The Stones of Nomuru

X – THE COUNCIL

At the morrow's meeting, Minister-General Shta arose from his cushion, declaiming in rhythmic, rhyming Feënzuo: "I will accept, provisionally, that the words of our honorable Terran guest are true and his intentions honest. I concede that we are threatened by the Chosha invaders and that we shall be hard pressed to repel them.

"But in accepting Terran instruments of war, we are defeating the lesser evil by exposing ourselves to the greater. I have learned how Terrans act on their own world." He held up a Kukulcanian book in its glass-fronted wooden frame. "This is one of ten scrolls comprising the Terran History of Civilization, composed by a Terran named Dikran Gregorian. My colleague, Minister Gakki, has translated it.

"I was struck by the extraordinary variability of this species; individuals differ far more widely, one from another, than do we. One meets a Terran who speaks to him fair and uses him with probity; so he thinks, all Terrans must be worthy beings. He meets another Terran, who lures him to destruction by crafty, perfidious treacheries. How can an honest human being, like one of us, distinguish one land from the other? Neither size, nor shape of skull, nor texture of hair, nor color of skin provides a clue. By the time one has come to know a Terran well enough to judge its character, it is too late to escape the toils of an evil alien.

"A second trait is the extraordinary ferocity that Terrans display when roused. They are incredibly emotional. We are not a species of pacifists, as witness the coming struggle with the Choshas. But when the battle is over and the dead are buried, we put hostilities behind us. Not so the Terrans! When two groups claim possession of a single patch of land, they foster a mutual hatred that forces them to fight for centuries. The young grow up possessed by these bitter hatreds and with them infect the minds of their children and grandchildren.

"Finally, they are restless and unstable, lacking respect for the customs of their forebears. Hence their culture changes with dizzying rapidity. Gregorian tells us that Terrans were a relatively stable folk until a few centuries ago, when the growth of technology became a self-powered engine of change. We human beings have so far kept this mighty force within bounds, by limiting innovations. If we permit random changes to take root at the whim or by the greed of the innovator, we shall develop social pathologies like theirs.

"To accept this martial material, therefore, is to expose ourselves to the disasters that have befallen Terrans of conservative cultures when confronted by persons in possession of deadlier methods of war and conquest, whereby whole continents have been subdued."

Salazar interrupted: "Your Honor refers to events of centuries past. In recent times, we have learned to do things in a more peaceful and orderly way, better to protect weak groups and individuals against the strong."

"Aye?" said Shta. "When I believe that, I shall also believe that Terran tale of a prophet who walked on water. To continue: Terrans, to aggravate matters, have a compulsion to force their beliefs and customs upon those within their power, with no regard for the suitability of such ideas and usages. Many Terrans, for example, believe that their world is ruled by one or more Great Spirits, who require constant flattery. Terrans initiate bloody wars to set-tie the question of which spirit is supreme and what form of ritual flattery it demands. For a while the followers of the spirit Kraista fought those of the spirit Muhamma; then the followers of Kapitara fought those of Komiunisma. Demands for conformity to the ideas of the dominating group extend to such paltry matters as the design of the coverings wherewith they drape themselves in lieu of painted insignia. They even dispute which bodily parts may properly be exposed.

"For centuries, Terrans have been burning one another alive, feeding one another to flesh-eating beasts as a form of public entertainment, and otherwise ingeniously disposing of those with whom they disagreed over some abstract doctrinal question. Baneful effects of such Terran thinking have already transpired on our world. Chief Kampai bothered no one until a Terran preacher convinced him that his nomadic way of life was the only proper one, and that all those who refused to adopt it should die. Today we must cope with the results of this conversion."

"That is not quite correct," ventured Salazar. "The Reverend Ragnarsen preached peace and love, but Kampai distorted his teachings."

"So?" said Shta. "Teachings so easily bent to destructive ends—"

The Empress broke in: "Minister Gakki, you stated that you also wished to speak. Pray do so now."

"Your Imperial Majesty and honorable fellow ministers," began Gakki, the female Minister of Culture. "I am in accord in general with Minister Shta. We agreed that he should present the case against the Terran guns, and I should speak against Terran devices for electrical communication.

"Our scientists are not unfamiliar with electricity. They know, for example, that the force that causes a little flash and click when certain substances are rubbed and brought into near-contact is the same as that which causes lightning and thunder. They know, too, that electricity is somehow connected with magnetism, which makes a compass needle align itself.

