"Too late," the elf said with a small smile. "Do you know what . . . ?"
"Yes, I wasn't sure at first but after the second try it was distinctive. I wonder whose idea it was?"
"Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Rachel?" Marguerite said from behind her. Rachel could tell from the tart tone that she was pissed.
"Marguerite," Rachel said, turning with a smile and getting her first good look at her friend since her Change. Marguerite had taken her normal form except for the slight translucence that was mandated of fully nannite entities. She could, of course, change form at will, but she seemed to prefer her baseline look for the time being.
"This is Gothoriel, Rider of the Eastern Reach. That means he's something like an ambassador to the people who live in eastern Norau."
"Hi Gotho . . . Goth . . ."
"Gothoriel," the elf said, bending to take her insubstantial hand and kiss it. He lifted it to his lips as if it were flesh and blood.
"That was . . . how did you do that?" Marguerite gasped.
"The Eldar are different in more than simple appearance," the elf replied with a slight sigh. "We have some dominion over the world that intersects with the Real and the Unreal. And now that you, too, have joined us in Faerie, you will have the opportunity to join us in Dream."
"Oh," Marguerite said, clearly unsure what he had just said. She turned to Rachel and waved her arms. "Rach! Isn't itgreat !"
"Wonderful," Rachel replied, smiling and hoping her friend wouldn't notice her disquiet. "But you didn't tell me about it!"
"Oh, Mom and Dad cooked this all up," Marguerite said, gesturing around and at her semitransparent body. "It was, like, a total surprise!"
"Ah."
"And they're planning a separation ceremony for next month. They're going to give me my Independence certification and do a contract dissolution at the same time. Mom wants to go be mer for a while. Dad doesn't know what he's going to do."
"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked, trying to absorb that her friend was going to be declared an independent adult when she, Rachel, still had at least two years to go. It just wasn't fair!
"Have fun, what else?" Marguerite said. "Rach, I've got to circulate some more, we'll talk later? Hi Herzer, bye Herzer."
"Sure, any time," Rachel said as she wandered off.
She looked around and realized that Marguerite wasn't the only one who was wandering off.
Gothoriel had disappeared as well. Entirely, as if he'd ported or discorporated.
But Herzer was still there. Of course.
"Wow, that was intense," Herzer said, letting out a breath.
"I thought you and Marguerite got along better than a hi and bye," Rachel said."She started to get . . . less friendly when my illness got really advanced," Herzer said, a muscle working in his chin. "Most people got more distant when it got bad," he continued, looking down at her.
Rachel nodded her head and looked at the ground. "I know, that includes me. It was just . . . too weird. I couldn't handle it. And for that I'm sorry."
"Try living it," Herzer said with a sigh and no sign of forgiving her. "At least I have friends again. It's been a long time."
"You talking about McCanoc?" Rachel asked warily.
"Yes," Herzer said. "He's been a true friend to me, even when I was sick. Oh, he can be . . .
sarcastic at times . . ."
Rachel thought that there was probably more than simple sarcasm behind that quiet statement.
From what she knew about McCanoc, he would have great fun with a crippled, emotionally wounded young man around. Every twitch, trip or limp would elicit a sardonic look or a snigger from one of his lackeys.
"Herzer," she said, not sure how to proceed. "You know, there are a lot of people who don't . . .
care for Dionys."
"I know," Herzer said in reply. "He told me about it. There are always people that just want to keep the status quo and don't want true genius upsetting the routine. All those stupid kings of this and barons of that, none of them were ready for the true revolution that Dionys represents! Do you know what his ultimate plan is?"
"No," Rachel said, "but . . ."
"He wants to become King of Anarchia! He intends to raise an army among those in this world and train them to take over Anarchia. That way he can rule it in peace and plenty, as Charles the Great did nearly a century ago. Buthe won't abandon the people back into anarchy!"
"Herzer," Rachel said, shaking his arm. "Listen to me. It's not that he is a revolutionary. That'snot why people don't like him. It's because he's an evil, bullying son of a bitch! And if you want to get on my dad's side, you'd better forget you everheard of Dionys McCanoc!"
