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Authors: Allan Cole, Chris Bunch
Tags: Science-Fiction
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up of most of the baronial trading families, who were more than willing to provide leadership in the confusion. Each family, of course, secretly felt that the council was only temporary, until it managed to seize full power for itself.
So this "True Prophet" of Talamein A was indeed a figurehead, but was also the only thing keeping one crescent of the Lupus Cluster from absolute anarchy.
On the other side were the "renegades" of Talamein B, who had vowed a return to the purity of their original warrior faith.
Purists need proctors, so the "False" Prophet of Talamein B had created a ruling class of warrior-priests. Black-uniformed, they publicly eschewed worldly goods though their bleak fortresses were known to "store" many "for the common good." Such were the Jannisars. The Jann had needed barely one generation to become the rulers of the people of Talamein B.
"So on one side," the Emperor said, "we have these merchant princes. The top man is…"
"A rogue named Parral. He currently heads the council."
"His Prophet is?"
"Theodomir. When he was young he massacred a few lots of disbelievers then settled down to his real interests, which seem to be bribes, antiquarian art. and the martyrs of the faith.
Sanctus—the homeworld and the capital—is sometimes called the City of Tombs."
"Who's the Jannisars' Prophet?"
"A killer named Ingild. Among other things, my agents report, he's addicted to narcotics."
The Emperor put both hands to his temples and rubbed slowly, thinking.
"Our analysis—"
"Enough, Colonel Mahoney," and suddenly the Eternal Emperor was cold sober and his voice shifted into the metallic command tone.
"Here is your analysis." he said. "First, there is no way to mine this X-mineral without the word getting out. Second, when word does seep out, all those rich-miners-to-be will move straight through the Lupus Cluster. Third, either the merchants will turn privateer or the Jann will become bandits. Fourth, there will be a monstrous slaughter of those rushing to the gold fields. Open the scotch. Colonel."
Mahoney passed the Emperor the bottle.
"Fifth, the bloodbath will force me to send in the Guard— to keep the spaceways open and all that drivel. Sixth, it will be interpreted as the Eternal Emperor's violating his most sacred word and supressing a religion. Here, have a drink.
"Sixth—no, I did that. Seventh, before word of this discovery gets out, the entire Lupus Cluster must be under the control of one entity. By the way, does Theodomir the Vacillating have much longer to go?"
"He's probably got another one hundred years under him, boss," Mahoney said. "His main heir's named Mathias. About thirty years old. Thinks religion and politics don't mix.
Unmarried. Lives a pure life. Thinks the faith of Talamein is sacred."
"Uh-oh," the Emperor murmured.
"Nope. He thinks the faith of Talamein is for the vastnesses—he did say that, 'cause I can't pronounce that word—
and so he's got a small troop of young men. They spend their time in manly sports, hunting animals, fasting, retreats, and so forth."
"Mmm." The Emperor was deep in thought again.
"What's the problem, boss?"
"I can't remember whether I was on seven or eight."
"Eight. I think. Can I have the bottle?"
"Royalty has its privileges," the Eternal Emperor said, swallowing twice before he handed the jug to Mahoney.
"Eighth, we want the cluster controlled by one entity, but one that's… amenable to reason. Which means he'll listen to me without my having to send in the Guard. Nine, these Jannisars are impossible. No way am I going to be able to keep a bunch of thug priests under control."
"Uh, you're saying you want ol' Theo to come out on top?"
"Not at all. I want somebody on his side to come out winners."
"Anybody in particular?"
The Emperor shrugged. "Hell if I care. You pick a winner,
Colonel."
Mahoney felt himself sobering up. "Obviously this is to be a deniable operation?"
"Brilliant. Colonel. Of course I don't want the
So this "True Prophet" of Talamein A was indeed a figurehead, but was also the only thing keeping one crescent of the Lupus Cluster from absolute anarchy.
On the other side were the "renegades" of Talamein B, who had vowed a return to the purity of their original warrior faith.
Purists need proctors, so the "False" Prophet of Talamein B had created a ruling class of warrior-priests. Black-uniformed, they publicly eschewed worldly goods though their bleak fortresses were known to "store" many "for the common good." Such were the Jannisars. The Jann had needed barely one generation to become the rulers of the people of Talamein B.
"So on one side," the Emperor said, "we have these merchant princes. The top man is…"
"A rogue named Parral. He currently heads the council."
"His Prophet is?"
"Theodomir. When he was young he massacred a few lots of disbelievers then settled down to his real interests, which seem to be bribes, antiquarian art. and the martyrs of the faith.
Sanctus—the homeworld and the capital—is sometimes called the City of Tombs."
"Who's the Jannisars' Prophet?"
"A killer named Ingild. Among other things, my agents report, he's addicted to narcotics."
The Emperor put both hands to his temples and rubbed slowly, thinking.
"Our analysis—"
"Enough, Colonel Mahoney," and suddenly the Eternal Emperor was cold sober and his voice shifted into the metallic command tone.
"Here is your analysis." he said. "First, there is no way to mine this X-mineral without the word getting out. Second, when word does seep out, all those rich-miners-to-be will move straight through the Lupus Cluster. Third, either the merchants will turn privateer or the Jann will become bandits. Fourth, there will be a monstrous slaughter of those rushing to the gold fields. Open the scotch. Colonel."
Mahoney passed the Emperor the bottle.
"Fifth, the bloodbath will force me to send in the Guard— to keep the spaceways open and all that drivel. Sixth, it will be interpreted as the Eternal Emperor's violating his most sacred word and supressing a religion. Here, have a drink.
"Sixth—no, I did that. Seventh, before word of this discovery gets out, the entire Lupus Cluster must be under the control of one entity. By the way, does Theodomir the Vacillating have much longer to go?"
"He's probably got another one hundred years under him, boss," Mahoney said. "His main heir's named Mathias. About thirty years old. Thinks religion and politics don't mix.
Unmarried. Lives a pure life. Thinks the faith of Talamein is sacred."
"Uh-oh," the Emperor murmured.
"Nope. He thinks the faith of Talamein is for the vastnesses—he did say that, 'cause I can't pronounce that word—
and so he's got a small troop of young men. They spend their time in manly sports, hunting animals, fasting, retreats, and so forth."
"Mmm." The Emperor was deep in thought again.
"What's the problem, boss?"
"I can't remember whether I was on seven or eight."
"Eight. I think. Can I have the bottle?"
"Royalty has its privileges," the Eternal Emperor said, swallowing twice before he handed the jug to Mahoney.
"Eighth, we want the cluster controlled by one entity, but one that's… amenable to reason. Which means he'll listen to me without my having to send in the Guard. Nine, these Jannisars are impossible. No way am I going to be able to keep a bunch of thug priests under control."
"Uh, you're saying you want ol' Theo to come out on top?"
"Not at all. I want somebody on his side to come out winners."
"Anybody in particular?"
The Emperor shrugged. "Hell if I care. You pick a winner,
Colonel."
Mahoney felt himself sobering up. "Obviously this is to be a deniable operation?"
"Brilliant. Colonel. Of course I don't want the
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