"Long before these facts were known, however, we human beings realized that lightning destroys the spirits of our ancestors. Every year, we estimate, hundreds of these spirits are thus disintegrated. While most spirits prudently avoid storm clouds, accidents will happen. It is my understanding that Terran communication devices employ electricity to send out invisible rays, and similar devices to receive these rays. Since such phenomena are like unto those brought about by lightning, albeit on a smaller scale, ancestral spirits near such devices would be pained and distressed if not slain outright. If we so harm our ancestral spirits, they may leave this land and settle in a clime that is innocent of these inventions. Then who would counsel us in dreams?"

Salazar whispered to Kara, to whom he had been giving a running translation: "How do I answer that? If I say the spirits don't exist, we shall be thrown out or worse."

"I'm getting an idea," she murmured. "See if the Empress won't call time out."

"Your Imperial Majesty," said Salazar, "may my colleague Miss Sheffield and I have a recess to formulate our argument?"

"Very well," said the Empress, rising. "We shall reassemble in one hour."

Alone in their spacious two-room apartment, Salazar asked, "What's your idea, Kara?"

"A year ago," she replied, "I wrote for the News a series of exposes of mediums and occultists in Henderson and Suvarov. I learned some of their tricks; for instance, you can grip the leg of a light table with your toes and rock it to give off raps. You can make vaguely comforting prophecies that will bring in the money. And when things don't work out, you can blame the skeptics in the audience, whose presence offends the spooks."

"I must have missed that story," said Salazar, "although I read most issues of the News."

"Only one installment appeared. Then all the mediums and their clients made a fuss, and McHugh cancelled the series. That made me furious, and now I'm trying to persuade Knebel to bring it out as a book."

"So much for our vaunted freedom of the press!" snorted Salazar. "Knebel had better be careful if he doesn't want to lose his shirt. Skeptics have been exposing such tricks for millennia, but people will still pay anything to be bunked and nothing to be debunked. What have you in mind now? A séance in the palace?"

"That's right."

Salazar wrinkled his face. "To a scientist, that's like asking a pious Jew or Muslim to eat pork; but I guess there's no help for it. How do you propose to stage it?"

"If we could collect Gariko and her ministers, we might induce some ancestral spirits to say that poignettes and rifles are fine with them. Name me some influential Kukulcanian spooks."

"I'll try to remember some Kookish history and mythology," said Salazar. "Let's see—Gariko's predecessor was her father Odzi. His predecessor was his mother Datsimuju; her predecessor was her father Hamashti, he of the boundary stones. It goes on and on, back to their mythical ancestor Simmo, who's their Abraham or Romulus. I don't remember much of it. Where shall we have the séance?"

She peered at the little low table. "Right here. I can handle this table with my toes, but the one in the meeting room is too heavy."

"How are the spirits to communicate?"

"Let's think ... In this language, 'yes' is wa, and 'no' is yao. Since the first word has two letters and the second word three, we'll let two raps stand for 'yes' and three for 'no.' "

"Fine so far. But if we want to go into details, we might spend the whole night asking questions. We'd be like a lawyer on cross-examination, probing and fishing until he hits pay dirt."

"A mixed metaphor if every I heard one," said Kara. "Since we know the answers we want, we shouldn't have to fumble around."

"Still, it might take more time than the Kooks may be willing to spend. How would it be to have the spirits speak directly on our poignettes?"

"Who'll do the talking? It has to be someone outside the room, who's in on our scheme and speaks good Feënzuo."

"Guess I'm nominated," said Salazar. "Suppose the ghost takes offense at me and orders me banished? You've turned your poignette on, and I go to the other room and say the spirit's speech."

"How about your accent?"

"Pretend that the language has changed since the spirit was mortal." He glanced at his poignette. "It's almost time for me to sell those jokers on the stance, and I'm no salesman."

Again, Keith Salazar and Kara Sheffield faced the council of ministers. Salazar said: "My lords and ladies, since there is a difference of opinion as to whether your ancestral spirits would be displeased by my proposals, let us ask the spirits themselves."

"How can we?" said the Empress. "They appear to us only in dreams, and then their messages are often garbled or obscure."

Salazar smiled. "We Terrans have among us some who are sensitive to the spirit world. Spirits speak through them."

Fosku, the Minister of Commerce, said: "I have heard of these spiritually sensitive aliens. But, honorable Sarasara, would you have us defer our decision until you fetch such a person from a Terran city?"

