The Chasm Gates: the transcosmic junction which once linked the local universe to the rest of the Nexus. Some 20,000 years ago, the Chasm Gates collapsed, isolating the local cosmos from the rest of the Nexus. War followed. Even after twenty millennia, dim memories of that war persist in the form of those legends concerning what is now known as the Days of Wrath.
But if from their steps of stone in flesh The gods should step – And sliding from the clouds unseat – And grapeskin humans with their feet – "What do you think?" said Oboro Bakendra.
"It's a bluff," said Hatch. "Of course it's a bluff. It would be too much of a coincidence for any such thing to happen now."
The two brothers were in the kinema, the natural amphitheater outside the lockway. The Eye of Delusions, the big entertainment screen set above the lockway, was screening the image of a strangely mutated human with insectile mandibles. This thing was – or so it alleged – the current ruler of the Nexus. It claimed that the Chasm Gates had opened, and that the Tulip Continuum which contained the city of Dalar ken Halvar and its Combat College was again reunited with humanity's grandest transcosmic civilization.
"You will surrender your authority to that of the Combat College," said the human-insect thing.
Not for the first time.
It had said as much a full three dozen times already, without moving either Asodo Hatch or his brother Oboro Bakendra in the slightest.
"You have to admit," said Oboro Bakendra, "the thing looks almost authentic."
"Admit?" said Hatch. "Brother mine, you forget my imperial status! I have made myself emperor, and an emperor admits nothing."
Nevertheless…
The accents of the presumptuous mandible-equipped human which dominated the Eye of Delusions did suggest some of the distortions which might reasonably have been expected to befall the Nexus Ninetongue in the course of twenty millennia. Though of course the Ninetongue had been designed to be impervious to linguistic drift – divided up into nine separate task-specific dialects and supported by the standardizing resources of an affluent machine culture.
To that degree the thing was authentic.
But Hatch was not prepared to publicly admit even that much.
"Senk's improvising," said Hatch, "but the improvisation is fairly desperate."
Hatch was right. The insect-human which was trying to menace Dalar ken Halvar, and to bring that city to order by exercise of terror, was a tenth-rate derivation of one of the standard monsters of the Nexus entertainments so commonly screened by the Eye of Delusions. Paraban Senk lacked the imagination required to think up something new. A human in authority who was characterized by tact, sensitivity and flexibility, for example – that would have been something new. Hatch might even have been impressed by it.
"So what will you do?" said Oboro Bakendra, elder brother conceding initiative and authority to the younger.
"Do?" said Hatch.
"About Senk," said Oboro Bakendra. "About the Combat College.
Do we ignore it? Or what?"
"I'll go in there soon," said Hatch. "I have to. Senk still has my wife, my daughter…"
"And your whore," said Oboro Bakendra, unable to restrain himself from making this unfavorable observation.
"The Lady Iro Murasaki still enjoys the protection of the Combat College," said Hatch agreeably.
Asodo Hatch had lately been through far too much to get upset simply because someone chose to impugn the honor of the Lady Murasaki.
"And what about our sister?" said Oboro Bakendra.
"Our sister?" said Hatch absently.
"Yes, yes, our sister, our sister Joma, otherwise known to the world as Penelope. Penelope Flute. Remember her? A girl, Hatch, a big girl, a girl as tall as a man, purple in her skin and turbulent in her temper. What have you done with her, Hatch?"
"I don't know that I've done anything with her!" said Hatch.
"Well, she certainly went into the Combat College," said Oboro Bakendra. "There's plenty of proof of that. You must have seen her yourself."
"I – I have some recollection of that," said Hatch.
Yes. Hatch dimly remembered seeing Penelope at some time during the turbulent period when refugees of all descriptions were boiling into Forum Three.
In the lead-up to Hatch's series of duels with Lupus Lon Oliver, Paraban Senk had asked Hatch to name those guests whom he chose to invite into the Combat College to watch him fight. Hatch had been in no mood to trifle with such trivia; and so, rather than drawing up a guest list, Hatch had simply told Senk to admit anyone who asked for admission in his name.
