To keep it simple, Kadun doesn't have an economy: it has two economies, which interact. The guys at the top deal with their own and the guys at the bottom don't know who the hell they're dealing with, hence the interaction. Broadly, Var-segan, Van-senok and Carlin kept the Cult out and everywhere else welcomed it in. At the time of which I am about to get around to writing, the City owned half Kadun and naturally wanted to own the other half.
Kadun's other problem is geography. Between Var-segan and Van-senok in the west and Carlin in the east lie the badlands. If this were not the case, Kadun would have long since split, but it is and it didn't. Borders in the head maintain the integrity of Narulis' Kadun and make unthinkable for the moment Carlin allied with Dabida and Fidub in the south in one blocs and Var-segan and Van-senok with Vasucula in another. The maintenance of the fiction of All-Kadun keeps open communication between west and east.
Vaudos, which is not nice to be near, holds the bulk of the coal, but oil and natural gas spurt in a huge band along the northern border. Borders between the Houses were historically as currently largely a matter of people ceasing to call themselves senoki and starting to call themselves segani. The border between Kadun and Ciletij to the north is largely a matter of trees. Historically as currently the Morag-fahdi roamed the entire continent and so formed such trade-routes as existed, north to south and east to west, and the south and Ciletij equally content to let the MF be middle-men; foreign traders clung to the edges, the general consensus being that the interior was neither welcoming nor safe, with the chief exception of Tjulsit, at the junction of the great crossroads, but Kadun's great ports were ever bustling cosmopolitan centres. Wicked people like me thought it was all rather like the advice given to women out after dark: keep to the main roads and areas that are well-lit and populous, and never ever accept lifts from strangers.
The world began to speak in bits and bytes. As information lacerated Kadun, the people learned desire. The vast hinterland of Kadun was slow to become a
consumer society and no People's Revolt had propagated the strange notion of human equality but now there were stirrings. What happens to a bright boy who goes to the city and gets an education is he becomes a Nudra. It is debatable whether this
constitutes progress. Elementary education is good in Kadun; the people can read, write, calculate. Thinking is discouraged, there being too much it is distressing to think about, but bored soldiers hop about the Grid and senior officers turn a blind eye. Neither Army
nor Fleet is attuned to what is happening in Kadun.
“It cannot be a question,” says Mitch, “of changing just one thing or indeed of many persons working separately. All of us have tried that, the unions, my grandfather setting up hospitals. It makes not one whit of difference to the whole. There are lines you do not cross. Many people live decent lives. So long as they do not challenge the indecent. Not least the assistance of people like me enables some semblance of civilization to prevail in the country. In the cities people are buried alive. They think that tomb is poverty and lack of education. I say that tomb is there if you are me. I just get to stand upright. There is a granite slab above our heads and its name is infrastructure. You make people better and you send them home to damp rat-infested tenements. You shorten their working-hours but they can barely afford to eat, let alone engage in what the south called leisure-time activities. And the food is crap anyhow. I hold there is that which is not negotiable, over which there is no choice. What Fidubi landlord asserts his right to let property unfit for habitation? Everything must change, what and how people think, whether they respect all people. Entrenched power shifts only with revolution.”
How can you charge rent when you don’t own the land? Oh, right, in trust. Imperial Majesty, here’s 600 years of back-rent! How come he owned the land? Thus Mitch at 16, the age when every compromise, every inconsistency of the elders is an offence. Mitch at 17 wanted to give the whole lot away. There are a lot of stories about Mitch and Qine. Some of them are even true. It’s nonsense that Qine left school at 14 to work in a factory. Qine went on to college, too, not the Schools, but a decent education. Qine worked in a factory to pay his way and there he joined the union. Qine’s good with numbers. It didn’t take him long to work out he was being paid 50% of what it costs to live decently.
The pixie, they call Mitch’s lass in Var-segan. Big bloke like Mitch, doesn’t he squash her. Apparently not, because they have one, two, three in quick succession, the get it over and done with school of child-rearing.
Karula’s friends have been appalled by the whole thing, marrying a rich man and settling down to breed, as the less than friends put it, even if he is a
fellow-revolutionary. Karula argues her corner forcefully. Correct me if I have missed something, but the revolution is not I think tomorrow. I could be menopausal before there is change! As I see it, there is possibly only one thing worse than being in a crisis situation with teens or tweens, and that is being in a crisis situation with infants in arms. At least the tweens are mobile and able to feed independently and fetch Mom more ammunition should she need it.
Mitch too comes in for flak. Mitch has established a marketing consultancy in the City, Harn’s horrendous capital. Glam biz, Mitch. That has what to do with the struggle? There are powerful international civil liberties organizations with a Kadun section, gatherings of exiles, but these too are part of the furniture of stasis. Mitch subscribes to Liberty Now!, the Movement for Economic Reform and the rest, but as he has matured and reached his own analysis of this matter of Kadun it seems to him they don’t understand. Anyhow, says someone, conditions in Kadun are a non-issue.
Unless you’re living in them, shoots back Mitch. Worse places, look at Enbahaluk! Beneath this Mitch detects something dirtier. Bloody irturbi! They don’t want to change anything. They like it like that. They’re cattle. The lads in the union have had a lot of
time for Mitch, but now it seems Mitch has mellowed, too much to lose, and anyway it’s the way of the world, young men start families, have other commitments. Mitch clearly dotes on his daughters.
Not Mitch, says Changri
The lads consider. There’s reasons for thinking not Mitch, all right. Ask Qine! The thought niggles. What’s he doing then?.
Changri chuckles. Lad and his lass…What do you think he’s doing? “Taking a little R+R, I reckon,” says Changri. “Before the real war.”
Regrouping, Mitch calls it. Unfortunately I am a group of one. So I start my own organization! He ponders. I want this to work, not unravel at the seams because all they see is Var-segan. We secede from All-Kadun? He grins to himself. Now there’s a thought!
Someone has to make a non-issue into an issue. What else is marketing for? Karula logs on and gets on with the real family business, Kaduna-gar-jaht,
this matter of Kadun. She reads through the economic reports from the Schools, makes notes and intermittently nurses, soothes, gets on the floor in the playpen, recites nursery rhymes and constructs castles out of brightly coloured bricks.
Mitch too has problems with Fidub.
“I hold there are human values and anti-human ones. We do not wish to go the way of Harn! That is the cry. The south ripostes: we do not go the way of Harn!
That the way of Harn is precisely – is a powerful counter-argument in certain circles where values antipathetic to those of Fidub are held to be indigenous and Narulis’ values alien. The empire civilized almost a whole continent. It then uncivilized it, made Kadun so hated, so base…We abandoned the values brought from Fidub and reverted to those that had been dominant. That is the kernel of truth. But it is argued no native held those values called Fidubi, which is belied by history or how did thousands back Narulis. And it is argued that after 500 years Fidubi culture remained separate, imposed. And it is argued that Jaizal represented the true culture of Kadun. All these arguments are trash. There is of course the anomaly. When the empire was a force for good it is held to be Fidubi. When it was evil, it is held to be irturbi. I do not think anyone has ever called Jaizal Fidubi. Narulis' values were squeezed out of Kadun on the pretext they were foreign.”
For most of 600 years, the Cult has been contained by PANTHER, formed by Narulis to eliminate the Cult from Kadun. PANTHER cleave to the simple notion they're the best there is. They’ve been at it longest. Neither of these statements is entirely true, as we shall see. Pioneers Against Nutters Threatening Harm to Everyone's Rights is a bit contrived, but when you've been called PANTHER for 1500 years you have to make it stand for something. Where there is FATCAT (the Federation Atrocities Tribunal Can't Abide Torture, just never does anything about it), there must also be PANTHER to chasten it.
PANTHER was not in the Age of Jaizal so sensitive of academic freedom that it refrained from destroying the odd grimoire and much knowledge was lost that only the rampantly psychotic would miss. PANTHER taught a public lesson. For six hundred years the Cult had had much the significance of a sect of snake-worshippers and the big cats had become part of the mythology of Kadun, oral history garbled in transmission.
To this day, historians, not zoologists, true, but they really ought to know better, teach
that PANTHER took its name from an indigenous wild cat now extinct and naughty children are told the big cats will get them. Kadun is kept from closer links with her friends in the south by the sensation the south is not quite safe and travel does nothing to dispel these ancient notions. Fidub, the Singing Isles...Shaken visitors return - well, they sing. What, demand the scoffers, is the tune? It's not like that it's more like - I don't know what it's more like, it just makes you feel that life is wonderful. The Institute of Geophysics in Arit has failed to find a satisfactory explanation and those who are less than lovable are made distraught by the Isles, as though the heat of the ground was burning through the soles of their shoes, but Kadun always had sent her young men abroad, to further their education, let them experience the wider world. To become civilized, though Kadun did not admit the word.
There were other links. There had to be. Dabidans had always got on well with the Kadun Fleet. They'm be honest sailormen. Coastguards, meteorologists,
rail-engineers, road-workers - sweet, lovable people they found them. But there's a case to be made that the power of the past is stronger than that of the present; at any rate the multiplicity of contacts with Ciletij along the northern border has never noticeably done much for cementing bonds of friendship between their two great nations.
PANTHER maintains a presence in Kadun, loose, transitory, mentors, artists and iterant labourers, curling up by the hearth only if welcomed. These proved enough to keep the Cult abased but the debt is rarely acknowledged. There are 1500 years of reasons for this which we shall unravel slowly. When the young reach an age to question, they find their elders disparaging. Nothing like a good ratter, only let him stay in the barn. Cats and rats, the image is as old as Kadun. But when they meet the ratters they find them educated, entertaining, and sometimes even people like us. It is the kittens, they discern, who are unwelcome, freedom, democracy, disrespect. The workers and peasants have less difficulty with the kittens. Working-people, country people, above all know which end is up. It is not my lords and ladies invited to gatherings under the stars. From generation to generation it has been passed down, Kinsqol, Xu-laman, Vasemalis and Jihina, solstice and equinox, the four Days Celebrant as the Cult called them. On these they performed their repulsive rites but because these days are equally the festivals of earthpower they are celebrated throughout the entire continent and (bizarrely) known even in the free world by their Cult names not their irturbi ones and so on Kinsquol Dabidans take the children to the zoo or visit Aunt Marsilva, but if you are invited to a celebration in Kadun, you say no – politely, mind.
You got your cooking, your carving, wood to chop, kids to tend – more latterly, you got calls to make, you got your homework. You stay inside. But we are in the modern world. Things like that don’t happen any more.
From Zani Fidub established the dynasty Alzani-Meta, a second attempt at the great experiment, ruling the lands south of the Great Divide, the ravine that separates Kadun from what is now Dabida. To understand fully the curious history I relate, you have to grasp the vital role played by the hotel trade and the food-processing industry.
The source of A-M’s lucre is Alzani-Meta Industries - the Cannery, the Confectioner's and the Cooler. Well, actually it's fish. In days of yore, Zuri dried fish, which they bartered. Then they canned it. Finally they froze it. Later, they dried, canned and froze fruit. You get the gist.
What you probably don’t get is that it’s irturbi fruit. The relationship
between Dabida and Carlin you could, I suppose, call fruitful. What one wants the other has, Dabida possessing apparently limitless supplies of natural gas, about which in due course even worse jokes will be made. Carlin stretches from south of Azt to the Great Divide, by which time it's scrub and the Master of Carlin lets it grow wild rather than struggle to cultivate that which resists cultivation, but in the spring there are flowers and people bring their kids for picnics and wave if they see someone on the other side.
There's a bridge. For the more athletic there're cramponing down the almost vertical face of the ravine, spanning the torrent (poetic licence; in the dry season you can wade across) and cramponning up the other side.
OK, let me try to be chronological. A number of young persons of roughly similar age could become confusing. It may be better, though not much better, to delineate them by their year of school and later college than by their birth-dates; Mel (Dabida's heir) and Asdinan (Carlin's heir) are in the same year, though Asdinan will confuse things by dropping out and starting again. Cantilip (Van-senok's heir) is in the year below. There are only two months between Sarat and Hass (Mel's brother) but, the cut-off point of the school-year being what it is, Sarat is the year below Mel and Hass two years below, with Maya (Mel's and Hass's cousin) in Sarat's year. Despite Asdinan's being the heir and his papa, Saryulin, the elder of two brothers, the twins Sorg and Sarshi, Asdinan's cousins, are seven years older than he, and Mardis, their younger brother, two years older. Vij, Maya's brother, is 11 years older than she, she having been something between an accident and an after-thought. Fal, Kyse and I are the year below Mel. Lastly, you may be relieved to learn, Mitch and Karula are some 14 years older than Mel and As, with whom we shall start. 'Where the woodcock sleep and the fox-cubs leap/Carlin, the prize'.
Saryulin, darling, there is nothing to do. The new Mistress of Carlin had been young and beautiful and kind and even loved animals; for a time she and Saryulin were besotted with each other, but she was bewildered by Carlin. She was also an airhead.
She put up such struggle as fitted her self-image as the perfect mother to sweep her grey-eyed boy off to Azt. He would be deprived? asked Saryulin coldly. Indeed he
would have been, a mere accessory to be shown off then tidied away. If she missed him, she hid it well. He grew not to miss her, pedalling around Carlin after his father on a little blue tricycle with special wide puncture-proof tyres.
Thus Asdinan, at 4 much as at 24, pink of cheek, ruddy the word, indeed, stocky, wavy brown hair. Sorg looked the dashing heir, a cause of irritation in years to come. Worse, Sorg looked soulful. As was the bookworm. So we saw it at least. It took a long time, after Sorg’s head had been blown away and Fal stood trembling with her knife at the murderer’s throat, for us to learn Sorg wrote good poetry. Most of us lived.
Duvi returned to Carlin. She had left when she was 17 to travel the world, thought now to explore closer to home. She had spent 10 months at the commune on the Delta my mother was at three years later. My mother of course is Estanzia Morsen, Harn's leading exponent of womanspirit, as they think they call earthpower in Harn. To get Cantilip on this subject is dangerous, her basic position being that Mum’s main achievement is to make all women look as stupid as she is. True, this is much the conclusion I reached by the time I was 15, but she is my mother and she is actually not stupid, it’s just she has crossed wires on a couple of basics.
Soola (Carlin's mentor) invited Duvi to talk about her travels. As was 6. Saryulin had fallen hard for one of nature's morons and in retrospect was surprised at himself, mistrusted his judgement in these things. That Duvi was a non-moron was evident but that she had passed 30 without settling seemed to indicate she had no great desire for her own children, let alone anyone else's. Nonetheless he invited her to the house and soon all three of them were on the floor with Asdinan's trains. Duvi talked of the wider world, and even to As it was obvious Duvi was more interesting than his mother.
The following afternoon Duvi turned up at Soola's cottage. "I've come to gossip. What happens to As during the day?" Soola laughed.
"The hairless terrier school of child-rearing. Loike un pup. Half the business of Carlin is conducted with Asdinan curled up on someone's lap. He behaves himself as tiresome pedagogues might put it because he has no reason not to."
“It must be hard for him, though. May I ask?”
“It's a complicated story. She had certain preconceptions. These were not met. A constant social whirl is not Saryulin's style." Sweet and stupid. And she came to me in tears, said no-one respected her, everyone laughed at her. He must have been mad. “Nor – other things. Deference is not part of the package.” He smiled “You know that.
Farvia didn't. They met in Azt, of course, at Pilo's, a whirlwind romance. For a start she was appalled at the size of the house.” At twelve rooms Carlin is hardly bigger than a large farmhouse. Sorg called it our little wooden hut. “I think you get the picture.
Even were Saryulin persuaded to entertain, there is nowhere for the legions of guests to stay.”
different.”
They talked on.
“Change must come,” said Duvi. “He said, we do not know how to be
Soola laughed.
“I do not think Saryulin intends Carlin overtaken by history.”
“What, then?” challenged Duvi. “No, not what. We know what. How?” “Half Kadun asks itself that.”
