Kissur proved to Bemish that it was crystal clear - the guy was rotten all
the way through, complete as a water putrefied nut. Hanged Adini visited
Bemish's dreams for a week or two and then stopped. The painting with the
dragon and the princess Terence, of course, returned to the palace the same
day with apologies.
Five carts and priests dressed in heavy brocade pallias came for the
painting.
In a month, Bemish arrived at Assalah accompanied by a large retinue of
investors. Shavash organized a brilliant reception for them in a temple
complex located about twenty kilometers away from the spaceport - the Black
Valley.
About two and half thousand years ago, one would have found there a
wonderful Temple of Isii-ratouph, who was depicted then not as a squirrel
but rather as a webbed snake and was considered to be not a woman but a man.
Nothing was left from the old temple besides the huge columns - and right
around here, about a kilometer away, the sacred gardens began with chapels
strewn here and there.
The reception was wonderful. Blooming rhododendrons stood as if dressed
in multihued fur coats, brocade leg and jasmine fragrances rode over the
aroma from the delicacies and tame squirrel-ratouphs with gilded tails
jumped amidst the invited guests. Assuming a certain ignorance of Weian
history, the dishes served to the guests could be taken for the exact copy
of the delicacies present here ten years ago at the province governor's
appointment celebration.
The guests were served with a wondrous lamb, just lanced and grilled
for a god (the gods were fed smells and the guests would be fed meat) and
Shavash stood and made a short speech. Shavash said that he was happy to
inform the guests that the territory belonging to the company had obtained
immunity by a sovereign's bill - it was now exempt from the local officials'
jurisdiction and the company had revenue and judicial rights within its
territory.
"However," Shavash immediately reassured, "the company won't really
have to pay taxes since the sovereign's bill gives it extensive tax deferral
for the next two years.
Once the dumbfounded guests had digested the pleasant news, that
somewhat compromised the state sovereignty in the company's favor, Shavash
continued that poor communications was one of the main Assalah drawbacks,
considered at the examination of the project - the direct highway to the
capital had been built in sovereign Irshahchan times and the road to the
rich Liss region was cut off forty kilometers away from Assalah by the
second largest Empire river. Shavash was happy to inform the guests that the
state had already allocated funds for the road and the bridge construction.
Why, would you think though, should the government bustle about? If
Assalah needs it, let Assalah build it, Assalah has loads of dough, why
would you spend budget money in a starving country?
Large investors are an intelligent crowd and they all took a note of
Shavash's part at the presentation and the very polite attitude displayed by
the first minister Yanik towards him. Five people or so asked Bemish if he
was going to limit himself to Assalah or to create a Weian stocks investment
fund.
After Shavash's speech, Trevis, having met Shavash in person for the
first time, approached him trying to clarify the tax referral situation.
Shavash, however, avoided a direct answer.
"Don't worry, either way this company will not pay taxes," he said
imperturbably.
Here, a cute girl appeared in front of Trevis, the girl held a silver
tray, of ram grilled with plants and roots, in her hands. The girl bowed and
sang that an ancient custom commanded to meet a guest with a black
sacrificial ram.
Trevis took a piece with pleasure.
"A great custom," he noted, trying tender meat out, "so coming back to
tax exempts..."
"The custom is great," Shavash replied, "but it's not exactly like
this."
Trevis raised his eyebrows.
"The ancient custom says to meet a guest with a grilled black dog," the
official explained.
Trevis almost dropped the plate and, then, he burst in laughter.
"Why doesn't he want to become a first minister?" Trevis asked Bemish,
when Shavash stepped aside.
"The Emperor will never allow it."
"He is an amazing man."
"Yes. Once he expressed his regret about the Earthmen not having
conquered the Empire and enslaved him. He said that by today he would have
been the Earth Emperor's senior trusted personage..."
Trevis grinned.
"I would like to have slaves," he said suddenly, "especially people
like Shavash. Do you have slaves, Bemish?"
Bemish frowned slightly. Adini was his first slave.
"Yes. These three, cleaning up the tables - but I haven't bought them,
I have obtained them as gifts from different people."
"We are investing money in a funky business," Ronald Trevis muttered.
Bemish nodded heedlessly.
"By the way," Trevis said, "when we were driving by your villa, I
noticed a tall peasant standing in the crowd, he was missing his left ear. I
am sure that I saw him next to the hotel in the capital and he was not
dressed as a peasant then, he sat deep inside a Hurricane."
"You are as watchful as usual, Ronald," Bemish said. "He is not a
peasant, he is one of the best known Weian criminals."
"Oh, my God! Does he want to fleece some foreign sheep?"
"To the contrary, doing a favor to some influential people, he is
protecting these sheep from some lice."
"What are you whispering about?"
Bemish turned around. Kissur stood in front of him, dressed in Earthern
clothing and not even a bit drunk. During the whole evening, Kissur hadn't
caused any disturbance yet - he hadn't broken a single investor's jaw and
hadn't washed anybody in a pool. The reason was very simple - Kissur was
with his wife, Idari.
"Let me introduce you," Bemish said, "Ronald Trevis, the head of LSV
bank. Kissur, an ex-owner of the same villa."
"Also an ex-minister of the Empire," Kissur finished with a grin. And
he added right away, talking to Bemish. "I didn't know that the sovereign
bestowed you with immunity."
"You see, Kissur, after you gave me the villa, the local official
herded the peasants to fix the road for free, to curry my favor. I don't
want the local officials to curry my favor this way. And I promise you to
fleece the peasants three times less and to hang five times less criminals."
"That's exactly wrong," Kissur stated. "In order to be respected, you
have to hang twice more, otherwise why do you need this immunity? What do
you think, Trevis?"
It was ten in the evening, when the temple abbot noiselessly approached
Bemish, standing on a lawn and encircled by the guests, and whispered in his
ear that Shavash wanted to talk to him in private. Bemish finished the
cocktail and left the guests unnoticed.
He found Shavash on the temple tower second floor - the small official
stood with a wine glass in his hand and he seemed to clink the glass with a
goddess dancing in the alcove. Having heard the Bemish's steps, he turned
around. Bemish brandished his hand welcomingly and sat in an oak-backed
armchair standing to the right of the window.
"Trevis says that you will raise twice more money than you need. People
really stand in lines to buy a piece of Weia if Bemish himself handles their
finances. What are you going to do with the extra money?"
"I could create a couple of funds," Bemish said.
Shavash, half turned to the window, gestured with the glass. Outside of
the window in the sunset light, the dense gardens' greenery and the even
squares of rice patties gleaned. Ivory imps danced above the window and
smiled mockingly at the official. Bemish noticed that Shavash was drunk -
not as much as he was at Weian feasts when everybody walked on their hands
and knees by a night's end, but much more that it was customary on
Earthmen's business meetings.
"This planet," Shavash said, "is a planet of mad opportunities. It has
the least developed natural resources in the Galaxy. It has human resources.
It doesn't have money."
Shavash turned around abruptly.
"You will bring this money in, Terence. How much can you raise for your
funds?"
Bemish contemplated.
"I could raise five hundred million in the first year. Then it depends
on the fund's profitability."
"You will sell what I say and buy what I say. First year your profit
will be seven hundred million. Your real profit will be one billion. But you
will give three hundred million to me. Do you understand it?"
Bemish paused.
"They jail you for such things."
Shavash leaned over the Earthman.
"You are mistaken, Terence. They jail you for such things on Earth. On
Weia, they cut your head off."
"Why are you risking your head for money?" The pale vice-minister's
face with mad golden eyes and raised eyebrows' tips moved right to the
Earthman.
"You understand nothing here, Terence. I don't need money. I need to
turn this country in something decent. It is possible only if I become the
richest official in this country. For that - I need money. I need huge
money, money that this country doesn't have. But, the Galaxy has this money
and you, Terence, will deliver this money from the Galaxy to here."
To conclude, the reception worked out great if not for an accident at
its very end. It was already midnight, the time when men liked to have fun
was getting closer and the wives of several higher Weian officials hurried
to take leave and disappear and women's laughter started to come out of the
temple gazebos. Bemish and Trevis walked down a garden path under falling
cherry petals by the gods cramped in the darkness. They had discussed
everything already and they simply enjoyed in silence the dark and tart
night, dusted by the fragrance of night flowers and the faraway singing of
expensive whores.
The road led them to a small pond, where a marble god in a brocade
caftan stood on the bank.
"Here is Shavash," Trevis said, "but it looks like the timing is
wrong."
Shavash half sat under the god's statue and fondled a midnight cowgirl.
Something made Bemish hearken and he stopped.
"Let's get out of here," Trevis restrained him.
Suddenly something gleaned in the woman's hand.
"Terence!"
Bemish didn't remember how he dashed across the lawn. He remembered
only Idari's voice and the dagger in her hands. The next second, Bemish
pulled the official to the side. A fish scale flash of the dagger tore air
right where Shavash had just sat. Idari leaped to her feet, lithe and agile
like a sand lizard.
