Small Gods

The two men looked at Vorbis, a man who never raised his voice. It was very hard to tell what Vorbis was thinking, often even after he had told you.

‘Really? Is this what we’ve come to?’ he said. ‘No threat? After what they did to poor Brother Murduck? The insults to Om? This must not pass. What is proposed to be done?’

‘No more fighting,’ said Fri’it. ‘They fight like madmen. No. We’ve lost too many already.’

‘They have strong gods,’ said Drunah.

‘They have better bows,’ said Fri’it.

‘There is no God but Om,’ said Vorbis. ‘What the Ephebians believe they worship are nothing but djinns and demons. If it can be called worship. Have you seen this?’

He pushed forward a scroll of paper.

‘What is it?’ said Fri’it cautiously.

‘A lie. A history that does not exist and never existed … the … the things …’ Vorbis hesitated, trying to remember a word that had long since fallen into disuse, ‘… like the … tales told to children, who are too young … words for people to say … the …’

‘Oh. A play,’ said Fri’it. Vorbis’s gaze nailed him to the wall.

‘You know of these things?’

‘I — when I travelled in Klatch once—’ Fri’it stuttered. He visibly pulled himself together. He had commanded one hundred thousand men in battle. He didn’t deserve this.

He found he didn’t dare look at Vorbis’s expression.

‘They dance dances,’ he said limply. ‘On their holy days. The women have bells on their … And sing songs. All about the early days of the worlds, when the gods—’

He faded. ‘It was disgusting,’ he said. He clicked his knuckles, a habit of his whenever he was worried.

‘This one has their gods in it,’ said Vorbis. ‘Men in masks. Can you believe that? They have a god of wine. A drunken old man! And people say Ephebe is no threat! And this—’

He tossed another, thicker scroll on to the table.

‘This is far worse. For while they worship false gods in error, their error is in their choice of gods, not in their worship. But this—’

Drunah gave it a cautious examination.

‘I believe there are other copies, even in the Citadel,’ said Vorbis. ‘This one belonged to Sasho. I believe you recommended him to my service, Fri’it?’

‘He always struck me as an intelligent and keen young man,’ said the general.

‘But disloyal,’ said Vorbis, ‘and now receiving his just reward. It is only to be regretted that he has not been induced to give us the names of his fellow heretics.’

Fri’it fought against the sudden rush of relief. His eyes met those of Vorbis.

Drunah broke the silence.

‘De Chelonian Mobile,’ he said aloud. ‘“The Turtle Moves”.^{9} What does that mean?’

‘Even telling you could put your soul at risk of a thousand years in hell,’ said Vorbis. His eyes had not left Fri’it, who was now staring fixedly at the wall.

‘I think it is a risk we might carefully take,’ said Drunah.

Vorbis shrugged. ‘The writer claims that the world … travels through the void on the back of four huge elephants,’ he said.

Drunah’s mouth dropped open.

‘On the back?’ he said.

‘It is claimed,’ said Vorbis, still watching Fri’it.

‘What do they stand on?’

‘The writer says they stand on the shell of an enormous turtle,’ said Vorbis.

Drunah grinned nervously.

‘And what does that stand on?’ he said.^{10}

‘I see no point in speculating as to what it stands on,’ snapped Vorbis, ‘since it does not exist!’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Drunah quickly. ‘It was only idle curiosity.’

‘Most curiosity is,’ said Vorbis. ‘It leads the mind into speculative ways. Yet the man who wrote this walks around free, in Ephebe, now.’

Drunah glanced at the scroll.

‘He says here he went on a ship that sailed to an island on the edge and he looked over and—’

‘Lies,’ said Vorbis evenly. ‘And it would make no difference even if they were not lies. Truth lies within, not without. In the words of the Great God Om, as delivered through his chosen prophets. Our eyes may deceive us, but our God never will.’

‘But—’

Vorbis looked at Fri’it. The general was sweating.

‘Yes?’ he said.

‘Well … Ephebe. A place where madmen have mad ideas. Everyone knows that. Maybe the wisest course is leave them to stew in their folly?’

Vorbis shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, wild and unstable ideas have a disturbing tendency to move around and take hold.’

Fri’it had to admit that this was true. He knew from experience that true and obvious ideas, such as the ineffable wisdom and judgement of the Great God Om, seemed so obscure to many people that you actually had to kill them before they saw the error of their ways, whereas dangerous and nebulous and wrong-headed notions often had such an attraction for some people that they would — he rubbed a scar thoughtfully — hide up in the mountains and throw rocks at you until you starved them out. They’d prefer to die rather than see sense. Fri’it had seen sense at an early age. He’d seen it was sense not to die.

‘What do you propose?’ he said.

‘The Council want to parley with Ephebe,’ said Drunah. ‘You know I have to organize a deputation to leave tomorrow.’

‘How many soldiers?’ said Vorbis.