Penumbra - Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Lamason Caffolas was not a happy man. Both the Prydain freak and his fellow Council members had ignored him. True enough, the Council had not rejected his request immediately, had even seemed to give it a more sympathetic hearing than he had expected, but that was the end of it. He had received no further information from the secretary and Naufrage had locked himself away in his private quarters and was rebuffing all attempts at contact.
As for the freak, Caffolas had decided to send another message, specifying a deadline before he made it part of the general gossip of the capital that the great Warrior Anjh was hiding behind his reputation like any other fraud and was expecting to be honored more for the resurrection that was none of his doing than any courage he might be likely to display. That should get some movement from that direction, he thought with satisfaction. The Prydain were easy to manipulate; just pique them in the pride.
Caffolas called for his floater and prepared to visit the Temple of Aleo where he had scheduled a very public prayer for the spirits of those killed in the most recent skirmishes. He had been severely criticized for his profligate use of manpower in the Pit of Archaos affair which still openly festered. As though he had not tried his best to conserve his forces and root out that evil as economically as possible. It wasn’t his fault that there weren’t enough weapons to go around. The fighters kept dropping them when they died and retrieving them was proving to be almost as impossible as killing whatever it was that was chewing up his troops. Even bringing back the bodies of the dead was not an easy thing to do, but he had managed to whip the unit into accomplishing that at least. Well, they had brought back most of the bodies. Any way, it wasn’t his fault. Who could have thought that a single creature in a cave would be such a problem? The cave wasn’t all that deep and had been explored before so it wasn’t as if he was sending those people into the total unknown. They just weren’t good enough. He thought he would change the name of the squad to something like “Nemesis of Archaos” and toughen the training. He might even change it to an all female crew and let the girls... No, that would preclude the use of that Prydain mechart creature.
He bad-temperedly pushed the acolyte who offered him his ceremonial staff off the stairs and out of his way. Why must he be bothered with these clumsy fools anyway? He was going to be the next Ombrios; all his friends told him so. The only thing he had to do was bring home a triumph from this stupid assignment. Had Naufrage known how hard it was going to be when he gave it to him? Probably not; Naufrage wasn’t that clever anymore. He was getting old and dithery - time to replace him. When he, Caffolas, was Ombrios there wouldn’t be any of this slacking off inside the temples. He knew how to enforce discipline; he wouldn’t put up with all this overlooking of sacred duties. They’d toe the line when he ruled. Yes, they would; he’d see to it. And there’d be no more hinting of a new god in the making. Aleo was good enough for a long time yet. It wasn’t as if there was any need for another god or a fresh way of looking at the afterlife. Tradition was perfectly acceptable.
Caffolas sank into the cushions of the floater; he was certain to find some of his sycophants at the Temple. They always elevated his mood when he made his public worship these days.
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What to do with Caffolas was the principal worry that plagued Naufrage as he conferred in his office with the ones who considered themselves his closest advisors. Everyone was satisfied that the War was going according to predictions. It had been a stroke of genius to engage the fears of the populace with the image of Archaos - to take a gigantic but basically unthreatening monster and invest it with all the anxiety and hatred generated by an entire people. Long ago, in this world and probably others, unscrupulous leaders had discovered that nothing served to unite a disparate mob like a common enemy. Archaos had been made to order; it was essentially formless so that each person could cast his own worst imaginings on the screen of its body. It was very nearly immortal and could be fought again and again with the wounds inflicted healing before the next encounter. No worries about the premature killing of this foe. And it was easily lured; the armies of Junonia could be thrown into battle whenever or wherever diversion was needed. In truth, no one really knew what Archaos was since no two people had ever experienced it in quite the same way. Naufrage thought perhaps it might be the combined nightmares of the people of Junonia gathered into one monstrous mass. No matter what it was, Archaos existed and that was all that was needed. It would always be there and always be what they needed it to be. Yes, that part of the plan was ticking alone with mechanical precision. Even the disaster on Mount Nothscar had been salvaged thanks to the Ordmun genius and the carefully planted whispers about the resurrection of Anjh. The people were quiescent for the moment, awaiting the appearance of the mythic savior they continued to create for themselves.
The ineptitude of Caffolas was the problem before them now. The troublesome Lamason had been given the handling of the Pit of Archaos matter in order to keep him away from more dangerous meddling. The Council, particularly this cabal within a cabal, had expected him to make a great fuss and bother while accomplishing little other than the slaughter of another in a seemingly endless stream of minor monsters. Instead he had taken months, used hundreds of expensive troops and was no further along than at the beginning. And now, he wanted permission to use their carefully restored treasure, their secret Hierophant/God in waiting, as more of his monster fodder. Still, if what he said about the Thanamant business was true...
“Have we decided, friends? Does Caffolas have our permission to admit Anjh to his suicide squadron?” Naufrage put the question.
“Sounds like an awful waste of our resources. I’m more concerned with that rumor Caffolas is spreading - you know, the one about Anjh being... one of those... If he is, then we have to do something about it right away. It won’t be cost-efficient to let him die until he’s done what we need.” It was Normath, the fifth member of the group. “After all, we paid for all that Ordmun technology.”
“No we didn’t; Jaithlym did.” Creeane insisted robustly.
“Then maybe we should get her permission,” Douar's comment was silkily suggestive and greeted with snickers around the table. “Maybe she’s got what she wanted by now and is ready for another pet. You know these Lilar brokers.”
“Only too well, since I’m solmari to one,” Normath sniffed. “But does anybody here know if Anjh is... one of those...”
“If you’re trying to say Thanamant, then say it,” Karcad was brisk. “We’re all adults here and aren’t afraid of words. No, so far as I’m aware, that’s still only a rumor. That sort of story has a way of getting attached to any Warrior who shows more courage than the average. It’s a way people have of excusing their own cowardice by claiming that brave men are insane; sensible humans don’t take it seriously. If you really think there’s something to it, why not ask Jaithlym? She’ll know if anybody does.”
Ignoring the by-play, Naufrage said slowly, “I’m not satisfied that we know any of the facts in this case. None of us has spoken to Anjh since he was here with his own petition to go back to the War. We haven’t seriously considered his demand and, among the five of us, have no intention of doing so. And, what’s more to the point, Jaithlym has not reported to this body in weeks. Has anyone here seen her or is she keeping close to her house and her own affairs?”
“There is a rumor to the effect that she’s pregnant and staying quietly on the top floor of the townhouse, managing the business of Akamma through a private communication web supplied by the Ordmun. I doubt the truth of that since she’s no fool and certainly knows how to avoid such inconveniences but rumors will fly. One thing is certain - the Elder of the Prydain, the Brisevent Rispa is visiting at the house and has been there for some days.” Douar prided himself on his excellent sources of gossip in the city.
“Ah,” their leader sighed with considerable relief. “Send a messenger to the Brisevent, presenting my compliments and begging that he call on me at his earliest convenience. We’ll meet again when we have some facts available to help us know the best thing to do.” The Ombrios pushed back his chair, adjourning the meeting. Now a final decision could be delayed for a while at least. Caffolas and the full Council would just have to wait. He had the excuse he had needed to hold them off. Naufrage began considering how he could best use the Brisevant to further his designs for Anjh and how he could make contact with Jaithlym in order to learn what was really going on in that house. And still at the back of his mind was the belief that there was something Anjh was not telling him about his journey into eternity, something that maybe the man himself did not yet recognize or remember.