Duvi found herself a small flat in Car-sandis, continued her freelance work
and after a while wondered if she intended being overtaken by Saryulin, whose hostility to entertaining clearly did not extend to not inviting her to dinner, tea, As's school's Open Day and anything else he could think of. When she went into the village, everyone was very, very, very nice to her, as though she were someone special, and she had no doubt tongues wagged.
“We should go away,” he said. Their eyes met. “I think that would be nice,” she said.
They planned a trip to the Lausanine suitable for small legs. While As dissolved into the coma of a particularly weary little log, they sat by the fire in the bar and discovered each other. Now she is telling him of camping on the Leolisle and he is reciting poetry, a dangerous sign, if not terminal. 'O know ye not the Singing Isles!'
"We must go again to Fidub," he said. "We?" she said.
He laughed and took her hand.
"There are difficulties?"
"We are independent," she said. He laughed again.
"We are."
"There must be a party!" said Duvi.
"We require no public ceremony," said Saryulin. Soola nodded approvingly.
But the neighbours must come to the party, if only to maintain the link which is never wholly acknowledged and never wholly severed, and so Mel, Tar’s eldest, first visited Carlin when he was nine.
Por stroked the house. The whorls and spirals smiled back at him. I was not prepared.
As threw open Ye Greate Door of Carlin. More poetic licence there, but it’s shorter than listing every step of enabling a nine-year-old to pretend to fling wide a door that weighs about ten times more than he does.
The sun pranced through the Window, bouncing off a thousand prisms. "Zeshanzesh," breathed Mel..
The Dacunine Window shimmered remorselessly in the afternoon sun. “Who is that?” asked Saski.
“Kaminua.”
“Cho!” said Mel. “That’s some profile!” “It is Narulis’ Window,” protested Tar.
Kaminua lived 600 years after Narulis.
“It was – repaired,” allowed Saryulin. “Carlin has not always been so
tranquil.”
The hall in Carlin stretches to the foot of the stairs which rise to a
half-landing dominated by the Window. Beyond it is the Great Hall: there is another Window on the other side, but people never get so excited about that one. Beyond the Great Hall is the courtyard, around which the remainder of the house is built. There is music trapped in the Window, but Mel doesn’t know that yet.
It is a wedding-party with many guests and even the lizard (the Azt
slime-machine) can’t make much of it, even though the guests do include Mitch's parents, Heela and Kile (Marula, Cantilip’s mother, had a prior engagement; Vastulis, Master of Vaudos, is not the sort of person with whom one cares to mix, and Fas-sigree had been subsumed into Azt, another long story, not immediately relevant), but Mel and Hass discover ‘Opshar’s Glade and fall in love, and worse, hit it off with Asdinan. They stay on a few days.
Of course you must come to us! carolled Mel..
When the children had gone to bed, Tar bit the bullet.
“And the next thing is why don’t we all go and stay with Essa.” “And then we can all have dinner with Cho,” added Saski.
“I see no objection,” said Saryulin. “Perhaps in the summer, towards the end of the holidays.”
Plenty of time for Mel to babble about Carlin to Sarat and Sarat to demand to be taken to Carlin, but that would have happened anyway.
“It’s educational, it’s history. Anyway, it’s my heritage.”
“You do not enter Kadun,” said Essa. He didn’t use that voice very often, the one that meant N-O, no, no room for negotiation, no space for argument.
The boys retreated to Sarat’s bedroom to confer.
“It’s politics,” said Mel. “Azt will think Carlin is plotting.” “Plotting what?”
But Mel couldn’t make the leap to Cho on the Anile throne. “Plotting against them.”
“Conspiring with the enemy!” said Hass.
“You are the enemy!” said Sarat. “The hated, the loathed, the despicable, the foe, right?”
Mel was unfazed. “That’s different.” “How?” demanded Sarat.
They went back to Essa. We're not arguing. We just don’t understand.
Hmm, thought Essa
“Sit down, kids.” You understand, he thought of beginning, but what do you understand, you’re eight. “You understand we are all us protected by PANTHER.”
“Because Cho’s leader of the Senate,” said Sarat. “”Because I might be kidnapped!”
“Because Cho is head of PANTHER,” said Essa. Mel’s eyes widened.
“He’s head of intelligence and it’s top-secret!” Essa laughed in spite of himself.
“Not exactly.” Then he wished he hadn’t said it, because it’d do. “It’ll do.
PANTHER is active in Kadun. You would be a target to get at Cho.”
“OK,” said Sarat. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But Mel said: “It still doesn’t make sense! Aren’t we targets too?” “Tar’s head of the H-W,” said Hass.
“But not Anile emperor,” said or possibly sighed Essa. “To some people the Anile throne is significant, whether or not there's anyone on it.”
“It’s 600 years!” said Sarat.
“Being head of PANTHER sort of makes him emperor,” hazarded Mel More being emperor makes him head of PANTHER. It'll do
“The simple bit is we, the Aniles, are hated. The complicated bit is that Zani's heirs have a formal position in the world and Narulis' heirs do not. As Mel said, it's intelligence! The rules are different. Anyone of course may be targeted by some lone wolf, some stray nutcase, but what we are talking about is action by government agency. We think Azt would try to kill us if we set foot in Kadun.”
“Wow!” said Hass.
After three years of hard labour, Zulagan was thrown out of Kadun, for there are still powerful elements with an older and relatively more civilized approach to dissent: the door is over there, let us hold it open for you. He founds the Campaign to Liberate Kadun (CLIK) in Zur. That is not part of the jolly old game and he is mauled by the lizard, an ex-convict, a common criminal. Do his politics not amply display his criminal mind! Zulagan has little time for the rights of property and CLIK an agenda more radical than is usual among the earnest. People imagine groups of honest working-men in floppies and
dungarees sitting at slatted tables, probably with sawdust on the floor. Clean sawdust, mind.
Anyone targeted by the lizard must be a good bloke and there are plenty of hardened bruisers in Dabidan politics spoiling for a fight. Zulagan is a good bloke and readily makes friends. At a conference on Kadun: which way forward? he gets deep in conversation with a trio of Fidubi.
“Interesting chap,” he says afterwards. “Knows an 'eck of a lot about
Kadun.”
His Dabidan comrade chortles. “Well, he would, wouldn’t he!” “Why’s that, then?”
“I’m really not sure you want to know this. Guy’s full name is
hoit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis.”
“Flaming hell!” says Zulagan. “You’re kidding - I understood he were in
politics.”
“Oh he is. Thirty years in the Senate, my son. You want to know how
things work around here, you talk to Cho.”
Working-people know PANTHER is not on the side of the ruling class. “Social workers!” said Mellow. “If someone's ill we make him better. The
problems are ingrained, part of the fabric of society. What are we achieving for Kadun?"
"What do you suggest?"
"There's nothing to suggest. There has to be a whole new infrastructure, someone who can form a government, hold the asylum together. Narulis had a policy! All we can do is destabilize."
As the young Krarlik bent to his books, as he deepened his unique personal knowledge of the Cult, so he knew in his bones the Great Master ultimately must triumph, the flaw in irturbi at the critical moment they had weakened, his mission to crush the barbarian Ciletij, avenge. Jaizal's weakness had been his pride. He had not thought serfs and peasants capable of wielding such power. He Krarlik, must be humble, learn.
Meekly he must defer desire. Krarlik has an interesting streak of self-abnegation, his ancestress no Mistress of Kadun but a concubine, a worthless whore.
Cho and Zulagan had dinner. The agreement lay on the table between them. “Call it giving something back,” said Cho.
“Looks to me as though it’s giving rather a lot back. Without wishing to seem ungrateful, I would like to ask – to note that our policies are not – I would not be suggesting because frankly I do not see we pose any threat.”
“The opposite,” said Cho succinctly. “If there is a price, it’s turning the heat up, not down. Someone has to put a bomb under them.”
“You have a reputation as a radical,” conceded Zulagan. “We have not talked frankly about – “
“My other aspects? We have not. “ “Kadun is a personal concern, should I say.”
“There were,” said Cho. “accommodations. You may call it a protection racket. In sum dues became paid to the Houses, taxes, security.” He smiled. “By them as int paid nowt before. In Carlin and Var-segan, much has been given back. In
Van-senok no charges were levied. In Vaudos the word is extortion. Fas-sigree of course disappeared up its own. And then there is the sale of land not theirs by right to sell. There is an issue, charging rent for land one does not own.” He smiled again. “What duty can one owe to a non-existent emperor? They went their own way.
Effectively each became an independent state. Only in the modern age did they agree once more to be All-Kadun to be a power in the modern world. The propertied class. I think the propertied class needs shaking up.”
Saryulin received notification tank-traps were to be laid across the meadow, barbed wire fences erected. Clearly it was insufficiently macho a nation of the importance of Kadun cease as a matter of mere geography. He responded tartly. This is twice nonsense! Shall our friends in Dabida invade? Do their tank have wings? Duvi drew irresistible little winged tanks fluttering across the Great Divide. The Straits Times published both letter and cartoon.
The actual problem of course was it's perfectly easy to get out of Kadun if you're reasonably athletic. You walk out.
Bluff? thought Tar. They wish to see what they provoke? Whom? Let us be provoked!
"Darlings," said Airoch to the journos, "Fidub would have no alternative but to see it as a hostile act. We seek closer links with our friends in All-Kadun. Are we not both signatories to the Convention?" You know, the one that upholds free passage of peoples.
Carlin!
The Dabidan Representative at Fidub looked plaintive.
"Don't talk about us as though we don't exist! Makes us feel in the way." A buffer-state between Fidub and Kadun.
Naturally Alzani-Meta resists any threat to her lucrative trade-links with
An old war, not even sabre-rattling, more like kicking tin cans, verbal
wall-paper, a radio permanently burbling in the background. This time it might be serious, but as ever 95% of the people on both sides of the border spared it five seconds' attention then got on with their lives,
That is how it was, but how it was was not precisely how it would have been, but for Qine.
By the time the summer came, Duvi was pregnant, and in fact she too had three in rapid succession, first Omnian, then Liande, then Auscu. She subscribed easily to the hairless terrier school of child-rearing. The tiresome bit, surely, is having them, get that out of the way. There were other perspectives. At it loike rabbits. No-one had ever thought Saryulin short on hormones. Nor did he lack former-single-parent guilt but, like most sufferers from this dismal ailment, he was not sure what to do about it. We must act as a family! he thought fervently. How, when the age-gap is so great?
Mel and Hass went regularly to Carlin but the Great Visit was postponed and family holidays taken at 'Dunswimming', the beach-house. Asdinan seemed content to tag along, build or help build sand-castles, and read and scribble. True, he was soon more than old enough to go to Zur on his own, but that too was postponed until the dust had settled from the Qine affair.
Wandering the Grid instead of doing his homework, As suddenly went, “Waaa!” and ran downstairs, but it was spring and a warm one for Carlin, everyone was
in the gardens soaking up the first hot-rays of the sun. Aargh! Try the herb-garden. There Duvi was pottering, Saryulin lounging and Omnian failing to help,
“The news!” babbled As. “Turn the TV on!” Reverie turned to consternation.
“It's Micheal!”
Not harmed, we trust. No, no, it's just, look, just come!
Mitch was in his final year at the Schools. Now he was speaking to the world from Var-segan..
“I have known Qine since we were born. I do not think I am a bad judge of character. He is not capable of not having done it. His politics come from his being a decent man, are in fact those of CLIK, which you will know is a wholly legitimate organization based here in Zur. Qine stands, as do I, for a society in which people are not executed for crimes they did not commit, a society in which there is the rule of law, a society in which people are not executed for their opinions. Qine is a workers’ democrat. He is outraged, as am I, by the condition of the working-class. That condition rests in good part on the right of landlords to let property unfit for human habitation. When you have finished fulminating, nowhere else on the continent, though there are rich and poor, large houses and small, is that right accepted. No Vasuculi landlord is allowed to let
rat-infested hovels, as no Vasuculi employer is allowed to fire workers who reject unsafe conditions. I did not think Kadun had sunk so low that it hanged the innocent for their politics. There is not one scrap of evidence. You cannot even bring a man to court with no damn’ evidence. There is something called Justice and there is something called Evil.”
Kadun on trial. You next, Mitch? Mitch at home.
“Qine, you stupid, stupid bastard!”
He’d been shooting his damn’ mouth off about the capitalist class, rich bitches, bloated bastards, exploiters of the poor. One poor little ‘rich bitch’ had been raped and murdered and Qine had no adequate alibi.
Mitch displayed an awesome talent for agit-prop even at that early age (that and getting the best damn’ lawyer in the entire City). Var-segan became packed with every student agitator the Schools had spawned. Then the world’s press arrived.
Mitch remembered to mail his tutor.
There is a quota of permitted international incidents. There may on occasion be points awarded in camera, as opposed of course to on camera, for bringing such an incident to a successful close. You will return to the City to sit your Finals if you have to commute daily to do so.
There was a rally in Var-segan.
A red-headed pixie called for revolution. Mitch thought: I like red-headed
pixies.
“Great speech. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” “Why, thank you! Karula.”
There was a rally in the Saa’nda Senta.
“Hi, I’m Vij. I’m Tar’s nephew if you be folk from far away – Tar’s the guy
called King who lives in the rabbit-warren on the hill. So I get to speak on behalf of
Alzani-Meta and everyone yells at me that I’m talking garbage.” [Shouts of hey Vij, we love you!]
“I have fans!”
[Of course he has fans, muttered foreign journos. He looks like a bloody
rock star.]
Vij, like Mel, is striking: large with lots of black curls and on this occasion
the attire of a beachcomber.
“”I just grabbed the mic to say that as far as I can tell there is no-one at all in this country who is not on the side of Mitch and Qine. I’m also of course a beneficiary of AMI, not to mention a share-holder. Mitch isn’t the only one who knows guys in unions. I was at school with some of their kids. What is the big deal? And if they think things aren’t right, they say so, which is how it should be. That’s it, really. Except of course they are both very, very brave. They say what they think in a society that goes ape over people saying what they think. As we all shoot our mouths off here, I think we should remember that we’re fortunate to be able to without fear.”
Mitch spilled his coffee. Heela smiled.
Chants began of so-li-da-ri-ty!
“Shut it!” said Vij (amicably). “Guys have serious things to say.” Several hours later Vij plugged ‘Varsegan’ into the search-engine. Did you mean Var-segan?
Vij scowled. Since when did search engines do hyphens?
Var-segan’s Gridsite invited anyone who cared to go join the party. Anyone? thought Vij, anyone at all?
He rang Tar.
“An excellent notion,” said Tar. “I do not think they will close the border with Alzani-Meta on the wrong side.”
“Alternatively,” said Vij after a moment, “my quiet unassuming life just got interesting.”
He mailed Mitch.
Love to have you, mailed back Mitch.
Even with the H-W? Tar doesn’t want me to be lonely. Always room for one more, mailed back Mitch.
He wandered into his parents’ bedroom.
“How does one announce a prince of Dabida?” “Look it up,” said Kile.
“You invited him?” asked Heela. Mitch looked shocked.
“Oh no, papa. He asked if he might come.” “You require my consent?”
“I suppose,” said Mitch, “actually I do.” “Meaning he is coming anyway?” Mitch nodded.
“I shall speak – “ said Heela with mock ferocity, “ – to the guy who lives in the rabbit-warren.”
Vij walked into a barrage of cameras.
This official, Vij? You representing A-M, Vij? What does Tar say, Vij? “I sit back,” murmured Essa, “and count the tripwires.”
The Zur Star picked up Vij’s line. What is the freaking big deal here!
Nothing, nothing in the politics of these two guys would merit more than two seconds’ attention in the civilized world.
It’s that word again. Kadun has not thought to be democratic but considered herself on the whole civilized.
Rape the Dabidan model. It’s all garbage, put on for the camera. Bollocks! said three million Zuri.
The lizard gave its first belch in Vij’s direction. This disreputable juvenile presuming to comment on the internal affairs of a sovereign nation. Surely Dabida is a constitutional monarchy.
The Dabidan Press guffawed. You know what they say. Dabida is a constitutional monarchy: the monarchy wrote the constitution.