Shavash stank with cognac and palm tree wine - a killer combination. He
was boozed up to the hilt - much more than he had been an hour ago in the
tower.
"What are you doing?" the official rasped.
Bemish silently pulled a short jab at Shavash's jaw. The official
closed his eyes and went down to the ground. Trevis rushed to Bemish, pale
as death.
"Bye-bye your fund," Trevis muttered.
"He will remember nothing," Bemish objected.
"I hope that you will also remember nothing," Idari said.
Bemish's heart was hopping like a mouse in a jar.
"Should I walk you?" he asked Idari.
But the woman only shook her head slightly and, in a moment, she
disappeared in the bushes. The dagger had vanished even earlier in her
blowsy sleeve folds. Shavash mumbled something, turned over on his back and
started snoring.
"Why did you have to beat him?" Trevis got angry. "Is she your lover or
what?"
Furious Bemish turned around. Trevis pulled back.
"Just forget it," Bemish muttered finally, "otherwise we will all get a
lot of problems."
They were almost at the house, when Bemish, having kept glum silence
all the way, suddenly said, "If a civil war starts in this Empire, it will
start on this woman's account."
The morning after the reception, some guests signed a treaty of intent
- about creating together with Shavash and Bemish several joint companies
specializing mostly in export-import operations. Weian tariffs were quite
high, but Shavash hinted to the people present that they probably wouldn't
have to pay them.
The official was pale after the yesterday's binge and a huge bruise
blossomed under his cheekbone, artistically masked by various powders.
Bemish didn't have to torture himself long about whether or not the official
remembered who socked him. Having returned to his room, Bemish discovered
there a gift basket full of soft turquoise figs and Shavash's note. "As you
see, I can be grateful," Shavash wrote in calligraphy. "You had given me one
fig and I gave you hundred." A bruise was called a fig in Weian.
****
The next day after the investors had left Bemish returned to the villa
and was stopped by a small peasant crowd.
"What's the problem?" Bemish asked.
A tall barefoot old man stepped out of the crowd.
"They told us," He said, "that the great Lord from the stars will build
a magic city in this place."
"More or less," Bemish agreed.
"They told us that this city will be built on our lands. What will
happen to us?"
"You will have the lands across the river," Bemish answered.
"We are happy that the Lord from the skies gives out part of our land
to us. But our old land was taken away from us without any payments."
"You were paid by company shares," Bemish said. "You squandered these
shares and you don't retain any rights to them."
"Does it mean that the Lord from the stars has money to treat
officials, but he doesn't have money to pay us for our land?"
"I will not pay you a cent," Bemish cut them off.
Having learned about this accident with the peasants, Kissur said.
"You acted like a man, Terence. Why do Earthmen act like men only when
it comes to money?"
The new headman approved of his boss altogether.
"These people are such," he said, "that if you show them a finger, they
will devour the whole hand. They are but spongers!"
"Don't you come from the same people?" Bemish cut him off and the new
headman shut up, offended.
Bemish had to see Idari quite often. A great number of the company's
contracts - lumber, concrete, tungsten glass - in a nutshell, everything
that was cheaper and more profitable to buy in the Empire, passed through
Kissur's estate and his wife was in charge of it.
Only gradually Bemish realized how important a part this graceful
fragile woman plays not only in the economics of Kissur's estate but in the
economics of the Empire. Thanks to her and only to her, not a single oil
well that the sovereign had bestowed on Kissur passed away or was sold to
cover debts - to the opposite, every gift was preserved, multiplied and grew
and this fragile woman controlled with an iron fist at least three banks and
the second biggest Weian aluminum plant. They said that the applicants for
the bank positions had interviews in front of a curtain - Idari didn't
consider it possible to talk in private with a male stranger and Bemish had
never seen her in anything other than Weian dress.
Idari had only one son and Bemish saw that it deeply hurt her, because
in her view, a good wife should bring a litter every year. To conceive more
children, she had even submitted to an Earthman physician but the physician
had only raised his hands and said that nothing could be done. Three boys
that Kissur fathered whoring around and a total orphan that Kissur extracted
from under his own tank tracks were being brought up in the house.
A lot of maligners told Kissur that the Earthman visited Idari somewhat
more often that the business contacts required but, since the people who
said that wanted very much to obtain everything Bemish had from the Empire,
Kissur ignored these words.
The Eight Chapter
Where Terence Bemish pays taxes with fallen leaves while the rock with
an ancient foretelling is dug out at the construction.
Ashinik was born into a peasant family that was ruined during the civil
war. His father was recruited into the local prince's army and killed there
and his mother died just quietly. In the last year, Ashinik was also
recruited, but by this time the prince's army had dwindled down to five
hundred people and the prince was called a prince no longer but he was
rather called a bandit. When the prince heard that nothing was left of
Khanalai's army, conducting a siege on the capital, but two barns of ashes
and that the new masters - the people from the skies - were giving orders in
the capital, he was scared and rushed in to beg for peace. The sovereign
forgave him and the people from the stars gave everybody a fancy can with a
picture of meat in sauce drawn on it. Ashinik hid the can under his head and
went to sleep and when he pulled the can out in the morning, he found out
that it didn't have the bottom and was empty. Ashinik rushed to his friends
that had just finished the breakfast and they burst in laughter and they
said that it had been this way from the beginning.
Ashinik dragged himself from the city back to the village, to the land,
but there was no land. A fence of brushwood and concrete was where the land
had been and the Earthman was behind the fence. It came out that Ashinik's
father bequeathed the land to the prince and the prince sold this land in
the capital to a trust that dug a hole in the ground. Having heard Ashinik
out, the Earthman went crazy and threw him out.
What happened was that the Earthman had long ago realized the prince
cheated him and he hadn't held the title for all of the land. He gave money
to the first petitioners and, having heard about it, all the locals rushed
picking up their relatives and friends and testifying that they had held
such and such piece of land. With their peasants' minds they instinctively
sized Earthmen up as a power-to-be and held it for a virtue to cheat the
trust that was so stupid that it was ready to pay for the land which had
already been sold to it, even if the people that sold the land didn't own
it. The Earthman had seen that he was being hoodwinked and now he kicked out
everybody who came with a complaint about the land as cheaters.
"I didn't get much from the Earthmen for my field - an empty can and a
kick in the butt," Ashinik thought. Ashinik left for his relatives in the
neighboring province, but he got sick on the way. An old couple picked him
up and ministered to him. Having learned that the total strangers washed him
and spoon fed him, the youth burst into tears - it was the fourth year he
lived as a snail without a shell, only a lazy man wouldn't step on him.
The people, who nursed Ashinik back to health, were tanners. Ashinik
started helping them with their work and with the house. At first, Ashinik
didn't notice anything except that they didn't eat meat in the house but
then, listening to the masters' conversations, he started to realize that
his hosts were some sect's members. This sect had existed for a long time
and it was based on a prophecy about iron people who would appear from
underground to destroy the Empire. On numerous occasions, they had taken
barbarians and rebels for iron men but then a rebel would become an Emperor
and it would become clear that the prophecy was not about him. The masters
hinted to Ashinik a number of times that Earthmen were these iron demons,
and that they wanted to destroy the Empire and that the mine, he was invited
to work on, was nothing else but a hole to hell - the demons would drag him
down there and eat him.
At first, Ashinik didn't really believe it. He had also heard some
really dirty gossip about zealots - they were rumored to entice people with
their lies, nurse the infirm, pick up orphans, and then preach stupid stuff
and engage them in orgies and even worse on their meetings. But he felt
uncomfortable arguing with the elders who had saved his life and he also had
nowhere else to go.
Soon, they took him to a meeting where they directly said that Earthmen
were demons and all the things they owned were either phantoms or had been
stolen from the gods. Then a teacher, clothed in white, in front of their
eyes grew a golden staircase out of a seed, climbed up it to the skies and
came back with a fancy pot that the gods gave him.
Ashinik started taking part in the weekly meetings but doubts assailed
him. "Of course, all I got from the Earthmen for my field was an empty can
and a kick in the butt," Ashinik thought. "But if I consider everybody I got
a kick in the butt from to be demons, there would be more demons than
people." Finally, these thoughts hurt him so unbearably that once in the
repair shop Ashinik fainted and crashed to the ground. When he came back to
his senses, people were crowded around him - it appeared that a great spirit
had seized him and he had been preaching.
Ashinik was taken to the teachers, they housed him with them. Since
Ashinik's words were always taken with great attention, the fits started to
happen more and more often but Ashinik never remembered what he was saying.
Thanks to his prophecy gift and natural cleverness, Ashinik suddenly started
to climb quickly up the hierarchical ladder. Ashinik was especially shocked
by the following. The zealots he found himself with at first believed that
Earthmen were really demons. On the second level, they told him that words
iron devil and demon with respect to Earthmen should be treated
metaphorically and Earthmen live on the sky rather than underground. He was
told that the stupider were the rumors about Earthmen, the easier the dumb
people would believe them. But on the third level, he was told that Earthmen
were demons! And they explained to him that the more metaphorical the
prophecies' interpretations were, the easier would silly officials believe
them since they wouldn't see the gut sense behind the false reasoning. And
on the fourth level, he was told again that the prophecy should be treated
metaphorically!
