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?'