Enter the Dabidan Constitution, smiling engagingly for the camera. Effectively there is only the Constitution. If the State tear it up, there are the
Crown and the people. If the Crown tear it up, there are the people and the State. If the people tear it up, demand anti-democratic legislation, there are the State and Crown. It is not classic democracy. That is why it works.
Mitch blinked.
“Who in hell devised that one?” “Need you ask!” sighed Vij. “Fidub?”
“PANTHER! We shall establish a kingdom in Dabida! cried Fidub. You know, like the last one we established that’s just gone right down the tubes…We shall devise further checks and balances to ensure that this time it works!”
Come on, Tar. Mitch, Tar. My lord of Var-segan, Tar! You got views on
Mitch, Tar?
“Certainly I have views on Mitch. He seems to me an excellent young man.
We are all of us aware that differences of approach exist between the south and Kadun, differences that have been respected. There can be no respect for indecency. Clearly if one shred of decency remain in Kadun, if she is ever again to hold her head up in the community of nations, Qine must be instantly released.”
The lizard dribbled over the personal power of Alzani-Meta and attempted to convince Dabida she was an absolute monarchy.
“Cho is livid,” said Vij. “Cho?”
“Micheal!”
“Have I put my foot in it?”
“Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis, head of Sohenoil, former leader of the Senate of Fidub. Known universally as Cho.”
“I feel myself blushing,” said Mitch. “I rarely blush. It is a strange and novel experience.”
“You wish me to present you?” teased Heela.
“It is with the deepest regret, sir – this appalling object is my son. You know
the guy.”
with them.”
“I know the guy,” admitted Heela.
“Essa and Tar are like that,” said Vij. “Mel and Hass spend the summer
Pause.
“Ban-varna has grand-children?”
“Four. Sarat’s the eldest, then three sisters, Shavli, Zika and Ven.” “Your cousins visit Carlin, I understand.”
“Mel and Asdinan are about the same age.” “And - Sarat?”
“Sarat’s more Hass’s age.”
Azt continued to treat the affair as though it were a trivial local incident
involving young malcontents. Consequently when Mitch dressed up and went to Azt to see the ‘Minister for Justice’, the Minister refused to see him. Nothing continued to happen.
“No-one,” said the hot-shot lawyer, “really believes they’ll bring it to trial any more. Digging their heels in.”
In such circumstances the Press tend to lose interest. Fortunately there was the story behind the story.
Even here in Fidub there are guys with a strong personal link to Kadun. One such man is Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis, head of Sohenoil, eminent politician, notorious radical. Cho lives in Narulis’ family residence, no less. You have seen shots of Var-segan. It’s a pre-fab in comparison.
Camera dwells lovingly on the family home. All-Kadun convulsed.
A little it is like the Summer Palace at Khole, Cho's des res on the Sohenisle. The front consists in one enormous highly polished room supported by pillars, ball-room, throne-room, who can say for it is not precisely a room but roofed space, the front open, protected from rain by a covered terrace. Perhaps it is the scene of amateur dramatics for there is a stage along the right-hand wall, stage or dais. In the far left-hand corner there is a small door to the rooms beyond and the courtyard.
“It would be slightly less appalling,” said Essa, “coming from me.” “Would it?” asked Tar.
Essa shrugged.
Press-fiends at the gate, Cho.
“We say the Anile throne has a symbolic significance, regardless of whether there is anyone sitting on it. That significance, the fight for truth, justice, decency, is epitomized by Mitch’s current struggle. I am delighted to see we still breed ‘em right.
Ciletij began to froth at the mouth.
“I maintain close ties with PANTHER. I have seen the file on Qine. He seems to me an excellent young man. The conditions of the urban working-class in Kadun are an affront to all civilized people. They are wholly unacceptable and from Wintawa to the Leolisle they are not tolerated. There are no unfettered rights of property. There is gross cowardice, is there not, in the refusal of open debate on the matter. No evidence exists against Qine. Must I really turn the screws?”
Airoch cold.
“The Republic of Fidub does not presume to dictate to Sohenoil with whom it
may trade, still less to AMI.”
“He has threatened Kadun!”
“He has expressed an opinion. Darlings, one understands that to express an opinion is in Kadun a capital offence. This is not Kadun."
“One says,” murmured Vij, “what one thinks not what others would wish one
say.”
“Of course,” said Heela.
Brazen it out, thought Vij. He began to laugh.
“Couldn’t you have tried, Cho!” He grinned what he hoped was engagingly at
his hosts. “To sound like any other outraged democratic politician.” “We need the south,” said Mitch hesitantly.
“Ciletij too is part of the Quadrant.”
“How damn’ dependent are we? Surely the banks in the City - ?”
Eggshells, thought Vij. It is his politics that are offended or his nationalism?
Both! Ah me, the global power of capital.
“Between us,” sighed Vij, “we can turn screws in the City.” “Zeshazesh!” said Duvi. She took Saryulin’s hand.
“His Imperial Majesty,” said Saryulin, then stopped. “Who?” said Qine’s mates in the union.
Zulagan said: “He’s just bloody declared war on Kadun!” “Notorious radical,” said Hunri.
“You gonna boycott Kadun, Cho?”
“That would scarcely benefit the urban poor.”
The lizard didn’t hiss. Why should it have when Ciletij was howling the door down?
Kind of inflammatory, Cho, why did you say that, Cho, walking a tightrope, Cho, careful you don’t fall, Cho.
“Fall where? The true empire,” said Cho, “united five kingdoms under the imperial crown. It had no designs on neighbouring territories. The perversions of the years of decline have come – perversely – to represent the whole. Pick,” added Cho, “my lord Krarlik, on someone your own size!”
Who the hell is Krarlik?
Statements are being made, thought Mitch. I am not sure that I understand the language.
The summer holidays began and Mel and Hass went off to Fidub.
Essa and Tar are like that, babbled some chatty Zuri. The camera arrived at the white house on the dunes. Click, Ven is talking to the donkey, click, Shavli is just off to a party, click that is Zika in the pool. Click, the camera rests adoringly on the
pin-up.. Darling, he is delicious! Death, really one had thought the Aniles atrophied! This pin-up the Anile heir. There is an Anile heir. His father is an ecologist, I understand. How – extraordinary.
Sarat’s first encounter with the press, Gorse was to recall fondly, was not harmonious.
“Why don’t these guys get a life!”
“What happened to the agreement?” asked Mel.
There had been an understanding with the hill. Take all the pictures you like
of Tar’s baby boys, so long as you do it with a zoom lens.
Rumour, new evidence, rumour, discussions at the highest level, rumour, gross miscarriage of justice, rumour some poor dumb bastard will be scapegoat. Qine was released.
“I’ll be off in the morning,” said Vij. “Books to read, essays to write.”
“Tell me about it!” said Mitch. “I really cannot thank you enough.” Pause. “I have written thank-you letters. I should appreciate it if you would be so kind as to deliver them.”
“Not a problem,” said Vij.
Qine, leaner, paler, harder, walking slowly up the drive to the House. Mitch came out to meet him and they went off into the Orangery. Only two people know what they said to each other and they aren’t telling but to his mum and dad Qine said, “I can’t repay that. Can’t stay here, neither.”
“I understand that,” said his dad.
“There’s one more person I have to talk to,” said Qine. “So I should hope!” said his dad.
Heela looked up.
“I have brought more trouble to this house.” “Nonsense. We thrive on it.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” “No matter. What will you do?” “Go underground.”
“We won!” howled Mitch. Heela raised his eyebrows. “We?”
And so now it is acknowledged there is another player in the game of Kadun or, as people put it more succinctly, the cat is out of the bag. On warm summer evenings when all is still the strange sight can be seen of people lying on the ground on their sides, grazing their hip-bones and getting dirt in their ears, listening for the sound of money talking. It is thought. It is understood. It is believed. All these are good beginnings for sentences that people don't know how to end. The emperor (not that there is one, of course) concerns himself with this matter of Kadun. The empire is 600 years distant and as near as the expression of taut fury on Searc's face when he is
out-manoeuvred. A lot of years will pass before I rejoice in the ludicrous title of Economic Liaison Officer to the Anile Throne. For the moment Cho's main achievement is probably contributing to men and women of good will doing exactly nothing. There is a variety of reasons for this. As Cantilip was more or less to put it, lads 'ave their pride, don't want ter go cap in 'and ter big 'ouse.
No-one knows what Cho would do in the event of whatever the latest plot was coming to fruition and no-one wants to ask him. Asking the leader of the Fidubi Senate for assistance in overthrowing the government in Azt is treason and overthrowing the government in Azt oneself is patriotism. What is asking assistance from Narulis’ heir? Wicked people like me said that Kadun was like a teenager pretending it could operate independently of its parents. Even more wicked people said that Kadun was schizophrenic about the empire By this they meant not that the empire was both its
glory and its shame, thought that was true too, but that empire was both Fidubi and irturbi.
After all, Fidub had spent the last 600 years being the official enemy and the unofficial friend.
Grid-sites appeared devoted to the Cult of Death of High Harn. Denzine Master Chief Preceptor Fugitry contacted Alzani-Meta, Fugitry who was to be Mel's tutor and also mine: later Kyse will describe me as 'world-expert' in the Cult of Death, but there are a lot of years to go there too. The number of titles I shall accrue, deservedly or not, is itself ludicrous, and that's just the flattering ones (I'm also the Harn-bred whore, a camp-follower and Sarat's little joke, the more printable ones). For the moment thinking irturbi were disturbed by encroaching centralization not encroaching sorcery and nobody much was getting excited, except of course PANTHER: snake-worshippers have Grid-sites too.
Kadun is old, Kadun is subtle. You went for meetings with the management team of the refinery at Tjulsit. They were civil enough (in, you said to yourself, the inevitable, patronising irturbi way) but you knew you never wanted to meet those people again. Telecoms as advanced as they are now, what need? You skied in the
purpose-built resort in the Lausanine Heights. The scenery was magnificent, but the hotel was awful. I swear the staff tried to make you feel in the way! Next year, you tried Ciletij. As a gust of cold air on a summer's evening drives people indoors, fewer people visited Kadun.
Small-ads in thick smudged lettering promised charisma and pornography flooded Kadun. Grid-sites multiplied, bureaucracy festered and PANTHER were grim. Rules for a past age! What price derring-do in the sands with the world's media watching? Shall Dabida invade Kadun to stamp out sorcery! Shall Fidub violate the integrity of a sovereign state by sending the Aniles to conquer, occupy and rule? And what is PANTHER in this modern age but a bunch of castrate tom-cats? In this modern age, with its electronics, its telecoms, its in places free Press, its Federation, its technological warfare, rules could be broken.
Kadun has never led the world in respect for human rights, but now the allegations grow darker and even insane. Malcontents. Blown out of all proportion. Any bloody fool can get a load of gobbledy-gook off the Grid. What is unbearable cannot be real.
What are PANTHER doing!
But it becomes evident that though things are bad they could be worse, that the Cult is being stayed, covens blossom but shortly afterwards wither and perish and this of course adds to the schizophrenia. The old gentleman in Fidub who keeps cats is clearly operational.
Ship of the Vasucula Fleet Torrential Haze (some people think Vasuculi are a bit strange) mooched into northern waters, supposedly, if anyone were so gross as to ask, or search them or something, loaded with materiel for their gallant allies in Ciletij, though why their gallant allies in Ciletij, whose life-blood is heavy industry, should want materiel from Vasucula is less clear. Anyhow, they ran out of steam before they reached Ciletij and found it necessary to put in at the naval base at Samandit in Van-senok, which they could do since technically there is absolutely no war, and even if there was even Corsin acknowledges that the cunt witch bitch Marula, Mistress of Van-senok, far away in the northern forests is a law unto herself. The only way to get Van-senok is to kill every tree in sight The Kadun Fleet joined them on board for a drink and found it
regrettably necessary to requisition their cargo. The Vasuculi smiled. The first time they had wondered how much of it actually reached the resistance, but they’re good capitalists in Vasucula and of course the middle-men get a cut. It turned out to be 20%.
Long-range weapons are at a premium in Kadun, their distribution curiously limited. This is because ordinary guys can take on Cult guys so long as they can stay out of the range of the Cult guys’ minds. What that range is depends on the degree of the Cult guys and people can make and have made bad mistakes. You will swiftly riposte, ah, then ordinary guys can take on PANTHER guys. The key is of course that ordinary guys do not on the whole want to take on PANTHER guys because the PANTHER guys aren’t threatening to tear their brains from their moorings.
The most obvious long-range weapon of course falls from the skies. Most of the Kadun Air Fleet cannot be wholly relied upon to bomb the right people. There are people in Azt who would actually rather most of the Kadun Air Fleet didn’t exist but since clearly its non-existence would leave Kadun a sitting-duck, its existence is grudgingly tolerated, if not its possession of long-range weapons from Vasucula. Gosh, one never knows when they might come in handy.
Anyway, think of the bears: if Kadun is perceived to be not merely divided, which she obviously is, but fragmented, Ciletij opportunists may seek to join the party.
The Cult achieved governance in Azt, but really, mused people, it appears to be more they have achieved governance of Azt. There had been troop movements and a flurry of ill-reported incidents, even air battles. Civil war in Kadun! But then it became clear to outside observers that Kadun both resisted and succeeded in resisting and large swathes of territory continued to behave largely as normal. Borders have been redrawn. Only a matter of time before Kadun splits. From time to time something exploded somewhere, there was a vid on the Grid of rubble and a few guys were reported dead. If the bang had been loud enough, the southern Press asked: Is this civil war in Kadun?
The furore quickly died down as it obviously wasn’t and in fact Kadun appeared to be in stasis. Why is Kadun not bombed into submission! The word was rather that, if anyone was bombed into submission, it would be Azt. Certainly Azt terrorized people but it had failed miserably to terrorize the right people and in particular the military, who clearly held the balance of power. Some people who’d never had much time for Kadun’s officer corps now markedly warmed to them. Others continued to wonder when and if they were ever going to do anything about the conditions of the poor. Why on earth does the Kadun Air Fleet not simply bomb Azt! I guess some of the guys are loyal to the government? They don’t want to fight each other? To horrific allegations of torture and murder were added stories that, thought outside observers, were just plain weird. In the age of the smartphone complete with video recorder, both sides tended to a maidenly coyness regarding the exercise of the more graphic aspects of mind-war, at least until Caniba, but from time to time stories surfaced of air-battles which didn’t look like air-battles, but much more like firework displays or maybe the kind of stuff you get at air-shows with pretty coloured smoke. Someone is making this stuff up! Like maybe cat-people. Everyone knows what kooks there are on the Grid. Probably made up by a kid in Harn. Close analysis would have revealed two sets of aircraft, both apparently members of the Kadun Air Fleet. But one had VS emblazoned on its wings and occasionally a silver birch, and the other had FV and a death’s head. FV is the motto of the Cult squadrons. It stands for Forever Victorious. Depends which circles
you move in: others render it Fucking Vampires.
Corsin collectively describes the six Cult regiments. The vampires are their air-arm. There’s a very simple concept at stake here. What your mind tells you is happening to you is what is happening to you, unless you tell it to stop drivelling and start freaking out the other guy, and if your mind tells you there’s a very large boulder falling on you and that notion overwhelms you, you will curl up into a ball to attempt to shield yourself or try to run, without the other guy working on your bones and soft tissues, which if he is Corsin is what he will do next, slowly separating the constituent parts of your body while holding your screaming mind intact and alive. Not a lot of people know that. Fortunately, not a lot of people can do it, either. Also fortunately, some people can resist and destroy it. Corsin are based around Azt and do not routinely concern themselves with events in the vast hinterland of Kadun, which either do not require their control or are for the moment at least beyond their control. True, if they scent fresh blood they may suddenly appear, torture and kill a large number of people and go away again, but there aren’t so many of them as to be expendable and being hanged by PANTHER is not part of their agenda. They like to know what’s on the ground first. Still, their mere existence exacts a certain docility.
