Barrington Bayley - Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus - The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

Mayar knew that look. It happened every time someone was told of events or things that had been removed from the stream of time. Automatically one tried to remember what had gone, however much one knew that it was impossible.

With the emperor, puzzlement was soon replaced by muted rage at the realisation that an ungodly enemy had succeeded in altering even his memories. ‘This is bad,’ he said shakily. ‘This is very bad.’

Arch-Cardinal Reamoir moved forward silently. A hand stole from beneath his cope and squeezed the emperor’s shoulder comfortingly. Philipium reached up and patted the hand.

‘Your Majesty will recall,’ Mayar continued, ‘that this is the second such attack. The first was not entirely successful, for it only modified the history of the coastal port of Marsel, and that not seriously. This, however, is an unmitigated disaster. We must presume that the enemy has now perfected his new weapon.’

‘Yes! The time-distorter!’ The emperor’s face clearly showed his distress. ‘Why does the Hegemony have such a device and we do not have it?’ His right arm trembled more markedly, as it usually did under stress. And indeed, the enemy’s possession of the time-distorter was frightening. When the Historical Office decided to change some aspect of history, months or years of preparation were needed to select some key event or combination of events whose alteration would produce the desired result. A big operation was usually required, entailing a staff of thousands to carry it out.

Yet apparently the distorter could mutate history simply by focusing some sort of energy that acted on the underlying temporal substratum. The threat to the empire was real and disturbing.

‘God is testing us,’ murmured Arch-Cardinal Reamoir smoothly.

‘As always, you know best, old friend.’ The emperor seemed to draw courage from anything Reamoir said. God forgive him for the thought, but Mayar simply could not see the arch-cardinal’s influence as a healthy one.

‘These indignities will cease once my invincible armada sets forth,’ the emperor said, glancing up at Reamoir. ‘The Hegemony will be part of the empire. The distorter will be ours.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Mayar said diffidently, ‘a weapon as effective as the time-distorter must seriously be taken into account. There is very little defence against it, once its carrier ship has broken through into historical territory. I would go so far as to say that it is capable of destroying the empire itself.’

‘ Archivist Mayar! ’ Reamoir thundered, his face suddenly blazing. ‘Take care what you say!’

‘I said only that it is capable of destroying the empire,’ Mayar replied defensively. ‘I did not say that such an event could come about.’ And if he did openly say it, he would be in serious trouble. The Two Things That God Will Not Do were as important a part of religious dogma as the Three Revelations of San Hevatar. The Two Things That God Will Not Do were that, once having given it, He would not take away the secret of time-travel from mankind; and that He would not allow the Chronotic Empire ever to perish.

It was dangerous to argue with the head of the Church. But Mayar, fearful of the calamity he saw hovering over them all, pressed on.

‘What I say, Your Majesty, Your Eminence, is this: God has promised that the empire will not fall or be removed, but He has not promised that it will not meet with misfortune or be defeated in war. As Your Eminence will tell us—’ he bowed his head again towards the arch-cardinal – ‘the doctrine of free will means that even the mission of the Church may fail. God has left such matters in our hands, and we are fallible.’

He licked his lips and continued hurriedly. ‘As chief archivist I am familiar with the changes of time. I know that their consequences can be dismaying and unexpected, and that precautions taken against them can prove to be futile. I do not think I am exaggerating when I say that the archives perform a function fundamental to the integrity of the empire. And I fear the distorter. I ask myself what degree of change the archives can accommodate. I believe they will break down altogether under the impact of the weapon.’

‘And what do you propose we should do?’ Philipium’s eyes had lost their deadness now. They were glittering.

‘It occurs to me that the Hegemony is carrying out these attacks because it feels itself threatened by us, Your Majesty. In my opinion we should seek a truce and abandon our plans for conquest – at least until we know more about the time-distorter.’

The emperor turned beady eyes on Commander Trevurm. ‘And what is your opinion?’

Trevurm stroked his chin and sighed. ‘There is much sense in what our friend says,’ he admitted. ‘The time-distorter brings an unknown factor into the equation.’

‘So you both advise caution?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘Have you both forgotten the mission of Holy Church?’ said the arch-cardinal to Trevurm and Mayar, affecting a shocked tone. ‘Your Majesty, we are doing God’s bidding. The armada must do its work. The heathen must be converted by its power.’

‘But at the risk of wreaking havoc with the structure of time?’ Mayar protested.

Reamoir turned and spoke for the benefit of Philipium alone. ‘What else should we do? Have we not tried to convert the Hegemony by peaceful persuasion? Our missionaries have gone forward in time, not only to the Hegemony but even beyond, to little avail. Many have been spurned and ejected back to their own time. Some have even been martyred. The pride and stubbornness of the future people is displeasing to God; only force remains. God will go with our armada; He is on our side. All will be well.’

‘All will be well,’ echoed Philipium. ‘The armada must proceed. The only question to be answered is when. And that is a matter for the Military Council, not for amateurs.’ He gestured irritably.

‘I understand, Your Majesty,’ Mayar said, feeling defeated.

The emperor rose from his chair and clutched at Reamoir, holding up his trembling right arm. ‘My arm, see how it shakes,’ he said, his voice hollow-sounding. ‘Listen, my friend – I have had a vision in a dream. God has told me that if the Hegemony is subdued my affliction will vanish.’

‘That indeed will be a miracle, sir.’

‘Yes. God’s message is clear. All will be well.’ He turned to Mayar. ‘And yet your forebodings are not without substance, Archivist. We are merely human and we can err. Even I am merely emperor, not Imperator . Come, we will consult a wiser being.’

Philipium tottered towards the door. Outside, attendants were waiting and accompanied them through the cloistered passages of the inner sanctum. From ahead came cheerful noises of talk and laughter, growing steadily louder until eventually a pair of large doors, quilted and padded with stuffed satin, drew open to admit them.

They entered the main inner chamber of the court.

Strictly speaking it was more than a chamber, being the size of a ballroom. Tastefully arranged here and there were couches, tables, and chairs. The arched recesses that skirted its circumference formed a motif that was repeated in the ribbed and curved formation of the ceiling. All in all, the effect was most pleasing and restful to the eye.

A favourite meeting place, the court chamber had a relaxed air and nobles and privileged persons from all parts and nodes of the empire came and went through its several entrances. The Ixian family predominated, of course, its members hailing from all periods of history – though in their case the term ‘history’ was practically redundant. The Ixian dynasty was fully mobile through time, being the only family permitted to intermarry with its descendants and ancestors.