Consequently, when riots had broken out in Dalar ken Halvar, numerous refugees had been able to find sanctuary inside the minor mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash by quoting Hatch's name. Hatch's wife, daughter and mistress had won admission to the mountain, and, yes, Penelope too.
But.
"But," said Oboro Bakendra, driving home the point remorselessly, "that's the last that anyone knows of her. You appear to have lost her."
And in the end Hatch had no option but to confess that he had indeed mislaid his sister, which was doubtlessly very remiss of him. He had excuses, of course, for the recent past had been turbulent – and, while dueling his enemy and commandeering a religious revolution, Hatch had not found it possible to keep track of the delinquent Penelope. But Oboro Bakendra made it clear that he thought this no excuse.
"You don't seem concerned," said Oboro Bakendra.
"Frankly," said Hatch, "I'm more concerned with the absence of Lupus Lon Oliver than with Penelope. We've made a great heap of corpses, but Lupus is not to be found on that heap."
"His face may have been disfigured," said Oboro Bakendra.
"Perhaps he lies incognito beneath the sun."
"There is the matter of stature," said Hatch. "Lupus was built quite close to the ground, as you remember. Had the rat's flesh been in amongst its companions, I'm sure I would have recognized it by the length of its legs and the modest bulk of its torso. I've had occasion to watch it closely of late."
"It may well be that Lupus and Joma have fled the city together," said Oboro Bakendra. "In which case they are of no account. Lupus is no danger once detached from his warforce, and thus detached he is – for I warrant that very few Ebrell Islanders of military age are left alive in Dalar ken Halvar."
With this said, the two brothers left the kinema, where the Eye of Delusions was still making dire threats about the wrath of the Nexus.
Under a hot and dusty sky, the two brothers made their way down Scuffling Road through a day which was possessed of something of the traditional clamour of Dog Day. Naturally the festivities were muted somewhat by the events of the recent past, for it was hard to be truly festive in a city which had recently suffered many bereavements and a great deal of burning. Still, a fair few people were giving it their best shot.
The traditional Dog Day drums were pounding; the traditional scuffles were taking place as various teams tried to make their chosen dog the dog-king for the day; and a fair few unfortunate dogs were being barbecued and eaten.
Actually, on Dog Day it was against both law and tradition to slaughter and eat any dog until evening, which was traditionally the time for the start of an enormous blood-glutting feast; but both law and tradition had broken down under the pressure of the latest events.
Asodo Hatch and his elder brother Oboro Bakendra went down Scuffling Road, crossed its intersection with Zambuk Street, continued down Scuffling Road, and so after a walk of some considerable distance came upon the scene of the battle which had that day given them victory over the Free Corps.
Hatch had deceived Senk, knowingly, and with malice aforethought; and then Senk had unwittingly deceived the Free Corps. Thus setting the stage for the Free Corp's destruction.
Within the minor mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash, the Startroopers and Combat Cadets of the Free Corps had been briefed by Paraban Senk, the diligent Teacher of Control. The unembodied Senk had told the Free Corps that the announced "opening of the Chasm Gates" had been but a ploy to lure them into an imprisoning trap.
Senk had then informed the Free Corps that it was in the long-term interests of the survival and functioning of the Combat College that Dalar ken Halvar – and indeed the entire Empire of Greater Parengarenga – be united under the militant religion of Nu-chala-nuth. For the Combat College was breaking down; and, unable to rely upon the ancient machinery of probabilitymanipulation, Senk must necessarily enlist religion for support.
Senk had announced to the prisoners that they would be held within Cap Foz Para Lash indefinitely if they were not prepared to co-operate with this new plan. If however they chose to ally themselves with Asodo Hatch and with the Nu-chala-nuth, then they could look forward to playing a leading role in a great and prosperous future.
