“Why?”
“Why did they do it, or why do I think so?”
“Why do you think so.”
Shan wiped his nose. His nose kept running. It had started on Hobbs Land and had gone on ever since. “Because when Stenta Thilion was killed—even I knew who she was—everyone knew Voorstod had done it. When the Ahabar army was mobilized and set up the blockade, everyone approved. Voorstod is a boil up the ass of civilization, and everyone was ready for it to be lanced. We expected Ahabar to invade.”
“And?”
“And nothing. One account I watched accused Wilhulmia of a failure of will. Another said she could not bring herself to the slaughter of Gharm which would result inside Voorstod.”
“And?”
“And nothing, Churry. Half an Ahabarian year, and the blockade is still there, and everything is quiet as a damned grave. That’s so unlikely it screams of machinations behind the scenes. You’ve read about the Voorstoders enough to know what they’re like. Do you really think they’ve stayed quiet for half a year?”
“And your thought is that someone has taken some Hobbs Land God seeds into Voorstod and planted them, eh? Isn’t that pure supposition?”
“Not quite pure.” Shan giggled, caught himself. “When we left Hobbs Land, there were a group of Hobbs Landers also ready to leave. The group included the Topman of Settlement One—which, incidentally, is where the Departed God was for thirty-some odd years—and his mother and a young girl I’d seen singing at the settlement. The three of them had that determined but depressed look that always reminds me of military training, when you get told off to do something dangerous. You can’t refuse. You want to do it well, but you don’t want much to die in the attempt, though that’s possible. You go off in this mood of depressed determination, carrying yourself on will alone. I recognized that kind of expression on the women’s faces.”
“So?”
“What I’m saying is, this was not a farmboy and his momma and daughter going off for a visit to the kinfolk. The three of them had some great purpose, at least the women did. So I decided to push a bit and see what they said. I’d noticed one of those temples at their management complex, and I asked about it.
“The Topman spun me a line. He didn’t want me to know why they’d built it.”
“And,” prodded Churry.
“And, when you’re going through a Door, there’s a destination listing behind a panel on the wall of the waiting room.”
“I know.”
“Our destination was Chowdari, and the destination under ours was Fenice upon Ahabar.” Shan fell silent, waiting, wondering if he had said enough, or too much.
“There’s something else. I can see it in your face,” said Churry.
“I asked Archives to search for the three Hobbs Landers on Ahabar, see if there was any reference to their arriving or to the purpose of their visit. I knew the Topman’s name; he’d introduced himself to us when we came to his settlement: Sam Girat. It was a long chance, really, but as it turned out, Archives couldn’t have missed them if it had tried. They were at the concert hall when Stenta Thilion died, sitting with the military Commander and his daughter, right across from the Queen. You saw the account! It was replayed for days, until we were all thoroughly sick of it! The Hobbs Land girl was the one who sang the battle hymn. The woman saved Stenta’s life, temporarily. After the tragedy, they disappeared. Into Voorstod, I believe.”
“To plant their seeds?”
“Possibly. Maybe we’ll know soon. Ahabar can’t keep the blockade there forever. Presumably something has to happen. I understand Authority has been making rumbling noises, demanding that the blockade be raised.”
Churry shook his head and grinned unpleasantly. “Everyone in the System knows the Religion Advisory has been bribed by the Voorstoders. Well, well. What are you really afraid of, Shan Damzel?”
Shan shook for a moment. Whenever he thought about fear, he remembered it. Absolute, bowel-loosening fear, of drowning in glop. Of suffocating inside something that would not let go.
“It could swallow us,” he said, his voice shaking. “If it’s swallowing the Voorstoders, it could swallow us.”
“And if it is beneficent?”
Shan shook his head, eyes wide. “Don’t you see, it doesn’t matter. Beneficent or not. Unlike my fool of a sister, you know that, Churry. You of all people …”
Churry smiled again, this time almost fondly. “Yes, I do know that,” he said. “The prophetess was quite clear, wasn’t she? She didn’t differentiate between bad and good. She just told us to let nothing stop us from being ourselves. Whatever we are.”
Churry turned for a few moments to the food and drink on the table beside him, which gave him time to think. He offered hospitality to his guest. When this politeness had been complied with, Churry asked, “You’re turning this matter over to me, are you?”
Shan sighed in relief. “Yes. I can’t get any further with it. Reticingh asked some questions of the Advisory for me, through Native Matters, I think, but the result was inconsequential. I had hoped the Advisory would become frightened and do something, but all they did was argue. Even our High Baidee representatives didn’t share my concern. I don’t have the authority or the money to do anything more about it on my own.”
“Do anything about it. Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning killing it,” whispered Shan. “Meaning killing it, before it spreads any farther.”
• A small item on System News mentioned the partial withdrawal of the blockading force around Voorstod. Though the land blockade would be continued indefinitely, Voorstod was no longer to be shut off from the sea. The fisheries could get on with their business.
Howdabeen Churry watched these developments with a good deal of interest. The question of the Hobbs Land Gods had been generally known for some time, but neither