When he achieved the seventh level - there were ten of them all in all
- Ashinik couldn't distinguish anymore where a metaphor was, where the
reality was and where the deep meaning of both of them was. Talking to a
commoner, he spoke as if he was on the first level. Talking to an educated
man, he spoke as if he was on the second level. He believed what his
audience could believe. Thanks to that, his sermons gathered huge crowds. He
was also taught to prophecy right at the meetings and he usually remembered
what he had said.
Four years passed this way - Ashinik was now twenty. Once the White
Elder called and commanded him to leave for Assalah village on Chakhar
border. He said,
"The demons build their holes there. They call this hole a spaceport
and they say that they fly to the sky out of these holes, but, in reality,
these holes go underground all the way to hell. The Assalah demons wronged
our peasants mightily and we have a strong society there. But yesterday the
society head died. Go to Assalah and take his place."
This time the trip to the capital took eight hours instead of two
months - the next day's morning a yellow bus left Ashinik at the road fork
going to spaceport.
Ashinik threw his sack over his shoulder and started walking. The
trucks, looking like huge silk worms, flew past him to the construction, a
cloud of dust and bad smells hung over the road and in the fields, recoiling
from the curb, ripening rice ears were covered with a thick layer of cement
dust. It was a long walk and Ashinik tried waving a twig several times to
hitch a ride but nobody stopped. Even during the worst war years Ashinik
remembered always being able to get a ride from a passerby in a cart. They
could kill you once they had picked you up, but at least they would always
pick you up.
Suddenly a car slowed down. Ashinik nervously saw that it was not a
truck but rather a passenger car shaped like a tiny bug. The driver threw
open a door - after a brief hesitation Ashinik climbed inside. They drove in
silence for a while.
"Are you going to the construction site?" the driver asked. He spoke in
demon's brogue.
"No," Ashinik replied, "I am going to the village."
"Who are you going to?"
"My uncle called me in. His son died - maybe he will adopt me."
"There are a lot of zealots," the driver said, "in this village.
Following the Way. Are you one of them?"
"Yes."
"What level are you?"
"What do you know about levels?"
The driver looked the lad over - he had a round good-natured face, wide
lips and adjoining thick eyebrows over his beautiful brown eyes.
"A week ago," the driver said, "the local Following the Way man died.
You are coming to replace him, aren't you?"
"What do you do?"
"My name is Terence Bemish, I am the Assalah company director."
Ashinik swallowed.
"Do you pick all passersby up or did you know that I was coming?"
"I pick all the bums up," Bemish said. "The drivers at the construction
rarely give a ride to anybody and if you are a bum, they might even kill
you. They have already killed two people this way."
"Your workers aren't any good."
"It's difficult to get any worse. They drink, steal, and make the
newcomers do the same. There are gangs among them. Two of them were caught
yesterday - they sold an anti-corrosion paint box. How much do you think
they sold it for? They sold it for a rice vodka crock! Yesterday, one guard
shot at another guard - he was boozed up. They arrested him, started an
investigation and discovered that he was wanted in the capital for robbery
and murder. Everybody who wants to escape the capital after screwing
something up there, go here."
"Yes," Ashinik said, "it's not easy. I have never had to own people
that drink, steal and eat meat. A master is like a seed and his subordinate
is like grass that grows out of the seed. Grass follows seeds. It's not
surprising that the demons' servants steal anti-corrosion paint from them."
Bemish was so upset by this comment that he lost his self control. His
true nature emerged and Ashinik noticed at once that Bemish's head was
really just a meat egg. Ashinik felt himself very uncomfortable. "What if he
asks now - do you really think I am a demon?"
But Bemish didn't ask anything like this, he shook his meat egg and
said.
"The village is just beyond this hill. Would you be uncomfortable
entering the village in my car? Would you like to get out at the turn?"
"Not a problem at all," Ashinik said.
In the evening, the whole village listened to their new prophet's
stories about riding in the chief demon's car and seeing a meat egg on the
demon's shoulders.
Bemish was not exaggerating the problems in his conversation with the
future zealots' guru. The construction situation worsened every day. The
worsening, however, was reflected neither in the balance books nor in the
profits and expenses reports and the most meticulous auditor would not be
able to enter the locals' feelings into the company's debits column.
It was also partly Bemish's fault. As an ardent player who felt better
next to a computer screen rather on the construction site, Bemish visited
the latter only occasionally, being engrossed completely in the capital
business maelstrom.
He started up a hedge fund acquiring Weian stocks - it was quoted in
the intergalactic system. Trevis raised money for him, a sum unheard-off for
a developing market - five hundred million dinars. He acquired the broker
house DJ securities and used it to conduct the hedge fund operations; he
also acquired 12% shares of the bank that Assalah Company had an account in.
Together with Idari, Shavash and two other useful people, he founded a
local Assabank and soon, by a special sovereign's law, all the budget funds
allocated by the government for the construction of the roads,
communications and the other Assalah infrastructure passed this bank.
Bemish swam like a fish in the market where the quotes often fluctuated
30-40% a week, where even relatively liquid shares had an 8% spread and
where trading based on insider information was not a crime but a norm. He
had disposed of almost all the stocks a week before the government announced
the new tax regulations that caused a market crash and by the year's end his
fund was the only one showing a profit gain of 36% compared to the other
funds' losses fluctuating between 14% and 86%. The real profit was even
higher, but as it had already been agreed on, Shavash obtained one third of
it.
However, while Terence Bemish hung out in the capital, bought and sold
accordingly to Shavash's hints, opened new banks, had fun with Kissur and
gave an interview to Galamoney as the head of the company in charge of the
most successful fund of the year, other people controlled the construction,
most of all the company vice-president Richard Giles. Oh, of course, Bemish
received the construction and money flow reports every day. A minor
financial glitch, not even close to larceny, would not remain unnoticed.
"Why do you have this leftover at the active accounts?" angry Bemish
screamed at the receiver. "Couldn't you place an overnight credit?"
And the leftover was only five thousand dinars.
But the peasants and workers' attitude was not reflected in any way in
the financial reports and increasing theft was at first written off by
Bemish as the bad heritage of two thousand years of socialism.
As Bemish realized looking back, a lot of things would have been
different if the construction had started not when the peasants had been
planting rice and when every pair of hands had been precious. But the
construction started right in the spring - the peasants didn't let their
lads go to the construction site and the guys who came later met with a
construction lifestyle already in place - the lifestyle of lost city
dwellers, bums and simply bandits that stole watermelons from the fields,
trampled rice down, fought the village lads en masse and considered hard
porn with stereo effects to be the highest achievement of the alien culture.
At one point, Bemish ran into a ceremony of Following the Way on a road
and the sect's head, a tall old man with a grey beard, pointed his finger at
him and started calling him a sorcerer of the basest type. Bemish inquired
what exactly his sorcery was and received an answer.
"All your flashy labels and commercials, cigarettes and movies - they
are all your dirty magic and rituals. You use all this to get people
together."
Bemish objected.
"I am sick of these commercials no less than you are."
"This is even worse," the old man grinned. "It means that you have one
culture for small people and another one for big people. This is
ill-conceived because everything can be different for small people and for
big people - what they own and what they wear - but their culture should be
the same. The spring day is celebrated by a farm hand and in the palace. And
if your workers go to see The Triple Strike and you don't... What's the
point of talking about it?!"
He thought and added with curiosity.
"Is it true, that you live underground just like the wild people in the
North who change their ruler every four years and, having changed him, eat
him?"
"We change a ruler," Bemish admitted, "but we don't eat him."
The old man died then, Ashinik arrived to take his place and the
situation worsened. Whatever Bemish did, it came out wrong. They delivered a
worker to the hospital with appendicitis for surgery and Ashinik made
everybody believe that the demons from the skies cut the guy's corn off and
attached a goat's equipment instead and now only goats would be born from
him.
Bemish had loaned some money to the village, at the previous village
headman's time, and Ashinik started a rumor that they tricked the headman
using his poor knowledge of English and made him sign a paper permitting the
Earthmen to demolish the whole village. There was another rumor also
contrived by Ashinik that Bemish had a black cord. One end of the cord was
in a table drawer, in the villa, and the sovereign himself was tied to
another end. If the Earthman pulled on the cord, the sovereign would toss
and groan and hail would start coming down from the sky.
Slowly, bypassing official district authorities and official
construction management, underground organizations started to form in the
village and at the construction site. The sect grew quickly in the village.
The number of zealots increased from the starting few as quickly as a
crystal grows in a saturated solution once a seed crystal is submerged
there. As for the construction... let's be honest, mafia started to rule the
construction.
At some point, a name appeared among the private cofounders of new
import-export companies - O'Hare - the same O'Hare who had been introduced
to Bemish in the thief's tavern and who had taken care of the presentation.
