Chapter 10 The Council of Simone
She sat at the head of the table in her cloth-of-gold. To her left were King Lugel and Grall the Ulrig, and beyond them the towering, steaming Dramun. To her right were Korazagel and, though invisible, Razaber. At the far end of the table stood the empty chairs intended for species that had not answered the call to council or, in the case of the Hagards, never would. Behind each seated Sarr stood his attendants, speaking in whispers. Simone’s attendant was her ‘Uncle’ Demee, Demetrius of Ursala, who functioned only as her recorder: she was to look to Razaber for wisdom. Snag and Snart, of course, flanked her chair. Mald too was near her.
The Ulrig Grall stood, tall for an Ulrig, taller than Simone. He was as yet the only Ulrig she had met who wore spectacles. He also wore a dark scarf wrapped round his neck and draped down his gray-flecked chest.
“I have been chosen by lot to begin the debate,” he said. “But first I pause to welcome the Lady of Lucilla to our table, most estimable of humans.” He bowed. “Lady, you alone of us may not be fully advised—” he glanced meaningfully at Razaber’s chair “—not fully advised, I say, concerning the immediate crisis in the East, my homeland. It is, I am sad to say, a war begun by the humans. Ulrigs and Dragons have fought only in reaction, and many have died. These humans of Eschor are intractable, unshakable in their determination to slaughter us. Only a convincing victory on our part will bring them to accept terms of peace. However,” and again he looked at Razaber’s chair, “some Sarrs have not rallied to our bleeding call for help. Not even all of the Dragons, worthy as they are, have come to our aid.”
“Some say—” and here Grall paused, breathed deeply, and wiped his glasses on his scarf. “Some say that only the prophesied descendant of Lila could unite us in closing the terrible wound of this long war. I agree. A genuine Lila-me is needed, right now, in the Eastern Range. Therefore, the representatives of the Ulrigs and Dragons, with the consent of the Lusettas and Loopers, formally entreat you, great Simone, to come to us in our great need, even as our Captain Snag has helped you, saving your life. Won’t you come to our aid?”
As Grall turned directly to Simone, a great deal passed through her mind in a moment. On one level she thought Grall’s invitation a sound one and was ready to agree to come. Just below that, she remembered that this was not Razaber’s plan and that she was not to trust Grall. At the same time, she was aware in her spirit, and with perfect certainty, that Grall was leading her toward a path of grisly betrayal—for, all unasked, Ulrumman was speaking to her again. Finally, she simply thought Grall’s request out of order.
While she paused, Razaber spoke. “The Empress wishes to hear a debate, Grall. If you’re through speaking, others must have their turn. When all have spoken, my proposal will be voted on. If it is defeated, then and only then, you may put forward new proposals.”
Grall nodded politely and seated himself. Then Razaber lifted his voice to reach the corners of the room. “First some points need to be made concerning Grall’s speech. It’s well said: Go to an Ulrig for eloquence, a Fijat for wisdom. What are we to make of Grall’s mishmash of ill-formed and uninformed ideas? Did the Eschorian humans attack the Ulrigs first? Did they start it? Yes—a hundred and eighty years ago! And a long period of peace intervened before the Dragons attacked, conquered Notoschor, and then multiplied their raids on southern Eschor to this day.
“Next point. Grall wants Simone to rally the Sarrs to what he calls a convincing victory that will assure peace. By this he means that the humans in Eschor will every one be driven out or exterminated. When the last human is dead, Grall will declare peace.
“Next point. Don’t think it’s lost on anyone, Grall, that neither you or Dramun ever addresses Simone as Empress. You call her Lady of Lucilla or such the like. If she comes into your power and favors your war of extermination, then you’ll call her Empress. But that, Grall, will never happen.
“Let me restate the sound plan that we are to vote on tonight. Simone was sent by Ulrumman to claim Eschor’s throne, which is rightfully hers. Having done so, she could be the acknowledged Empress over all parties in the present war and so able to command a peace that’s just and honorable. Now for obvious reasons she can’t go to Eschor by way of the Ulrigs’ mountains or the Dragons’ seaways.”