After some discussion, the members of the Free Corps had agreed to make those rather painful adjustments to the new reality which had opened before them. And so it had come to pass that, as the Dog Day celebrations began to get underway, the Free Corps had been released from the minor mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash.
The Free Corps had set off down Scuffling Road, marching in a body from the Combat College toward the Grand Arena. The plan was that in the Grand Arena they would take an oath of allegiance to Asodo Hatch in particular and to the Nu-chala-nuth in general.
However, the Free Corps had never reached the Arena.
Along the way, the Frangoni had taken the Free Corps in a classic ambush, attacking from the west – bursting out from ruined houses, from unruined houses, and from bamboo screens hastily erected and made to look like windbreaks. Every Frangoni man, woman and child capable of holding a blade had joined that ambush.
Those of the Free Corps who had not been cut down immediately had fled to the east – only to fall victim to pit-traps and to sharpened bamboo spikes planted in carefully concealed holes.
The slaughter had been almost universal.
Manfred Gan Oliver had been accounted for, and on discovering the corpse of Gan Oliver the valorous Asodo Hatch had – but, enough! There is no need to be saying what Hatch did to the unfortunate Gan Oliver once Gan Oliver was dead! Suffice it to say that all of Dalar ken Halvar soon heard of the fate of that corpse; for terror is a potent weapon, and the niceties of Hatch's position were such that he could not afford to let any weapon lie unused.
But while Gan Oliver had been definitely (and definitively!) accounted for, no sign of the corpse of Lupus Lon Oliver had been found anywhere, and nobody could be found who had seen that young man escaping.
The ambush had taken place before midday, and it was now late in the afternoon. As Asodo Hatch and Oboro Bakendra returned to the scene of the slaughter, they found some of the Pang engaged in putting the turd of a dog into the mouth of every corpse – this placement of turds being a form of defilement which was traditional amongst the Pang.
There on the field of battle stood the beggars Grim, Zoplin and X'dex Paspilion, holding forth in witness of the mighty deeds of Asodo Hatch, Saint Hatch, savior of the people, upholder of the Way, beloved of god. They told of how Saint Hatch had, in days long gone and days yet recent, dispensed an equal justice to beggars, never shunning to give them the mercy of his wisdom.
With an even greater enthusiasm, the beggars told of how, in a time of dire trouble, the mere mention of the name of their beloved Saint Hatch had been sufficient to win them admission to the mountain halls which had ever previously been barred to them.
They told of how, in the ever so recent past, Saint Hatch had captained a ship crewed by the Nu-chala-nuth in a mighty war against the godless Ebrell Islander Lupus Lon Oliver.
Saint Hatch was greeted by those who had been listening to the beggars, and he was acclaimed by them.
Hatch accepted this acclaim, then continued his tour of Dalar ken Halvar. In due course, he came to the banks of the Yamoda, the slow and shallow river which wended its way through Dalar ken Halvar, which slushed through the swamps of the Vomlush and then wasted its substance in the huge and heat-vomiting pit known as the Hot Mouth.
Here Hatch paused on the site of his father's funeral pyre.
On the far side of the river, smoke was rising from present-day fires which were aflame in that quarter of the city known as Hepko Cholo. There the Pang and the Frangoni were united in making short work of those few Evolutionists who had not yet fled the city.
Asodo Hatch was by no means the only person in Dalar ken Halvar to have been severely vexed by the follies of Evolutionary Theory, and by the rapacity of the Perfect Master who preached that Theory; and there had been no shortage of willing volunteers ready to suppress the Evolutionary Heresy in the name of Nu-chala-nuth.
It was there on the river bank that Hatch said goodbye to his brother Oboro Bakendra, for Oboro chose to take a punt-ferry across the river, in the hope of being able to personally supervise the dead of Edgerley Eden, the centaur who had for so long preached the ludicrous and vexatious doctrines of evolution.
Hatch chose to remain alone at the site of his father's funeral pyre, and to settle himself in meditation.
