“We will when we have completed our business with you,” answered Mikel around the lump of hatred in his gullet.
“What business? Your own ruination? Are you aware—”
“Be still.”
“No. You—peacebreaker—”
Mikel grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him till his teeth rattled. “Be still and listen.” Arkezhan stared at the younger, stronger man and the grimness behind him. “Sit down. Over there.” Mikel hustled him to a chair a few meters off.
The men posted themselves, alert, two of them at the terminal. Vahi began to monitor the house and its activities. Olver called up outside views to cover every direction. Now and then he magnified for a closer scan.
Mikel paced to and fro before the chair. Arkezhan gripped its arms and perforce looked up. His features writhed.
The winter seemed to speak through Mikel. “You know full well why we are here. You deliberately provoked my father Wei, Captain Belov, to the point where his sole choice was to avenge his honor and the honor of his family.”
Arkezhan rallied. “Nonsense. If he was so unreasonable as to take offense at a few remarks, he could have made complaint later. The dishonor sprang from his behavior, there before the Regnant”
“He would not repeat your vile words in a suit at law for the whole nation to hear.”
I exaggerate, Mikel knew. My father did lose control. But he was goaded beyond a proud man’s endurance. And he was my father and the captain of my clan.
“Well, he could have complained at once,” Arkezhan said.
“The Regnant would have referred the matter to the Chief Enactor.” If the Regnant did not simply dismiss it on the spot. He must have heard what went on, and spoke no word. “Thereupon you would have kissed Mahu Rahman’s … hand … as usual, and suffered not so much as a reproof.”
Arkezhan flushed and started to rise. “Now you impugn my honor.” Mikel gestured and he sank back. “This is intolerable. I shall enter criminal charges against you and your gang.”
Mikel shook his head. “No. You shall admit your own guilt directly to the Regnant. He will proclaim it, absolving my father of every blame.”
Arkezhan gasped. “You dare—you, who have broken into my home, terrified and assaulted my people—”
“In view of the mitigating circumstances, and at your urgent request, the Regnant will publicly annul every offense of ours. He will emphasize that the honor of Clan Belov remains unstained.”
“How can you imagine this?”
Mikel shrugged and grinned a bit. “I daresay the Chief Enactor will have prevailed on him. You see, if it does not come about, we will kill you.”
Arkezhan gaped like one stunned.
“We will then make the truth known to the whole world,” Mikel went on. “And then, of course, we will ourselves die—free. The story will live on.”
“To the disgrace of your clan,” Arkezhan said frantically.
“Oh, no. Do you suppose we haven’t given it thought? Similar occurrences in the past came to be regarded as glorious. Our deaths will atone, as my father’s did for a fault that was not even his. The Belovs will remember us in pride. Tahalla will. Tell me, though, how can Clan Socorro ever lose the infamy?”
Arkezhan sat mute.
Mikel halted his pacing. “You will properly serve your people, you, their captain, if you do what we ask,” he said. “The Regnant will doubtless pardon your admitted wrongdoing. That should suffice.”
In his mind, he will certainly never pardon us. We must always be on guard against a sly vengeance. I will encourage every Belov household to keep arms and train in their use.
“Think,” Mikel said. “Do not be slow about it.”
“Absolutely not,” Olver called. “Look.”
Mikel went over to the screens. Men were emerging from the garden. Olver enlarged the view. They straggled, unskilled, but they moved resolutely and they carried hunting weapons. A skyward scan showed two cars approaching.
“That Dammas,” Olver opined. “A Socorro, but a man. He’s pulled together those who fled from the house, equipped them from the gamekeeper’s lodge, and sent for help from other homes.”
Mikel’s followers reached for their lethally loaded guns. Some cursed. A sudden, strange detachment came over him. Is this how soldiers felt in the old days? he wondered. He turned back to his prisoner. “You can prevent a fight,” he said. “Tell them to hold off.”
“I—I do not know if I can—by now.” Arkezhan got to his feet. His head lifted, his tone steadied somewhat. “Or if I should.”
No, went Mikel’s cold thought, your captaincy would ever after be hollow, wouldn’t it?
“Maybe they’ll only lay siege,” Vahi said.
“Till the Regnancy hears, if it hasn’t already, and sends reinforcement,” Olver replied.
If the Chief Enactor dares, Mikel thought. He is not popular with most of the clans. He must know the consequences will be unforeseeable. That was part of what we counted on. But in any case, we will have overwhelming strength against us.
Arkezhan gained nerve. “Now that they are heartened, my folks will not tolerate what they realize is my humiliation,” he said. “And they will, absolutely, have exact justice for my death. They have the same historical examples to cite that you do, and more clearly applicable. Yield, and perhaps I can negotiate safe conduct for you out of this trap you have closed on yourselves.”
Mikel sighed. “That is impossible for us. Have you enough rudimentary sense of honor to understand? We will fight, and no one shall take any of us alive.” He slid his killer pistol from the sheath. A harsh glee leaped. “Least of all you.”
“No,” proclaimed a new voice.
7
It came not from any throat or any instrument. Maybe the walls of the house reverberated with it, soft though it was. The men outside must have heard it too, for they stopped in their tracks.
The voice was a deep contralto, calm and implacable. “Desist.” Abruptly, heatlessly, every weapon within a kilometer slumped into uselessness.
Down on the grass, men stood as if frozen, or sank to their knees. Three screamed and bolted back into the
