Pathspace: The Space of Paths (9 page)

“That one day I will be Governor, and must
be prepared for that,” Aria recited.

“If you can remember that, can remember just
that one thing, then there is a tiny chance that the last three
years have not been a complete waste of my time.” Miss Gerloch
turned away. “Now come along. The Map room won't come to us,
child.”

Aria hurried to catch up with her obsessive
tutor, and was a little short of breath by the time she reached the
thirty-fifth floor. Miss Gerloch didn't bother to wait for her. She
flung open the door and flew in like some enormous bat diving into
a cave mouth. Sighing, Aria followed.

She nearly turned right around again,
because Ludlow was there.

She ought to have expected it, because she'd
heard from Mabel that he spent a lot of time in here these days.
Which was probably a good thing, since he didn't fit in anywhere
else. Ludlow was too informed to be a commoner, but too crude and
brusque to be a courtier. In her opinion, he knew a little about
everything, but not enough about anything to fill a useful position
in the Governor's staff.

In Ludlow's opinion, she knew, he
already
filled a valuable position – that of a generalist
advisor, an expert of unspecified expertise. He maintained that the
Governor needed someone who knew how different areas of
concentration related to each other. Someone, for example, who knew
what farmers would think if the military demanded more jerky for
field rations instead of more milk for the cheese makers. Or
someone who could suggest ways to convert fabrics seized in border
raids for military bandages.

But really, she couldn't stand the man! He
was so, so in-between about everything. Never sure what he thought,
until he 'd heard what
you
thought, so that he could seem to
be agreeing with you. Never interested in anything until he learned
you
were – at which point he would exclaim that he'd been
fascinated with it for years. He was a human chameleon, with no
color of his own. No, she decided, not a chameleon. Even lizards
had more personality. He was a pool among the rock, reflecting his
surroundings without addition or improvement. A mirror in the shape
of a man.

And his eyes were always clinging to her as
if trying to pry her clothes off. It always made her want to go and
take a bath.

“Why, hello, Aria!” he oozed. “What a
pleasant surprise seeing you here today.”

As if he didn't know she had Geopolitics in
the Map room at nine every morning. Her eyes narrowed. “More
pleasant for some than others,” she said.

His eyebrow lifted. “Oh dear,” he murmured.
“Has someone spoiled your mood already? Fear not, the day will
improve, I'm sure of it.”

Not in the way you hope.
“Were you
looking for something particular in here?”

“Alas, no. Just trying to pick up a few more
facts, learn a bit more. You know how it is. I'm always looking for
ways to make myself more useful.”

Indeed you are. More useful than anyone
wants.
Why didn't you just go away when Xander decided you
would never be much of a wizard?
“I see,” she said.

“Aria! Stop wasting time with Mister Ludlow
and get over here!”

Se closed her eyes and turned toward Miss
Gerloch, erasing him from her existence and avoiding the
conspiratorial wink he was aiming in her direction. “Yes, Miss
Gerloch.”

“Time for review drill. Name all of the
neighboring countries and for each, give the ruler or rulers, the
form of government, and the main exports.”

“To the West,” she began, “is the kingdom of
Deseret, a theocracy, ruled by the Prophet. Their main exports are
salt and agricultural products. To the South lies the Empire of
Texas, with a dynastic monarchy ruled by the Honcho, and their
chief exports are beef, leather, and … and livestock.”

“Continue.”

“To the East we have the kingdom of
Kansouri, with a constitutional monarchy consisting of the Council
of Nine. Their exports are wood, livestock, and textiles. To the –
”

“What sort of textiles?” interrupted Miss
Gerloch.

“Wool, flax linen, and burlap or
sackcloth.”

“Very well. Continue.”

“To the North lies the People's Republic of
Wyoming, a communalist union of farm-states with a Worker's
Congress of representatives. Their chief exports are wheat, beef,
and cornflour.”