"No, my lord. We have such a person here, my associate Sheffield. She needs a few hours to prepare her mind for spirit communication. If you will return this evening, at about two hours after sunset, we shall receive you in the rooms Her Majesty has generously placed at our disposal."

There was a murmur of agreement. Shta was opposed, with Gakki doubtful; but the others evinced enough curiosity to carry the vote.

"I shall be present," growled Minister Shta, flicking out his tongue. "If there be any trickery, be assured that I shall detect it!"

Back in their two-room suite, Salazar and Kara arranged cushions around the low table. Salazar halted, saying: "I just had an idea. To add a touch of theater, we could rig up a thread to pull over one of those torcheres."

"Wouldn't that set the house afire?"

"No; the flame will be out when we darken the room. We shall merely spill a little oil."

"Let's hope this rug isn't a priceless antique." Kara rose and examined a torchere. "This is too heavy to be pulled over by a mere thread. But—I know!"

She rummaged among her toiletries and produced a dispenser of dental floss.

"Just the thing!" said Salazar. "I'll rig it so the string isn't visible until you start to pull, and then it'll be dark. If we run it under the edge of this rug ..."

Around the low table, on their cushions sat Salazar, Kara, the Empress, and eight ministers hip to hip. The room was totally dark save for a minute trace of light that escaped around the edges of a rug hung over the window. Since moonlight on Kukulcan was negligible, the only source of this illumination was a few lanterns hung outside the palace. Even when his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, Salazar could barely distinguish the shapes of his table mates. He was glad to know that the shape on his left was Kara, for in the blackness he could not have distinguished her from the Kooks. She sat where, by shedding a slipper, she could grasp a table leg with her toes.

After a while, Kara moaned and spoke: "I feel the power rising within me ... Entities gather in the room ..." Salazar murmured the translations.

At last she said: "If there be an intelligence in this room, other than those with hands upon this table, let it manifest itself by rapping once."

The table tilted slightly and returned to its position with a thump. There was a serpentine hiss from the Kooks as Salazar translated the question. The voice of the Empress spoke:

"Have her ask if the spirit be that of my sire Odzi."

Salazar passed on the question; Kara repeated it. The table rose and fell thrice. "It means 'no,' " said Salazar.

"Ask if it be that of his dam, Datsimuju."

Again the reply was no. Salazar said: "Your Majesty, it will take all night if you go through the entire list of your honorable forebears. Permit me to ask a daring question: Is this the spirit of the great and glorious Simmo himself?"

The table tipped twice, thump, thump. "It means 'yes,' " explained Salazar.

Again the hiss of indrawn breaths. Salazar could imagine the nine forked tongues darting. He said: "We are honored, Your Ghostliness. May I question you?"

Thump, thump, thump.

"No questions?" said General Shta. "What good is communication with a spirit who refuses to answer?"

"A moment, my lords and ladies," said Salazar. "Emperor Simmo, is it that something or someone in this room offends you?"

Thump, thump.

"Is it the presence of myself and my fellow Terran?"

"Thump, thump, thump; pause; thump, thump. "Yes and no," said Salazar. "Is it only one of us?" Thump, thump. "Is it I?" Thump, thump.

"Is it that you dislike a Terran's questioning you?" Thump, thump.

"If I depart, will you then answer the questions of others?"

Thump, thump.

Salazar rose. Minister Gakki protested: "Honorable Sarasara, if you leave, how shall we communicate with the spirit? Sheffira speaks but little Feënzuo."

"My lady, he will understand when one of you speaks," said Salazar.

Careful not to trip over the dental floss, he stalked into the other room of the suite and closed the door. Then he clicked on his poignette and spoke into the instrument, pitching his voice in imitation of the harsh, rasping Kookish speech and using an archaic form of the language, of which he had a smattering.

"Hail, mortals! The shade of Emperor Simmo asks: Wherefore have ye disturbed our rest?"

Through the door Salazar could hear a stir among the Kooks. There was a murmur of voices; then one spoke up: "O great lord, we wish your guidance."

"We offer it. Speak!"

Minister Shta's voice wafted from the poignette on Salazar's wrist: "We are, as Your Imperial Majesty knows, faced by an invasion. Terrans have offered us the use of their rapid-fire guns and of electrical devices for swift communication. But we fear such alien aid ..." Shta then summarized the arguments that he had set forth that afternoon.

When Shta ran down, Salazar said: "We hear thy words, O mortal, and shall consider them. Let the next minister speak!"