“What are you insinuating?” said Dramun.
“I imply no danger to her,” Razaber insisted. “But she must not come to Eschor through the lands of Eschor’s enemies, or the humans won’t trust her. Beyond that, I very much doubt if either Ulrigs or Dragons would allow her through on such a mission. No, it’s my time to speak, Dramun! I will be done soon, so wait your turn.
“To continue, only one way remains. Empress Simone and a small, mobile band of soldiers must go north by the mountain track on the west of the Long Range, taking advantage of the no man’s land between the Ulrigs and the human Tirasites. Then on through the Sidder-Phar and so around to Eschor.” The invisible Sarree clicked his claws against his chair arm. “This is the plan to save the Fold. So speak up, Dramun. What do you have to say that makes you smoke up King Lugel’s fine glass ceiling?”
The Dragon rose from his chair, his head almost touching the glass Razaber spoke of. “A few matters bearing on a plan, your plan Razaber, that has already been twice rejected by this Council. Before, we merely said that the, uh, Lady of Lucilla could never be accepted by the Eschorians if she were to appear at the head of a travel worn, ragtag band. And that, I think, is enough to end further discussion of your absurd proposal that she go around the mountains. We Lazarites have also spoken of the danger of that mountain path: danger from heights, from bands of thieves, and who knows what else? But now news has reached us that the plague has broken out in the Tirasite states.”
The attendant Sarrs in the hall stirred, and some began to talk out loud.
“Yes, the very lands through which you would send Simone. During times of plague, I might add, many victims are driven from the towns up into the mountains—right across her path.”
Dramun’s words sank deep. It was some moments before the hubbub of exclamations subsided. “Besides this, we now learn from King Lugel that the matter of Lord Lamu has been investigated. He did not plot alone! Several other Lusettas are implicated, including Lamu’s chief butler Ruhal. But when Lugel moved to arrest them this afternoon, he found that Ruhal had already escaped northward. There’s no doubt that he has gone to tell the Vulture everything—including the route proposed for Simone by Misar Razaber. If she goes that way now, she’ll be watched and intercepted. So what was a foolhardy path is now suicidal. Let the matter be spoken of no more.”
The attendants in the hall, who were only permitted to whisper, were all whispering rather loudly. Razaber raised his voice above theirs. “I call for a short adjournment. We Fijats have more to say and want to—”
“To beg someone else’s speaking turn,” Dramun finished for him. “Yes, I quite understand. But you should have worked that out beforehand.”
“Still,” said Lugel, “a request for adjournment is not out of the ordinary. I have nothing against it.”
“Neither do I,” said Korazagel.
“Oh, have it then,” said Dramun, obviously angry. “The vote won’t change.”
Back in the library, the Empress’ party looked at one another with dejected faces. Simone noted that even Snag and Snart seemed depressed and wondered how that could be, considering that they were Lazarites.
Razaber pulled himself to a table top and sat mute for a while. “I blundered,” he said at last. “I always knew that the route to Eschor was the weak point in the plan. Now, if she goes my way, Simone will have to brave plague and betrayal. The mountain path really does look suicidal. So we have just a few minutes to propose some alternate route that’s plausible.”
“But we considered every other route a hundred times while testing your plan,” said Ma
ld. “All other ways are hopelessly blocked or impracticably long.”
Demetrius seldom spoke, but he spoke now. “I won’t have Simone go into such danger, even if you can convince the Council. You Sarrs don’t catch the plague, so you don’t know. It’s horrible.”
“A bit beside the point,” said Razaber testily, “since we’re looking for an alternate route now.”
“No we aren’t,” insisted Mald. “We can still debate with them for the original plan.”
“If the way is watched by the Vulture, then it’s unthinkable,” said Demee stoutly.
“What I’m going to do,” said Mald, “is go see old Korazagel and jolly him into giving us his speaking turn. We’ll keep Simone’s turn, then, so as to get the last word after Lugel. Don’t be alarmed, Simone. You won’t enter the debate. Razaber will use your turn.