Bemish crossed the cofounder's name out with red ink commenting that
such a company would end up selling drugs and that would be really
disgusting. Giles, as an Intelligence employee agreed with the company
director wholeheartedly.
Only now Bemish realized how horribly he had been tricked by the small
official Shavash when he agreed to take the construction out of the local
authorities' jurisdiction. The district officials were corrupted and
unceremonious. They could have managed both the bandits and zealots and
happily ignored any humanitarian issues. They could have relocated the whole
village to, say, Chakhar in three days or just burned it to the ground.
Unlike them, Bemish would not be able to drive a tank over the village
or land in the middle of it, "as a miss", a sixty thousand ton space freight
ship - as Shavash suggested to him altogether seriously. And not a single
international legal system existed that would ban planet dwellers from
singing songs and going nuts en masse.
Now, Bemish found himself in a classical chess fork - if he started
arresting the zealots himself, even the most pro-Earthmen officials would be
indignant. If he asked for the authorities' help, it would be a sign of his
utter powerlessness.
The tipping point for the village and construction confrontation was
the following. They started to dig the foundation pits for service buildings
on the northern hill and dug out old temple complex remnants.
Having checked it out with archives, they found out the remnants were
the old temples of Adera-benefactor goddess that had prospered almost two
thousand years ago when the capital officials hadn't dared to force their
way into these surroundings calling the local dwellers "bandits" but not,
however, making any attempts to eradicate them.
This Adera lady had quite an irritable disposition, she had a tendency
to appear in people's dreams extorting gifts and even human sacrifices,
threatening with floods; indescribable orgies took place at her
celebrations. The sovereign Irshahchan obliterated the temple mercilessly,
recognizing this cult to be a crime against humanity and disobedience to the
authorities.
Having being trained to respect any ruin, Bemish stopped all the
construction there and asked Shavash and Kissur what he should do. Kissur
told him to clean up the damned temple and recycle it for construction
materials, if needed. Shavash took a look at the altar where boys were
rumored to be offered as a sacrifice and said that the altar was not
impressive as a cultural monument since carving was too crude.
The newspapers did hear about the temple however. The newspapers
demanded the Earthmen to take their dirty hands away from the national
heritage. Bemish snapped back tactlessly that the Weians themselves had
destroyed the temple while the Earthmen actually found it.
Soon, the most unbelievable myths related to the temple riches emerged.
They had dug out a large two hundred meter deep well in the temple, and a
rumor emerged that every local dweller had thrown his most valuable
belongings down this well as a sacrifice to Adera for centuries. Half-drunk
construction workers and deranged religious peasants believed every inch of
it and were climbing over the fence built around the temple twenty four
hours a day. Bemish ordered an exploration of the well's bottom and, in the
presence of the authorities and the journalists, loads of flint arrowheads,
brass round handles and clay female figurines with huge bellies was
extracted. There was a possibility that the local denizens had indeed thrown
their most valuable belongings down the Adera well but, during these times,
flint arrowheads had been the most valuable things here.
That, of course, didn't hurt the myth. Everybody saw how much equipment
was thrown at the well and that a hundred men spent three days around it! No
need! The rumors assured that the well appeared to be empty because the
managers had robbed it earlier. The money amounts, the names of the
spaceships used to transport the treasure to Earth, the names of the
museums, the name of the construction director and Shavash's name were
specified.
The morning of the eighteenth, Bemish found himself in the capital at a
conference dealing with developing countries investments issues. Bemish was
presented there both as a speaker and an exhibition object.
Bemish conversed with the relevant people and, immediately after the
talk he left for the spaceport, having picked up a man named Born - a United
Galactic Fund representative who was observing the situation with the
stabilization credit allocated for the Empire.
A flock of local journalists waited for Bemish at the helicopter and
attacked him with their questions.
"Mr. Bemish, is it true that when an old catalpa was ripped out at your
construction, blood appeared at its roots? Doesn't this omen foretell
misfortunes?"
"No."
"Is it true that a she-goat nearby changed to a he-goat?"
"A she-goat didn't change to a he-goat."
"Is it true, that they dug out a rock that had been buried during White
Emperor's times and it had words written on it, "In a month after this rock
is extracted the construction will perish."
"It is true. The words were, however, written with phenyl paint
developed and set in production five years ago. If the zealots decide to
counterfeit the White Emperor's words again, I would advise them not to buy
paint in the nearest kiosk."
"Mr. Bemish, is it true that you paid taxes this year with Weian
National Bank bonds at their face value?"
Here, Bemish's escort - he, accordingly to a local custom, obtained
himself three beefy flatheads - socked the peppiest journalist on his jaw
and the newspapermen bolted.
On the return helicopter trip to Assalah, Born inquired why the
journalist's had been punched in his mug.
"He is from White Sky," Bemish answered. "This is a newspaper owned by
zealots who think Earthmen to be demons crawling out from underground. They
say that if we flew from the sky, we would meet gods on the way. He was
asking boorish questions."
"Ah, zealot," the satisfied banker drawled, "zealots aren't dangerous."
"It's not dangerous but it's annoying," Bemish agreed.
"What were they asking about taxes?"
Bemish paused deciding whether or not he should explain. But the whole
thing had raised a stink and they had mentioned about it in the newspapers
couple times.
"There was a bank," Bemish said, "that went bankrupt. The government
nationalized it, restructured its loans and turned them into bonds."
"And what is the bonds' value?"
"It's seven-ten percent of their nominal value."
"And at what value were your bonds appraised?"
"They were appraised at hundred percent of their nominal value."
The banker grunted with astonishment, but he controlled himself and
didn't say anything.
Bemish asked Born what Weian official he liked the most, and Mr. Gerald
Born named Shavash without hesitation. And he added, "What do you think -
would Mr. Shavash agree to resign from his Empire appointment and head the
developing markets department in our bank?"
Bemish almost gaped.
"Why do you think," He asked cautiously, "that Shavash may want to
retire?"
"Because of all this slander directed at him! I can tell you with total
frankness that not a single tranche of our credit would reach its
destination if it was not for Shavash! The local officials would have
embezzled everything! This is the only man who is doing something to save
the country's economy. And what does he get back? The best Empire economist
languishes under a dimwitted minister and the officials fling disgusting
slander at him being unable to endure one honest man in their midst. I think
that the best solution for him would be to leave this planet. Do you
disagree?"
"No, not really," Bemish said, "Shavash is an amazing man - you are
right."
Bemish wanted to pass Born into Giles's hands, so that the latter dealt
with the guest till the take off, but Giles vanished somewhere and even his
cell was off - Bemish resolved to thrash him soundly.
Bemish personally walked his old acquaintance to the boarding ramp. The
latter was pleasantly surprised having learned that the spaceport had an
extraterritorial status and the spaceport's management collected taxes and
had independent jurisdiction."
Bemish had barely returned to his office when a phone rang.
Bemish picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Terence," the fairest Empire economist told him. "What's the
story with Golden Deer Company? I heard that you detained their freight."
"There is no story," Bemish said. "It's just that there is forty tons
of electronics there and they paid tariffs for five tons only. Why don't
they pay everything required and pick it up."
"Terence, be so kind. Their guy will drop by - stamp his papers and let
him go." And Shavash put the receiver down not waiting for a reply.
Giles announced himself in half an hour. He shakily walked in the
office. His face was smashed and his expensive suit was splattered in mud.
"Oh, my God, Giles what's happened to you?"
"Somebody attacked me."
"Who was it?"
"Who was it? It was some hoodlums. It was all the damn hoodlums of this
planet who don't have anything better to do than to get hired at this
construction!"
"Security is your problem, Giles. If your crappy service can't pacify
two dozen crooks, how is it going to pacify two dozen dictators?
"We will pacify crooks," Giles exploded. "Security troops will be here
in a week."
"What? Have you sent a request?"
"I will send it today."
"I forbid you."
"Why?"
"Because, at the moment it becomes public, everybody will start selling
my securities! At first, Federation Special Forces will send their troops to
devaluate the construction and then they will buy it dirt cheap, won't
they?"
"Won't zealots and bandits devaluate it?
"Exchange market doesn't care about zealots! It doesn't know what they
mean. It perfectly well understands what the Special Forces mean!"
Giles touched his torn cheekbone.
Bemish picked up the receiver and called Shavash.
"Shavash, my deputy was assaulted today. Who? Crooks! Send your police
in and eradicate these hoods."
"Terence, only Federation laws are valid at the spaceport territory.
You can call your troops in but not our police."
"Call this stupid immunity off!"
"You grumbled about corrupted officials yourself..."
"Your corrupted officials, at least, will not overload themselves with
legalities bashing these hoods' teeth in."
"I am glad that you see some advantages of our officials."
"They have advantages only compared to your crooks."