Gakki in turn advanced her argument, that electronic devices harmed ancestral spirits. The ghost retorted: "We speak to thee over these same devices. If the machine cause us pain, should we not know it? We do assure thee that these things be harmless to us who dwell beyond. Let the next minister speak!"

After the last minister had had a say, Salazar rasped: "Ye are right to suspect the Terrans and hold them at a distance. Yet in this case, the use of Terran guns is the lesser evil; without them ye shall surely be overborne and slaughtered."

Shta burst out: "But, great lord, do consider ..." He began to repeat his previous argument.

Knowing the Kookish tendency to orate by the hour, Salazar thundered: "Silence, O mortal! Thou hast had thy say. Know that we seldom meddle in the affairs of the living; but when they summon us from our well-earned rest to beg advice and then flout our counsel, we wax wroth! Moreover, we can make our displeasure manifest on the material plane, thus!"

Salazar listened tensely through long seconds of silence. Then a mighty crash announced the toppling of the torchere. Guttural cries and scuffling ensued as a couple of Kooks leaped up from the table and bolted out the door that led to the main corridor.

Feigning concern for the welfare of the Empress, Salazar rushed into the séance room, now bathed in light from the lamps in the corridor. Kara remained seated, leaning back with her eyes closed and gasping as one just rescued from drowning. Salazar went solicitously to her, feeling her forehead and patting her hands, saying:

"Are you all right, darling?"

"Don't spoil my act," she breathed. Little by little she gave the appearance of returning to normal. At last she turned to the Empress, saying:

"Your Majesty, the spirit of Simmo has departed. May I rest now?"

"I should hope so!" said Gariko in English. "You have frightened us more than the Choshas ever could." In Feënzuo she added: "The meeting is adjourned. We shall expect our ministers tomorrow at the usual time. May you all enjoy good health! ..."

Two mornings later, on the drill field, Salazar inspected the soldiers chosen for him by the Minister of War. At length he asked General Shta: "Are these your picked companies?"

"Aye, they are," said the general coldly.

"Then I should hate to see your discards," growled Salazar, for the line of 120 Feënzurin was the most unsoldierly lot of Kookish soldiers he had seen. Although they were supposed to be standing at attention, they slouched and squatted and held their muskets every which way. Salazar was sure that to demand another lot from the hostile Shta would effect no improvement.

"Where are my officers?" he asked.

The Kooks's tongue flicked. "I must tell you that none is willing to serve beneath an alien."

More likely, the archaeologist thought, Shta had quietly passed the word that any officer who served under Salazar would thenceforth find himself in the Kookish equivalent of the doghouse. He addressed the line of soldiers:

"Attention! Right, face! Left, face! About, face ...!"

After some more commands, Salazar went down the line and pulled out six soldiers who had obeyed with more snap than the rest. These he lined up and commanded: "Forward, march! To the rear, march! Halt! ..."

Eventually he chose three of the six, made one his captain and the other two his lieutenants—or his sergeant and corporals, depending on how one translated the Kookish terms.

"Now," he told his new officers, "arm yourselves with those sticks used for punishment." When this had been done, he led the trio down the line. Whenever they passed a recruit who was not standing correctly, Salazar said: "Hit him!"

Salazar knew how tough Kooks were; a blow that would cripple or kill a Terran would merely sting a Kook's leathery hide. Nonetheless, after a few had been whacked, the rest straightened up remarkably.

Later, lying exhausted on the cushions in their suite, Salazar told Kara: "May I never have another such day! I wish my predecessors at the Museum had bought a few machine guns instead of a gross of rifles. A machine gun has the firepower of a section of riflemen, without the riflemen. As it is, Shta is determined that the experiment shall fail. So he sent me picked men all right; a selection ranging from bad to worst."

"Seems he'd rather lose the war than see someone else get the credit?"

"Not exactly. Such a leader often rationalizes his jealousy by assuming that his way is necessarily the best. Terran history is full of examples of this self-delusion."

"Think you can make soldiers out of that ragtag collection?"

"I intend to try. Been thinking of ways to boost their morale."

"How soon will they be ready to fight?" she asked.

"Depends on how fast they shape up and learn to hit a target. A week at least."

"But the Choshas may invade any day!"

Salazar shrugged. "Nothing I can do about that. Sending this gang against them without training would be throwing them away, the way a British general threw away the Light Brigade."

"But if you use up your ammunition in target practice, you won't have any when the real shooting starts."