“I’ll not speak again,” said Razaber. “The Council already views me as uninformed and ineffectual. I’d only hurt the cause—if we still have a cause. How we could have used my sister this evening! Razabera was always very persuasive with the Council.”
While they discussed and argued, Simone drifted to a quiet corner where Abram strummed his nevel and Misu read a tiny book held in her weasel’s forepaws.
“How can you read in this light?” Simone asked Misu, for the evening was far upon them. She adjusted the Lusetta’s perch-chair for her and moved on to a large bookstand on which rested a dictionary-size book open at the middle. She could easily make out the large, handwritten letters. The open page began:
A lamlef ba pris dalem et ba sandal, O nema prilem.
“How, uh, very pretty are your feet in—why in sandals!—O daughter of a king,” she translated under her breath. “They’ve taken the Greek word ‘sandal’ from humans. I wonder if this is about a human girl?”
The rest of the passage made it quite clear that this was about a woman, as the poet described his way up her body. Simone wondered how human love poetry had found its way into the Lusetta’s library. Curious, she turned back to the first page and read the opening words,
Neb kess kelnimangal Ulrumman ba trebkir del ka olm.
“At the start, first-made Ulrumman the skies and the earth.” It took a moment to sink in, and when it did, Simone was thunderstruck. “In the beginning,” she slowly corrected herself, “Ulrumman—created—the heavens and the earth.” She whirled around. “Misu! Where did you get this book?”
The Lusetta looked up from her reading. “The Book of Books? Why, you as a human should know. Quintus brought it when humans first came to the Fold, and it was long ago translated into Kreenspam. It’s become the holy book of many of us Sarrs.”
“You mean Ulrumman is the Thoz of the humans, the Theos?”
Misu looked at her with tranquil curiosity.
“Look,” Simone explained, “Lila depended on Thoz, and now so do I, apparently, if He and Ulrumman are the same. And Misu, He’s been talking to me again tonight.”
“Who has, your Eminence?”
“Misu, I don’t know how much responsibility I can handle, but if I can be sure that He’s backing me up—and somehow I feel that He is! But, but there’s so much that He wants done, and I have my own life to live.”
“I beg your pardon, Empress?”
Demee interrupted them. “Time to return to the hall,” he said. “Korazagel has given his turn to Mald.”
“Granted, the way west of the mountains looks dangerous. It is dangerous. But always the true danger is of corruption of the soul and mind.” Seated in what had been Razaber’s chair, Mald spoke slowly and calmly to the Council. “We may give ourselves up to brutal revenge on the humans, may destroy them, reap the benefits, and prosper for long. But what will become of us in the end? We already have a chair in this hall that will never be filled again. If we go the way of Grall and Dramun, there will be another.”
Night was come, but rather than bring lights directly into the hall, Lusettas were placing lampstands in the rooms surrounding, so that the glass walled room was lit from without. Since most of the adjoining rooms had mirrored walls, room mirrored room into infinity, with multiplied lights both near and far. The effect was dazzling and disorienting.
Simone might have shaken it off, if not for her awareness that she was on the verge of another mystical experience. She did not fight Him, but she hoped the material world would still exist when it was over. For right now the beams and columns of the Palace seemed to be shaking, as if threatened by some judgement. Beings of light approached through the rooms with awesome splendor. Or were they just the lamps? She closed her eyes and listened to her Master, felt His spirit touching hers, and wondered if her skinny body would fly apart. She was trembling. Yet this was Ulrumman, her beloved, so she did not really fear. Oddly, she could hear every word Mald was saying.
“What of this plague, Sarrs? If Empress Simone is protected by Ulrumman, then we need have no fear for her. And plainly, she need never come in contact with a plague victim while on her way. We will keep such at a distance. I’ll shoot them with my own crossbow if necessary. And what of the Black Vulture? The traitor Ruhal has flown to him and told him everything, has he? Everything? But Ruhal fled before this meeting, so how can he tell anyone what’s decided here? The Vulture will only know from Ruhal that the mountain track was the route least likely to be chosen. As for watching the way and intercepting her, the Vulture’s power does not extend to those lands she will pass through. At most, one of his flying ro-beasts might see and report, but the Vulture cannot reach. You well know how many millennia our enemy has kept within his bounds.