And their growing numbers. Couple of things here about training-times. If you are PANTHER, you can fairly rapidly adapt your skills to other media but it takes much longer to become either Corsin or capable of destroying Corsin. An air-arm is of no use to Corsin if all it can do is drop bombs and provide transport like the regular guys. It has to be able to do what Corsin suspects Fidub can do, but doesn’t know. Of course Fidub being able to do it doesn’t mean KAF can do it. If Corsin dominate the skies, then it’s all over. On the other hand an expensive mistake could cost them everything. On the third hand, insufficient aerial mind-warriors could still be defeated by very large numbers of regular guys. Finding out how to do things on your own by trial and error takes longer than being taught how to do them. Lastly, Corsin do not think it inconceivable in the particular eventuality they conceive that Dabida and Fidub would come to the aid of KAF. All they would have to say to the public is that the Cult tried to get the regular guys. Since they scarcely even govern Kadun, Corsin are not ready for war with Dabida and Fidub.
KAF can think too and what it thunk was how to get our guys trained by
Fidub.
Couple of things about the skills themselves. There is the mechanical skill
of acting on muscle and the more complex skill of acting on mind. Thus you can stop someone shooting you without interfering with his free will, just as you can physically. Acting on his mind somewhat deflects his attention from shooting you to the giant cat lunging at his throat. It still doesn’t interfere with his free will: he reacts as he would physically.
Thus Kadun is two countries. One is Cult. No-one is quite sure what the other one is. Some people are loyal to an idea of Kadun which leads them to obey what they like to call the lawful government, oblivious to the cat-calls asking what is lawful about it. Others are loyal to a different idea of Kadun whether that be Kadun before the Cult crawled back or the ideals of Narulis’ Kadun. Some people want democracy. A lot of people are loyal to their Houses but it is not as simple as wishing Carlin or Var-segan seceded from All-Kadun; Narulis generally creeps in somewhere. Then of
course there are the rationalists, some of whom back or at any rate obey the ‘lawful’ government because they have never seen the Cult in action and so don’t believe it can be as black as it is painted. Obviously there must be order. So far as there is a government of .Kadun at all, that government is Corsin, who are something the members of the civilian administration which is the face Azt shows to the world are not: intelligent and informed. Thus when the Minister squawks there must be a show-trial of General Prog or of Nodsi, Regional Commander (air) for the entire Lausanine, Corsin say get real. Or at any rate not yet. For the moment the keys to the submission of All-Kadun are stealth, cunning and undermining the moral authority of the old ruling-class. Corsin understand that if they do anything stupid they can lose, particularly if Kadun were to split, Var-segan and Van-senok in the west allying with Vasucula and Carlin in the east allying with Dabida. Thus the fiction of a united Kadun must at all cost be maintained and the Great Divide between the south and her neighbour imprinted on every irturbi’s brain. Their ways are not our ways, particularly of course with regard to women and gays. To be a gallant flier fighting with every brain cell and sinew for Kadun’s soul does not mean you want a woman in the cock-pit next to you.
That said, few in Kadun think the south would be a push-over because of the composition of her forces and the gender of the President of Fidub. Beyond the knee-jerk reaction, all possible futures are on the table, though some less likely than others. There is general recognition among civilized people that Kadun must change at the socio-economic level. Grinding poverty must be alleviated. People should not die of readily treatable diseases. And of course the criminal justice system could be improved upon.
If Kadun wished to come into line with the south and become a freedom-loving democracy with equal rights for all, Sarat’s story would be a simple one, but Kadun has yet to be persuaded of the necessity of these things and it isn’t. In a nutshell, for the moment all shades of sane opinion are united against Azt. Nonetheless, people acknowledge a time may come when they may end up fighting each other. The Army in particular regard this eventuality with horror.
So much for the backdrop against which our heroes and heroines grew up.
2. MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN PICTURES
Mitch has a boat on the Delta. She noses through the reeds, emerges in clear water, moors at Kreel. The family book in at the inn, fake ye olde, with ten-year-old timbers. After dinner Mitch and Karula relax on the veranda, the babies safe in the arms of the gophers. Later they dance. Besotted with each other.
“Impatient, charming, dominant – and kind. Maybe even tender. Oh, and
bright.”
A veritable paragon. The sort of guy who could really rock Kadun. PANTHER watch Mitch and Mitch watches everyone.
Sear and Ravish launch their new campaign for Marquis. A beautiful
woman in a cage. Upper-class porn. Harn’s feminists rage, midst the counter-cries of Prude! Censorship! It echoes an older image, the feminists say, can we not move on! Any spotty adolescent in an agency can pick on an image. There is no censorship in Harn, at least that kind. The ancient spidery things behind the scenes keep their
activities well concealed. These guys do what? Is not something you would catch the Chief Minister of Harn saying. Torture, murder, general humiliation and abuse? We know, guys, we know. So Harn is seamy. There are boats you do not rock. You let PANTHER rock them. PANTHER, a little discreet enquiry tells Mitch, hang out in the cat-house, an annexe of the Fidubi Rep Centre.
The Jumesit Palace still stands in Azt, its delicate ironwork gates padlocked, and people go about their business just as though it weren't there. Where else could it be? is a surprisingly good question, but of course Krarlik didn't know that as he slipped one night inside the gates, dogged in his search for the throne. There was a banshee howl.
Good evening, brother, riposted Krarlik. Children ran across his path in the broad daylight of their time. One has heard something, muttered Krarlik.
There is a step up. It is all pale green and white and gold; no harsh bands of solid colour here despoil. A huge floor seems to stretch endlessly, giving an impression of limitless space and light, and beyond it a garden, the people-space where Azt met and talked and laughed. There is an arch. Krarlik walked through into more of the same. The Star came tumbling into the throne room, naked, shaved, lithe, every fraction of her body covered with fragments of silver, an intricate metal head-dress cascaded, cartwheeled, twisted turned, tumbled, then fell to the ground before Jaizal.
Master. He smiled. Krarlik continued his search. There came the Bronzes, so called because against a copper sky in a copper world unfolds a panorama of line and curve and perhaps those are horsemen but who can tell, at least until one stops, silhouetted against the skyline, and raises his spear. The walls of time and space are very thin here but there is no passage. Our radical young heroes and heroines are in for one or two shocks.
Occasionally Mitch visits his parents. “It is nonsense,” said Heela.
“History written by the victors? It’s the biggest con in history. How many people subscribe to this garbage?” Mitch rambles on. “You ever think CLIK has a whole load of money behind it?”
Heela and Kile exchange glances. “Truly you do not know?” “Know what?”
Heela logs on.
CLIK is proud to list its sponsors. “Sohenoil! Oh come on!”
And who does the PR? And who does Sohenoil’s PR? Lo, it is the same firm. I am so surprised.
Mitch sits back cackling.
“Fidubis are good democrats. Maybe the decision came from elsewhere.
What do we actually know about sir?”
Steamy affair with Madam President in her wild youth. Well, well, well!
Rumoured to have trounced his chances of her job. Don’t get that. If holier-than-thou Fidub operates a double-standard, wouldn’t it be her chances?
“Perhaps he had no chance,” said Kile.
“Maybe, maybe. Even Fidub baulks at being governed by the Anile
emperor.”
I see. He lives in the Summer Palace. He is almost never seen without
PANTHER. He is hand-in-glove with PANTHER and probably is PANTHER. Sohenoil makes generous donations to CLIK (I love that one!). Former leader of the Senate of Fidub, thirty years in democratic politics. Of course he has absolutely no interest in this matter of Kadun. Who knows that better than I. It is absurd, is it not, sir, to think that you would be interested in anything so uncouth as putting a fire-cracker under them.
“I should prefer,” said Mitch, “to be hanged for the coup I am plotting not the one I’m not.”
“Indeed,” said Heela. “Meaning?”
“Talk to him.”
“I have your consent, father?” asked Mitch, suspiciously meek. “Why?”
“I trust him to protect the interests of our class? I do not.” Heela assumed the expression ordinary parents might assume for initiating discussion of contraception. “Micheal, there is the question of your education. You must speak with PANTHER!”
“You just told me that, papa.”
Sarshi took herself off to college in Zur. She met Vij not through Carlin but at the party. That's the party, not a party. The party is what they call the caff attached to the shrine. You go to the party if you're distressed, you go to the party if you're cool and of course you go to the party if you're curious.
Sarshi held her glass up to the light. "'The wine they sip...'"
"This is the question?” asked Vij.
"'The vision gone now, stars are laid to rest, the moon lies sundered. Comes to every stricken breast the weird of night, the tapping of the blind man's cane and governance. By death.' Isn't that our version?" She laughed. "I spoil the party."
"No chance," said Vij.
“What about your average ego-maniac? "We're not naive."
"In the worst there are hidden depths! Everyone's all right, really. Excuse me, I come from a country where they torture people."
We were out all night! wrote Sarshi. We talked about you-know-what.
Enlighten you when I get home.
My daughter becomes Hadin-Wadud.
"A few steamy affairs," said Pilo wistfully.
Sorg is Sarshi’s twin. He completed basic training and crossed fingers and toes. Where would they post him? Some transport depot in the back-streets of Tjulsit! But no! But worse! Aargh! Caniba.
Caniba Base is an odd place, a law unto itself. It accommodates Layat, General Commanding the Fourth Army, on the grounds (according to Caniba) of being the Fourth Army's brains. The cultural arm, they call themselves. Caniba is the home of the cerebral, the educators and the intelligence gatherers, the odd-balls, according to the rest. Officers and men come from all over to attend courses. To the relief of the residents, they go away again.
"We do not squander talent," said General Prog smugly, Uncle Athanou to Saryulin's children, not a real uncle but an old friend. Saryulin made positive noises.
Sorg from a tender age had been described as 'difficult'.
Sarat 16 babbled only about a demo to be held outside the Ciletij Rep Centre against development of the northern wilderness. He's signed the on-line petition.
Baz and Paw exchanged glances. “A little talk, I think," said Baz "Birds and the bees," said Paw.
"'Wanton destruction of one of the few remaining - '" said Baz. "The Anile heir thinks they're a bunch of total savages, right?"
"Him and half Fidub," said Paw.
"And whose name are they going to pick on?"
"Oh come on! You mean anyone reads these things?” “And then he went to the demo!” said Baz enthusiastically. “Thinking of it,” said Sarat.
“If no-one reads them, what's the point?” “Numbers!”
"We, the undersigned, we think you should talk about this."
"Make a speech, you mean? Are you telling me I can't sign petitions?" "You can't pretend you're just a citizen of Fidub."
"Of course I'm just a – Cho.” “Cho.”
“OK, somebody tries to make something - I didn't mean it! I bleat. I do mean it, just not like that. Everyone can say what he thinks except me?"
"You have to think it through," said Paw. "You can't be just Sarat. I know you don't like it. If you so much as said you like Crumbles, it'd be Anile heir endorses Crumbles!"
"Calm down. Be a good little teenager and talk to your mum and dad." He talked if not calmed down.
"I thought," said Baya cautiously, “you wanted to be a vet."
"I do. I care. I'm not going to have my caring bit cut off to satisfy a load of prats in Ciletij. I mustn't care enough to actually say so, right?"
"You will be defined," said Essa. "Others' expectations, others' behaviour to you. they will assume you are something you are not. You must resist definition, remain Sarat. Think before you speak. Or sign petitions.
“People will see,” hazarded Sarat, “a whole lot of stuff that isn't there. I can't make a speech about all the stuff that isn't there before I – add a note to the petition, no, I'm not winding up Ciletij, I just care about trees.”
“Just be aware,” said Baya.
Essa suppressed a sigh. Kadun must blow. It is important Dabidans, Fidubi play their part in her reconstruction. Steer her away from pernicious elements bent on turning the Caniba Plain into a multi-storey car-park. It is just possible Sarat's chosen sphere is such he may escape - definition. Fat chance.
Sarat went off to see Cho.
“The message I'm getting – you and PANTHER – people will think - “ “What?”
“That – I'm somehow part of it. I want to go to a sit-in.” “About what?”
“Ciletij want to rip the forest open. I do know about the rape.”
Emperor Kaminua massacred Ciletij by burning them alive, setting fire to the forest they hid in, or not, according to whose version it is.
“A sensitive issue to this day.”
“I'm not completely thick. Most people don't even know about you and PANTHER.”
“Sarat – the people you talk to in, what is it you call it, RL, they know you. Once you speak to the world, you speak to people who know nothing of you, who can readily be manipulated by – the people who know about me and PANTHER.”
“People will think – I'm making some kind of statement.” “Fidubi moral supremacy springs to mind.”
“Then I can't speak out. No way!”
“Use it, then. Use it and be heard. But think first. What are people
hearing?”
“I can't help what people think. Dad said I had to – reject it, just stay me.” “Do not be drawn by it. Do not explain. Your turf is – fairly clear-cut.
The chief polluters of the continent are Kadun and Ciletij, but that is at least known to be the south versus the rest. The micro is better than the macro. Perhaps not bacteria!
The threat to feeding-grounds or migration of a particular beastie, perhaps. Pictures of its cute offspring.”
“Aw,” said Sarat. His particular obsession was the skagga, a sort of large and repulsive hairless rat. “Lichen! Truly, there are lichen on the ancient trees of the northern forests found nowhere else.”
“Lichen are excellent.”
“Would it be right – steer clear of people. NoZone is about people.” “Be especially clear about that. You are a biologist or a politician?” “I'm me,” said Sarat. “That'll really impact, talking about lichen!” Cho looked at him thoughtfully.
“We are not in fact discussing your profound scientific concern - ?” “There's no point if you don't get people's attention.”
“We appear to have moved on from a voice in a crowd.”
“You're making me think,” said Sarat reproachfully. “What you're saying -
“
“People will hear you if you say grass is green. Except they won't. They
will find an alternative meaning. Fact is better than moral judgement.”
“What they're doing is wrong,” said Sarat. “Mum said be aware. Of – of people making an issue of what they think I've said, not what I have said.”
“Sarat – if you envisage a future in front of the camera – I do advise not yet! ” Ancient spidery things take a discreet interest in the proclivities of Var-segan,
and here is Mitch, with difficulty containing his temper, while around him is spewed contempt for the rest of humanity.
It has been made clear these are men-only gatherings or at least business meetings at which the attendance of partners is not expected (to which it happens that no female business-persons are invited). Mitch wants to tell them where to put it, but Karula wants to know what the bastards talk about on their own. I have my babies!
What more can a woman desire?
“I do not think that is the case,” says Mitch. Searc (known as Shark) smiles.
“You have a reputation as a radical!” Beejay thinks to rescue him.
“We are all radicals when young! Dear boy, you must dine with me, present your case. A certain intimacy with Kadun may be required to understand you. Then of course I shall demolish your arguments.”
“Indeed? I think I did not catch your name, sir.”
“Karba ban-jaizat-stoan, Kadun Representative at Harn.” Shark’s voice is expressionless.
“A charming habit of the Vasuculi, is it not, calling the aged and decrepit ‘sir’.
Come now, we shall leave these gentlemen to their own devices.” We shall? Out of the frying-pan….
“Offal,” says Beejay in the safety of the car.
“Lord Shark has an interesting reputation,” says Mitch. Mitch returns.
Make you some coffee? Well. Ha!
He is wicked, Mitch reports. He is wicked about Shark, he is wicked about Dabida, he is wicked about Zani, he is wicked about the workings of the government of Harn. He is especially wicked about the machinations of Azt. He is universally wicked, witty, a delight.
Only how does he survive if he’s not a front?
He asked me about my education! I dished back some tripe about life being a continuing process of education. Mitch can’t help laughing. Here I sit, product of some of the most rigorous and not to mention expensive education in the world and people hover over me like I was some poor kid in a tenement.
“He told you,” said Karula, “what to do to survive.” “Interesting, isn’t it.”
