of hope. But we were young! We believed! We truly thought justice could conquer regardless of the odds.'
'You mean,' said Sarazin, incredulously, 'you – you really did mean to liberate the slaves?' 'Justice, as I said, was our motivator,' said Fox.
'But is not justice the rule of law? And are not property rights the foundation of law? And are not slaves property?' 'Slaves,' said Fox, with undisguised anger, 'are people.' 'Perhaps. But property first and foremost.'
You think the lives of some worth more than the lives of others?' said Fox. 'Of course!' said Sarazin.
It would be tiresome to detail the convoluted political argument which then ensued. And pointless, since the wise will already be familiar with this perennial debate, while the unwise are unlikely to modify their prejudices in the light of reason. Let it simply be said, then, that neither combatant changed the opinions of the other by so much as an iota.
Fox was fierce and passionate – and a demagogue of considerable power. But Sarazin had law and convention on his side, and, thinking he would win easily, at first argued lightheartedly. Neither the wise nor the unwise will be surprised to learn that he himself became passionate as the debate proceeded, that the tempers of both participants shortened, and that they departed on bad terms, both thinking less of each other than they had before.
The next day, Farfalla summoned Sarazin to her throne room, which typified her palace: it was uncomfortable, inconvenient and built to an inhuman scale. To get there involved a weary climb to the top of the High Court, a tower so high that Farfalla's throne afforded her a view over all of Selzirk. There she confronted her son in private.
You have met with Fox,' said Farfalla. 'I ordered you not to, yet you did.' Yes! But what right have you to deny me my father?'
'None. I see that now. I was wrong to try, and I apologise. You may meet Fox freely, whenever you see fit. If Fox makes you a madman like himself, well… we'll worry about that when it happens. Right now, I have more urgent concerns. Three days ago, you met a man.' 'Did I?' said Sarazin. 'Yes! In the Cat's Head, a brothel of the worst repute.' 'Men,' said Sarazin drily, 'are not to my taste.'
'Don't play innocent with me!' said Farfalla. The man's name was Qid. He serves in the Watch.'
'Well,' said Sarazin, 'and what of it? Thodric Jarl serves in the Watch. I see Jarl from time to time. Is that wrong?' This man Qid asked after your hopes and dreams.'
Who told you this?' said Sarazin fiercely, shocked that his secrets had been exposed. Was it Lod?' 'Oho!' said Farfalla. ' Does Master Lod have a part in this?' 'He did set up my meeting with Qid,' admitted Sarazin.
Then I will have a word or two with Master Lod before I'm done,' said Farfalla grimly. 'But rest assured, it was not Lod who betrayed you. I have other eyes and ears in the city. Furthermore, the Regency has spies who work as hard as mine. Exactly what treason were you plotting with Qid? Tell!'
'I'm no fool,' said Sarazin angrily. 'I let him do the talking.'
'So far so good. But will you shun him henceforth, or are you meeting again? Well? Are you?' 'I'm not saying,' said Sarazin, turning to go.
'Don't you walk out on me!' said Farfalla, catching him by the shoulder.
Which was too much to bear. She had chastised him like a little child, and now Sarazin turned in fury. His fist clenched, striking. Ump! Something hit him. And his legs were gone, kicked away, he was falling, going down towards the stone. He landed heavily and lay there with the breath knocked out of him. His mother looked down at him. She was utterly relaxed. Impassive. Watchful. And Sarazin, sore, bruised and shocked, thought: -She could have killed me! Farfalla resumed her throne.
Sarazin, shaken, picked himself up off the floor. He had never before been hit so hard, so fast, so suddenly. What was Farfalla? A witch? (She was in fact a master of Simoya Dance, a mind/body training system perfected in Selzirk, and unknown to the world at large.) 'How did you do that?' said Sarazin. But Farfalla, ignoring his question, continued thus:
Tvly spies tell me the Regency wants you dead. They will send agent provocateurs to tempt you into evil, then they will destroy you through the due process of the law, hoping to destroy or discredit me in the process. If Qid is not their man, they will have him under surveillance by now, for they have spies everywhere.'