On the other end, Shavash switched to another line and told his
secretary to summon a car. In an hour, a narrow silver car drove Shavash to
a decorated gate of a bawdy house, famous across the whole country. Having
ignored the welcoming girls who leaped up at his arrival, Shavash walked
the way through, complete as a water putrefied nut. Hanged Adini visited
Bemish's dreams for a week or two and then stopped. The painting with the
dragon and the princess Terence, of course, returned to the palace the same
day with apologies.
Five carts and priests dressed in heavy brocade pallias came for the
painting.
In a month, Bemish arrived at Assalah accompanied by a large retinue of
investors. Shavash organized a brilliant reception for them in a temple
complex located about twenty kilometers away from the spaceport - the Black
Valley.
About two and half thousand years ago, one would have found there a
wonderful Temple of Isii-ratouph, who was depicted then not as a squirrel
but rather as a webbed snake and was considered to be not a woman but a man.
Nothing was left from the old temple besides the huge columns - and right
around here, about a kilometer away, the sacred gardens began with chapels
strewn here and there.
The reception was wonderful. Blooming rhododendrons stood as if dressed
in multihued fur coats, brocade leg and jasmine fragrances rode over the
aroma from the delicacies and tame squirrel-ratouphs with gilded tails
jumped amidst the invited guests. Assuming a certain ignorance of Weian
history, the dishes served to the guests could be taken for the exact copy
of the delicacies present here ten years ago at the province governor's
appointment celebration.
The guests were served with a wondrous lamb, just lanced and grilled
for a god (the gods were fed smells and the guests would be fed meat) and
Shavash stood and made a short speech. Shavash said that he was happy to
inform the guests that the territory belonging to the company had obtained
immunity by a sovereign's bill - it was now exempt from the local officials'
jurisdiction and the company had revenue and judicial rights within its
territory.
"However," Shavash immediately reassured, "the company won't really
have to pay taxes since the sovereign's bill gives it extensive tax deferral
for the next two years.
Once the dumbfounded guests had digested the pleasant news, that
somewhat compromised the state sovereignty in the company's favor, Shavash
continued that poor communications was one of the main Assalah drawbacks,
considered at the examination of the project - the direct highway to the
capital had been built in sovereign Irshahchan times and the road to the
rich Liss region was cut off forty kilometers away from Assalah by the
second largest Empire river. Shavash was happy to inform the guests that the
state had already allocated funds for the road and the bridge construction.
Why, would you think though, should the government bustle about? If
Assalah needs it, let Assalah build it, Assalah has loads of dough, why
would you spend budget money in a starving country?
Large investors are an intelligent crowd and they all took a note of
Shavash's part at the presentation and the very polite attitude displayed by
the first minister Yanik towards him. Five people or so asked Bemish if he
was going to limit himself to Assalah or to create a Weian stocks investment
fund.
After Shavash's speech, Trevis, having met Shavash in person for the
first time, approached him trying to clarify the tax referral situation.
Shavash, however, avoided a direct answer.
"Don't worry, either way this company will not pay taxes," he said
imperturbably.
Here, a cute girl appeared in front of Trevis, the girl held a silver
tray, of ram grilled with plants and roots, in her hands. The girl bowed and
sang that an ancient custom commanded to meet a guest with a black
sacrificial ram.
Trevis took a piece with pleasure.
"A great custom," he noted, trying tender meat out, "so coming back to
tax exempts..."
"The custom is great," Shavash replied, "but it's not exactly like
this."
Trevis raised his eyebrows.
"The ancient custom says to meet a guest with a grilled black dog," the
official explained.
Trevis almost dropped the plate and, then, he burst in laughter.
"Why doesn't he want to become a first minister?" Trevis asked Bemish,
when Shavash stepped aside.
"The Emperor will never allow it."
"He is an amazing man."
"Yes. Once he expressed his regret about the Earthmen not having
conquered the Empire and enslaved him. He said that by today he would have
been the Earth Emperor's senior trusted personage..."
Trevis grinned.
"I would like to have slaves," he said suddenly, "especially people
like Shavash. Do you have slaves, Bemish?"
Bemish frowned slightly. Adini was his first slave.
"Yes. These three, cleaning up the tables - but I haven't bought them,
I have obtained them as gifts from different people."
"We are investing money in a funky business," Ronald Trevis muttered.
Bemish nodded heedlessly.
"By the way," Trevis said, "when we were driving by your villa, I
noticed a tall peasant standing in the crowd, he was missing his left ear. I
am sure that I saw him next to the hotel in the capital and he was not
dressed as a peasant then, he sat deep inside a Hurricane."
"You are as watchful as usual, Ronald," Bemish said. "He is not a
peasant, he is one of the best known Weian criminals."
"Oh, my God! Does he want to fleece some foreign sheep?"
"To the contrary, doing a favor to some influential people, he is
protecting these sheep from some lice."
"What are you whispering about?"
Bemish turned around. Kissur stood in front of him, dressed in Earthern
clothing and not even a bit drunk. During the whole evening, Kissur hadn't
caused any disturbance yet - he hadn't broken a single investor's jaw and
hadn't washed anybody in a pool. The reason was very simple - Kissur was
with his wife, Idari.
"Let me introduce you," Bemish said, "Ronald Trevis, the head of LSV
bank. Kissur, an ex-owner of the same villa."
"Also an ex-minister of the Empire," Kissur finished with a grin. And
he added right away, talking to Bemish. "I didn't know that the sovereign
bestowed you with immunity."
"You see, Kissur, after you gave me the villa, the local official
herded the peasants to fix the road for free, to curry my favor. I don't
want the local officials to curry my favor this way. And I promise you to
fleece the peasants three times less and to hang five times less criminals."
"That's exactly wrong," Kissur stated. "In order to be respected, you
have to hang twice more, otherwise why do you need this immunity? What do
you think, Trevis?"
It was ten in the evening, when the temple abbot noiselessly approached
Bemish, standing on a lawn and encircled by the guests, and whispered in his
ear that Shavash wanted to talk to him in private. Bemish finished the
cocktail and left the guests unnoticed.
He found Shavash on the temple tower second floor - the small official
stood with a wine glass in his hand and he seemed to clink the glass with a
goddess dancing in the alcove. Having heard the Bemish's steps, he turned
around. Bemish brandished his hand welcomingly and sat in an oak-backed
armchair standing to the right of the window.
"Trevis says that you will raise twice more money than you need. People
really stand in lines to buy a piece of Weia if Bemish himself handles their
finances. What are you going to do with the extra money?"
"I could create a couple of funds," Bemish said.
Shavash, half turned to the window, gestured with the glass. Outside of
the window in the sunset light, the dense gardens' greenery and the even
squares of rice patties gleaned. Ivory imps danced above the window and
smiled mockingly at the official. Bemish noticed that Shavash was drunk -
not as much as he was at Weian feasts when everybody walked on their hands
and knees by a night's end, but much more that it was customary on
Earthmen's business meetings.
"This planet," Shavash said, "is a planet of mad opportunities. It has
the least developed natural resources in the Galaxy. It has human resources.
It doesn't have money."
Shavash turned around abruptly.
"You will bring this money in, Terence. How much can you raise for your
funds?"
Bemish contemplated.
"I could raise five hundred million in the first year. Then it depends
on the fund's profitability."
"You will sell what I say and buy what I say. First year your profit
will be seven hundred million. Your real profit will be one billion. But you
will give three hundred million to me. Do you understand it?"
Bemish paused.
"They jail you for such things."
Shavash leaned over the Earthman.
"You are mistaken, Terence. They jail you for such things on Earth. On
Weia, they cut your head off."
"Why are you risking your head for money?" The pale vice-minister's
face with mad golden eyes and raised eyebrows' tips moved right to the
Earthman.
"You understand nothing here, Terence. I don't need money. I need to
turn this country in something decent. It is possible only if I become the
richest official in this country. For that - I need money. I need huge
money, money that this country doesn't have. But, the Galaxy has this money
and you, Terence, will deliver this money from the Galaxy to here."
To conclude, the reception worked out great if not for an accident at
its very end. It was already midnight, the time when men liked to have fun
was getting closer and the wives of several higher Weian officials hurried
to take leave and disappear and women's laughter started to come out of the
temple gazebos. Bemish and Trevis walked down a garden path under falling
cherry petals by the gods cramped in the darkness. They had discussed
everything already and they simply enjoyed in silence the dark and tart
night, dusted by the fragrance of night flowers and the faraway singing of
expensive whores.
The road led them to a small pond, where a marble god in a brocade
caftan stood on the bank.
"Here is Shavash," Trevis said, "but it looks like the timing is
wrong."
Shavash half sat under the god's statue and fondled a midnight cowgirl.
Something made Bemish hearken and he stopped.
"Let's get out of here," Trevis restrained him.
Suddenly something gleaned in the woman's hand.
"Terence!"
Bemish didn't remember how he dashed across the lawn. He remembered
only Idari's voice and the dagger in her hands. The next second, Bemish
pulled the official to the side. A fish scale flash of the dagger tore air
right where Shavash had just sat. Idari leaped to her feet, lithe and agile
like a sand lizard.