But he was not to be allowed to so settle himself, for his meditations were scarcely begun when he was accosted by Shona.
"Ho, Hatch!" said Shona.
Hatch thought this scarcely an appropriate way for an emperor to be addressed. Still, he was new to the job, and maybe some of the fine detail would prove not to be in accordance with his expectations. So Hatch responded:
"Ho, Shona! A great day!"
"Great for whom?" said Shona, with surprising bitterness.
"That dogs should share their death with men, and men with dogs.
Is this greatness?"
Hatch found this challenge slightly incoherent, but there was no mistaking the emotional force behind it.
"I did what I had to," said Hatch, feeling slightly defensive.
"And what will you have to do in the future?" said Shona.
"All Parengarenga will be in outright revolution before the year is done."
"I don't think so," said Hatch.
"What can you offer them?" said Shona.
"The Combat College," said Hatch. "It has a cure-all clinic.
The treatment of syphilis, the quenching of cancer, the reconstruction of noses. The upgrading of faces and the suctioning of fat. Through such promise I can control the rulers of every region of the empire, and they in turn will control their people for me."
"I have not heard that the Combat College is yours to command," said Shona.
"Yet it will be," said Hatch. "It will open to me and mine, admit those I chose and deny its breach to all others. With the Combat College, I can safeguard the rule of the empire."
"For the moment," said Shona.
"Forever," said Hatch. "I have unleashed a religion militant.
I have set loose the Nu-chala-nuth. My people have consecrated themselves by blooding their swords in the service of faith. I am acclaimed as a saint already."
Unconsciously, Hatch let declamatory passion seep into his voice as he delivered himself of this speech. He spoke as if he addressed an audience of seventy thousands. Rhetoric was ever a Frangoni vice, and Hatch was true to the ways of his people: there was nothing he liked better than to unleash a speech.
"So," said Shona softly. "It can trick, cheat and kill. Oh, and make speeches! Great speeches, Hatch, are you proud of your speech, are you proud of… aagh! What's the use? You've decided, haven't you?"
"I did what I had to," said Hatch defensively.
Yet he was uncomfortably conscious of his guilt burden. He had brought the Free Corps to destruction, yet many of those people… well… Hatch had trained with them, had known them as companions and colleagues… and… he had feared for the future, hence had arranged murder. But was it not perhaps better to risk the future than do something which was… was what?
Unpardonable?
Suddenly, very sharply, Hatch remembered Lupus Lon Oliver.
Lupus had said that a man who kills himself hands to his son a sharp sword.
"I will not do it," muttered Hatch.
But…
"I have heard that the Nu-chala-nuth is no Way for women," said Shona suddenly.
"It is true," admitted Hatch.
"Then what future for women?" said Shona.
Hatch was about to say that the women must suffer what they must. Then caught himself. Because – of course! – Shona herself was a woman.
This came as something of a revelation to Hatch. For Asodo Hatch had never thought of the burly Shona as a woman, just as he had never thought of her as being one of the Pang, or one of the Yara, the Unreal – though she was all of those. He had always thought of Shona as being, well, Shona. His ally. His friend.
"The men must have something," said Hatch lamely.
Yes.
There was a lot of truth in that.
The recent unrest in Dalar ken Halvar had been sparked by the discontent of the lower orders, the slaves and the Yara, the slaves and the Unreal. They had hoped to win a better life for themselves, and they construed a better life in terms of material reward.
This was only natural.
A beggar in his rags, a beggar beset by fleas, a beggar with nothing but a dog-corpse for company, knows full well the importance of the material world. Others in like condition can be tempted to revolution in the hope of improving their material conditions. And why not? What have they got to lose? Hatch knew this of the poor: those who have been reduced to nothing will ultimately count their lives as nothing, and hence will risk all for next-to-nothing.
So the objective conditions of Dalar ken Halvar's poor had encouraged them to revolution, albeit to an unsuccessful and chaotically disorganized revolution which had stood no chance whatsoever of success until Asodo Hatch took charge of it.
