your release. Each feels that clemency would be a mistake. Who should know better than they? Jaime and Mermiente have agreed to act as your jailers; henceforth you must deal with them."
"They will kill us; is this the justice of the Anome?"
"I don't know where justice lies," said Etzwane. "Perhaps it will come of itself, for you surely will get as much mercy as you gave."
Finnerack and Etzwane went to the diligence, Etzwane ill-at-ease and looking back over his shoulder. Where was justice indeed? Had he acted wisely and decisively? Had he taken the weak, maudlin easy course? Both? Neither? He would never know.
"Hurry," said Finnerack. "Toward sunset the chumpas come up from the swamp."
Through the declining light they set out to the north. Finnerack began to study Etzwane from the side of his eyes. "Somewhere I have known you," said Finnerack. "Where? Why did you come for me?"
Sooner or later the question must be answered. Etzwane said, "Long ago -you did me a service, which I finally am able to repay. This is the first reason."
In Finnerack's corded brown face the eyes 'glinted like blue ice.
Etzwane went on. "A new Anome has come to power. I serve as his executive assistant. I have many anxieties; I need an assistant of my own, a confederate on whom I can rely."
Finnerack. spoke in a voice of awe and wonder, as if he doubted either Etzwane's sanity or his own. "You have chosen me for this position?"
"This is correct."
Finnerack gave a chuckle of wild amusement, as if his doubts were now resolved: both he and Etzwane were mad. "Why me, whom you hardly know?"
"Caprice. Perhaps I remember how you were kind to a desperate waif at Angwin."
"Ah!" The sound came up from the depths of Finnerack's soul. The amusement, the wonder were gone as if they had never existed. The bony body seemed to crouch into the seat.
"I escaped," said Etzwane. "I became a musician. A month ago the new Anome came to power, and instantly called for war against the Roguskhoi. He required that I enforce this policy and I myself was given power. I learned of your condition, though I did not realize the harshness of Camp Three."
Finnerack straightened in his seat. "Can you guess your risk in telling this tale? Or my rage toward those who have made my life? Do you know what they have done to me to make me pay debts I never incurred? Do you know that I consider myself mad: an animal that has been made savage? Do you know how taut is the film that halts me from tearing you to pieces and running back to do the same for Hillen?"
"Restrain yourself," said Etzwane. "The past is the past; you are alive, and now we have work to do."
"Work?" sneered Finnerack. "Why should I work?"
"For the same reason I work: to save Shant from the Roguskhoi."
Finnerack uttered a harsh gust of laughter. "The Roguskhoi have done me no harm. Let them do as they like."
Etzwane could think of nothing to say. For a period the diligence rolled north along the road. They entered the shagbark grove, and the sunlight, now noticeably lavender, cast long green shadows.
Etzwane spoke. "Have you never thought how you would better the world, had you the power?"
"I have indeed," said Finnerack in a voice somewhat milder than before. "I would destroy those who had ravaged me: my father, Dagbolt, the wretched boy who took his freedom and made me pay the cost, the balloon-way magnates, Hillen. There are many."
"This is the voice of your anger," said Etzwane. "By destroying these people you do nothing real; the evil continues, and somewhere other Jerd Finneracks will ache to destroy you for not helping them when you had power."
"Correctly so," said Finnerack. "All men are bags of vileness, myself as well. Let the Roguskhoi kill all."
"It is foolish to be outraged by a fact of nature," Etzwane protested. "Men are as they are, on Durdane even more so.. Our ancestors came here to indulge their idiosyncrasies; an excess of extravagance is our heritage. Viana Paizifiume understood this
"They will kill us; is this the justice of the Anome?"
"I don't know where justice lies," said Etzwane. "Perhaps it will come of itself, for you surely will get as much mercy as you gave."
Finnerack and Etzwane went to the diligence, Etzwane ill-at-ease and looking back over his shoulder. Where was justice indeed? Had he acted wisely and decisively? Had he taken the weak, maudlin easy course? Both? Neither? He would never know.
"Hurry," said Finnerack. "Toward sunset the chumpas come up from the swamp."
Through the declining light they set out to the north. Finnerack began to study Etzwane from the side of his eyes. "Somewhere I have known you," said Finnerack. "Where? Why did you come for me?"
Sooner or later the question must be answered. Etzwane said, "Long ago -you did me a service, which I finally am able to repay. This is the first reason."
In Finnerack's corded brown face the eyes 'glinted like blue ice.
Etzwane went on. "A new Anome has come to power. I serve as his executive assistant. I have many anxieties; I need an assistant of my own, a confederate on whom I can rely."
Finnerack. spoke in a voice of awe and wonder, as if he doubted either Etzwane's sanity or his own. "You have chosen me for this position?"
"This is correct."
Finnerack gave a chuckle of wild amusement, as if his doubts were now resolved: both he and Etzwane were mad. "Why me, whom you hardly know?"
"Caprice. Perhaps I remember how you were kind to a desperate waif at Angwin."
"Ah!" The sound came up from the depths of Finnerack's soul. The amusement, the wonder were gone as if they had never existed. The bony body seemed to crouch into the seat.
"I escaped," said Etzwane. "I became a musician. A month ago the new Anome came to power, and instantly called for war against the Roguskhoi. He required that I enforce this policy and I myself was given power. I learned of your condition, though I did not realize the harshness of Camp Three."
Finnerack straightened in his seat. "Can you guess your risk in telling this tale? Or my rage toward those who have made my life? Do you know what they have done to me to make me pay debts I never incurred? Do you know that I consider myself mad: an animal that has been made savage? Do you know how taut is the film that halts me from tearing you to pieces and running back to do the same for Hillen?"
"Restrain yourself," said Etzwane. "The past is the past; you are alive, and now we have work to do."
"Work?" sneered Finnerack. "Why should I work?"
"For the same reason I work: to save Shant from the Roguskhoi."
Finnerack uttered a harsh gust of laughter. "The Roguskhoi have done me no harm. Let them do as they like."
Etzwane could think of nothing to say. For a period the diligence rolled north along the road. They entered the shagbark grove, and the sunlight, now noticeably lavender, cast long green shadows.
Etzwane spoke. "Have you never thought how you would better the world, had you the power?"
"I have indeed," said Finnerack in a voice somewhat milder than before. "I would destroy those who had ravaged me: my father, Dagbolt, the wretched boy who took his freedom and made me pay the cost, the balloon-way magnates, Hillen. There are many."
"This is the voice of your anger," said Etzwane. "By destroying these people you do nothing real; the evil continues, and somewhere other Jerd Finneracks will ache to destroy you for not helping them when you had power."
"Correctly so," said Finnerack. "All men are bags of vileness, myself as well. Let the Roguskhoi kill all."
"It is foolish to be outraged by a fact of nature," Etzwane protested. "Men are as they are, on Durdane even more so.. Our ancestors came here to indulge their idiosyncrasies; an excess of extravagance is our heritage. Viana Paizifiume understood this
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