The Imperial Air Fleet is a group of Fidubi pilots wearing Kadun uniform who have appeared out of the mist and built a nest in the heart of Regional Command. They are instructors. They are providing training in special ops (an elite corps, you understand). They are also PANTHER. Intricate negotiation had been required, culminating in Cho meeting senior officers of KAF. . Clearly assistance from Choit-ban-varna-eban-Narulis is entirely different to assistance from the Republic of Fidub. Indeed, Cho had made that most clear. There are two distinct aspects to this matter of Kadun. That thing does not sit on a silver chair. The other of course is the future of Kadun after the Cult is defeated. These subtleties would be lost on Azt and indeed most people do not care to look too closely at the deep water under them and all the sharks in it. We are practical men. All cats are grey in the dark. (Joke: Kadun uniform is pale grey.) Whatever else they are, they are hardly a threat. We have other concerns. Can they do the business? How can we use it? What is life like in FAF? About half FAF are female. Life’s little difficulties arise over gender politics and other questions of mores, not enemy aliens training our pilots. These are friendly aliens, but aliens nonetheless. Of course it could never work in Kadun.
“You cannot tell me the female mind is not weaker.”
“You want to meet some of the girls, you really do.” “It is not appropriate. It is not feminine.”
“What is feminine?”
“You accept a woman in command?” “I have a woman in command.”
Evil Fidubi grins.
“We all do. Her name is Airoch.”
“The exception that proves the rule?” teased one of the Fidubi, but there was a certain tension in the air. Time to talk about the weather again. Maybe when we know each other a bit better. Just what is it, guys? What is your problem? We are guests.
Thus too of course in Carlin but in Carlin they were more used to our good friends from the south.
Mel returned babbling from Carlin. “You could have warned me!” “About what, darling?”
“About the music!” “Fidubi timbers.”
“Window. Music. In the.”
“Oh that,” said Saski. “Hardly our business.” “Cho’s, possibly,” said Tar. “Not ours.” “What is it!”
“That’s a rather long story,” said Tar. “Why has no-one let it out!”
The music. Window. In the. Trapped.
Tar grinned
“Ancient legend has it,” he intoned. “When the emperor returns.”
“Oh,” said Mel. Pause. “Couldn't they let it out anyway! I mean things have changed.”
I don't suppose they know how to, thought Tar. Should I teach them! “You made that up,” accused Saski afterwards.
Tar grinned again.
Professional advice, thinks Mitch. One should not be too proud to take professional advice. So I walk into the Fidubi Rep Centre? I think perhaps we should be a bit subtle about this.
The PANTHER site is uncompromising. If you have a problem with the guys with the strange head-gear, click here.
“Gulp,” says Mitch. “The trees,” says Karula. He laughed.
“Oh indeed the trees.” He played with his pen. “The Isles sing. Carlin sings. These things are troublesome, are they not, to the modern rational mind. Because they are indisputable.”
“It would be a pity,” said Karula, “if we ended up at the bottom of the river because we didn’t know how to look after ourselves.”
“But that is in any case true,” said Mitch. “It requires no mind-games. Let
us just have a little look at the other matter.”
The true face of Kadun. Death sitting on a silver chair and wearing a silver coronet leers at her from the monitor. The image of desecration, they have been taught to call it, but now she wants to be exact. The name of the Anile Emperor is mud. And if this is perceived to be his true face who is surprised. Something stirs in her mind, something she learned as a child, but she can’t quite remember. More links to click on. Same old image. What do they actually think, so to speak. ‘The mystics confuse with an objectivist overlay the fundamental truths of existence.’ Oh, right. Death the only and ultimate reality.
Discussion forum? OK, who shall we be? Kaminua and Asyrion! But there are many Kaminuas and Asyrions already, which may or may not be revealing, since opinion is divided as to whether Kaminua and Asyrion were the good guys or the most evil people who ever lived. Asyrionn32 and [email protected] begin to read the messages. They post: oh puh-lease! What century is this? They post again: I have never in my life read such a load of confused babble. They’re rather enjoying
this, but duty calls. They return to the search engine. “Anile Throne” +myths. Got it! ‘The Anile Throne permits only the true Master of Kadun to sit upon it.’ So Death is Master of Kadun? “Silver coronet” +”silver chair”. ‘Beyond the edge of the sea lay the legendary kingdom of Va, the realm joyeux, the earthly paradise. Here in truth no pain, no death, no fear, its symbol a silver chair. This Narulis took as his symbol. This may
be considered just a leetle presumptuous, but explains a great deal about the subsequent history of the empire. It was supposed to be inviolate. It is. People aren’t. ‘ It is? little Grid-site author. You are who? But they looked in vain for a bio and couldn’t find anything about the coronet. They went back to the results of the search. And Carlin and Carlin and Carlin and the Dacunine Window and Carlin. They grinned to themselves wondering if Saryulin quite understood there were approximately 30,000,000 mentions of Carlin on the Grid. Indeed the world changes. “Dacunine Window”. Now we are out of fantasy-land into academe. One of the masterpieces of the Silabrian School.
We must visit, Mitch! I have to see that Window.
“Death is Master of Kadun. Do you not find that a somewhat unyielding piece of baloney?”
Marketing. Looks like someone’s had the same idea. Man, there is such shit on this Grid!
“It sings? The Anile throne sings? Oh come on!” Mardis raged about urban blight.
"Let's pretend it doesn't exist, then we don't have to do anything about it!" "What do you suggest I do, take my trusty revolver and shoot the bloody
rats!" rodentia."
"They'd just come back."
"They would indeed. You tell me truly Fidub is rat-less, devoid of
"What I'm telling you is it's like Carlin!" Sorg fiddled with his ear.
"Come again, I fear I may have misheard - "
"The cities are like they are because no-one gives a shit. Saryulin gives a
shit. Fidub gives a shit. It's not difficult."
shit."
"Perhaps a trifle shitty? So what you're saying is someone has to give a
"That's what I'm saying," said Mardis. "One has a responsibility." Whoops! What says the sage elder now?
"One, perhaps. Two, no. Finish your education first!" "Don't start!" said Mardis. "Would you help?" "Mardis, for - you're recruiting me?"
"No! Just curious." Sorg took a deep breath. "What we have to do is
work out what we're going to do next."
"We?"
"You know you're a good chap underneath it all. Everybody sits on the
fence."
again.
"There are worse places. Under it, in a shallow pit pushing up daisies." "Why shallow?" asked Mardis.
"I don't know. Sounded more sinister?"
Cho looked at the message from the cat-house and laughed: Karula preggers
“Darling,” challenged Amida, “name me one theory of revolution that takes
into account both the necessity of reproduction and the primary role played therein by the female of the species.”
Cho laughed again.
Sarat and Hass at the annual conference of NoZone in Zur were ravished by the camera, followed back to the hill. His short presentation on lichen and liverworts even earned him a nod of approval from his biology mistress.
Sarat bought his first pair of mirror-shades. Mel edged around the subject of the Window.
“It’s my heritage!” Sarat growled mutinously, but said nothing more.
That's sick, that's garbage. Such were the sounds of the Sarat in its natural habitat, but his head remained firmly in the ozone layer. There was school, there were family, the menagerie to tend, the skagga to be saved, that unappealing little beast with its pink piggy eyes, probably threatened with extinction solely in order that someone with an exceptionally soft heart dive to its rescue, but Kadun could not be dismissed from consciousness, a pimple under the skin, a whitehead an unreachable itch, the bane of his life, a part of his being. Every grown-up he knows is concerned about Kadun. It’s getting worse, not better.
The quickest way to Var-segan is through Vascula and so Cho, delegate at some conference or other in Wintawa, turned into a black cat at midnight and disappeared into the dark.
“Dad works in the estate office,” said Changri.. “Like his grandad and his dad before him. Qine thought young Mitch was a right pain in the – all his talk about rights. What does it mean to a bloke who’s starving? Qine got his pecker up. Oh well, if the young master says so, that’s it, isn’t it, sir. It doesn’t mean anything, you stupid little prick. There was people around. They got a bit – flustered, you could say…You have to understand..”
Cho laughed. “I understand.”
“Say what’s on yer mind but be polite about it. Mitch said, you call me sir, you mean it. You call me Mitch, you stupid bastard, you mean that. You do not say what you do not mean. That’s how I see it. Qine said, all right, you stupid bastard, you come with me! Took him down the tenements.”
“That were when it dawned on Qine Mitch couldn’t do owt. His dad couldn’t. Because they didn’t own the land. Live on the estate, you live decent, you get a good school. You get a chance. Other places, you haven’t got a hope from the time you first see the light of day.. The whole of folks’ lives, their health, their kiddies’ schooling, it all depends on the capitalists.”
“Young Mitch went off to college, had his young friends to stay, took them to poor folks’ places. Bad as him? They were worse! Qine had his mates. So there they all were, up half the night drinking and arguing. Lads behaving as lads do, and then of course.. But then lads find lasses, get more settled in their ways.”
“Or more measured in their plotting,” said Cho. Changri laughed.
“You want this straight up?”
“Being polite about it, mind,” said Cho.
“Buggered to that! What Mitch wants to do and what Mitch can do, they're poles apart. You want to know what I think his problem is?
“Aye, lad, that I do.”
“He can't do it on his own, can he. Him and his radical friends can no more hold Kadun together, so all he ends up with is a civil war and lot of people dead.”
“So?”
“Needs to talk to people. Marula, she has her own views. Carlin, I don't know. I know young Duvi were right radical before she got herself Mistress of Carlin and I would not think Saryulin would wed someone opposite in views. The three of them, that's what do-you-call it, a pincer action, but as you well know, it's a lot of other stuff besides.”
“The Fidubi model?” asked Cho.
“Ah well, there you have it. Now we get to the juicy bit. He does not like Fidub, calls it the Fidubi scam.”
“Calls what?” asked Cho cautiously.
“Everything good the empire did was Fidubi. All the crap was irturbi.” Cho bit his lip.
“A certain amount of horrible truth in that.”
“Aye, Jaizal, our last Fidubi emperor. There's one other thing you might bear in mind. He's a rationalist. I don't ask how you crossed the border on your
paddy-paws because I know. That, you will see, is an – aspect, the Cult is trying to retake Kadun and Micheal ban-sarndit-vaq dismisses the other matter.”
Cho looked perplexed.
“How can he! By which I mean how can he be a frequent guest in Van-senok, as I know he is. Marula could show him.”
“That, you'd better ask him. Or her! What I am trying to say is he doesn't understand Kadun. I know that sounds very terrible. He has all the facts and figures, probably knows everything from the movements of the Fleet to the cost of a loaf in Tjulsit, but if he moves he will fail because he has no idea what he is moving against.”
“Die,” said Cho. “Is Heela mad?”
“I would suggest also you put that question. I think you are asking me if he's given up. Never. Like the rest of us, if we knew what to do, we'd have done it.”
Cho and his party proceeded on their way. “I don't believe I heard that,” said Fox.
They slipped into Van-senok. From deep in the forest there came a howl. “The werewolves,” said Cho.
“I’m a southerner,” said Vax then after a while. “Uh, Cho, the path is opening before us.”
“Of course,” said Cho. “Note equally it is closing behind us.”
“This experience,” announced Fox, “gives a whole new dimension to the word ‘safe’.”
In Van-senok is the headquarters of the underground because nothing penetrates the trees. They learn fast, the rebellious, the resistant, the scarred, the enraged. Little in Kadun is as they thought it. Qine has changed. He walks better, no longer challenging the world but confident of his place in it. He talks better, don’t help to lose your temper. Someone wants to see him, head of PANTHER, they say, that’ll be interesting, no doubt of it. A tall bloke, but slight, bit like an ash. Face seems familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Tell me about you and Mitch,” said Cho.
“On me own I’m just a piece of trash shooting me mouth off but I weren’t on me own. ‘Course I’d never have admitted it, but I thought I was protected.”
“Instead you were a threat.”
“So when he’s back at the Schools, it’s his final year,they thought he wouldn’t be bothered. Tell you something, would have shot meself if he'd failed!”
“You may not wish to answer this. Does he want to be Master of Var-segan?”
“Or do you mean why?” “Both?”
“How the world works. Opens doors. It’s his family, his history.” “His views on land. Rent, for instance.”
“He doesn’t think that’s right,” said Qine after a moment. “But you don’t think it’s your business to talk to me about it.” “That is correct.”
“Why?”
“I think you are here because PANTHER is thinking of backing him and if that is the case there is only one person you should be talking to about what he thinks.”
“Mostly right,” acknowledged Cho. “The trouble is no-one knows what there is to back. He’s dropped out of politics entirely.”
“Don’t believe it,” said Qine.
“Nor do we. But we’re not quite sure what to do about it.”
“I assume you – investigate people. My future lady Var-sega’.” Cho grinned.
“Oh yes,” said Cho, “we have investigated the politics of my future lady
Var-sega’.”
“They’re plotting, all right.” Pause. “I’m not the only one as found people
hate him.”
“I understand that,” said Cho.
“Do you understand,” said Qine. “Mind, I’m not quite sure how to put this.
There’s some say, in the City he’s seen what the odds are. I would not wish to be thought to be speaking for Mitch but – “
“He can’t do it on his own,” said Cho.
“I would not think he likes that,” said Qine. “I would not think he likes that at
all.”
Sarat and Hass were profiled in The World This Week: 'More Beautiful Than
Pictures?' Tar and Hass went into a huddle. Tar knew Hass was gay. So far no-one else did. Sarat beamed at the camera but the shades veiled his eyes.
"Gods’ teeth!" said Saryulin. “Wa-a-a,” said Karula.
“Photogenic,” observed Mitch. He doodled. “CLIK + Ban-varna may be bad enough. CLIK + a media-savvy and photogenic grandson.”
“Boys become men real fast these days,” said Karula. “It can’t work in Kadun, Mitch.”
“It did once.”
He typed in Alzani-Meta +protocol.
Alzani-Meta is of course notorious for its rejection of all propriety. “Oh this is sniffy! I love it.”
According to A-M, the point is that everyone is fundamentally a fellow human being and one can say anything to them one would normally say to anyone with whom one is on first-name terms. One may note that one is answered in kind! I have observed that to be dashed rude to His Highness earned the comment: Are you always this rude or is it something you ate? spoken, I may add, with great good humour. This is clearly an alien form of communication to us. I would not hesitate to emphasize that what it is not is meek acceptance of incivility.
It may be useful to contrast this with an alternative approach most notoriously articulated by Micheal ban-sarndit-vaq. Mitch, as he is commonly known, said: You call me ‘sir’, you mean it. You call me Mitch, you stupid bastard. You mean that.
You do not say what you do not mean. One hesitates to associate the heir to Var-segan with vulgarity; there is, shall we say, a crude honesty in this approach
“You suggest I am vulgar, sir? How dare you?”
Sarat +family. Sarat +friends. Sarat +education. Sarat +politics “Eeek!” squeaked Karula.
“Eeek?”
“His Imperial Highness is an item with Maya Talal, Vij's sister.”
“I do not believe it! I suppose if one considers they all grew up together.” “They're kids. It won't last!”
“Honey, why do you not look up Vij?”
Mitch went on doodling. It looked like a little daisy, five petals around a central core. Karula knew what it actually was.
“OK, the kid has a brain. He has access to more money than most people can conceive exists. The camera falls down and worships him. He is clearly deeply socially aware. He is 17. His grandfather, however, is not 17. Nor are his grandfather's
politics apparently centred on the ozone layer!”
“Mitch, it’s obvious to whom we should be talking.”
“Carlin, the prize. From where did Narulis start? I cannot think Ban-varna unaware of these things.”
“1500 years!”
“Much has changed, indeed. Our question may be what hasn't. There are things here of which I should like further clarification. I do not think I shall get that by walking up to the front-door. If there is a plot, it must surely eventually show itself.
There is something here we are missing. Fidub, Fidub, Fidub! What in hell is the relationship between PANTHER, the Aniles and the Republic of Fidub?”
Karula grinned.
“Lost in the mists of pre-history!”
“That may not be a joke. These guys have been going so unspeakably
long…”
stuff! Oh.
“Notes my lord Var-sega’. The House of Fire used to run Fidub.” “Used to? Let’s just try…”
Choit ban-varna +PANTHER.
Protected by PANTHER. Lives with PANTHER. Yeah, yeah, know that
“According to this dude, His Imperial Majesty heads PANTHER. Implicitly.