But with the revolution now won – and won in the name of Nuchala-nuth, a religion which preached the equality of all men – what would be the results of a division of the spoils? As Hatch knew full well, an equal division of the wealth of Dalar ken Halvar would by no means glut the appetites of the many, for Dalar ken Halvar was poor. Parengarenga as a whole was poor. The entire continent had been wrecked and wasted by millennial mismanagement, by erosions and depletions, extinctions and eradications.
So since wealth was limited, and since its equal division would not secure the glut of dreams, what then could be offered to the men who had so suddenly been made equal members of a just society? Why, the rule of women, of course!
And Hatch, from his long study of politics, knew that the rule of women is a prize often offered to men. He knew Shona to be independent: a free-striding Startrooper who was the cash-manager of her household and mistress of her own destiny. He did not think she would like the future which was being offered to her under the rule of the Nu-chala-nuth.
And now she was standing in silence, her silence an accusation.
"What am I to do?" said Hatch. "I mean, I can kill myself, but… is that what you want?"
He was not speaking in jest.
And Shona knew it.
"Hatch," said Shona, "I… I don't have anything to say."
And with that she turned, and left him.
Shona was entirely without gratitude, and Hatch allowed himself to be hurt by that. After all, he had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that Shona and other Startroopers and Combat College were delayed or waylaid, being either prevented from entering the Combat College in response to its summons, or else being separated out from the Free Corps ranks as the Free Corps marched toward the Grand Arena.
Through such exertions, Hatch had saved those he thought of his closest friends, thinking that they would serve as a closeknit group of confidantes and advisers. He had thought to keep his friends during the loneliness of the long years of power which faced him.
But now…
It seemed that was not to be.
At least not as far as Shona was concerned.
With that thought in his mind, Hatch turned away from the Yamoda River. Evening gathered about him as he made his way back to the kinema. It was dark by the time he stood in front of the Eye of Delusions, his limbs heavy with fatigue, his skin tainted with the sweat of his long marches through Dalar ken Halvar, the taste of the red dust of the Plain of Jars upon his lips.
Paraban Senk had given up bluffing.
No insect-mandible human showed any more upon the Eye of Delusions. Instead, the Eye was a blank gray, and from it came a hissing like the falling of distant rain. Hatch had never seen the Eye fall blank before, and the sight of it affected him oddly.
He ventured to the lockway. The outermost door, of course, had failed entirely, but two doors of rock-hard kaleidoscope still stood between him and the Combat College. Would the doors acknowledge him?
The first of the remaining doors dissolved away to nothing.
Hatch stepped into the airlock. The kaleidoscope of the door reformed. No voice spoke to Hatch within the airlock. There was only the hiss of air, supplemented by another hiss – dull, dry, dead. The hiss of ancient vacuum.
The interior door dissolved away to nothing.
Hatch stepped into the cream-colored corridors of the Combat College. Stepped into the mountain of Cap Foz Para Lash. The corridor was littered with trash. Here the Free Corps membership had waited while the lockway airlock cycled them into the outside world a few at a time, and here were their combast ration tubes, their banana skins, their apple cores, their bits of fried whale blubber – the casual litter of their last taste of life.
They would have been happy. Well – disappointed to have realized that the Chasm Gates had not after all opened. But. Well, they had been promised a share of power, the chance to do something, to be something.
And Hatch – Asodo Hatch shook himself free from the past, and strode on into the future, waiting for the dorgi to come lurching out to challenge him.
The password!
What was the password?
Was there still a password? And had the old one changed? And what had the old password been in any case?
He could not remember!
Hatch hesitated.
Maybe the dorgi was expecting a password, would kill him if he didn't have it, the lockway should have given it to him, he didn't have it, couldn't remember it.
Then Hatch felt a dreadful temptation. He was tempted to go on, to challenge the dorgi. Password or no password. And if he died, well. He was ready for death. But. His wife. His child. His lover. All three were inside the Combat College. Hatch could not risk letting himself be killed by a homicidal machine simply for lack of a password.