Miss Gerloch turned to the wall, which held
a map without labels. It showed the entire continent,
without
the boundaries of the various kingdoms, those
shattered remnants of the original Union. It was something the
General had put there, twenty years ago. His Dream.

“Not bad for a start,” she said. “Now go
further. What lies beyond Deseret to the West?”

“Californ. Ruled by the Queen of Angeles,
Earl of Francisco, and the Duke of the Northern Forests. Main
exports are fruits, wines, artworks and hemp.”

“And to the far East of us, east of
Okla?”

“The Dixie Emirates. Ruled by the Council of
Emirs. Chief exports are tobacco, corn, rugs, and coal.” Aria
paused, “Have you ever been there, Miss Gerloch?”

The older woman turned away from the map to
face her. “I have,” she said. “And someday I might even tell you
about it.”

His Excellency, Defender
of the Faith, by the grace of God the Honcho, ruler of the Lone
Star Empire adjusted his sword belt and glanced at the water clock
in the corner of his office.
Where is the Runt? I told
him the audience began at ten.

He almost reached for the
bell pull at the side of the desk, but stopped himself. It was bad
enough that Jeffrey was late. Announcing the fact to his staff by
summoning an adjutant to fetch him would not improve things.
I swear, if he's been drinking again this early, I swear
I'll...

But the thought went
unfinished.
You'll what?
As his
only heir, the Runt could not be demoted, and the problem was,
Jeffrey knew it. Impatient for a succession that could be decades
away, the boy did his best to evade tutors and trainers to spend
more time in his cups or the casinos, where he usually lost, secure
in the knowledge that the Honcho would cover all debts as a matter
of honor. If he were anyone but the Runt Peter would have had him
whipped into shape by now.

The door banged open and Jeffrey strolled
in, thumbs hooked in his belt, affecting a bored expression that
complained without words of the waste of his time.

Peter rose to his feet. “It's about time.
Let's go. The Pontiff is already waiting for us.”

Four guards snapped to attention as the two
of them exited the Honcho's residence. Another held open the door
of the coach.

He noted that Jeffrey was interested in the
conveyance. The boy had never seen it before, of course. His
crafters had been working on it for nearly a year and only
completed the final touches on the vehicle last week. They had
begun with a conveyance of the Ancients called a “stretch
limousine” discovered in remarkably good condition in a private
garage in the outskirts of Austin. The body had been lightened by
removing the useless engine parts, and the top had been sawed off
and replaced with a thin leather arrangement that could be pulled
up to cover the occupants in the event of rain, in the manner of
the “convertibles” mentioned in the old stories. The windshield had
been removed to allow the reins of the four-horse team to reach the
driver in the front seat. The result of these labors was a
comfortable ride for at least four passengers who could sit in the
ancient benches facing each other and enjoy the luxury of the car's
suspension, a marvel of twenty-first century engineering. The
tires, of course, had decayed long ago,.and had been replaced with
laminated rims fashioned from many layers of birch bark and a
resinous glue compounded by the royal alchemist, who claimed the
composite material would survive the wear and tear for at least six
months. Materials for the expected replacements had been
ordered.

“
Do you really think he'll
agree to it?” Jeffrey said, interrupting the Honchos's meditations
upon vehicular adaptation.

“
Eventually. But he'll
probably have a lot to say about how we handle it. The Pontiff and
I are in complete agreement on rebuilding civilization's
infrastructure without any of the Tourist technology. But we
disagree on the timetable.”

“
How so?”

“
As you know, there are
only so many surviving governments on the continent. The more we
absorb – “

“
You mean,
conquer.”

“
Indeed. The more we
conquer, the fewer are left to threaten an alliance against our
expansion. To expedite the process, however, we need a mechanized
army to field a decisive advantage. Which means, naturally, that we
need our fuel as soon as we can get it.”