Shavash stank with cognac and palm tree wine - a killer combination. He
was boozed up to the hilt - much more than he had been an hour ago in the
tower.
"What are you doing?" the official rasped.
Bemish silently pulled a short jab at Shavash's jaw. The official
closed his eyes and went down to the ground. Trevis rushed to Bemish, pale
as death.
"Bye-bye your fund," Trevis muttered.
"He will remember nothing," Bemish objected.
"I hope that you will also remember nothing," Idari said.
Bemish's heart was hopping like a mouse in a jar.
"Should I walk you?" he asked Idari.
But the woman only shook her head slightly and, in a moment, she
disappeared in the bushes. The dagger had vanished even earlier in her
blowsy sleeve folds. Shavash mumbled something, turned over on his back and
started snoring.
"Why did you have to beat him?" Trevis got angry. "Is she your lover or
what?"
Furious Bemish turned around. Trevis pulled back.
"Just forget it," Bemish muttered finally, "otherwise we will all get a
lot of problems."
They were almost at the house, when Bemish, having kept glum silence
all the way, suddenly said, "If a civil war starts in this Empire, it will
start on this woman's account."
The morning after the reception, some guests signed a treaty of intent
- about creating together with Shavash and Bemish several joint companies
specializing mostly in export-import operations. Weian tariffs were quite
high, but Shavash hinted to the people present that they probably wouldn't
have to pay them.
The official was pale after the yesterday's binge and a huge bruise
blossomed under his cheekbone, artistically masked by various powders.
Bemish didn't have to torture himself long about whether or not the official
remembered who socked him. Having returned to his room, Bemish discovered
there a gift basket full of soft turquoise figs and Shavash's note. "As you
see, I can be grateful," Shavash wrote in calligraphy. "You had given me one
fig and I gave you hundred." A bruise was called a fig in Weian.
****
The next day after the investors had left Bemish returned to the villa
and was stopped by a small peasant crowd.
"What's the problem?" Bemish asked.
A tall barefoot old man stepped out of the crowd.
"They told us," He said, "that the great Lord from the stars will build
a magic city in this place."
"More or less," Bemish agreed.
"They told us that this city will be built on our lands. What will
happen to us?"
"You will have the lands across the river," Bemish answered.
"We are happy that the Lord from the skies gives out part of our land
to us. But our old land was taken away from us without any payments."
"You were paid by company shares," Bemish said. "You squandered these
shares and you don't retain any rights to them."
"Does it mean that the Lord from the stars has money to treat
officials, but he doesn't have money to pay us for our land?"
"I will not pay you a cent," Bemish cut them off.
Having learned about this accident with the peasants, Kissur said.
"You acted like a man, Terence. Why do Earthmen act like men only when
it comes to money?"
The new headman approved of his boss altogether.
"These people are such," he said, "that if you show them a finger, they
will devour the whole hand. They are but spongers!"
"Don't you come from the same people?" Bemish cut him off and the new
headman shut up, offended.
Bemish had to see Idari quite often. A great number of the company's
contracts - lumber, concrete, tungsten glass - in a nutshell, everything
that was cheaper and more profitable to buy in the Empire, passed through
Kissur's estate and his wife was in charge of it.
Only gradually Bemish realized how important a part this graceful
fragile woman plays not only in the economics of Kissur's estate but in the
economics of the Empire. Thanks to her and only to her, not a single oil
well that the sovereign had bestowed on Kissur passed away or was sold to
cover debts - to the opposite, every gift was preserved, multiplied and grew
and this fragile woman controlled with an iron fist at least three banks and
the second biggest Weian aluminum plant. They said that the applicants for
the bank positions had interviews in front of a curtain - Idari didn't
consider it possible to talk in private with a male stranger and Bemish had
never seen her in anything other than Weian dress.
Idari had only one son and Bemish saw that it deeply hurt her, because
in her view, a good wife should bring a litter every year. To conceive more
children, she had even submitted to an Earthman physician but the physician
had only raised his hands and said that nothing could be done. Three boys
that Kissur fathered whoring around and a total orphan that Kissur extracted
from under his own tank tracks were being brought up in the house.
A lot of maligners told Kissur that the Earthman visited Idari somewhat
more often that the business contacts required but, since the people who
said that wanted very much to obtain everything Bemish had from the Empire,
Kissur ignored these words.
The Eight Chapter
Where Terence Bemish pays taxes with fallen leaves while the rock with
an ancient foretelling is dug out at the construction.
Ashinik was born into a peasant family that was ruined during the civil
war. His father was recruited into the local prince's army and killed there
and his mother died just quietly. In the last year, Ashinik was also
recruited, but by this time the prince's army had dwindled down to five
hundred people and the prince was called a prince no longer but he was
rather called a bandit. When the prince heard that nothing was left of
Khanalai's army, conducting a siege on the capital, but two barns of ashes
and that the new masters - the people from the skies - were giving orders in
the capital, he was scared and rushed in to beg for peace. The sovereign
forgave him and the people from the stars gave everybody a fancy can with a
picture of meat in sauce drawn on it. Ashinik hid the can under his head and
went to sleep and when he pulled the can out in the morning, he found out
that it didn't have the bottom and was empty. Ashinik rushed to his friends
that had just finished the breakfast and they burst in laughter and they
said that it had been this way from the beginning.
Ashinik dragged himself from the city back to the village, to the land,
but there was no land. A fence of brushwood and concrete was where the land
had been and the Earthman was behind the fence. It came out that Ashinik's
father bequeathed the land to the prince and the prince sold this land in
the capital to a trust that dug a hole in the ground. Having heard Ashinik
out, the Earthman went crazy and threw him out.
What happened was that the Earthman had long ago realized the prince
cheated him and he hadn't held the title for all of the land. He gave money
to the first petitioners and, having heard about it, all the locals rushed
picking up their relatives and friends and testifying that they had held
such and such piece of land. With their peasants' minds they instinctively
sized Earthmen up as a power-to-be and held it for a virtue to cheat the
trust that was so stupid that it was ready to pay for the land which had
already been sold to it, even if the people that sold the land didn't own
it. The Earthman had seen that he was being hoodwinked and now he kicked out
everybody who came with a complaint about the land as cheaters.
"I didn't get much from the Earthmen for my field - an empty can and a
kick in the butt," Ashinik thought. Ashinik left for his relatives in the
neighboring province, but he got sick on the way. An old couple picked him
up and ministered to him. Having learned that the total strangers washed him
and spoon fed him, the youth burst into tears - it was the fourth year he
lived as a snail without a shell, only a lazy man wouldn't step on him.
The people, who nursed Ashinik back to health, were tanners. Ashinik
started helping them with their work and with the house. At first, Ashinik
didn't notice anything except that they didn't eat meat in the house but
then, listening to the masters' conversations, he started to realize that
his hosts were some sect's members. This sect had existed for a long time
and it was based on a prophecy about iron people who would appear from
underground to destroy the Empire. On numerous occasions, they had taken
barbarians and rebels for iron men but then a rebel would become an Emperor
and it would become clear that the prophecy was not about him. The masters
hinted to Ashinik a number of times that Earthmen were these iron demons,
and that they wanted to destroy the Empire and that the mine, he was invited
to work on, was nothing else but a hole to hell - the demons would drag him
down there and eat him.
At first, Ashinik didn't really believe it. He had also heard some
really dirty gossip about zealots - they were rumored to entice people with
their lies, nurse the infirm, pick up orphans, and then preach stupid stuff
and engage them in orgies and even worse on their meetings. But he felt
uncomfortable arguing with the elders who had saved his life and he also had
nowhere else to go.
Soon, they took him to a meeting where they directly said that Earthmen
were demons and all the things they owned were either phantoms or had been
stolen from the gods. Then a teacher, clothed in white, in front of their
eyes grew a golden staircase out of a seed, climbed up it to the skies and
came back with a fancy pot that the gods gave him.
Ashinik started taking part in the weekly meetings but doubts assailed
him. "Of course, all I got from the Earthmen for my field was an empty can
and a kick in the butt," Ashinik thought. "But if I consider everybody I got
a kick in the butt from to be demons, there would be more demons than
people." Finally, these thoughts hurt him so unbearably that once in the
repair shop Ashinik fainted and crashed to the ground. When he came back to
his senses, people were crowded around him - it appeared that a great spirit
had seized him and he had been preaching.
Ashinik was taken to the teachers, they housed him with them. Since
Ashinik's words were always taken with great attention, the fits started to
happen more and more often but Ashinik never remembered what he was saying.
Thanks to his prophecy gift and natural cleverness, Ashinik suddenly started
to climb quickly up the hierarchical ladder. Ashinik was especially shocked
by the following. The zealots he found himself with at first believed that
Earthmen were really demons. On the second level, they told him that words
iron devil and demon with respect to Earthmen should be treated
metaphorically and Earthmen live on the sky rather than underground. He was
told that the stupider were the rumors about Earthmen, the easier the dumb
people would believe them. But on the third level, he was told that Earthmen
were demons! And they explained to him that the more metaphorical the
prophecies' interpretations were, the easier would silly officials believe
them since they wouldn't see the gut sense behind the false reasoning. And
on the fourth level, he was told again that the prophecy should be treated
metaphorically!