PANTHER are Narulis’ cubs and agents of the House of Fire.” “That’s crazy.”
“Most things we read these days are. Ever notice that?”
They return to the PANTHER site, sift through the dreary but necessary stuff about lines of accountability. So this Faun guy reports directly to Airoch. And the rest? History of PANTHER Ah-hah. Huh?
PANTHER was founded by Narulis and spread to Fidub, not as is commonly believed the other way around….After the collapse of the empire, PANTHER came from Fidub to assist our comrades in Kadun…
For a history of PANTHER in Kadun, click here. “There are two PANTHERs?”
Oh dear.
PANTHER were left up a well-known creek without a paddle, betrayed by everyone in sight – the Houses, the Aniles, the people, everyone let us down! We do not forget that. The fact remains we are Narulis’ cub. We stand for Narulis’ values. Narulis founded PANTHER. Narulis was a sprog of the House of Fire. The House of Fire ran Fidub. PANTHER spread to Fidub. Not, note, the other way round. Some 900 years later, a handful of limping cats, scarred mentally and physically, arrived back in Fidub.
The House of Fire did not want to know that Narulis’ little venture had gone pear-shaped. PANTHER understood, Fidubi PANTHER, that is. They paid not the slightest attention to the House of Fire or of course to the cavortings in Azt. PANTHER obey no-one, never have and never will, especially after the Kadun cock-up.
In the midst of all this a guy called Zani had a personal quibble with the Anile throne. PANTHER was re-established in Kadun as watch-cats. As some tell it, we ran off with Zani. But we weren’t going to travel the same road twice: we could have but did not put Zani on the Anile throne. Jaizal was defeated in front of his court, in front of
what counted as his world. We got Jaizal’s empress out to Fidub with her children. Jaizal went over the edge and was assassinated elder sons. The collapse of the empire began.
So far as our relationship with the Aniles went, Sheheela, Jaizal’s Mrs, and daughter of Var-segan, who (poor girl) had spent her every second in Azt being scared out of her wits, felt she had a duty to us moggies and we had a duty to Kadun. We argued about it. We came back to where we started. We’re Narulis’ and this is what we’re supposed to do. In between we had to rethink the universe. We say the Anile Court turned rotten. They didn't see it like that. Metaphysically they arrived at a sort of amoral detachment. This they called the doctrine of essence. From it, it was easy to go either way so they did. Consider Kaminua’s Court. They discuss UnMaking. Do they not look as though they discuss the weather! Hunger, weariness. urination, menstruation, the messy parts of being human, these they do not care for. The doctrine of essence leads them to wish not to be human. Comes now the Master of Kadun.
Enough! My lord Heba. shall I command my servants strip the clothes from your body and the flesh from your bones that you become this essence of which you prattle! Is not all One! he mimics, pain an illusion, life and death but one continuum? The Anile Court believed – arrived at affecting to believe – the Creator separate and detached. Nothing human had any reality. They were mad. Consequently they became indifferent to human suffering. Human suffering no longer evoked human responses. A man viciously beating a screaming child. PANTHER could not and cannot be everywhere. After
Casin-ruhn we felt a Creator concerned with its Creation would have intervened. PANTHER arrived at its current metaphysic. ‘Can Light fill Light/The One become more whole?’ The Creator is co-terminous with the created.
“There are things we learn,” said Mitch a little drily. “You get dirty. You get sweaty. You roll up your sleeves. One had not previously endowed them with metaphysical significance.”
“Mitch, what is this all about!”
Mitch typed “Kadun PANTHER” into the search-engine.
Jaizal all but destroyed PANTHER in Kadun. When after the collapse of empire help came, it came from Fidub.
So Kadun PANTHER became Fidubi PANTHER. Then our pet cats are foreign agents? I do not believe it. That is not the tradition.
He clicked on. PANTHER allowed Jaizal. Someone’s made a conspiracy theory out of it. PANTHER engineered the collapse of the empire. Here a voice for the defence. PANTHER found themselves out on a limb. Yup, I got that bit. He reads on. This is heavy stuff, man! And the thought niggles: this is the modern world. All of it, it’s so much hooey. Party-tricks. You check your facts. You do your research. I cannot play this game until I know which game I’m playing.
“Look at the Hadin-Wadud,” suggested Karula. “If anyone knows about this crap, it has to be Alzani-Meta!”
Mitch grinned.
“Why don’t we just climb the hill!”
“Why don’t we? Because, Mitch, if you don’t I shall.” “Honey…”
“We have all heard the stories, Mitch. They only have to be one tenth true.”
Jaizal +”Great Gates” +Zani.
“Oh man, what a story now! This has only to be one tenth true!” “Zani smashed the empire, Mitch.”
“PANTHER smashed the empire. PANTHER built it. PANTHER knocked it down. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.”
“How about you stop wondering and ask!” Other people thought like that too.
I am, said Hass. I’m not, said Sarat.
There was of course a very great deal of lizard spittle. Their ways are not our ways. Inconceivable the perversions of the south gain a foothold in our glorious Kadun. Etc. How can I put this? Sarat’s choice of best friend did not immediately earmark him as emperor material in the eyes of Kadun.
“It did occur to me,” admitted Karula, “but then why would he not say?” “Waiting for his sister to marry?” suggested Mitch. “Heirs are expected to
produce successors. They do not do gender, any more than we, but all the same.”
Karula arrived at a gay forum where the matter had been enthusiastically discussed, not least by Maya.
Oh, I see! Maya had posted, it's a plot to make me reveal the intimate secrets of the bedroom to Glitz! Guys, take it from one who knows. SARAT IS NOT GAY.
No need to shout, darling. Scream? Maya had suggested.
Then Hass posted two words: I wish!
That, posted the moderator, would kind of seem to settle...
Of course as far as the lizard was concerned it settled nothing. The combination of 'anile' and 'probably gay' was a gift to the slime-machine even when Hass was paired and Sarat had shown himself remarkably effective. We ignored it and concentrated on lichen. Reasonably sophisticated people reached their own more or else accurate conclusions about the youthful experiments of upper-class young men, about which more later. Probably more words were wasted on How The Aniles Got Their Name than on any other single aspect. We didn't bother with that, either, because we didn't know.
Asdinan took himself off to college in Azt in the mood of a man who thinks he has to serve his jail-sentence. You cannot wholly evade, Saryulin had said. As had sighed and even introduced himself to his mother and him who was referred to as her friend. Seems a decent chap, Pilo had remarked. People mature, Asdinan. Farvia was a child. He had hesitated. Not, you know, the most profound of thinkers. Mardis has become a sort of social worker, helping run a soup-kitchen.. Asdinan observed they neither campaigned nor lobbied (argued, questioned, criticized) but merely did. That's observed as in uttered not observed as in saw and Mardis promptly expounded his theory of revolution, which was so far largely limited to appearing to be completely innocent. There is just no point, said Mardis, in getting a reputation as a sort of flea-bite. Fleas get squashed. He talked of the level of disaffection in the Army and assumed at some point there would be a coup, saw the Army as establishing a framework in which change would take place slowly but surely rather than the instigating overnight change, a framework in which people could talk intelligently about how to do things. As had
murmured, PLU? and Mardis had laughed. Exactly! Anything so long people don't get any power. As remembered something he'd read about revolutions taking place not when people are at rock-bottom but when things have improved enough for them to have the strength to revolt and suggested the possibility of working-class revolt being crushed. Mardis pointed out that the squaddies are the working-class and that the working-class as a whole was pretty conservative. Of course they wanted better food and housing and pay but all the stuff from the south about women and gays was hardly on the immediate agenda. Unless you are women and gays, suggested As, but took the point that the Kadun masses were unlikely to go to the barricades in support of gay rights.
In other words it was like hundreds of other conversations taking place in Kadun, the nub of which was something must be done but we're not sure what.
Karula dug further and discovered the Seismic Six, Mel, Hass, Reakoed, Maitlan, Fal and Tet. Since Sarat now spent his summers mostly in Zur to be with Maya, Mel and Hass no longer went to Fidub but cluttered up the Saa'nda Senta with the rest of the Six.
take it.”
be eso.”
“Schoolfriends,” she said to Mitch. “Seem to be real ordinary Zuri.” He looked at Fal.
“If that's the Dabidan model, who's objecting! That would be Mel's girl, I
“That too is the subject of hot debate! She is apparently Maya's best friend.” “But Maya is not - “
“The word,” she said cautiously, “they use for Maya is eso.” “What in hell is eso?”
“Inner and esoteric as opposed to outer and exoteric. Hasiyata is also held to
“These terms are common currency?”
“That would appear to be the case. At least in certain circles. The nearest I
have got is – expressing a relationship to the other matter, an enthusiasm for – what shall I call it?”
He grinned.
“What will you call it?”
“The inner journey. I picked that one up.” “We all know dreamy poetic types.” Karula took to reading The Straits Times.
Oh my word!
“Show you something, Mitch.” “Ah-hah?”
“Some cartoons.”
Sarat and Hass armed to the teeth as before them cowered a range of scrawny sly-looking motor vehicles emitting noxious fumes.
Sarat and Hass as young ash-trees about to come into leaf.
Sarat and Hass valiantly barring the path of cross-eyed leering axe-men trying to grab the big bucks behind them..
Sarat and Hass gazing into each other’s eyes and holding hands while little pink hearts fluttered above them.
“I found two nasty ones.”
Sarat and Hass in thick furs, a chauffeur holding open the door of a limousine, while axe-men thin to the point of starvation pointed piteously to their equally emaciated children.
Sarat and Hass wrapped in each other’s arms and laughing at Maya.
“And blog posts of pure hate. Once again the Aniles rape the poor of
Ciletij!”
“Inevitable,” said Mitch. “So?”
“To which at least some people have responded, this is a Fidubi kid who likes
trees - knock them for AMI, knock them for Sohenoil, but puh-lease! Nonetheless, I should suggest that reaction is complicated by an unwillingness to go for Alzani-Meta. If we assume the relationship with Maya is genuine, that will similarly be the case. I am trying to talk about something it is probably not possible to gauge! If Grandaddy should seek to install himself in Azt, the knives will be full out, I trust not literally. But she is Tar’s niece.”
Mitch laughed.
“Certificate of good character?”
“Not one but two families embedded in the political life of the south. It is more than that.”
“Ciletij making herself look absurd.”
“He has been in Fidubi politics for 30 years. It is hard to imagine the Senate of Fidub doing anything other than rock with laughter.”
“The implications for the Quadrant,” said Mitch, “and of course for Ciletij.” “Ciletij needs the Quadrant.”
As tagged along with Farvia's set, dabblers in the arts. Though shallow, they were at least clean and great gossips. They asked him about Mel, about A-M, about the hill, and were disappointed, but it was there he first heard 'the Dabidan model' and the consequent cracks which were to become standard – lovely legs, what about the top half? He was astounded and threw out a few of what seemed to him the more obvious obstacles, the chief one of which was there would first have to be a revolution, a new government in place to install constitutional monarchy. Cho couldn't exactly just fly in, take a cab to the Jumesit and announce all change! If we had a new government, why would we need an emperor. The answer from Farvia's set at least seemed to be that it would be rather glam, and As couldn't quite make that a political necessity, but there were a couple of young officers present, clearly trusted, thought As, and they too seemed to think it would be rather glam and more, that they could hold their heads up again, Imperial Army being more appealing than military arm of desecration. As said that he thought it was a pretty common view in the south that if our government got any madder it might try invasion, and was astonished to hear that 'some of us' thought that in that eventuality they'd just have to do what Jaizal's army did, namely desert and join forces with the foe, and also that, although PANTHER were clearly active, 'some of us' also thought that Cho could only finish off the Cult if he held the reins of power.
“Still,” said someone, “a Fidubi emperor!” “Not for the first time,” said As.
“I think we can take it Carlin would hardly object!” “Challin of course appeals to raw nationalism.”
revolt.
Colonel Challin was generally held to be the only serious contender for
“Women and gays,” said As.
His new comrade looked amused.
“I do not deny our knees jerk. No-one thinks the south a push-over because
of the composition of its armies and the gender of the President of Fidub, Tannan a sop to feminism. Except the obvious no-one.”
“Tannan?”
“General commanding Zur region.” “Eeek!”
“It's very much a class thing, isn't it. One does have some sophistication - “ “Candidly,” he said, looking at As, “it's very much a House thing. My lady
Duvi, I believe?”
“My step-mother,” said As, “has travelled the world, lived on a commune, written a book, and generally made the lives of most Dabidan women look staid. Not to mention Marula!”
“Ah yes, the mysterious Van-senok! Challin trades on being senoki, of
course.”
“His exact position?” “Keep it clean!”
“Change must be incremental.”
Mardis said he thought Challin will just perpetuate the status quo, change
would be cosmetic. We've got workers' councils! They have all the power of a new-born lamb.”
“I take the point. Challin is no democrat. He is, however, fundamentally decent. He has a sense of right and wrong notably lacking in the current corridors of power.”
“Sohenoil is hardly going to infringe the rights of capital.” “Surely in that sense the change would be equally – cosmetic.”
“If southern capital can kick out the City, that can only be to the good.”
As started to do a couple of sessions in the soup-kitchen. Mardis' team was witty and well-meaning but his observation was confirmed. Revolutionary fervour was wholly absent.
“The revolution,” he said to Mardis, “does not start here.”
“I think it's too big for them. Changing the whole system. What we do here, I mean really, mice nibbling away at something the size of a planet!”
“Exactly what do we want?” asked As.
“And how do we get it! What we're talking about is putting a whole new government in place. For a start, some people find that a bit scary. Not that it isn't or anything! But – people say, reform, as though it was just a question of a few tweaks, putting a new fuse in a plug. Who are this squeaky clean new government going to be?”
“Well, there's you and me,” said As.
“The thing is,” said Mardis, then stopped. “We have to understand Ban-varna isn't an idiot.”
“There has to be a plot?” suggested As.
“There must be other people committed to democratic change.”
“Put an ad in the Gazette?”
“This is stupid,” said Mardis. “I mean, if anyone has contacts we do.” “I suppose we could always ask him,” said As, “time-honoured tradition,
everyone has access to the emperor!”
“Whatever you and Mel talk about, presumably it isn't.” “Mel's quite eso - “
“He's what?”
“Esoteric! Interested in the other matter.” Mardis began to laugh.
“This relationship with Dabida's heir that is the talk of Azt is centred on the music of the spheres?”
“Levels of reality. Something in common. Both of us have to at least pretend to be exo because of our positions. Hass is the really eso one but it doesn't seem to worry him.”
“Sarat and Maya are still together,” said Mardis. “Of course they're just
kids.” removed?” 'this' is.”
“Her Imperial Highness, your sister-in-law – can't be right, sister-in-law once “We're in this up to our necks, aren't we. It would be nice to know what “Mel's younger than me. He might not know.”
“His cousin on the Anile throne?” “Sorg,” they both said.
“I cannot believe Sorg would betray – well, the emperor basically.” “Do you have the faint feeling this conversation is insane?”
“Time to talk to grown-ups,” said Mardis.
“We think we're at the centre of a web of intrigue!” he said to Pilo. “Despite
being innocent as the sky is blue.”
“Well, fairly innocent,” said As, “apart from wanting revolution.” “Hanging the government, that kind of thing,” acknowledged Mardis. “The detail,” said Pilo.
“You know the detail! Sarsh is paired with A-M's fourth in line. His sister Maya is an item with Sarat-ban-essa. Sarat and Hasiyata are bosom buddies. As discusses metaphysics with Mel. Half Azt is murmuring about the Dabidan model.
Everyone knows Ban-varna is an active force, both in Kadun and in the City.” “And we're just nice young chaps who want things to change,” said As.
“We assume we're not alone but we have no idea what anyone else thinks.” “Not Mel? Metaphysics.”
Mardis sighed theatrically.
“Of course we talk about Kadun sometimes. Not the future of Kadun.” “A reason for that?”
“We got there.”
“You want to know if your brother is a traitor?”
“I – didn't think of it quite like that. You know what Sorg is like. Pretends
to be.”
About the most unreliable person on the planet.
