Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [486]
Children who had been locked in the church of the Formidable Peace while danger threatened were now released. Their cries of delight brightened the evening. They clambered among the soldiery, chuckling at the attempts of the men to get drunk on weak Isturiachan beer.
The feast began according to the omens, as dimday snared the world. The roast arang were attacked until nothing but the stained cages of their ribs remained. It was another memorable victory.
Afterwards, three solemn elders of the settlement council approached the Archpriest-Militant and bowed to him. No hand touching took place since Sibornalese of high caste disapproved of physical contact with others.
The elders thanked Asperamanka for preserving the safety of Isturiacha, and the senior among them said formally, ‘Revered sire, you understand our situation here is that of the last and southernmost settlement of Sibornal. Once there were / continued other settlements farther into Campannlat, even as far as Roonsmoor. All have been overwhelmed by the denizens of the Savage Continent. Before your army will / must retire to our home continent, we beseech you on behalf of all in Isturiacha to leave a strong garrison with us, that we may not / avoidance suffer the same fate as our neighbours.’
Their hairs were grey and sparse. Their noses shone in the light of the oil lamps. They spoke in a high dialect larded with slippery tenses, past continuous, future compulsive, avoidance-subjunctive, and the Priest-Militant responded in similar terms, while his gaze evaded theirs.
‘Honoured gentlemen, I doubt if you can / will / could support the extra mouths you request. Although this is the summer of the small year, and the weather is clement, yet your crops are poor, as I perceive, and your cattle appear starved.’ The thundercloud was dark about Asperamanka’s brow as he spoke.
The elders regarded each other. Then all three spoke simultaneously.
‘The might of Pannoval will return against us.’
‘We pray / praying every day for better climates as before.’
‘Without a garrison we die / will / unavoidable.’
Perhaps it was the use of the archaic fatalistic future which made Asperamanka scowl. His rectangular face seemed to narrow; he stared down at the table with pursed lips, nodding his head as if making some sly pact with himself.
It was by Asperamanka’s command that young Lieutenant Shokerandit sat next to him in a place of honour, so that some of the latter’s glory might be deflected to his commander. Asperamanka turned his head to Shokerandit and asked, ‘Luterin, what reply would / dare you give these elders to their request – in high dialect or otherwise?’
Shokerandit was aware of the danger lurking in the question.
‘Since the request comes not from three mouthpieces but from all the mouths in Isturiacha, sire, it is too large for me to answer. Only your experience can discover the fit reply.’
The Priest-Militant cast his gaze upwards, to the rafters and their long shadows, and scratched his chin.
‘Yes, it could be said that the decision is mine, to speak for the Oligarchy. On the other hand, it could be said that God has already decided. The Azoiaxic tells me that it is no longer possible to maintain this settlement; or the ones to the north of it.’
‘Sire—’
He raised one triangular eyebrow in his rectangular face as he addressed the elders.
‘The crops fail year by year despite all prayer can do. That’s a matter of common record. Once these southern settlements of ours grew vines. Now you are hard put to it to raise barley and mouldy potatoes. Isturiacha is no longer our pride but our liability. It is best that the settlement be abandoned. Everyone should leave when the army leaves, two days from now. In no other way can you escape eventual starvation or subjection to Pannoval.’
Two of the