K Parker - Devices and Desires

Vaatzes frowned. 'I see,' he said. 'Honestly, I had no idea. Come to that, before I ran away from the City, I didn't even know you existed.'

'Oh, your lot know we exist all right.' Miel sighed. 'Give you an example. My family, the Ducas, have been landowners and big fish in little ponds and selfless servants of the commonwealth for longer than even we can remember. We've done our bit for our fellow citizens, believe me. About a third of the men in the Ducas over the last five hundred years have died in war, either killed in a battle or gone down with dysentery or infected wounds. We pay more in tax than any other family. In our corner of the country we run the justice system, we're the land and probate registry; we say the magic words at the weddings of our tenants, we're godfathers to their children, we run schools and pay for doctors. We take the view that a tenant deserves to get more for his rent than just a strip of land and a side to be on when there's a feud. That's what I was talking about when I said we do our bit for our fellow citizens; and that's over and above stuff like fighting in wars and being chancellors and ambassadors and commissioners. Do you see what I'm driving at?'

Vaatzes nodded. 'You're the government,' he said. 'But it's different in the City, of course. The big men who do all the top jobs in the Guilds are our government; but they get to make policy, not just carry it out. They can decide what's going to be done, and of course that means they have loads of opportunities to look out for their own Guilds, or their neighbours and families, or themselves. You can only do what the Duke tells you. You've got all the work, but without the privileges and perks.'

'That's right,' Miel said. 'You've certainly got a grasp of politics.'

'Like I said, I know how things work. A city or a country is just a kind of machine. It's got a mechanism. I can see mechanisms at a glance, like people who can dowse for water.'

'That's quite a gift,' Miel said, frowning slightly. 'Anyway, the way we've always done things is for the landowning families to be the government, as you call it. But then along come your City people, investors, buying up land and flocks and slices of our lives; and of course, they don't take responsibility, the way we've been brought up to do. They don't think, how will such and such a decision affect the tenants and their shepherds, or the people of the village? They don't live here, and when they make a decision they're guided by what's best for their investment, what'll produce the best profit, or whatever it is that motivates them. So, when two tenants fall out over a boundary or grazing rights on a common or anything like that, they can't do what they've always done, go and see the boss up at the big house and make him sort it out for them. The boss isn't there; and even if they were to go all the way to Mezentia and ask to see the directors of the company, or whatever such people call themselves, and even if those directors could be bothered to see them and listen to them, it wouldn't do any good, because they wouldn't understand a thing about the situation. Not like we would, the Ducas or the Orphanotrophi or the Phocas. See, we're their boss, but we're also their neighbour. They can go out of their front door and look up the mountain and see our houses. You can't see Mezentia's Guildhall from anywhere in Eremia.'

Vaatzes nodded. He seemed to be an intelligent man, and quite reasonable. Perhaps that was why they'd put him in prison, Miel decided. 'I guess it's a question of attitude,' he said. 'Perspective. We're concerned mostly with things-making them, selling them. You're concerned with people.'

Miel smiled. 'That puts it very well,' he said. 'And maybe you can see why I don't like your City.'

'I've gone off it rather myself,' Vaatzes said.

'Fine.' Miel nodded. 'So perhaps you'd care to explain to me why you think it'd be a good idea to turn my country into a copy of it.'

It was a neat piece of strategy, Miel couldn't help thinking. He'd have derived more satisfaction from it if he found it easier to dislike the Mezentine; but that was hard going, like running uphill, and the further he went, the harder it got. But he'd laid his trap and sprung it-there was one mechanism the Mezentine hadn't figured out at a glance-and sure enough, for a while Vaatzes seemed to be lost for words.

'It's not quite like that,' he said eventually. 'Like I told you, I'm an engineer. I know about machines, things.' He frowned thoughtfully. 'Let's see,' he said. 'Suppose you come to me and ask me to build you a machine-a loom, say, so you can weave your wool into cloth instead of sending it down the mountain.'

'Right,' Miel said.

'So I build the machine,' Vaatzes went on, 'and I deliver it and I get paid. That's my side of the bargain. What you do with it, how you use it and how the use you put it to affects your life and your neighbours'; that's your business. Not my business, and not my fault. It'd be the same if you asked me to build you a scorpion, an arrow-thrower. Once you've taken it from me, it's up to you who you point it at. You can use it to defend your country and your way of life against your worst enemy, or you can set it up on the turret of your castle and shoot your neighbours. All I want to do,' he went on, 'is make a new life for myself, now the old one's been taken away from me. Now I'm lucky, because I know a secret. It's like I can turn lead into gold. If I can do that, it'd be pretty silly of me to get a job mucking out pigs. From your point of view, I can give you the secrets that make the Mezentines stronger than you are. With that power, you've got a chance of making sure you don't have to go through another horrible disaster, like the one you've just suffered. Now,' he went on, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, 'if I were to sell you a scorpion without telling you how it works, or how to use it safely without hurting yourself, that'd be no good. But that's not the case. You seem to understand just fine what's wrong with the City and how it works. I can give you the secret, and you know enough not to hurt yourself with it, or spoil all the good things about your way of life. Does that make any sense to you?'

It was a long time before Miel answered. 'Yes, actually, it does,' he said. 'And that's why I'm glad it's not my decision whether we take you up on your offer. If it was up to me, I'd probably say yes, now we've had this conversation, and I have a feeling that'd be a bad thing.'

'Oh,' Vaatzes said. 'Why?'

'Ah, now, if I knew that I'd be all right.' Miel smiled suddenly. 'I'd be safe, see. But it's all academic, since it's not up to me.'

Vaatzes scratched his head. 'I don't know,' he said. 'You're a senior officer of state, if you went to the Duke and said, for God's sake don't let that Mezentine start teaching us his diabolical tricks, he'd listen to you, wouldn't he?'

'You were there when I told him to have you hanged,' Miel replied cheerfully. And here you still are.'

'Yes, but you didn't press the point. I was there, remember. It's not like you made any effort to use your influence; and when he said no, let's not, you didn't argue.' He lifted his eyes and looked at Miel. 'Are you sorry you didn't?'

'Like I said, it wasn't my decision. It never is.'

'Would you like it to be?'

Miel shivered, as though he'd just touched a plate he hadn't realised was hot. 'We're falling behind,' he said. 'Come on, don't dawdle.'

They walked quickly, past men supporting their wounded friends on their shoulders, others hauling ropes or pushing the wheels of carts over the rims of potholes. 'Of course,' Miel said abruptly, 'if he decides to let you teach us, common courtesy requires that we teach you something in return.'

'Does it?'

'Oh yes. Reciprocity is courtesy, that's an old family rule of the Ducas. We pay our debts in kind.'