The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [127]
Zor-El immediately got down to business. “Tyr-Us is gone. He came to my city, claiming that Zod’s men were hunting him. I sent him to what I believed was a safe place to hide, but he has vanished.”
The news caused great consternation among the gathered men, but Shor-Em was not entirely shocked. He called for more refreshments. “The Commissioner is already touting Tyr-Us as a miraculous convert, like all the others. None of us is fooled.” Several of the blue-robed councilmen shook their heads in disbelief. “Do you think he murdered them all, just to silence them?”
“He might have, but I believe Zod is smarter than that.”
“Ahem, he’s not smarter than we are.” Shor-Em proudly looked at his nobles. “Sit with us. We have important decisions to make.”
After the loss of Kandor, many older noble sons had congregated here in Borga City, lamenting the lost glory days of Krypton. Instead of quietly disappearing as Zod had hoped, the blueblood nobles had become a persistent thorn in his side, though they had not yet managed to take any significant action.
Zor-El found it unsettling to sit on soft cushions while discussing matters of such gravity. It reminded him too much of how the old eleven-member Council would have dealt with the problems. Restless, he walked to the edge of the high platform and stared down at the marsh. Like a cloud of flying jewels, amethyst-winged butterflies flitted about in a huge group, their movements perfectly coordinated, as if they were a single organism. Not a single one missed its move. “If only Kryptonians could cooperate like that,” he muttered.
“We will have to.” Shor-Em nodded defiantly. “The Commissioner is already ahead of us. He has brainwashed his followers, but we cannot let him fool any more people. I have already expelled all of his fanatics from Borga City. I will not allow them to praise that terrible man. You should do the same.”
“We all should!” cried another nobleman.
Zor-El was troubled. “Zod’s supporters have also spoken in Argo City, but I do not have the right to silence them because I disagree. That’s not what we stand for.”
Shor-Em gave him a sour frown and slurped his tea. “You have the right to stop a merchant from selling poison, if he claims it is food. That’s how I see it. All followers of the traitor Zod can go live out in the swamps, for all I care.” He straightened the circlet on his brow. “But we need to do more, create a full-fledged uprising to strip Zod’s power from him.”
Zor-El smelled the mulchy aroma of swamp gases boiling up from far below. “If that is what you believe, then the leaders of other cities should be here. A rebellion must represent all of Krypton, not just Borga City.”
“Ahem, if we were to announce such a conference, Zod’s spies would hear of it, and he could strike us all in one place. No, I have decided that we will make up our minds here and discreetly pass the word. We must proceed with great caution.”
Zor-El wasn’t sure which course of action would prove wiser. “Many Kryptonians have had enough of great caution.”
For hours he, Shor-Em, and the nobles talked. Passions rose, but they all had a similar goal. Finally Shor-Em made his firm summary announcement. “We will form our own government, a Council with eleven members of our own choosing. That will give the people a preferable alternative. We will return Krypton to what it should be, ruled in the time-honored tradition.” He sounded brave, but somewhat pompous. “Commissioner Zod can rot in Kryptonopolis. The rest of the world will live under another banner—our banner.”
His fellow nobles applauded, reinforcing their own bravery, drawing strength from one another. Zor-El did not disagree, though he still had reservations. He seemed to be the