”Sorg is not working for Challin. Sorg is PANTHER.” “Wow!” said Mardis.
“I'm impressed,” said As. He paused. “Confused but impressed. If even we – Challin can't think Vij is going to share the defence of Zur.”
“The social circle,” said Pilo, “is as described.” “Oh I see!”
“You are perhaps unaware of the inordinate amount of time Sorg spends in Zur. It is held at the highest levels that his supposed work transcends regulations.”
“He has to feed them something.” “A rare talent for disinformation.”
“Is there a plot,” said As steadily, “and if so how do we join it.” “You have discussed this with your father?”
“No.”
“Do so. Asdinan – we all play complex games. Most of Azt thinks I back Challin. Do you understand what Challin's game is?”
“Limited reform,” said As, “hanging on to power. No question of people getting any real rights.”
“That is certainly the case. Even members of the government exhibit a strange enthusiasm for the frequency with which Alzani-Meta visit Carlin. Sorg has persuaded a number of people that Dabida is truly impressed. No-one starves. No-one dies of curable sickness. Carlin is our model future, the south neutralized.”
As felt a little dizzy.
“When they talk about me and Mel – I'm not supposed to be plotting with him, I'm supposed to be – neutralizing?”
“If Dabida is – neutralized, Ban-varna is isolated. As you know, Saryulin is not a great socializer. Other than with Ban-varna.”
“Waa! He – comes to Carlin!”
“That man,” said Pilo, “does exactly what he chooses.”
“We thought,” said As, “I mean we weren't really serious about it. Everyone has access to the emperor!”
“They do,” said Pilo.
Mel had become peripatetic. He went to the Schools to study under Qartly but the holidays are long and often enough he was in Zur. He went to the Denzines in the Outlands where there are no holidays. He went certainly to seize the chance of relative anonymity. He went, some people said, to nurse a heart broken by Fal's pairing with Tet – he went, some people said, to get away from what some people said.
The tribes gathered on the hill for Pietri’s 50th birthday. Sorg was explaining to Caluna’s sister and brother-in-law the finer points of the position of the Army of
All-Kadun regarding women breaching the citadel.
“Suppose there were an epidemic, or of course a war. Certainly you may say we are strange, but we are not stupid, and there are many civilian women doctors in Kadun. Some of them are reservists. In the event they were required, they would be called in. What they would not do is wear uniform. I suppose you could say it has a curious logic to it, all or nothing, and even that it is not discriminatory - it is not that only certain roles are regarded as suitable, but rather that women do not exist at all!”
Sarat was passing by.
rationale.”
“You could say they need a bomb under them!”
“You obviously missed,” said Sorg coolly, “my dramatic expose of the
“Raw sexism?” suggested Sarat.
“I’m not going to deny,” said Sorg, “but anyone who is not a complete
idiot - and particularly you, who should know better - “ By this time half The Room have stopped to enjoy the show. Tar says everyone was imagining it in the Colonnade. “ - must surely understand its roots, a deeply embedded desire to keep the girls safe. It is not the sexism of the Cult, it is a reaction to it. It is easy to mock the notion of universality of gallantry, to drag in class - Mardis does. Oh how delicate and protected is the working-class woman working ten hours a day in a factory. Nonetheless she may be safe at a level I really do not think I have to explain.”
“I can see that,” said Sarat, “but anyone who isn’t a complete idiot must see the answer is regard women as human beings able to protect themselves. Or you could say guys are just as vulnerable. Isn’t what’s deeply embedded fixed ideas of men and women?”
Sorg shook his head.
“You’re still missing the point. Safe from predation by superiors? Get real, Sarat. This is not Fidub. What happens to a woman posted to one of the Cult regiments?”
“Point taken,” said Sarat. “But - oh I see. Gays don’t exist at all in the
model.”
Sorg laughed.
“1) They do not. 2) We could hardly have an army with no men either.
3) Of course I hear whistling down the line: the Cult regiments are a recent - innovation. Give or take 1500 years. It would be naive to claim that certain reaches of this man’s army for ever have subscribed to the mores of the rest of us, but rather that they dared not cross the line.”
“Whew,” said Sarat. “I’m trying to work something out.” He grinned. “It may be whether I need to apologize! If anyone touched Maya, I’d break his neck. We all would, Mel, Hass, Vij. But that doesn’t mean we don’t recognize that Maya would probably have broken it already.”
“The male instinct to protect,” suggested Mel, “doesn’t mean the female needs protecting.”
“That’s the one. But of course in Sorg’s example. We’re talking about a lot of things besides what’s ‘male’ and what’s ‘female’.”
“We are,” said Sorg. “I do not doubt for a moment that a woman in the Dabidan Army is entirely capable of taking care of herself. But if she were not, the infrastructure is on her side not that of her assailant. She is free to yell the place down and she would be heard.”
“So what you’re really saying,” said Sarat. “It comes from the whole structure of Kadun society. So if that changed, people could see - what is actually sexism and what isn’t.”
“I think it’s time to cut the cake,” said Mel, who was later cornered by Sorg: “Imperial Highness, I didn’t know you cared!”
remote?”
Mel laughed.
“No-one really quite knows what Sarat thinks about it all.”
Tar and Pietri felt they were beginning to get a rather good idea.
“But then,” said Pietri hopefully, “he returns to Fidub. Is it not all rather
The tribe gathered to debate the matter of Sarat. “The media interest him,” said Amida.
“He interests the media!” said Faun.
“The image, man!” said Cho. “Which he cultivates, I think.” “Oh yes,” growled Essa, “he cultivates. Those damn’ shades.” “The medium is the message,” said Cho.
“The message is what?” asked Airoch.
“Here are all these pretty Fidubi values we wish you to imbibe, so let’s make them a bit glitzy, shall we.” Faun seemed to be talking to himself.
“Narulis,” observed Cho, “didn’t wow Kadun by being boring.”
Sexy, thought Faun, the Aniles are sexy, as the kids put it, but this in the company of Cho’s past love and his current one he did not say. And know it.
“Pizzazz!,” he said.
“He’d be so terribly good at it,” said Cho. “Maya,” said Amida.
“Ah, yes,” said Cho. “Would she not be terribly good at it too?” “Darling, at their age – it will never last!”
“It's a plus or a minus?” asked Faun.
“That of course depends on who's looking.” “Dabida will not tolerate an emperor in Azt!”
“600 years,” suggested Cho, “but we did it in the end.”
“Where they’re looking from,” said Faun. “The Fidubi scam?” “’Fess up,” said Cho.
“Mel,” observed Tar, “says Maya thinks you do not greatly like Sarat.” Pietri laughed.
“Silly girl! Of course I like Sarat. Is not the problem how eminently likeable - ?”
Tar laughed.
“I thought that might be it.”
“True, were he mulish, introverted, shunning the company of his fellow mortals – my daughter becomes a target for every psycho in Azt?”
“You and Essa,” said Saski. “Spotty would help.” “So I console myself.”
“I had acne,” said Tar. “How has he dared escape - ?” “Probably that damn’ diet.”
“He’s really awfully good about it, as a guest, eats what he’s given.” Did someone say macrobiotic?
“You can’t even hold that against him,” sighed Tar.
Asdinan went to an end-of-term party and found it appalling, left with a girl he barely knew equally horrified.
"Nihilism," he pronounced. "What is good, they destroy it."
"Dad's an artist. Depthlessly venomously hates them. The new barbarians he calls them, draws them as savages with bones through their noses and skulls round their necks. Exploits them, dare I say. Paints the crap they want to pay for painting what he wants."
"Have I heard of him?" "Smudge?"
"That's brilliant!"
As they talked on began to feel he'd hit gold but she laughed.
"Oh come on! Can you really see me as Mistress of Carlin? I've got it.
Whether I've got it with a capital I. Maybe I'll never be as good." He reached for her anyway.
"One for the road Celebrate life!"
After he said: "I want out. If one more facile piece of tedium expounds to me his career plans - they are twisted!"
"Have a little tolerance," said Midi cautiously. "They do have to earn a living. They're frightened of being poor."
As pondered. "No."
"Arrogant sod, you are, metaphorically speaking..."
"No," he said again. "They don't like sunsets. You're the artist, you have to understand! Sunlight on autumn leaves, the sky at night. Haven't you ever felt you could sit and look at it for ever? Something is - completed. It's nonsense, whoever you are. People have to eat, sleep. Something is filled. There's a need. They fill it with things. They are - need, gaping holes. That's what's wrong."
And Midi said she didn't entirely disagree, they were shit, essentially, but all the same he'd never been short of money in his life (though she didn't quite know why she was playing devil's advocate) and As got quite cross and said they never would be poor, they'd be accountants, salesmen, managers, it was all acquisitiveness, talk to Mardis about poor and Midi was so surprised that she shut up and listened and later in the week wrote to Smudge. Unlikely recruit to the cause of the urban poor.
What planet do you live on? thought Smudge.
Back to civilization next week, mailed As. Mardis is coming for a week.
Masses to talk about.
"The whole place stinks. As for the course! It's completely - " He searched for the word. "Soulless. Metre! What about meaning!"
Worse was to come.
"It's great to be back," he said after dinner.
"A walk would be good," muttered Mardis guiltily. Nobody smokes in Carlin, not out of concern for mere people but out of terror some ill-extinguished butt send the house up in flames.
“OK,” they said to each other. “This is it.”
They wandered, they hoped nonchalantly, into the drawing-room. “May we talk? Grown-up stuff!”
“Indeed,” said Saryulin.
“We see,” finished Mardis, “if we get some kind of reputation as radicals, it
could rather mess things up.”
“We also see,” said As, “think we see, anyway. Whichever side people think we're on, they're going to think we're in it up to our necks, because of who we are.”
“It makes us feel fragile and insecure,” said Mardis, “ not knowing anything.” “The immediate question,” said Saryulin, “is whether Sarat wishes to involve
himself in Kadun. That he is no shrinking violet at least is clear! It is a large step from that to the face of the Anile throne. That determines how Ban-varna moves.”
“Whew!” said Mardis.
“There is broad agreement with Challin's analysis. Thereafter the paths diverge. Were a democratic government to be installed tomorrow, it would fail. There is therefore to be a campaign for hearts and minds. Thus Micheal – I understand he is in marketing. As you perceive, there has first to be revolution. Whether it is followed by the Dabidan model or the Fidubi, Kadun will decide. Ban-varna has no curious desire to live in Azt! He has a responsibility. As instigator of change, naturally it is a possibility.”
“Marula?” asked As. “Certainly.” “Challin is senoki.”
“Challin is disowned. Naturally he does not make that public.” “Does Marula?”
“I gather if the question arise.” “What should we do?” “Continue with your studies.”
“We thought of joining PANTHER.” “I see no reason why not.”
“And go on as usual! Begins to sound a bit interesting.” “Does Mel know?”
“Only Tar, Vanya and Airoch.” “Just quite big,” said Mardis.
“Is any of this for sharing?” asked As. “For instance if the question arise. I haven't seen Marula for about ten years but people don't know that. They assume we all talk to each other.”
“Disinformation,” said Mardis. “Da said Sorg disinformed. Why on earth should an elderly gentleman enjoying his retirement in Fidub wish to move to Azt?”
“You may possibly have a talent for this,” allowed Saryulin. “Remember to take very great care.”
Karula thumbed through a back-copy of Glitz
“Whey-hey! I thought you told me Saryulin was a reclusive old bird.” “He’s in Glitz?”
“His house-guests, hon.”
“That is a nice shot.” Mel sitting on the stairs, the Window sparkling behind him, Sorg lounging against the bannisters, Auscu sitting a couple of steps down pushing a toy train.
“I have to see that Window! All that's missing – oh my word!” Mixed doubles. Maya and Hass versus Asdinan and Sarshi. “This is flagrant!” said Mitch.
“And you love it!”
“What else is it? I know, I know, ask! If we consider AMI is a major employer, then any shadow of distress or disruption falling on Carlin necessarily impacts on Dabidan pay-packets, quite apart from the more obvious considerations.”
“Mitch....”
Returning for the second term, As felt something inside him had hardened. He wrote a short (for him) note to the Preceptor and went back to Carlin. He threw his cigarettes in the bin at the station. A perversion, an aberration of Azt.
"What will you do?" asked Saryulin. "Write."
"Write what?"
"Propaganda! I'll find a way."
It wasn't enough. He sat by the stream and scowled at his lap-top. His mood was not good. Shit, he thought, I'm an addict
Nor was this his only souvenir of Azt. Asdinan, my dear, come in. And Asdinan knew, the way young men who've had one-night stands do know when the girl's parents turn up three months later. Fortunately Smudge was more interested in Carlin than continence. Carlin must have the baby. No-one else wants it. She is very young, thought Duvi. The hairless terrier school triumphs once more.
"Cretin," said Saryulin.
"The miracle of new life? The will to life that will not be gainsaid?" For the first time he talked about Azt. "They're clever, no? Rebellious youth is not suppressed but encouraged to shock, to deaden sensibility. Our rising generation of artists portrays decay and mutilation. But they are innocent! our glorious public education system ensures they know nothing. Ten centuries of power and privilege have taught me to recognize evil. How do I convey that, Father? In this modern age."
"You look terrible." As grinned feebly. "I know."
He was spending most of the night writing long letters to Midi he hadn't the faintest intention of sending. He regarded himself as having been motherless though he didn't go on about it because it upset his mother. To have brought another semi-orphan in the world hurt somewhere he was still struggling to reach.
He considered his options. Do a Sorg and become Challin's right-hand man! His admiration increased as he realized he really couldn't do that. Continue his studies somewhere sane. Zur? Maona-Pri? The City? Would they have a drop-out!
Lounge around Carlin with a baby on his hip. Find himself some kind of job.
Although it had been made clear to him he wasn't wanted, he visited Midi and offered to make an honest woman of her. She looked at him with interest.
"We could make it work," he said. "It's not as though we were - culturally
separate."
"You're very sweet," she said. "Do you want to feel?" He must have
looked shocked. "If you'd been that shy in the first place…"
It's alive, he thought. The horror of what he'd done threatened to overwhelm
him.
"Brill," he said.
He returned to Carlin.
Either I get to the bottom of what's freaking me or I dismiss it and get my act together. Or I cage it and examine it when I feel inclined. Let me start by asking myself a few intelligent questions.
Eventually he pitched up in M-P having attempted many letters beginning, I walked out of college in Azt. Does that instantly disqualify me? Then crossing out or qualify me? He made his way to the campus and asked to make an appointment with the Admissions Tutor, murmuring slightly mature student, unusual circumstances.
To his surprise he could be seen in about an hour. Asked why he had dropped out, he gave a succinct talk on the failings of Kadun education on the basis of which, together with exam results and his analysis of Silban-Hi’s Theory of Revolution, he was accepted. Feeling rather better about himself he wandered off to explore M-P and would have bumped into Baya, had he recognized her. The usual, the Admissions Tutor murmured to his colleagues. What have you read lately? I just managed to keep a straight face. Your next question was how far is this applicable to Kadun? Oh no. I didn’t have to ask.
Karula decided the immediate problem was her other half. OK, what he wants is what he gets from the Grid, a one-sided ‘dialogue’ where the other guys spill the beans and he gives nothing away and retires to process the data, then tells them his conclusions. Life ain’t like that, honey! Except it’s considerably more like that if you’re top of the heap. Ain’t that the truth, Your Imperial Majesty. Now, Mitch, I do not think you insist on being top of the heap. I think you know you will not lead this pack. I do not think you reject the idea. Nor do I think you have fully come to terms with it.
Mardis came to stay with As for a few days to see the new pad.
Mel was invited over.
“I grew up with it,” said Mardis. “People so bloody cold and
hungry. Of course at the moment all I can do is alleviate it. Everyone knows there has to be some kind of revolution.”
“People in the south don’t know what poor means,” said As. “Tell me,” said Mel.
The Alzani-Meta Gridsite is formidable. The nook called Mel’s Place appeared shortly before he went to the Schools. It was originally intended as a virtual table in the Saa’nda Senta, a conduit for people to talk to him when he wasn’t around, but in these troubled times a lot of people besides Zuri wanted to talk to Alzani-Meta.
