The Minister of Information flushed. It was well known that he had the ego (and raw talent) of ten. Rarely was he bested. It was this occasional display of omniscience that more than anything else kept the ministers of Crownesse personally loyal to Tatja Grimm.
“Urn, yes, Marget, I was not aware of that. However, and be that as it may,” he rushed ahead, “Oktar Profirio is the behind the Rebel use of artillery. He designed accurate and stable gun tubes. Your Majesty is aware that, of all things, this is what makes artillery the deadly weapon it is. It took us nearly half a century to develop such tubes. Profirio achieved the same in less than half a year. He is either a magician or a defector from our own military. Personally, I have never believed in magicians.” No one laughed. “The troops we sent Upcoast were lightly armed—no art’ry, no cavalry, no weapons heavier than the standard crossbow. It is no surprise that they were smashed, now that we know the enemy’s advantage. Profirio’s men may be provincial rabble, but his guns are damn accurate.”
“Fortunately, the Loyalists have some artillery, too. The most recent reports are from my Picchiul agents; they aren’t too specific about the Sfierranyii. Apparently the Loyalists managed to steal some of Profirio’s guns. Without this theft, the perfidious Profirio would now control all Picchiu Province. Instead, the Loyalists chased him north, to Kotta-svo-Picchiu. The Rebel command took refuge in rooms beneath the observatory. Loyalist fire destroyed that complex, and parts of the city. We know Profirio escaped with a large part of his army—”
“Excuse me, Minister Wechsler,” said Svir.
“Certainly. Don’t hesitate to ask your question, my man.”
Svir ignored Wechsler’s tone. “About the men who report from some vantage point on the accuracy of the artillery fire—”
“You’re thinking of the Forward Art’ry Observators.”
“Yes, that’s who I mean. With all this rain, how can they report back to the artillery batteries with fire control directions? I mean, isn’t there some new communication technique involved here?”
Wechsler stared for a moment; obviously, the question hadn’t occurred to him. Without FAOs, artillery was blind, and therefore useless. Then he saw the answer and smiled. “I fear you have been studying the stars so long, you’ve forgotten the state of things on the ground. At the fortieth parallel, the latitude of Kotta-svo-Picchiu, there are a number of clear days, even during the Waterfall. So heliographs may be used efficiently and—”
“Besides,” spoke Tatja as she stood up, “we’re talking about the foothills of the Doomsday range. That’s rugged country. If the Sfierranyii art’ry were based on the highlands south of the river, the gunmen would be in line of sight of Kotta-svo-Picchiu—they wouldn’t need Forward Observators.” She walked swiftly to the head of the table and motioned Haarm Wechsler to be seated. Her comment had an absentminded tone.
Usually Tatja let cabinet meetings drag on and on, till the ministers actually thought the plans decided upon were their own. But when she was truly impatient, she would let the ministers talk for a bit, then break in and tell them—in great detail—how to do their jobs. This was exactly what she did now. “I think we have the facts. You’ve seen the other reports that the fastboat brought back. Through no fault of your own, we were smashed. According to the reports, Profirio still has thirteen thousand men and two hundred gun tubes of six-inch caliber. Apparently the Sfierranyii have something like eight thousand men and perhaps one hundred and fifty gun tubes. North of Profirio are the uncommitted Doomsdaymen.
“We’ve three goals: to prevent the destruction of any more astronomical artifacts, to destroy Profirio’s army, and to capture Oktar Profirio himself.” There was uneasy shifting among her audience; the high ministers saw no particular necessity for the first and third.
“Now, here is how we will accomplish these goals.” She sat down and spoke more rapidly and with less inflection. “In four or five days the Waterfall will end, and we will be in the Turnabout. Before that happens we will dispatch every fastboat in our command Upcoast. I will accompany the expedition.” Around the table, Svir saw the incredulous faces; the Crown never went on military expeditions. “We won’t bother with ships of the line. They’re too slow and would be caught in the Turnabout. I figure we can transport something like fifteen thousand men with supporting equipment and art’ry by fastboat alone. This time we won’t try a pincers. We’ll land on the Loyalist side of the lines and depend on the mountains and the Doomsdaymen to keep the enemy from retreating further north.