"That's bullshit, Rachel," Herzer said, setting his jaw. "Sure, he can be a bit sharp from time to time, but he's a genius. And a visionary! People like that always tend to be a bit snappish. And it's always considered to be rude until after they'redead and then they are recognized for their genius. That's all that's going on."
"Herzer . . ."
"You're just trying to separate me from friends thataccepted me when you threw me out!" Herzer snarled, warming to the subject. "These people didn't turn back my calls or send messages giving me excuses why they couldn't come over! Theylike me. They liked me when I wassick !"
"So they could have a cripple around to torment!" Rachel nearly shouted. "McCanoc isevil, Herzer. He may act like your friend, but he just wants you for something."
"That's it, I'm not listening to any more," Herzer said. "You can think what you want. You'll see!"
"I'm afraid I will," Rachel said softly as he strode away. "Genie, let's go home."
"Define 'coup' in this case," Edmund said seriously.
Sheida took some time explaining Paul's position and plans. At the end of the explanation she shrugged and picked up her lizard, twining it around her neck.
"He is . . . unpersuasible. He has decided that it is his life's work to return the world to a condition of . . . growth. Both population growth and growth in thought and deed."
"And you think that's he's going to do . . . what?" Talbot said, taking a sip of wine. He half wished that it were water instead; this was definitely going to need a clear head.
"I think that he intends to try to seize the Keys. At least enough to give him a voting block that is unbeatable. Then he'll implement his Plan. And, yes, there's a capital there.""What fun," Talbot said with a grimace. "The Keys are still under that archaic 'finder's keeper's rule?"
"Unfortunately. Whoever holds the Key, votes the Key. That's locked in to the kernel coding of Mother."
"But you're all protected by personal protection fields," Talbot said. "So . . . how does he take the Keys away?"
"The PPFs were implemented with a very small majority," Sheida said worriedly. "If he has the Demon voting with him he can turn them off."
"But can't he do that at any time?" Edmund asked. "I mean, they couldalready be off."
"Can't, has to be an official Council vote. And all persons voting have to bepresent . Those protocols are not quite hard-wired, but strong enough that he can't overcome them without a nearly full Council. Unless the Council is officially in dispute. And we're not. Yet."
"And are you telling me there areno assassination protocols in place?"
"Timing Edmund, timing," she sighed. "The personal protection technologies came about when there were still physical threats, and secondary defenses. But in time things became so . . . safe, so placid that the other defenses were removed as unnecessary and even . . . uncomfortable. And there used to be checks and balances, governments and police forces that were independent of the Council and the Net who could overcome such a threat; if the Council ever tried to assert real and direct authority when, say, the IU was still around, it would get slapped down fast enough."
"I sort of stopped paying attention to history when the last B-4 was decommissioned," Edmund said with a laugh. "It was the official end, wasn't it."
"Well, we might be ready to restart it. But, I mean, we'reall there is left of government. Most people don't realize how impossible that is, historically, butyou do! God knows we've had enough rows about it."
"I know," Edmund said, his jaw flexing. "A bunch of self-appointed dictators. I've never been happy with it. But I didn't realize that the margin of security was sothin . That's insane!"
"No one has tried to . . . there have been noconflicts, Edmund," she sighed. "We're all so smug and happy and warm and cozy that there's nothreat . Oh, yes, at a personal level there are still threats.
People have fights. But that gets resolved with the fields. Or two people agree to drop them. But that sort of thing is for . . . children, either physically or mentally. We don't have physical fights at the level of the Council and have not since . . . well there used to be guards and . . . weapons and . . . things . . ."
"Christ," Edmund sighed. "So you think that Paul is going to try to, what, kill you? Then take your Key and give it to someone else to vote? He'll have to have people ready to take the Keys and vote them, right? He can't vote them himself."
"One person, one vote, no influence," Sheida said. "Yes, Mother would know if they were being controlled and simply count it as a non-vote."
"So is dropping the PPFs the only way that he could attack you? What about outside the Council area? What about . . . I don't know . . . assassinating you right now?"
"We're . . . being careful," Sheida said. "Let's just say that Paul doesn't know where I am at any time, including right now."
"There are ways, Sheida," Edmund said, gesturing around. "Even for a Council member. There's more than just the Net. And you know that even the Council doesn't have full control of it. Only Mother does."