Karula arrived at Mel’s Place and multiple allusions to people she didn’t know and places she’d never heard of.
After a while she thought, I guess this is where you find the real Zur. She went on reading. Interesting!
It is appropriate that I post here. Is it appropriate that I mail him? Dashed classist! She wriggled her way through that one. Dear Mel, Mitch and I are going to move to the south, from where we intend to start a revolution in Kadun, and we should appreciate your perspective on this. I think not. Dear Mel, Mitch urgently requires a little basic education. I think not! I shall make a list. It will (might) clarify my thinking. Possible approaches. Mel, Tar, Cho, Airoch, Vanya, PANTHER, CLIK. Does that not depend of what he wishes to establish, without seeming to appear too
grossly ignorant? Or committing himself to a single course of action.
Exactly what is going on here? It does not intimate anything concerning your political intentions, Mitch. What, then? It makes contact, establishes a link. Mitch, if someone said you had to live in a tree, you would not hesitate to learn from others who lived in trees! What, then, do you perceive as the baggage attached to instruction in tree-dwelling?
If the Cult is real, and the Cult is real, if the danger posed by the Cult is real, then we cannot do this on our own and we cannot in any case do this on our own, because Var-segan cannot lead All-Kadun, Carlin cannot lead All-Kadun
Only the emperor can lead All-Kadun. It's crazy.
In unison why should the Houses not lead All-Kadun. After all, they are
All-Kadun.
Van-senok is imperialist and Carlin appears to have colonized Zur, the precise
implications of which are at present unknown. Sounds better than we don't know. What, then, can we say? We can say there would appear to be a bias towards monarchy. I am deflecting myself towards the political. Let me amend the above. We cannot do this on our own unless – unless what? Unless there is a purely irturbi PANTHER independent of Fidub. Which is probably impossible but even it were not the last irturbi on the planet to putatively lead it is Mitch! But all PANTHER is Kadun PANTHER.
That was then. This is now.
On both levels he has no-one to play with. Except Ban-Varna. And of
course me.
Damn this! Do I not believe in direct action!
That was before I discovered the world is complicated.
OK, let me calm down here. We shall move to Zur. There we shall
conduct extensive fieldwork. In the mean time, I think I can do a little preliminary work of my own.
I read the whole site,” reported Karula two days later. “What this place is is a virtual party. You could think of it as that bar we went to on the quayside, real friendly towards lost tourists, but it is more than that. No-one is put down here for dumb questions. You may say Mel is a well-brought-up young man and would not tolerate the kind of crap you get elsewhere on the Grid but it is more than that. It is a hub. There are Harni, Vasuculi, Fidubi and indeed irturbi here.”
“No on-line courses?” asked Mitch. She threw a cushion at him. “Guess you’d better post under your own name.”
It had not occurred to her not to but she knew what he meant. She tried one more time.
“There is no commitment in hearing the theory, Mitch.” He laughed.
“I have heard the theory. You know that.”
“You do not want anyone - not even Marula? She is old enough to be your
mother!”
Boys do boys and girls do girls to avoid the pupil getting hooked on the
teacher, unless of course the pupil is gay.
“We have been through this before. There are questions of violation,
questions of privacy and questions of politics.”
“We know,” she began, but they’d been through that too: the moment they engaged in politics, if they remained in the City, Searc would be after them. Solution One: get out of this damn’ City.
“You need to see this,” said Vax. “An irturbi mother of three under-tens by the name of Karula is real pleased to be relocating to Zur. She and her partner are currently in the City but that sure is no place to raise kids. Several posts later, she is murmuring that she really knows very little of these things, but she and her partner have visited Van-senok and have some experience of earthpower and she is curious to learn more of the model standard, so far as she understands, in the south. There are of course many sites dedicated to the other matter but it sure is hard for someone who knows nothing to distinguish what is accurate and what is not, so we thought to learn from the horse's mouth.”
“I can't wait to meet her,” said Cho. Mel had looked at Hass.
“You're the eso one.”
Hass: Hi! Welcome to Dabida. Karula: I thank you. Hi to you!
Hass: Obviously, I'm just a kid, a beginner. I thought maybe we could chat and all the pros could tell us when we're talking garbage.
The Army of All-Kadun read Mel’s Place but found Karula’s posts, which were either eso or domestic, somewhat underwhelming.
“What the hell is he playing at?” “He is segani - “
“He is Var-sega’!”
“Presumably when they ‘relocate’ all will be revealed.” “Nowadays we ‘raise kids’ in Kadun? Is she a City-chick?” They searched their memories.
“Irturbi, I’m sure. Think her father is something professional, dentist, architect, can’t remember.”
And don't forget to convulse over Fal in the shrine at Maona-Pri. You, McGuckin, you, Plucinski. Analyse. Line by bloody line. Attempt to explain to an English-speaking world prostrate with laughter why this is cause for my destruction.
Lattic said the shrine at Maona-pri had scared him, partly because anything that old defies any puny inadequate meanimg you previously attributed to the word ‘old’, but mostly because he couldn’t understand it, understand what it did to him. He said he felt absolutely safe there. Nothing inside or out could hurt him. It’s in the stone, he said, rather helplessly. The power is in the stone. The mentors put the power in the stone, Narak had told him. I knew Lattic’s first impression of the mentors (it lasted about thirty seconds or until he started to explain his problems, whichever was sooner) was along the lines of sweet gentle folks who don’t know they’re alive. Fidub has not remained a Cult-free zone for 6000 years going on ever because they don’t know they’re alive.
Not transformed. Free. Free to be Lattic.
I wonder….The ferries run nearly all night in the summer. I grinned to myself. Sarat would know. Sarat probably still knows, underneath the avalanche of further fact that must have crowded his brain. If they haven’t changed the timetables of course, which they almost certainly have. I logged on and looked up the exotically named Fidubi Ferries while composing a letter in another part of my brain, which went something like, Dear Tet, I understand that I appeared with a good reference! I mean you value Hass’s views and he thought I ought to talk to you and I’m not saying it would have been different if I’d appeared off my own bat (bat-wings?) but – but what, Fal? There was a ferry in an hour which I could catch if I moved it, and one back at about 5 in the morning, which suited what I had in mind just fine. I ought to be able to create an absolutely soothing, silent and safe atmosphere in my own den of course, but I hadn’t. I couldn’t go to Zur’s shrine, too many people would recognize me.
So of course the first person I saw was Vax. He gave a quick yelp of laughter.
“I have travelled many leagues,” I said, “lit and fig. Whether I’ve got anywhere is something else.”
“I look in from time to time,” he said. “I hear things in our island fastness, you know.”
“Maybe one corner of the puzzle is complete.”
“I’m around.”
There’s a café for when you need to eat and the party is in the basement if you want to talk I didn’t want to eat or talk.
Carlin just thinks it’s old. Did Narulis ever sit here? No, why would he, he was young, adventurous, a sea-farer – so maybe he went to sea to escape from a broken heart! If Sarat failed, if he were ever driven out of Kadun – where on earth did that thought come from? It had to work, it had to. With very little encouragement I could work myself back into a state wherein it was dependent upon me to make it but no, that had never been exactly. If everyone didn’t do their utmost that would be a betrayal of Sorg. The thought sat more easily now that I had defined my utmost and set it in motion. The pillars the colour of damp sand, intricately carved, just a little bit crumbly, shimmered in the candle-light. I looked more closely and cocked my head. Were those letters? If so it was no language I knew. I closed my eyes and no, it wasn’t a time-slip, just an awareness of time, of waves of time, past, present and future, which I suppose is another way of saying the bloody Whole. No, that hadn’t been what I meant, Sarat hadn’t been what I mean, when they did fail, when they returned to Fidub, they must have come here to recover. All times are now. I might just as well have been some Fidubi wench from aeons past. It was easy to be like that here. I am sitting in a pale-green tunic – well, at least it wasn’t crimson corrugated iron, but I guess that’s part of the bloody Whole too. I surrendered myself because here I am safe. The shadows came but could not touch me, not here, shadows trying to blot out the light. ‘They came, the skull-faces, but we laughed.’ I didn’t laugh, I just went on sitting. Somewhere it seemed Vax was saying, “And what does Hass say?” and I almost looked round before I realized the conversation was in my head. “I have to stop,” I replied. “I just stopped.” I did laugh then. Because it was all so funny. It never works when you try to put words to what is – the messes people get into, that’s OK, but people being killed, people in pain: It is all so funny. That makes more sense, the bloody gurgle of cosmic laughter. Inside. That’s the point. It is inviolate. It is untouched. It is real? And all the human crap is not real, but we are human and have to be human. I knew enough to know better minds than mine had lurched at this one, but that is the balance. I had a sudden image of myself on – not exactly a tightrope, because it wasn’t much more than knee-high and it wasn’t that there was no safety net, the trouble was on the contrary that nets to catch me if I fell abounded, catch and trap me, but I was skimming along, easy-peasy. Suddenly I felt sure the rope was going to break but no, I told myself, and it didn’t. Yet. Suddenly it snapped. This, I thought, is not totally unfamiliar but this time I know what to do! I threw myself clear of the nets. I didn't seem any the worse for wear but I was sure I was somewhere else, thought it didn’t seem to be anywhere. Despite this mental circus-act, I was feeling very lazy, very relaxed. I suppose very safe. I wanted to stretch out and found myself another cushion. There were a few other people around but they too were lost in their own little mental worlds. I wondered about other people’s pain, grief, fear (that makes a change, huh?) and where it went. I mean, I had no doubt that some of the people here were as distraught and devastated as I had been but it sort of melts away. Because it isn’t real. I sighed. OK, so let me in this safe place ask myself what the hell is my problem with reality, but it really didn’t seem to matter. Maybe that’s the only way to look at it, casually, creep up on it unawares. The central fact of my life is – oh, do I have one of those? A determining fact of my life is that once I was in Azt – what? Unreal is such an unhelpful word. No, my relationship with Tet didn’t seem unhappy or boring or even not what I wanted, it just didn’t seem real. And Tet is not a wishy-washy person. It was just – somewhere else. Like everything else is right now, which might just tell me something important if I only knew what. There is a crossed wire, a plug in the wrong socket, like – like putting the headphones jack into the power socket. A little mental game came to me, unplugging all the major connections – like I knew what they were or anything, but just pulling out any plug I could see! And Hass would say, I said to myself sleepily, just leave all the loose ends alone, don’t try to figure which should go where. I can’t honestly say that this little exercise made me feel the slightest bit different, but I did drift into that really nice waking dreams state – is it alpha rhythms, can’t remember – and had a really nice though not remotely revealing, so far as I could see, trip. I came to eventually, blinking and reflected that – possibly – spending the night with myself on the floor of the shrine at Maona-pri counted as my most insane act yet. Thirsty. Where is the caff? I got up and looked around. Half-open door with light on, that must be it. It wasn’t very much lighter, the sort of people who want a drink in the middle of the night don’t want to walk into a blaze of neon, and much as described by Lattic, benches with cushions on and broader benches in front of them to serve as tables, and really rather strange lamps on each table, like mini-inverted chandeliers which, Lattic had said enthusiastically, give you enough light to read by without disturbing the ambience, which was pale pink; the walls were pale pink, and there were paintings which looked rather good, even in the half-light. [The loos, I discovered, were pale pink too, everything including the bowl, with good paintings, and well lit. There was a rather gorgeous one of a tree in bud. I wondered if I could get a reproduction. Somehow I had no doubt these were originals. I didn’t think the shrine lacked funding and I wondered.] Behind the counter a middle-aged man with a bushy beard was engrossed in a book. There was a water dispenser. I drank thirstily. There was a solid wall of books, vids and disks cunningly illuminated by under the shelf lighting. Lattic had raved about this. I made my way to the counter. The guy looked up and said hi.
Hi, I said.
Hunger? Thirst?
Hot drink?
Anything in particular? You will be amazed at our range!
I looked around. I shall?
Under the counter.
Lemongrass?
Come to think of it, I thought, right this moment, I could do with apple-stock! I wondered if I actually could or whether that was me tweeting Carlin at me.
And ginger?
And I’ve suddenly realized I’m ravenous!
Do you an omelette?
That would be brilliant! Thank you!
Give you a shout when it’s ready.
The laughter gurgled up from somewhere
You shout here?
Didn’t you notice the juke-box?
I grinned and wandered over to the books.
The Illusion of Time. That sounded a bit heavy, a bit theoretical. Why Am I Here? You pick that out wondering where is here. Here turned out to be the universe. Something a bit more local, I think. Why is a Zuri in the shrine at Maona-Pri in the middle of the night? This enchanting collection of meditation music from the Age of Calpedene. The what? Oh, it’s the name of the performers. You don’t call yourselves The Age of Calpedene unless there was an Age of Calpedene. Slap your wrist, Fal, you should have paid more attention to Fidubi history in school. I could certainly try that one, my place could just do with enchanting music and indeed there were headphones and a drive to try it with. Oh yes, oh this is gorgeous. All I need now is something to read while listening to the enchanting music – er, do you buy, do you borrow, do you donate? Oh, right, a sort of ledger with a pen tied to it. The box for donations is in the wall to your left. We ask you to write the title of anything you take so we can keep stocks complete. That’s simple enough. I continued browsing. Put The Light On! Why are you so darned unhappy? So life has dealt you a lousy hand. You are in charge. I think I’m going to like this… Eternal Flame: A History of the Shrine at Maona-Pri. I picked up a vid, Treasures of Maona-Pri, while I was at it. Who are You and What Do You Want? That sounded – pertinent. Death: It’s All One Continuum. That was definitely going to engross me, but not one for reading in a caff, even this caff. When the chef brought my omelette I asked him if he was one of the mentors and he confessed he was. I felt suddenly shy but came out with it anyway. My partner died and I had a sort of experience with what might have been his – ghost. Some people said it was projection. I have talked about this, I mean. I wondered is – there anything you can recommend. Anyone saying anything sensible about – that sort of thing. Oh you poor girl, you, he said. I felt immediately swaddled in love. Oh I see, I said, that’s what you do. He cocked an eyebrow. People can say anything, everything because they’re safe and warm and cosy and smothered in love. That’s about the size of it, he said. Whom have you talked to, may I ask. I sighed. Hass. Hasiyata Talal. His lips twitched. And you want a – second opinion? I’ve had second opinions, third, tenth, I said. I think I’d like some kind of – overview. That’s a good one, he said firmly, pointing to Death: It’s All One Continuum. Let’s see now, hope we’ve got one…We do try and keep everything in stock…There we are! He triumphantly produced a small cream paperback entitled Matters of Life and Death. Your dinner’s getting cold. Unless you want to talk. Thank you very much. No, I said. But I’d better…I gestured at the ledger. You eat, he said. I’ll write! Thank you, I said again.
After a while I went back to my cushions then got up and walked slowly up to the Flame. It rather seemed to me that I saw things in it, sparks and flashes, but I rather prosaically put that down to tiredness, except I couldn’t stop looking. ‘Love and cannot leave,’ I said to myself softly. I looked up at the Window THAT AM I and an incredible collage of starburst and flame but – rather prosaically – I guess I’d disconnected again – what had me really gaping was the structure of the Window, its divisions, though the images were different. Yes, well, I’d seen that before; so that’s where the Dacunine Window comes from.
I was just thinking time I was mooching off when the first rays of sun hit the centre of the starburst, were refracted. Yikes! It was as though the whole shrine had been set alight.
A voice behind me full of laughter said simply, “Good, isn’t it.”
“Is there music in the glass?” I asked.
Just laughter.
I turned to face the stranger. He was a tall, thin, elderly guy, slightly stooped, now looking at me with frank curiosity.
“The lady knows Carlin.”
“Oh,” I said, “the lady knows Carlin!”
The lady, I thought to myself, has just found another – project. Ancient history!
Though I have a theory that it's Dill you hate most.
Dill: “Is this what’s called a propaganda war, Dad?”
Mitch: “No, I should not say that. This is what’s called wiping excrement off the sole of one’s boot.”