Hugh Cook - The Worshippers and the Way

The drugprice had brought Hatch to the brink of financial disaster, and left him helpless to rescue his sister from the consequences of her irresponsibility.

So, as Hatch made his way to Na Sashimoko, he was full of thoughts of his own personal struggle, and these thoughts were scarcely diminished by his meeting with a detachment of the Imperial Guards who were armed as if for war. Hatch had a hurried consultation with the leader of this detachment, and was told that Dalar ken Halvar had just received word of an uprising amongst the slaves of the silver mines which lay ten leagues to the south.

The slaves were making their revolution in the name of Nuchala-nuth.

"That is terrible," said Hatch. "Terrible, terrible, terrible."

But he said it for the sake of form, for the pressures of his own personal life were such that right at that moment he felt that all Dalar ken Halvar could have burnt to the ground without adding to his worries. In fact, if the moneylender Polk were to be burnt with the city, then his worries might be substantially reduced.

Nevertheless, having met with that detachment of Imperial Guards, and having received their alarming intelligence, Asodo Hatch quickened his step as he hastened on toward the imperial palace of Na Sashimoko.

The Silver Emperor: lord of Parengarenga and master of Dalar ken Halvar. He goes by various names, including Plandruk Qinplaqus, and is reputed to be a wizard of the order of Ebber, possessed of powers of mind over mind. If truly such, then he is a Manipulator whose Powers are analogous to those of an Enabled asma of the Nexus. Analogous – yet different. For the asma is but a machine, its functions fully explicated in the Book of Specifications, whereas every warlock is a creature linked in alliance with uncouth entities from the realms of mystery.

In the days of its power, the Nexus seldom colonized any cosmos so Permissive as to permit the miracles of the Gods Minor and the thaumaturgical feats of mage, shaman and sorcerer.

Consequently, it made no serious effort to produce a Predictive Paradigm which would explain the otherlogic of magic.

The scientists of the Golden Gulag, however, living as they did in a cosmos so Permissive as to be only marginally stable, were in an ideal position to research those processes so often described as Synergetic Improbability. They had made some considerable progress toward understanding the ominous ambiguities of the Realms of Power when the Chasm Gates collapsed, precipitating a power struggle which shortly led to the wars of destruction in which the Gulag was utterly destroyed.

And so alone upon the sands

Two weapons bleed.

Yet while they bleed

In equal isolations sits -

Seated, yes, but just as lone -

A man who never dares a knife

Yet never lives without a blade

A skin away from striking.

This chair least comfortable of all:

Its purchase, peace:

And all slaves sounder sleep, though one and all In fantasy desire that seat.

On the heights of the minor mountain of Cap Ogo Blotch, the northernmost of the great rocks of Dalar ken Halvar, stood a building of whitewashed stone. That building of whitewashed stone was the palace of Na Sashimoko, that Shrine of Thrones (or, in the mouths of some, that Shrine of Shrines) from which the Silver Emperor ruled the City of Sun and the realms of Parengarenga.

Despite its eminence, the palace owed nothing to the silver science of interior decorating. Here slovenly decay had the rule, and had ruled for centuries if appearances were anything to go by.

It was undecorated – indeed, parts of it were unfinished. But when Hatch called in at the Treasurer's office, he entered another world entirely, a world dominated by immaculate order and an auditor's precision.

The Treasurer, Nambasa Berlin by name, was a hard man, and ruthless. His ruthlessness was exemplified by his noseless state.

In his youth, Berlin had fought a rival for the favors of a beautiful young woman, and had persisted in fighting on to victory even after getting his nose bitten off. Unfortunately, the woman in question had then decided that she liked a third party much better than either of the two fools who had fought over her; but Berlin had benefited much from having the ruthless resolution of his courage confirmed to both himself and the world at large at such an early age.

Hatch, however, did not like him, even though Hatch often admired those who were brave, and courageous, and ruthless in their resolution. In fact, Hatch had cause to hate him, for Berlin had made him contribute two years worth of savings toward the costs of the campaign to retake Malic Milvus. Right now, Hatch had a grievous need for money; and he was sure his circumstances would not have been so straitened had he not lost so much in paying for the costs of the abovementioned campaign.

For his part, Berlin disliked all the "purple filth" as he termed the Frangoni. Nambasa Berlin was one of the Chem, the wealthy and hence Real upper-class of the people Pang, and the sexual rival who had bitten off his nose so many years earlier had been a Frangoni warrior. Hence Berlin's hatred for the Frangoni.

With such deep discontents sourced in their past, Asodo Hatch and Nambasa Berlin should by rights have been bitter enemies, whereas in truth they had an effective working relationship based on a wary trust. Hatch appreciated Berlin's honesty, efficiency and forthrightness; and Berlin, for his part, admired the way in which Hatch tried to shoulder the whole of his family's debtburden.

Thus their relationship stood when Hatch was admitted to the Treasurer's office.

"I wish to see the emperor," said Hatch, without bothering with any introductory formalities.

"Very well," said Berlin, and wrote out a pass which would get Hatch past the guards who safeguarded the very imperial presence itself. Berlin dated the pass, sanded it, sealed it in hot wax and handed it over. "Present yourself to the Hall."

Hatch nodded, and removed himself.

The corridor leading to the Hall was open to the sky, and the Hall itself had a floor of loose stones in sizes up to that of a fist.

Some generations previously, the Silver Emperor had set about manic renovations which had destroyed the previous splendor of Na Sashimoko. Unfortunately, he had entered a deep depression before the renovations entered their creative phase. He had sent away the workers, and had never succeeded in conjuring up the enthusiasm necessary to arrange for the completion of the work.

Asodo Hatch entered the Hall, advanced gingerly across the knobbled stones, and halted in front of the imperial plinth. On that marble platform stood the imperial throne, a high-backed chair padded with red velvet. Its lacquerwork armrests were of black lacquerwork adorned with mother-of-pearl, and it came complete with two silver-stitched cushions, one for the emperor to sit on and the other for his feet to rest upon.

For the moment, the throne was empty but for the Princess Nuboltipon, who had no business being there, even though she was undoubtedly the most well-bred personage in all of Dalar ken Halvar.

"Greetings," said Hatch to the Princess. "Greetings from the low to the high."

The Princess Nuboltipon made no answer to him. She never did.

She seemed, indeed, to think herself a member of a breed so superior that it had no need to even acknowledge the existence of a bit of Frangoni lowlife like Asodo Hatch. Nevertheless, Hatch bore her contempt lightly, finding it a chivalrous pleasure to do so.

"My lady," said Hatch. "Can I be of some service to you?

Your slightest wish, you know, is ever my command."

So saying, Hatch bowed to the Princess Nuboltipon. Then straightened up, alerted to the approach of his emperor by the blast of a trumpet.