The World Menders

A few minutes later he faced Coordinator Paul’s familiar grin. “Well, Farrari? It’s been a long time.”

“We’d better have a meeting,” Farrari said. “All the specialists who know anything that touches on this revolution of mine. Can you get me back to base tonight?”

“Of course.”

“What it amounts to,” Coordinator Paul said kindly, “is that you’ve worked a miracle to no purpose. You’ve created a revolution without a cause.”

Farrari wrenched his gaze away from Liano. “Half a miracle,” he said. “And I didn’t realize what an evil half miracle it was until I stood there on the depot roof and looked at Scorv. As someone pointed out to me a long time ago, the average rasc has never seen an ol. Even if I could somehow transform the olz into a real army, they’d gain their freedom only by destroying a good and creative race of people. So now I don’t know what to do.”

“Revolution without a cause,” the coordinator said again, savoring the phrase. “Except that it’s not really a revolution. You hand your ol something to carry and say, “March!” and when you have enough olz marching you have the illusion of an army—until the moment comes when it has to fight.”

Farrari nodded glumly. “As far as I can figure out, the olz want to do only two things: worship the rascz, and die.”

“It would seem so,” the coordinator mused, “and yet—when the olz march as a group, durrlz flee from them and soldiers ride past them fearing to arouse them with a threatening gesture. Strange. The olz who built the old city of Scory must have been mighty warriors to have their utterly servile descendants inspire such fear. Your revolution may be a failure, Farrari, but you’ve given this staff enough study material to last it for years if it can survive the shock of an ol revolt.”

“All I want to do now is get the olz out of this safely,” Farrari said. “If they simply turn around and head for home, what will the rascz do?”

The coordinator looked about the table, inviting comment, and each specialist seemed interested only in deciphering his notes. Liano was finding the far wall fascinating, and she continued to avoid Farrari’s eyes. Peter Jorrul, sitting in a motor chair at the side of the room, looked at Farrari.

“Until they get home, I don’t know,” the coordinator said. “After they get home, it will depend on the individual durrl. Some may treat their olz better; others, when they get over being frightened, are likely to be extremely angry. I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

“The problem,” Farrari said, “is that IPR has no one in a position to influence Rasczian thinking.”

“That’s one of the problems,” the coordinator said, smiling wistfully “It’s been noticed before. In fact, my predecessor left me a memo about it.”

Jorrul leaned forward and thumped the side of his chair with his uninjured arm. “If Farrari had stayed there as kru’s priest—”

“No,” the coordinator interrupted firmly. “In that case there would have been no illusory uprising about which Rasczian thinking would need to be influenced.”

“But he can go back now!” Joni said excitedly. “Have Dr. Garnt store his pretty face, dress him in the proper robes, and put him down at the city gate. Everyone will recognize him—his portrait is on display at the temple and in the palace and in half a dozen public places. And because he was a miracle, they never appointed a successor. They’ll think his reappearance is due to the ol crisis, and he speaks enough Rasczian now to walk right in and take over the country.”

“Impossible,” the coordinator said. “That would amount to a permanent assignment. After Farrari’s disappearance, headquarters issued a regulation. No permanent assignments to CS men, temporary assignments only in the direct furtherance of their cultural studies. It saves you from a dubious honor, Farrari. On the kru’s death—and His Present Dissipated Majesty won’t last much longer—his priest becomes a Custodian of the Eyes and dedicates the remainder of his life to the care of the tomb of his lamented master. It amounts to imprisonment.”

“I’ll risk it gladly,” Farrari said, “if there’s a chance of bringing about permanent changes in the condition of the olz.”

The coordinator shook his head. “Permanence is a highly elusive thing.”

“What could I do that would have a shock effect that the rascz will never forget?”

“You couldn’t find a spark for your olz,” Jorrul grumbled. “Now you’re trying to find a shock for the rascz. I don’t believe in shocks and sparks.”

“I’d like to see those carvings of the kru’s priest,” Farrari said. “Do you have teloids?”

The coordinator sent for the teloids, and Jorrul rode away to confer with Isa Graan about reproducing the robes of a kru’s priest. Farrari snapped the cubes into a projector and studied the projections: a full-faced carving showing him standing meditatively behind the kru’s throne; two side views; and a dramatic representation of the moment when he had deftly bisected the alleged loaf of bread. He called for a mirror, and while the others looked on perplexedly he compared his ol countenance with the faces in the carvings.

Jorrul returned, saw what he was doing, and said sarcastically, “You’re lucky. When the doctor restores your face, he’ll have a first-rate portrait to copy—and the rasc artists aren’t quite the realists I’d thought. They improved your looks considerably.”

“I think I can make it do,” Farrari said finally. “In the proper setting the resemblance should be obvious.”

“What are you talking about?” Jorrul demanded.

“Impact,” Farrari said. “Influencing Rasczian thinking. The shock and the spark.”

“Graan thinks he can duplicate the robes externally, but you’ll have to be careful who’s around when you Ike them off. There’s no possible way of finding out what they’re lined with. I told him to get started.”

“Tell him to get unstarted. I don’t want his robes.”

Jorrul thought for a moment. “You may have a point. No one knows what happened to the robes you left there. They probably enshrined them. It might be more effective if you wore the same apprentice costume you wore before and let them furnish the robes.”

“No.”

“We can discuss it later. The important thing now is to get Garnt started on your face.”

“I like my face the way it is.” “What are you going to do?”

“Just what you suggested. Present myself at the city gate and save the rascz from a catastrophe they don’t know they have.”

“As an ol?”

“Right.”

“You’re insane!”

The coordinator was watching Farrari. “Will you need anything?”

“Some ol agents to help with my army. The timing is going to be delicate.”

“I meant—will you need anything in the way of special equipment?”

“It isn’t exactly special equipment,” Farrari said, “but I’d like to have a loaf of bread.”

XIX