Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [360]
‘The Sibornalese would have blamed you. Borlien would have been in worse trouble than it is already. You will not learn diplomatic sense. That’s why I didn’t tell you.’
JandolAnganol began to pace. ‘What a calculating old slanje you are! Surely you must have hated what Pasharatid was doing?’
‘No … what are women for? I have no objection to hate. It keeps you alive, keeps you warm of nights. Hate is what brings you down here. You came down here once, I forget what year it was, to talk about love, but I only know about—’
‘Enough!’ cried JandolAnganol, stamping his boot on the flags. ‘I shall never speak of love again, to you or anyone. Why do you never help me? Why didn’t you tell me what Pasharatid was up to? Did he ever meet secretly with Cune?’
‘Why don’t you grow up?’ Spite entered his voice.’ I expect he crept in to her warm nest every night …’
He cringed away, expecting a blow from his son’s raised hand. But JandolAnganol squatted by the chair instead.
‘I want you to look at something. Tell me what you would do.’
He lifted the homemade matchlock which had cracked along the barrel and placed it on his father’s knee.
‘It’s heavy. I don’t want it. Her garden’s all neglected now …’ The ex-king pushed it so that it fell on the floor. JandolAnganol let it lie there.
‘That gun was made by SlanjivalIptrekira’s corps. The barrel split on firing. Out of six guns I had him make, only one worked properly. Of the previous batch, none has worked. What has gone wrong? How is it that our weapon-makers’ corps, which claims to trace its foundation back for centuries, cannot make a simple gun?’
The old heap in the chair remained silent for a while, pulling ineffectually at its blanket. Then it spoke.
‘Things don’t get better for being old. Look at me. Look at the figure behind you … It may be that too many institutions are too old … What was I going to say? Rushven told me that the various trades corps were founded to exist through the Great Winter, to hand on their knowledge in secret from generation to generation, so that their arts survived the black centuries until spring.’
‘I have heard him say as much … What follows?’
VarpalAnganol’s wheezy voice strengthened. ‘Why, what follows spring is summer. What follows seasons is that the corps perpetuate themselves, maybe losing a little knowledge from one generation to another but not gaining new knowledge. They become hidebound … Try to imagine what those centuries of darkness and frost were like – much like being stuck down in this hole for eternity, I imagine. Trees died. No wood. No charcoal. No fires for smelting properly … Probably it’s the smelting process at fault, by the look of that barrel. The furnaces … they may need renewing. Better methods, as the Sibornalese have …’
‘I’ll flog them all for their idleness. Then perhaps we’ll see some results.’
‘Not idleness, tradition. Try chopping Slanji’s head off and then offering rewards. That will encourage innovation.’
‘Yes. Yes, possibly.’ He picked up the gun and made for the door.
The old man called feebly to him. ‘What do you want the guns for?’
‘The Cosgatt. The Western Wars. What else?’
‘Shoot the enemies nearest your doorstep first. Teach Unndreid a lesson. Darvlish. Then you’ll be safer to fight farther away.’
‘I don’t need your advice on how to wage war.’
‘You’re afraid of Darvlish.’
‘I’m afraid of no one. Of myself, sometimes.’
‘Jan.’
‘Yes?’
‘Ask them to send me logs which burn, will you?’ He began to cough rackingly.
JandolAnganol knew he was only shamming.
To show himself properly humble, the king went to the great dome in the main square of Matrassyl. Archpriest BranzaBaginut greeted him at the North Door.
JandolAnganol prayed publicly among his people. Without thought, he took with him his pet runt, who stood patiently by his master while the latter prostrated himself for an hour. Instead of pleasing his people, JandolAnganol displeased them by taking a phagor into the presence of Akhanaba.
His prayer, however, was heard by the All-Powerful, who confirmed that he should take VarpalAnganol