“So what is this ‘news’ that Dramun brings? It’s news of a plague that devours townspeople, not country wayfarers; and of a traitor who doesn’t know enough to tell the Vulture anything useful; and of the Vulture himself, whose talon is too short to reach to the mountain foothills. In short, half of what Dramun gives us is old news and the other half a fresh report of matters that are harmless.”
‘I’d like for You to put an end to this ugly, muddy feeling around here,’ Simone said to Ulrumman in her heart. ‘They’re getting ready to be hideous, and if I’m not careful, they’ll make me part of it. Hadn’t someone better speak up and tell them?’
She closed her eyes again and this time saw stars, stars, stars, flying like arrows; felt the shifting of the walls and floor as the building, so corrupt, cracked and settled. She heard glass breaking in distant rooms. But when she opened her eyes, Mald was still speaking calmly, winding down now, and no one seemed to notice anything extraordinary. Nothing was happening except that she was about to do something. She was not sure what.
All eyes were now turning to Dramun. No one noticed the young and inexperienced Empress, who took no part in the debate.
“King Lugel,” Dramun explained, “has kindly ceded me his speaking turn. Ahem. So, Mald, the mountain track is more safe for the soul? How elevated. What a noble sentiment. But then what buffoonery that you immediately descend to the worldly matters of keeping the Lady Simone out of the Tirasite towns and away from plague ridden wanderers in the country. Which road will you take, Mald, high or low? If the Lady is protected by Ulrumman, then why take practical precautions? Because you don’t really believe she’s protected?
“And why are you so relieved that Ruhal can’t tell the Vulture this Council’s final decision? You claim, on the one hand, that the Vulture is such a broken old thing that he can’t reach beyond his borders anyway. Then you tell us it’s lucky he doesn’t know the Lady’s route of travel. Well, which is it?” The Dragon laughed, and a small spurt of flame shot from his maw. “Why Mald, I believe we’ve caught you talking out of both sides of your mouth.”
‘Old Scale Tail!’ thought Simone. ‘You know you’ve already won, so now you’re just dragging out the sweet victory at Mald’s expense. And what am I going to do now? Something really embarrassing, I bet. W
ill I have to tell them about my visions?’
“So nothing has changed,” concluded Dramun. “The mountain track is hardly to be ventured by a lone Fijat at night, let alone a dust-kicking band of some dozens. We must vote it down, and then renew Grall’s request for the Lady to visit the Pamanbrem of the Ulrigs in the Eastern Range. Let us vote at once.”
“But one speaking turn remains,” said Mald.
“Misar, you put me out of all patience! And will you call for another adjournment so you can fumble for more weak arguments? I say no. Lugel?”
Before the king could speak, Simone made some vague sound and all eyes turned to her. For the first time they noticed something strained in her face. “Yes, uh, an adjournment—is necessary.”
Dramun lifted a scraggly eyebrow and hastily reassessed the situation. “If the Lady is uncomfortable—”
“Very uncomfortable,” Simone said.
He approximated a smile. “Of course, then. A few moments.”
“Make it half an hour.” Simone stood and strode out, Snag and Snart at her heels. Mald and Razaber looked on with surprise and then scurried after her.
By the time Mald, Razaber, and Demee caught up to her in the library, Simone had already begun to issue orders.
“Misu! Fetch the cloak we discussed earlier. Things have changed and I need it now.”
“But your Eminence,” said Misu, “we spoke of a certain problem....”
“Banishment? You’re leaving here with me, anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll make it right. Snart, go with her and carry it. Razaber? Where’s Razaber?”
“Here,” said the Fijat, climbing to a table. “Simone, I was hoping you could make a final address, thanking everyone and all that, but we’ll need your speaking turn.”
“What? Listen to me, you Narvans are always talking about the prophecies about me. Well, find the book they’re in and give it to me.” She gestured to the shelves. “It’s here somewhere, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Empress.”
“Then—look for it! Abram, is there any music associated with these prophecies about the Empress?”
“Uh, no Simone.”