“Here is the order of operations: the 336th and 403rd Infantry Battle Groups will compose the landing force, with the direct support of the 25th and 50th Art’ry Batteries. At present the following fastboats are available: Five to Eight, Eleven, Thirteen, Seventeen to Thirty-five …” The high ministers recovered from their shock and began writing as fast as they were able; stenographers were barred from cabinet meetings. Once before, Marget had rattled off a battle plan like this. The awful thing was that no matter how off-the-cuff her comments seemed, they were consistent with the facts. Marget knew her military establishment like no leader in history. Her orders extended to the third level of organization. It would have taken the military staffs of the various services ten days of coordinated planning to produce the order she was creating now.
The first time this happened, there had been audible snickers from the ministers. They had repeatedly stopped and questioned her. That had been the only time Svir had seen Tatja enraged. Her outburst had equaled the tantrums attributed to the Mad Kings of the sixth and seventh centuries; several ministers had reverted to common status after that incident. Experience is a good teacher, and Tatja’s plans
Finally she stopped. The ministers looked at their notes, and saw with glazed relief that the order was complete. She smiled pleasantly and asked, “Are there any questions?” There was an exhausted chorus of “No” from around the table. It would be several hours before they or their aides could devise any questions. “Very well,” said Tatja, “I will be available to answer any questions that do occur to you. If there is to be a deviation from this plan, I want to hear of it immediately. With this matter, I don’t believe in delegating decisions. It’s another of my … quirks. I expect to be on my way by the night wake period on the third. I’ll see you then, if not earlier.”
It was a dismissal. Svir followed the others toward the door. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The plan did not require his services. He had rather enjoyed watching the other ministers sweat a little, especially Wechsler. On the other hand, it all bolstered his suspicions that his post was a sop for his silence. With a great show of courtesy he offered Haarm Wechsler the door. Wechsler grunted and walked out. Just then Tatja spoke. “Stay a minute, Svir.” From the corner of his eye, Svir saw Wechsler’s retreating back stiffen at these words. He could imagine the other’s suspicion and puzzlement.
When the others were gone and the door shut, Tatja spoke again. “Have a seat, Svir. I didn’t include you in my order of operations because your duties will depend on factors I can’t predict, while the military situation will probably work according to plan—though not the plan I just gave our friends.” Svir sat back in the chair, rather enjoying being the confidant of the most powerful person in the world. “I have a feeling that we are going to be dealing with the Doomsdaymen. Ostensibly we needed their support in order to keep this Profirio from retreating further north. As an astronomer, you’re the only cabinet member who can speak to their priests with sympathy. And I know they respect your work in astrometry.”
“But you would be just as competent to handle them.”
“Sure, and I’m competent to do anything my cabinet ministers can do. But there’s only one of me. During the next few days, there will be times when my actions are so contrary to the interests of Crownesse that the ministers will balk. Since the Mad Kings, the civil service has found ways of defending itself against the arbitrary ruler—and still maintain a tradition of selfless loyalty to the crown.
“There are only three people I really trust. You and Cor are two of them. You know enough of my motives to go along with my plans even when they seem absurd to my faithful ministers.” She gave a lopsided smile. “Cor’s going to have to take a vacation from her publishing business. I want you two to handle those chores I don’t have the time for—and which the others might… misunderstand.”
She sat back in her chair. Svir had seen this change before, but it always seemed spectacular to him. At one moment she was taut, intense, directing a mesh of plans that stretched across the planet and beyond. Then, in an instant, she was a relaxed, seductive woman.
“I only wish Ked Maccioso were here too. He has most of your qualifications—and he’s a native of Picchiu. By now he’s probably gotten over the way I used him and the barge.” The Tarulle company had received the Bayfast