So what should he do?
Well, Onica, Talanta, the Lady Iro Murasaki – they were all safe in the Combat College. That was no problem. Time was no problem. So Hatch should withdraw. He should at least get the old password. He would remember it himself, surely, if he was able to sit down in peace and think. Or someone else would know it, Shona would know it. And if there was a new password, why, the Eye of Delusions had a communications capability, Hatch could talk with Paraban Senk through the Eye, there was no reason to venture in any further, not now.
With this thought through, Hatch beat his retreat. But the lockway's innermost door refused to recognize him. The faintest hint of warmth remained to its iridescence, but it was rapidly cooling to the chill which dominated the entire Combat College.
"Senk!" said Hatch, raising his voice to a roar. "Let me out!"
Then he hammered on the kaleidoscope.
But there was no response, not from Senk, not from anyone.
So Hatch turned.
Slowly, slowly.
And ventured down the corridor at a funeral pace.
Ventured to its intersect with the dorgi's lair.
Where – Hatch risked a glance into the dorgi's lair, and saw not the beast, but, rather, the slop-slurped hunk-gunk dissolution which marked its wreckage. Hatch knew immediately what had happened. To the uninitiated, it would have looked as if the dorgi had melted.
But Hatch knew full well that the dorgi must have tried to use those of its weapons which were based upon the manipulation of probability. And those weapons had malfunctioned, thus destroying the dorgi.
Hatch stepped into the dorgi's lair, wanting to be sure, wanting to have the physical satisfaction of knowing that his much-hated enemy was really dead.
It was.
Of course.
And in its ruins there was something silver, something curiously winking-glinting. Cautiously, Hatch stooped. And picked it up. It was a small thing and a heavy thing, a thing heavier than lead, heavier than gold, heavier than depleted uranium. It was made of an intricate interweaving of shining wires, and it shimmered with its own unquenchable light.
Hatch knew what it was.
The thing which Asodo Hatch had found in the ruins of the dorgi was a mazadath, otherwise known as an Integrated Stabilizer.
In the technical literature of the Nexus, a lot of bold and confident jargon surrounded the nature and use of such devices. A mazadath lay at the heart of every Nexus machine which manipulated probability. A mazadath protected such a machine from being digested by the hazardous forces it manipulated. That was the theory, in any case – thought this mazadath appeared to have failed this dorgi!
The Nexus was a civilization based on the manipulation of probability, and a mazadath was an essential part of any machine designed to manipulate probability – but the uncomfortable truth was that humans could neither understand nor manufacture any such thing as a mazadath. The Nexus had purchased mazadaths in bulk from the Vangelis, a race of partially-disembodied alien creatures also known as the Shining Ones. Had it not been for the Vangelis, the entire transcosmic civilization of the Nexus would have been quite impossible.
So now Hatch had in his possession one of the essential components required for the building of a machine which could manipulate probability; though he knew full well that the supporting technologies were so complex that no such task could possibly be brought to fruition within his own lifetime.
Still – Hatch realized he was unconsciously engaging in an extended exercise in delay, for he was fearful of what lay ahead. Paraban Senk, the Teacher of Control who ruled the Combat College, was obviously not willing to let him leave. So he had to go onwards. A confrontation with Senk lay ahead of him, and Hatch was by no means sure that he would survive such a confrontation.
After all, if Senk got really angry with Hatch, then Senk could cancel the manufacture of food in the Combat College cafeteria. That way, Hatch would ultimately starve to death, if Senk continued to refuse to allow him out through the lockway. Or maybe Senk could pump all the air out of the Combat College. Was that possible? Hatch didn't know. But he had an uneasy suspicion that he might get round to finding out. The hard way.
Still.
He had no choice.
So, having pocketed the mazadath – it would make a nice souvenir, if he lived – Asodo Hatch strode on down the corridor.
Making for Forum Three.