When he achieved the seventh level - there were ten of them all in all
- Ashinik couldn't distinguish anymore where a metaphor was, where the
reality was and where the deep meaning of both of them was. Talking to a
commoner, he spoke as if he was on the first level. Talking to an educated
man, he spoke as if he was on the second level. He believed what his
audience could believe. Thanks to that, his sermons gathered huge crowds. He
was also taught to prophecy right at the meetings and he usually remembered
what he had said.
Four years passed this way - Ashinik was now twenty. Once the White
Elder called and commanded him to leave for Assalah village on Chakhar
border. He said,
"The demons build their holes there. They call this hole a spaceport
and they say that they fly to the sky out of these holes, but, in reality,
these holes go underground all the way to hell. The Assalah demons wronged
our peasants mightily and we have a strong society there. But yesterday the
society head died. Go to Assalah and take his place."
This time the trip to the capital took eight hours instead of two
months - the next day's morning a yellow bus left Ashinik at the road fork
going to spaceport.
Ashinik threw his sack over his shoulder and started walking. The
trucks, looking like huge silk worms, flew past him to the construction, a
cloud of dust and bad smells hung over the road and in the fields, recoiling
from the curb, ripening rice ears were covered with a thick layer of cement
dust. It was a long walk and Ashinik tried waving a twig several times to
hitch a ride but nobody stopped. Even during the worst war years Ashinik
remembered always being able to get a ride from a passerby in a cart. They
could kill you once they had picked you up, but at least they would always
pick you up.
Suddenly a car slowed down. Ashinik nervously saw that it was not a
truck but rather a passenger car shaped like a tiny bug. The driver threw
open a door - after a brief hesitation Ashinik climbed inside. They drove in
silence for a while.
"Are you going to the construction site?" the driver asked. He spoke in
demon's brogue.
"No," Ashinik replied, "I am going to the village."
"Who are you going to?"
"My uncle called me in. His son died - maybe he will adopt me."
"There are a lot of zealots," the driver said, "in this village.
Following the Way. Are you one of them?"
"Yes."
"What level are you?"
"What do you know about levels?"
The driver looked the lad over - he had a round good-natured face, wide
lips and adjoining thick eyebrows over his beautiful brown eyes.
"A week ago," the driver said, "the local Following the Way man died.
You are coming to replace him, aren't you?"
"What do you do?"
"My name is Terence Bemish, I am the Assalah company director."
Ashinik swallowed.
"Do you pick all passersby up or did you know that I was coming?"
"I pick all the bums up," Bemish said. "The drivers at the construction
rarely give a ride to anybody and if you are a bum, they might even kill
you. They have already killed two people this way."
"Your workers aren't any good."
"It's difficult to get any worse. They drink, steal, and make the
newcomers do the same. There are gangs among them. Two of them were caught
yesterday - they sold an anti-corrosion paint box. How much do you think
they sold it for? They sold it for a rice vodka crock! Yesterday, one guard
shot at another guard - he was boozed up. They arrested him, started an
investigation and discovered that he was wanted in the capital for robbery
and murder. Everybody who wants to escape the capital after screwing
something up there, go here."
"Yes," Ashinik said, "it's not easy. I have never had to own people
that drink, steal and eat meat. A master is like a seed and his subordinate
is like grass that grows out of the seed. Grass follows seeds. It's not
surprising that the demons' servants steal anti-corrosion paint from them."
Bemish was so upset by this comment that he lost his self control. His
true nature emerged and Ashinik noticed at once that Bemish's head was
really just a meat egg. Ashinik felt himself very uncomfortable. "What if he
asks now - do you really think I am a demon?"
But Bemish didn't ask anything like this, he shook his meat egg and
said.
"The village is just beyond this hill. Would you be uncomfortable
entering the village in my car? Would you like to get out at the turn?"
"Not a problem at all," Ashinik said.
In the evening, the whole village listened to their new prophet's
stories about riding in the chief demon's car and seeing a meat egg on the
demon's shoulders.
Bemish was not exaggerating the problems in his conversation with the
future zealots' guru. The construction situation worsened every day. The
worsening, however, was reflected neither in the balance books nor in the
profits and expenses reports and the most meticulous auditor would not be
able to enter the locals' feelings into the company's debits column.
It was also partly Bemish's fault. As an ardent player who felt better
next to a computer screen rather on the construction site, Bemish visited
the latter only occasionally, being engrossed completely in the capital
business maelstrom.
He started up a hedge fund acquiring Weian stocks - it was quoted in
the intergalactic system. Trevis raised money for him, a sum unheard-off for
a developing market - five hundred million dinars. He acquired the broker
house DJ securities and used it to conduct the hedge fund operations; he
also acquired 12% shares of the bank that Assalah Company had an account in.
Together with Idari, Shavash and two other useful people, he founded a
local Assabank and soon, by a special sovereign's law, all the budget funds
allocated by the government for the construction of the roads,
communications and the other Assalah infrastructure passed this bank.
Bemish swam like a fish in the market where the quotes often fluctuated
30-40% a week, where even relatively liquid shares had an 8% spread and
where trading based on insider information was not a crime but a norm. He
had disposed of almost all the stocks a week before the government announced
the new tax regulations that caused a market crash and by the year's end his
fund was the only one showing a profit gain of 36% compared to the other
funds' losses fluctuating between 14% and 86%. The real profit was even
higher, but as it had already been agreed on, Shavash obtained one third of
it.
However, while Terence Bemish hung out in the capital, bought and sold
accordingly to Shavash's hints, opened new banks, had fun with Kissur and
gave an interview to Galamoney as the head of the company in charge of the
most successful fund of the year, other people controlled the construction,
most of all the company vice-president Richard Giles. Oh, of course, Bemish
received the construction and money flow reports every day. A minor
financial glitch, not even close to larceny, would not remain unnoticed.
"Why do you have this leftover at the active accounts?" angry Bemish
screamed at the receiver. "Couldn't you place an overnight credit?"
And the leftover was only five thousand dinars.
But the peasants and workers' attitude was not reflected in any way in
the financial reports and increasing theft was at first written off by
Bemish as the bad heritage of two thousand years of socialism.
As Bemish realized looking back, a lot of things would have been
different if the construction had started not when the peasants had been
planting rice and when every pair of hands had been precious. But the
construction started right in the spring - the peasants didn't let their
lads go to the construction site and the guys who came later met with a
construction lifestyle already in place - the lifestyle of lost city
dwellers, bums and simply bandits that stole watermelons from the fields,
trampled rice down, fought the village lads en masse and considered hard
porn with stereo effects to be the highest achievement of the alien culture.
At one point, Bemish ran into a ceremony of Following the Way on a road
and the sect's head, a tall old man with a grey beard, pointed his finger at
him and started calling him a sorcerer of the basest type. Bemish inquired
what exactly his sorcery was and received an answer.
"All your flashy labels and commercials, cigarettes and movies - they
are all your dirty magic and rituals. You use all this to get people
together."
Bemish objected.
"I am sick of these commercials no less than you are."
"This is even worse," the old man grinned. "It means that you have one
culture for small people and another one for big people. This is
ill-conceived because everything can be different for small people and for
big people - what they own and what they wear - but their culture should be
the same. The spring day is celebrated by a farm hand and in the palace. And
if your workers go to see The Triple Strike and you don't... What's the
point of talking about it?!"
He thought and added with curiosity.
"Is it true, that you live underground just like the wild people in the
North who change their ruler every four years and, having changed him, eat
him?"
"We change a ruler," Bemish admitted, "but we don't eat him."
The old man died then, Ashinik arrived to take his place and the
situation worsened. Whatever Bemish did, it came out wrong. They delivered a
worker to the hospital with appendicitis for surgery and Ashinik made
everybody believe that the demons from the skies cut the guy's corn off and
attached a goat's equipment instead and now only goats would be born from
him.
Bemish had loaned some money to the village, at the previous village
headman's time, and Ashinik started a rumor that they tricked the headman
using his poor knowledge of English and made him sign a paper permitting the
Earthmen to demolish the whole village. There was another rumor also
contrived by Ashinik that Bemish had a black cord. One end of the cord was
in a table drawer, in the villa, and the sovereign himself was tied to
another end. If the Earthman pulled on the cord, the sovereign would toss
and groan and hail would start coming down from the sky.
Slowly, bypassing official district authorities and official
construction management, underground organizations started to form in the
village and at the construction site. The sect grew quickly in the village.
The number of zealots increased from the starting few as quickly as a
crystal grows in a saturated solution once a seed crystal is submerged
there. As for the construction... let's be honest, mafia started to rule the
construction.
At some point, a name appeared among the private cofounders of new
import-export companies - O'Hare - the same O'Hare who had been introduced
to Bemish in the thief's tavern and who had taken care of the presentation.