“Then make some up. I want you to come back to the hall with me. What—is—it, Raz?”
The Misar had never been nicknamed in his life, and it stopped him short.
“Nothing?” she said. “Good. Here comes Snart with the cloak. I can see him through the walls. Why isn’t Misu with him? Mald, you find that book if Raz won’t and follow after. Come on, everyone.” She started out of the library.
“But Simone,” Razaber said, leaping from the table, “our half hour! We have to plan a rebuttal.”
“I know, I know.” Simone paused and knelt, reaching out to him uncertainly. “Where are you? There now.” She stroked his invisible head. “Look, Razzy, this debate method just isn’t working. Furthermore, you know I won’t go off with gruesome Grall and Old Scale Tail. So I’ve got to—hey, Abram, that sounds good; try it a little more stately. Anyway, I can’t wait half an hour. I feel like I’m on fire! Let’s just go.”
She picked up Razaber with one hand and slid the other into a purple sleeve offered by Snart.
“I have the book, Simone,” Mald reported.
“Good, mark the place.”
Just before she reached the door to the Council Hall, Simone heard the flap of wings behind her and momentarily felt something pressed onto her head. As Misu passed beyond them, Simone reached up and lifted off her head a laurel wreath woven round a gold circlet. She placed it on her head again, nodded to Abram, and floated in to the accompaniment of regal music.
They had kept their distance before, but now at last the cool, sophisticated Lusettas were flocking to be near the Hall of Council, filling the rooms adjacent till they made a low white wall all round, behind the glass. For suddenly everyone in the Palace knew that Simone had appeared in purple. Those within the Hall could hear the rustling of thousands of wings, the babble of their voices in which one word stood out: “Empress...Empress...Empress....”
Not since Lila went across the sea, never to return, not since Emperor Kuley disappeared so long ago, had a true Sisskame walked the land. No Sarr could ignore the ancient call that five hundred years before had carried them all to war, rocking the continent and throwing back the onslaught of the humans. When all had been dark, Kuley had come back from across the sea, and the Litt Goloth—the Sarrs eased of their ancient guilt—had risen and conquered in the name of the Emperor. Even Fijats had fought in those days, even Lusettas. All that was now good in the Fold had in those few months been either saved or established, and all done in a paroxysm of what came to be called Kuley madness.
Misu felt it now, the last to enter the Hall. She was thrilled that she was serving Simone, that she had brought her the purple robe and laurel wreath, and that she would be going with her on her travels. Razaber felt a trembling of he-knew-not-what as he obeyed Simone’s instruction to hand the book of prophecy to the Ulrig Grall and then seated himself in the Fijat chair.
Grall took the book stiffly.
“If you will, good Grall,” Simone said, “read the prophecy.”
“I need not read it. Every cub knows it by heart.”
“Say it then.”
“Very well. ‘In the year 5083 N.R., thus spoke the Ulrig prophet Snill: A king and queen shall come, teaching men to make way for the Goloth, completing the work of Kulismos. The Silent Cities shall sing; the Perg shall end his heresy; and the people of the East shall be saved.’”
“Excuse me, you say this Snill was an Ulrig?” Simone asked.
“Yes.”
“And do you believe this prophecy, Grall?”
“I do.”
“Well, does it apply to me?”
Grall grinned awkwardly. “Lady, that remains to be seen.”
“Grall, are you telling me plainly that you don’t know whether I’m the Empress or not?”
Grall was silent, sensing the trap.
“Because,” Simone went on, “everyone must question how you can call me to your mountains to unite the Sarrs if you aren’t sure I’m genuine. Come out from hiding, Grall. Am I your Empress?”
Much whispering filled the room as Dramun came to Grall’s rescue. “Lady, events themselves will reveal the truth about you. No one can say whether you’re the Empress until you behave as an Empress.”
“But! you’re willing to vote to send this possible fraud by one road or another, aren’t you? Say it plainly, Dramun. You don’t know who I am, isn’t that right?”
Now Dramun also fell silent as Demee scribbled Simone’s words.