'I won't meet him again,' said Sarazin sullenly, 'so don't worry. If you're quite through, I'm leaving. I'll send you Lod, since you're so keen to have a piece of him as well.' Wait about I' said Farfalla. 'I haven't finished yet I'
'What is it now?' said Sarazin, turning back to his mother. Who is Jaluba?' said Farfalla. 'Pardon?' said Sarazin. 'Jaluba,' said his mother impatiently. 'Is she a whore?' 'I don't know what you're talking about,' said he.
'Then read this,' said Farfalla, brandishing a letter, a translation of which had been made for her by her inter- preter that very morning, 'and you'll know soon enough.' One glance at the letter told Sarazin who it was from. You've been intercepting my mail!' he said, outraged. 'If I don't the Regency will,' retorted Farfalla. Then sat back and watched him as he read. Well?' said Farfalla, once Sarazin had finished. 'How did you come by this?' he said.
'My agents intercept Galish kafilas from south and north some leagues before they reach Selzirk. Thus I get at least a few of my own letters before Plovey does. An expensive business – but the cheap alternative might well be an early death.'
Then I’ll tell Jaluba to write with less passion in future,' said Sarazin. 'I for my part will be circumspect in my reply.'
'You'll not write back to this whore,' said Farfalla in unsuppressed fury. 'If you're known to have contact with an agent in or of the Rice Empire, that alone may be evidence sufficient for the Regency to impeach-'
'Impeach! Impeach!' said Sarazin. Having made some concessions to his mother already that day, he was in no mood to surrender on this point also. 'Are our lives entire to be ruled by this mythical impeachment?' 'Politics is our life whether we like it or not.'
Tour life, you mean,' said Sarazin. 'You've got the fun of it, the command of secret agents, rights of release and pardon, powers over half the best jobs in Selzirk. You've got-'
'Responsibility,' said Farfalla, cutting him off. 'A responsibility to keep us alive. Both of us, if possible.' 'Then what have I got?'
A rhetorical question. But it earnt itself a straight answer nonetheless:
'You've got your education. Since you won't be fit to join the army for some time yet, concentrate on your studies with Elkin. Also, Thodric Jarl has consented to continue your combat training, so you've that to work on as well.'
The river-fever does no lasting damage – except when it kills – so by late summer in the year Alliance 4325 Sarazin was most definitely once more fighting fit.
The army thinks your enlistment delayed indefinitely by disease,' said Farfalla. 'But you know yourself you've made a perfect recovery. I can see that for myself – as can others. It would be safer for all of us if you joined up now.'
That would upset the army surgeons,' said Sarazin blandly, confident his mother would indulge him in this small matter. Their professional judgment would be called into question.' 'Don't give me that nonsense,' said Farfalla. She spoke so curtly that Sarazin, hurt, felt momentarily tearful. She had terminated his intrigues with Qid. She had cancelled his correspondence with Jaluba. Was he not going to be allowed any freedom whatsoever? He mastered his emotions then said:
'I won't be a soldier. I couldn't stand it. A lifetime of garrison routine with that drunken mob of foul-mouthed oafs? It would kill me.' What do you -want then?' said Farfalla.
To be what I feel I have the ability to be. To make the most of myself. To fulfil the purpose for which I was born.'
His mother would have wanted as much for him, had they lived in a time and a place where ambition did not promise death. As it was…
You were born,' said Farfalla, 'as the natural consequence of an act of lust. That's all there is to it. You understand?'
It hurt her to talk of his birth so coldly. Sarazin, her firstborn. A child conceived in love. Worshipped at birth as something sacred. His hand so small, clutching her finger to tightly! Yet talk harshly she must, to try to make him see sense.