Bemish crossed the cofounder's name out with red ink commenting that
such a company would end up selling drugs and that would be really
disgusting. Giles, as an Intelligence employee agreed with the company
director wholeheartedly.
Only now Bemish realized how horribly he had been tricked by the small
official Shavash when he agreed to take the construction out of the local
authorities' jurisdiction. The district officials were corrupted and
unceremonious. They could have managed both the bandits and zealots and
happily ignored any humanitarian issues. They could have relocated the whole
village to, say, Chakhar in three days or just burned it to the ground.
Unlike them, Bemish would not be able to drive a tank over the village
or land in the middle of it, "as a miss", a sixty thousand ton space freight
ship - as Shavash suggested to him altogether seriously. And not a single
international legal system existed that would ban planet dwellers from
singing songs and going nuts en masse.
Now, Bemish found himself in a classical chess fork - if he started
arresting the zealots himself, even the most pro-Earthmen officials would be
indignant. If he asked for the authorities' help, it would be a sign of his
utter powerlessness.
The tipping point for the village and construction confrontation was
the following. They started to dig the foundation pits for service buildings
on the northern hill and dug out old temple complex remnants.
Having checked it out with archives, they found out the remnants were
the old temples of Adera-benefactor goddess that had prospered almost two
thousand years ago when the capital officials hadn't dared to force their
way into these surroundings calling the local dwellers "bandits" but not,
however, making any attempts to eradicate them.
This Adera lady had quite an irritable disposition, she had a tendency
to appear in people's dreams extorting gifts and even human sacrifices,
threatening with floods; indescribable orgies took place at her
celebrations. The sovereign Irshahchan obliterated the temple mercilessly,
recognizing this cult to be a crime against humanity and disobedience to the
authorities.
Having being trained to respect any ruin, Bemish stopped all the
construction there and asked Shavash and Kissur what he should do. Kissur
told him to clean up the damned temple and recycle it for construction
materials, if needed. Shavash took a look at the altar where boys were
rumored to be offered as a sacrifice and said that the altar was not
impressive as a cultural monument since carving was too crude.
The newspapers did hear about the temple however. The newspapers
demanded the Earthmen to take their dirty hands away from the national
heritage. Bemish snapped back tactlessly that the Weians themselves had
destroyed the temple while the Earthmen actually found it.
Soon, the most unbelievable myths related to the temple riches emerged.
They had dug out a large two hundred meter deep well in the temple, and a
rumor emerged that every local dweller had thrown his most valuable
belongings down this well as a sacrifice to Adera for centuries. Half-drunk
construction workers and deranged religious peasants believed every inch of
it and were climbing over the fence built around the temple twenty four
hours a day. Bemish ordered an exploration of the well's bottom and, in the
presence of the authorities and the journalists, loads of flint arrowheads,
brass round handles and clay female figurines with huge bellies was
extracted. There was a possibility that the local denizens had indeed thrown
their most valuable belongings down the Adera well but, during these times,
flint arrowheads had been the most valuable things here.
That, of course, didn't hurt the myth. Everybody saw how much equipment
was thrown at the well and that a hundred men spent three days around it! No
need! The rumors assured that the well appeared to be empty because the
managers had robbed it earlier. The money amounts, the names of the
spaceships used to transport the treasure to Earth, the names of the
museums, the name of the construction director and Shavash's name were
specified.
The morning of the eighteenth, Bemish found himself in the capital at a
conference dealing with developing countries investments issues. Bemish was
presented there both as a speaker and an exhibition object.
Bemish conversed with the relevant people and, immediately after the
talk he left for the spaceport, having picked up a man named Born - a United
Galactic Fund representative who was observing the situation with the
stabilization credit allocated for the Empire.
A flock of local journalists waited for Bemish at the helicopter and
attacked him with their questions.
"Mr. Bemish, is it true that when an old catalpa was ripped out at your
construction, blood appeared at its roots? Doesn't this omen foretell
misfortunes?"
"No."
"Is it true that a she-goat nearby changed to a he-goat?"
"A she-goat didn't change to a he-goat."
"Is it true, that they dug out a rock that had been buried during White
Emperor's times and it had words written on it, "In a month after this rock
is extracted the construction will perish."
"It is true. The words were, however, written with phenyl paint
developed and set in production five years ago. If the zealots decide to
counterfeit the White Emperor's words again, I would advise them not to buy
paint in the nearest kiosk."
"Mr. Bemish, is it true that you paid taxes this year with Weian
National Bank bonds at their face value?"
Here, Bemish's escort - he, accordingly to a local custom, obtained
himself three beefy flatheads - socked the peppiest journalist on his jaw
and the newspapermen bolted.
On the return helicopter trip to Assalah, Born inquired why the
journalist's had been punched in his mug.
"He is from White Sky," Bemish answered. "This is a newspaper owned by
zealots who think Earthmen to be demons crawling out from underground. They
say that if we flew from the sky, we would meet gods on the way. He was
asking boorish questions."
"Ah, zealot," the satisfied banker drawled, "zealots aren't dangerous."
"It's not dangerous but it's annoying," Bemish agreed.
"What were they asking about taxes?"
Bemish paused deciding whether or not he should explain. But the whole
thing had raised a stink and they had mentioned about it in the newspapers
couple times.
"There was a bank," Bemish said, "that went bankrupt. The government
nationalized it, restructured its loans and turned them into bonds."
"And what is the bonds' value?"
"It's seven-ten percent of their nominal value."
"And at what value were your bonds appraised?"
"They were appraised at hundred percent of their nominal value."
The banker grunted with astonishment, but he controlled himself and
didn't say anything.
Bemish asked Born what Weian official he liked the most, and Mr. Gerald
Born named Shavash without hesitation. And he added, "What do you think -
would Mr. Shavash agree to resign from his Empire appointment and head the
developing markets department in our bank?"
Bemish almost gaped.
"Why do you think," He asked cautiously, "that Shavash may want to
retire?"
"Because of all this slander directed at him! I can tell you with total
frankness that not a single tranche of our credit would reach its
destination if it was not for Shavash! The local officials would have
embezzled everything! This is the only man who is doing something to save
the country's economy. And what does he get back? The best Empire economist
languishes under a dimwitted minister and the officials fling disgusting
slander at him being unable to endure one honest man in their midst. I think
that the best solution for him would be to leave this planet. Do you
disagree?"
"No, not really," Bemish said, "Shavash is an amazing man - you are
right."
Bemish wanted to pass Born into Giles's hands, so that the latter dealt
with the guest till the take off, but Giles vanished somewhere and even his
cell was off - Bemish resolved to thrash him soundly.
Bemish personally walked his old acquaintance to the boarding ramp. The
latter was pleasantly surprised having learned that the spaceport had an
extraterritorial status and the spaceport's management collected taxes and
had independent jurisdiction."
Bemish had barely returned to his office when a phone rang.
Bemish picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Terence," the fairest Empire economist told him. "What's the
story with Golden Deer Company? I heard that you detained their freight."
"There is no story," Bemish said. "It's just that there is forty tons
of electronics there and they paid tariffs for five tons only. Why don't
they pay everything required and pick it up."
"Terence, be so kind. Their guy will drop by - stamp his papers and let
him go." And Shavash put the receiver down not waiting for a reply.
Giles announced himself in half an hour. He shakily walked in the
office. His face was smashed and his expensive suit was splattered in mud.
"Oh, my God, Giles what's happened to you?"
"Somebody attacked me."
"Who was it?"
"Who was it? It was some hoodlums. It was all the damn hoodlums of this
planet who don't have anything better to do than to get hired at this
construction!"
"Security is your problem, Giles. If your crappy service can't pacify
two dozen crooks, how is it going to pacify two dozen dictators?
"We will pacify crooks," Giles exploded. "Security troops will be here
in a week."
"What? Have you sent a request?"
"I will send it today."
"I forbid you."
"Why?"
"Because, at the moment it becomes public, everybody will start selling
my securities! At first, Federation Special Forces will send their troops to
devaluate the construction and then they will buy it dirt cheap, won't
they?"
"Won't zealots and bandits devaluate it?
"Exchange market doesn't care about zealots! It doesn't know what they
mean. It perfectly well understands what the Special Forces mean!"
Giles touched his torn cheekbone.
Bemish picked up the receiver and called Shavash.
"Shavash, my deputy was assaulted today. Who? Crooks! Send your police
in and eradicate these hoods."
"Terence, only Federation laws are valid at the spaceport territory.
You can call your troops in but not our police."
"Call this stupid immunity off!"
"You grumbled about corrupted officials yourself..."
"Your corrupted officials, at least, will not overload themselves with
legalities bashing these hoods' teeth in."
"I am glad that you see some advantages of our officials."
"They have advantages only compared to your crooks."
On the other end, Shavash switched to another line and told his
secretary to summon a car. In an hour, a narrow silver car drove Shavash to
a decorated gate of a bawdy house, famous across the whole country. Having
ignored the welcoming girls who leaped up at his arrival, Shavash walked