Simone raised her voice. “But I know who I am. I’m the Empress of all the Fold, as revealed by the genealogies of the Fijats. Furthermore, I’m going to Eschor by way of the mountain track.”
“We’ll vote that down,” Dramun said.
“I’m going. I and Misu and several others. The prophecy says those easterners will be saved, not destroyed, so I’m going. By what right does this Council think it can rule me? Since some of you reject me as Empress, I reject them from the honor of accompanying me on my way! Uncle Demee, write down the names of those who oppose this journey of mine. Korazagel?”
“Not my name!” the old Looper yapped. “Write me down as all for it. I’m sorry I doubted you, Empress Simone.”
Simone leaned over and patted his fat paw. “Think nothing of it. How about you, my good King Lugel? You’ve called me Empress from the start, when others wouldn’t. Will you part with Misu as your gift to the Empress on her journey?”
Lugel looked around again, through the glass walls, at the thousands of his subjects drawn near in uncontrollable excitement. “Misu is yours,” he said coolly. “Ulrumman bless your path, Empress Simone.”
“You have my thanks. Grall?”
“I’m only concerned for your safety,” sa
id Grall too quickly. “Even if you could make your way along the dangerous mountain track, sooner or later you must pass the Iron Valley and come into open lands that offer no cover. We Ulrigs don’t venture in those Trans-Titanite fields, and you’ll have no human army to protect you.”
“That’s exactly how you can help me,” countered Simone. “The humans of the Forest States will gladly send such an army, but they can’t go by my path, not in such numbers. They’ll need to go by way of your mountain tunnels, Grall. I’m asking you to arrange to receive them and lead them north by your secret ways. Or will you leave me to die without them?”
“It’s—it’s never been done,” Grall said. “Ulrigs allow humans into our tunnels!”
“Ahem, it’s been done,” said Razaber. “Both Lila and the Emperor Kuley were allowed.”
Simone straightened her back with the air of a disappointed schoolteacher. “You fail me,” she said to Grall. “Let it be written that the Ulrigs denied their aid to the Empress Simone; that is, except for the illustrious Snag and Snart. Dramun? What aid do you offer me?”
The Dragon was thoughtful. He could see that Lugel and Korazagel had defected, and that he and Grall were now in the minority. His plans to use Simone were out of the question. The most he could do would be to keep the Dragons from standing out as losers, while at the same time distancing them from Razaber’s disastrous plan. That was for now. Later he would find other ways to save Simone from her suicidal folly.
“Ah, Empress,” he said (and Grall started at this form of address), “my aid consists of a valuable warning. The mountain track is death. You humans are small and soft, and therefore can’t go through dangerous places in small numbers as we Dragons can.”
“Do you mean,” smiled Simone, “that a lone Dragon could go that way fearlessly?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I wonder—would a Dragon be sufficient to protect a few humans who went that way?”
“More than suffi—I, uh. What do you mean?”
“More than sufficient. I take you at your word. You’ve called me Empress and therefore owe me protection. You’ll, of course, take a place among my bodyguards?”
Smoke poured from his nostrils as Dramun’s thoughts raced, searching for a respectable way out of this. Nothing came to mind. He nodded hesitantly.
“Very well,” said Simone, “I’m ready to declare this Council at an end. The Fijats, the Loopers, the Lusettas, and the Dragons all approve my decision and offer help. The Ulrigs both deny me any aid and reject my claim to the Empire. Let it be so written.”
“Uh, no, not at all,” said Grall desperately. “No such intent, uh, Empress. I’ll look into the matter of passage through the mountains for a few hundred human soldiers. It might possibly be arranged.”
“Not a few hundred, but thousands,” Simone corrected. “Am I really your Empress?”
“Yes, yes, your Eminence,” he answered wretchedly.
“Then you’ll see to it. Arrange it. Demetrius will work it out with you.”
A long silence followed. Razaber broke it at last. “We are then unanimous,” he said, “and this the Council of Simone is ended.” As the Sarrs broke into excited talk, he leaned down and whispered to Mald, “And you could knock me over with a feather.”
Mald squeaked agreement. “I just sat through it, and I don’t believe it. It’s madness, sheer Kuley madness.”