"Luckily, the people who stored the rifles did one thing right; they packed a couple of hundred rounds for every rifle. If I use twenty or thirty rounds for practice, there will still be enough for a battle, provided my Rangers aim their shots. Untrained soldiers tend merely to spray landscape with lead."

For nearly a sixtnight, Salazar sweated to whip his raw companies into shape. Mornings were given to drill—simple commands for marching and more complex maneuvers in open order for fighting. He taught his Kooks to take cover, to advance by rushes, and other features of later Terran warfare. Minister Shta remarked:

"Sarasara, such conduct on the battlefield is unheard of! It is disgraceful for warriors, instead of standing bravely facing the foe, to skulk behind trees and crawl on their bellies!"

"In a Terran war," mused Salazar, "centuries ago, a general named Braddock thought as you do. He was routed and slain."

"Well, play your silly games," said Shta. "Since nought will come of your heretical ideas, it matters not what tactics you employ. You barbaric aliens do no end of crazy things." With his reptilian jaw set in scorn, he strode off.

Afternoons were given to target practice. For the first few days, Salazar's Kooks practiced without ammunition, going through the motions of lying prone, working their bolts, and squeezing triggers. Several times, the Empress was driven to the drill field in her steam car to watch her soldiers' progress.

One evening, Salazar told Kara: "They're coming along better than I expected; Kooks, being very literal-minded, are good at following exact directions. I've forbidden them to touch the button that sets one of these guns on full automatic, lest they shoot off a whole clip in a couple of seconds." A knock interrupted. "Yes?"

A palace flunky bowed. "Her Imperial Majesty desires the honorable Sarasara's presence."

"Get on with your notes, Kara," said Salazar. "I'll return as soon as I can."

The Empress received the archaeologist in the audience room. "Sarasara, I have had word from a spy that Kampai is massing on his border. Are you ready to march?"

"If occasion demands, Your Majesty. I could spend a year training your soldiers and see improvement every day; but we shall do the best we can."

"Can you march tomorrow?"

"Perhaps not at dawn, but soon enough. Where do we go?"

"You shall go to the headquarters at Tuui of the Frontier Force and report to General Jidsho. Then, I suppose, you must turn over command of these companies to your highest officer, while you proceed on to the Shongosi-Chosha border. Will he be competent in your absence?"

Salazar shrugged. "We can only hope, Your Majesty. I have taught him what I could, bearing in mind that I am not a trained soldier either. Will Your Majesty kindly tell me of this General Jidsho?"

Gariko's cervical spines rippled in a way corresponding to a Terran's chuckle. "He and Shta were rivals for the post of Minister of War, or perhaps you would say commander-in-chief. I chose Shta because I deemed Jidsho too conservative and set in his ideas."

Salazar said: "Permit me to suggest to Your Majesty that it were wise to furnish me with a letter precisely defining my authority. Otherwise ..."

"Otherwise he might waste your companies. Yes, he is headstrong. I will write that letter, Sarasara, and send a separate message by courier, stating the same points. But I worry. If the Shongorin are beaten on their eastern border, then despite your electrical communications, the nomads will overrun Shongosi before our forces can advance even so far as Biitso."

"How about mounting my Rangers on jutens for long marches?"

"It would take several sixtnights to make competent riders of them."

Salazar struck his forehead with his palm. "Your Majesty, I am stupid! I see steam trucks chugging about Machura. Why not requisition some of these and pack my Rangers into them? It would halve the travel time and leave them fresh for fighting."

Hours later, having routed out his senior officer Kange (on whom he had conferred the Terran rank of Major) and helped to prepare for an early march, Salazar, back in his quarters, told Kara:

"Now the outcome is in the hands of the ancestral spirits or something. Boy, if she picked General Shta because Jidsho was too conservative, Jidsho must be a real Neanderthal!"

Kara protested: "My anthropology professor insisted that the Neanderthals were a much-maligned race. Are you still planning to drop me off at Tuui with the Rangers?"

"Yep. One of us must be with the frontier force to relay the messages."

"Good heavens, Keith!" she exclaimed. "How can I manage? I couldn't command your companies. My Kookish isn't good enough even to pass the word to our thick-headed Jidsho. Why don't you stay with the Rangers and send me on to Shongosi?"

"And put you out front like Uriah the Hittite? Don't be silly! You'd be no better off among a lot of strange Kooks. I'll leave my phrase book with you, and Uwangi to help with language drill. I shall be safer among the Shongorin than on the crime-ridden streets of Terra!"