Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [26]
King Garald grew bitter. “When I first discovered that the Four Cults of Dark Magic still existed, I tried to warn people in Earth government. Even my best friend did not believe me.” He looked at James Boris, who smiled ruefully and shook his head. “I will not waste time by relating what occurred that finally convinced him. It nearly cost us both our lives, but—in the end—he believed. The General suggested that I was wasting my time and energy attempting to fight the Technomancers in the open. I must adopt their own strategy.”
“Mosiah told you he had been one of them,” said General Boris. “Did he tell you that he volunteered to become one of them? To go undercover? To risk his life ferreting out their dark secrets?”
“No,” said Saryon, and he looked relieved. “No, he did not.”
“Through him we found out much about their organization; we discovered the true nature of this ‘chemical factory’ which they operate and for which”—King Garald smiled wryly—”they even receive lucrative government grants!”
“You work with Smythe,” Saryon said. “You do not denounce him.”
“We have no choice,” said King Garald, and his voice was grim and harsh. “He holds our people and the people of Earth hostage.”
“The Technomancers have infiltrated every part of the military,” said General Boris. “They do not commit sabotage. Oh, no. They are far too clever for that. They have made themselves indispensable to us. Because of their power and their skill, we are holding our own against the Hch’nyv. Should they withdraw their magical assistance—worse yet, should they turn their magic against us—we would be lost.”
“How do they do this?” Saryon was perplexed.
“I’ll give a very simple example. We have a torpedo that has an electronic brain. We can program that brain to aim the torpedo to hit its target. The enemy detects the torpedo, sends out an electronic signal which scrambles its brain. But they can’t send out a signal to scramble magic. A Technomancer, magically guiding that torpedo, will send it unerringly to its target.
“And if”—General Boris’s voice dropped—”they were to magically alter that torpedo’s programming, cause it to turn and strike a different target. Not an enemy target . . .” He shrugged his massive shoulders.
“From what they have told us, they control nuclear armaments in the same way,” said King Garald. “From our investigations, we have reason to believe that they are telling the truth.”
“To put it another way, we dare not call their bluff,” said the General bluntly.
“I don’t see how the Darksword could possibly aid you in any way against these people,” said Saryon, and I was convinced then that I knew his decision.
“Frankly, we don’t either,” said King Garald.
“Then why—”
“Because they fear it,” said the King. “We don’t know why. We don’t know what they’ve found out or how they found out, but they have received a warning from their researchers, those called the D’karn-kair, that the Darksword could be both an asset to them and a danger.”
Saryon shook his head.
Garald regarded him silently, then said, “There is another reason.”
“I thought as much,” said Saryon, adding dryly, “You would not have gone to this much trouble to recruit me otherwise.”
“No one knows about this except the Duuk-tsarith, and they, as always, are sworn by their oaths of loyalty to secrecy. Otherwise, Mosiah would have told you last night. Do you remember Bishop Radisovik, whom you used to know as Cardinal Radis-ovik?”
“Yes, yes. I remember. A good, sensible man. So he is Bishop now. Excellent!” said Saryon.
“The Bishop was working alone in his study one day when he sensed someone in the room with him. He lifted his head and was astonished to find a woman seated in a chair in front of his desk. Now this was a very unusual occurrence, for the Bishop’s secretary has strict orders never to introduce anyone into the Bishop’s office without an appointment.
“Fearing that perhaps the woman was there to do him some type of harm, the Bishop talked to her pleasantly, all the while using a secret button, hidden beneath his desk, to alert