Sheida smiled and shrugged, chuckling. "Edmund, we're both old. And I hope, to an extent, wise. I have protectors."
Edmund paused and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged in agreement. "Don't we all." He took a sip of his wine and swished it around, looking at the ceiling. "In a way I almost agree with Paul."
"Surely not," Sheida said, eyeing him carefully."Well, not themethod, " Talbot added with a grimace. "But weare lotus-eaters. And even waiting until the gene pool gets down to only women who are programmed to want babies won't help that. But I have to admit that his method truly sucks so many ways I don't think even you have worked it all out."
"It's bad, but how bad?"
"Well, damn," he thought about that for a moment composing his thoughts. "Okay, increasing population growth 'naturally' requires all sorts of factors. First of all, you have to have natural childbirth and no contraception."
"Ugh," Sheida said, looking down. "I don't think so!"
"Furthermore, you have to have women who are more or less 'owned' by males, otherwise after the first one or two children the majority of women decide theydon't want to do that again!"
"What about societal conditioning?" Sheida asked. "Taking the devil's advocate position."
"Generally requires religion for widespread utility," Paul said, shrugging. "But the point is that the technological andeconomic conditions for population growth are contrary to technological development. There are occasional times in history where that has been violated, for a generation or so, but over the course of history, over the growth period that Paul is talking about, then you're talking about a society that has to be in preindustrial conditions. And that means that there can't be technological development."
"Special groups?" Sheida asked.
"Most real advancements grow from . . . an environment that supports development. If all you have is serfs and a few technology wizards then the technology wizards are working in a research vacuum. So Paul can have technological developmentor population growth. But in a postindustrial, postinformation society, you very rarely get both." He paused and looked thoughtful but then shook his head. "There has been exactlyone society historically that has combined both over more than a generation. And it was an .
. . enormously odd unlikelihood that would be impossible to recreate under these conditions."
"Let me be clear about this," Sheida said carefully. "Youare on my side."
"Oh, yes," Edmund said. "If Paul's planning on creating a centralized planning situation and forcing people into molds, he has to be stopped. He hasno idea what that means. Not really."
"So what do we do?" she asked. "Edmund, you're just about the only real expert in warfare left on Earth."
"Nah, just the only one you trust," the smith replied. "I don't know the conditions. Weapons?"
"No, none, no blades anyway," she added thoughtfully. "No projectile weapons, explosives won't work under the protocols anyway."
"If they're planning a physical attack on you at the Council meeting there has to be a way to hurt you," he pointed out. "Is Paul trained in hand-to-hand combat? Killing a person hand-to-hand is difficult."
"No, and we have Ungphakorn and Cantor on our side," Sheida pointed out. "I'd take Cantor over Chansa in a fight any day."
"Porting?"
"The Council Chamber is sealed to entry for any but members, without permission. And no porting is permitted, in or out. They cannot call for reinforcements. But, nor can we."
"Poison?"
"Transmission method?" she asked. "They cannot bring projectors in, our own fields would soon detect contact or aerial poisons, and no harmful species are permitted in the room."
"Poison is subtle," Edmund pointed out. "There are binary poisons; they could have taken an antidote . . ."
"Well, I won't drink anything if they ask," she said with a winsome smile.
"You're sure of what you think?" the smith asked.
"I've been reading people for a long time," Sheida said. "Paul is planning something. Something big.
Something big enough that he thinks there won't be anything I can do about it. I can't imagine what itcould be but seizing control of the Council and that would take seizing the Keys. My coalition is solid."
"Well, I'll show you a few tricks and there are a few things that you can probably get in the Council Chambers that won't be considered threatening by Mother," he said. "Beyond that, there's not much I can do."
"Thank you Edmund," Sheida said. "Just talking about it has helped. Cantor just gets . . . very 'bearish' and Ungphakorn gets cryptic. You just get logical."
"I've had more practice," Talbot replied. "Both at thinking about violence and having people try to kill me. Comes of growing up wanting to be a hero," he added sadly.
CHAPTER SIX.
Herzer's mount shifted under him restlessly dancing a crow-hop to the side; clearly it was more avid for the battle than he.