The car slowed to negotiate a turn onto
Church Lane. This was facilitated by the fact that the driver had
tied the reins to the steering wheel. As he hauled the wheel around
to his left, this pulled in the reins for the left-hand horses,
slowing them, and permitting the right-hand horses more time to
cover their longer arc of the turn.

“
Which is why you are
proposing to make an exception and use swizzles and everflames to
extract the oil and distill your gasoline,” said the
Runt.

“
Yes. His Holiness,
however, will try to argue us out of it. He's perfectly happy to
accept a more gradual expansion, if it means we can avoid what he
is not willing to accept as a necessary evil.”

Jeffrey craned his neck to look at the sky.
Peter could guess what he was thinking. Probably hoping there would
be no rain to force them to use the leather cover, which would
spoil their unobstructed view. For his part, he wasn't worried. His
Meteorologist, whom the Runt referred to as the court Astrologer,
had assured him there would be no rain for at least two days. He
made no mention of this, however. His holiness had the same opinion
of the man as Jeffrey, and it would not make their audience any
smoother if the man's name were mentioned.

“
I suppose,” Jeffrey said,
upon reflection, “that he might make an exception should we require
extra large fires for the
conversion
of all those Protestants and Mormons.”

Peter had to smile at that. Sometimes his
son surprised him. “Probably not, unless we pointed out that the
available wood might be better employed for the building of more
churches in the soon-to-be conquered lands.”

He did not speak of what they both knew:
that the Church had done well in the reduced circumstances Humanity
faced after the Fall. What His Holiness called “the arrogance of
scientific atheism” has suffered greatly when the civilization that
appeared to promote it collapsed. Yes, the Church had done well
after that. The problem was, other religions had, also. Many had
seized upon prayer for their emotional support, once the loss of
technological medicine and industrial food distribution had made
survival harder. One only had to look at the Kingdom of New Israel
in the Northeast and the Muslim Emirates of Dixie to see that the
Church faced stiff competition for the hearts and minds of
humanity.

Peter's late grandfather had made
Catholicism the official religion of the Lone Star Empire, which
had endeared him to His Holiness's predecessor. It was a real coup
that the old dog had gotten the Pontiff of the Americas to relocate
his New Vatican to Texas. There would, perhaps, be the devil to pay
when contact with Europe was reestablished. If the papacy had
survived the Fall there, it might mean another war. But that,
thankfully, was a long way off. No one that he knew of was spending
their resources building navies.

“Try not to make mention of the other
religions today,” he advised his son. “This audience could be
difficult enough without reminding His Holiness of his competition.
And let me do most of the talking. I shouldn't need to remind you
that and sign of disagreement between us will be looked upon by the
Pontiff as a weakness to exploit for further concessions to the
Church.”

“Further concession?” Jeffrey dropped his
pretense of boredom. “Does he truly believe that we need his
permission for anything? Could he actually think that Grandfather
gave him asylum here because he needed him?”

Peter eyed him. “I see you have your own
opinions on the matter,” he said.

The Runt pretended interest in something
outside the window. “I've made no secret of them,” he muttered.

No, you haven't have you? You still have
a lot to learn about governing before you're ready to assume the
mantle.
“You said often enough that you think the Church a
quaint establishment, outdated and meaningless.” He shook his head.
“Perhaps you imagine word of such sentiments will endear you to the
population, especially those near your own age.”

“No,” said Jeffrey, turning back to face
him. “I merely see no point or honor in lying about my
beliefs.”

His father smiled at that.
You just did,
and you think I don't know it.
But his pride at Jeffrey's
attempt at deception was dampened by the knowledge that the Runt
still thought he could fool him. “Then you're not as smart as I
thought. Many of the people out there believe that the hardships
and plagues we suffer nowadays are a punishment from God for the
arrogance of the Ancients.”

Jeffrey snorted at that. “It's far more
likely that the hardships and sicknesses which you refer to are the
result of losing the refrigeration, vaccines, and other advantages
which the science of the Ancients used to provide, until the
Tourists came and meddled in our affairs.”