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to face the nightmares.
Soon enough,the word would spread to all the peoples of all the lands of the world. Abuse the
owoc, and you will incur the terrible wrath of the Nation. For all owoc, it is said, belong to the
Nation.
Watching Indira and Ushulubang, Julius made no attempt to restrain his own grin.
Look at the two schemers. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, no sirree. Ha! Machiavelli's
Daughter Meets Cardinal Richelieu. Love at first sight.
Feeling eyes upon him, Julius turned his head and met the calm gaze of Rottu.
Oh, yes. Let's not forget "Tentacles" Borgia.
But, the moment the quip came to him, he dismissed it. Not without a certain feeling of shame. He had
come to know Rottu rather well, over the past two months. To know her, and to grow to like her. And,
as he learned her history, be somewhat awed by her.
Hard as steel, yes. But never evil. Would you have survived her life, Julius Cohen? With your soul
intact as she did?
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He looked away. After the meeting, he would spend the rest of the day in the company of Rottu. He
saw more of Rottu than he did of Indira, now. Somehow Julius never did understand how Indira had
maneuvered him into it Julius had become Rottu's partner in crime.
"Research," Indira had called it. "You and Rottu will jointly organize a research team."
Yeah, right. "Research team." Such a nice phrase. It brings to mind starry-eyed visions of Julius
Cohen, paleontologist, plumbing the secrets of the unknown.
Treacherous, sneaky, conniving she-devil. An historian, to boot, who knows perfectly well what
the phrase really means and could have said so in plain language.
Manhattan Project Marries Peenemunde. Absent-Minded Professor of Death and Destruction,
Meet Your New Associate Her Squidness, the Spy.
Julius grinned again, very widely. Unlike Indira, he had no fear of having his emotions easily understood
by the gukuy. For two reasons. First, he didn't give a damn. Second, he had a secret weapon whenever
needed. The gukuy possessed, as a rule, very good senses of humor. But Jewish jokes baffled them
completely.
Except, possibly, Rottu. Julius glanced at his partner again.
When I told her I was making her an honorary Jew, she immediately replied that she was too old
to convert and besides, she didn't want to be circumcised. Now, where the hell did she learn about
that?I think she's getting coached by Indira on the side.
Treacherous, sneaky, conniving she-devils the lot of them.
Rottu met his glance. A second later, the Pilgrim spymistress looked away, conveying in some subtle
manner the message:Stop daydreaming, Julius. The meeting is about to come to the key point.
Julius snorted. He wasn't in the slightest concerned aboutthat . He should worry? When Indira, Mistress
of the Dark Secrets, was running the show?
Paying little attention to the meeting, Julius began pondering thereal problem he had on his plate. Wasn't
there anything on this miserable soft-wooded planet that would make a decent bow?
He mimicked Indira in his mind. "The Mongols made composite bows."That's great, sweetheart.
How? I'm a 22nd century paleontologist, not a 13th century nomadic bowyer.
He dismissed the problem from his mind. Rottu had heard vague rumors of some kind of sea-monsters
whose weird innards might make suitable material for a bow. She said she would look into it, but it would
be a long time before she discovered anything. Very few gukuy peoples had anything to do with the
ocean, because of its dangers. And those were far away, and little known.
So forget bows, for the moment. We don't have enough time for long-range planning. The main
armies of the Utuku will be here within a few months, by Rottu's estimate.
Chemical warfare, by God. There's the thing.
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He began chewing his upper lip. By now, he had completely blanked the proceedings of the session out
of his mind.
Greek fire. Or its Ishtarian equivalent. Rottu's already sent an expedition back into the Swamp.
O-doddo-ua says there's a kind of oily quasi-vine there which burns like nobody's business. She
promised to bring back a pile of the stuff. If we can concentrate whatever the active substance is,
we've got the makings of a nice firebomb. By then, Adrian should have finished building the
catapults no, what's the right word? Trebuchet, I think. I'll ask Indira. She ought to know. The
Wicked Witch of the Sky designed the damned thing, after all. Like a magician pulling rabbits
from a hat, the way she hauls things out of that chamber of horrors called History.
Feeling a sudden tension in the air, Julius focused his attention back on the meeting.
He stared at Indira. He could tell, by subtleties in her posture he could not begin to analyze consciously,
that she was poised to strike.
I love you, she-devil.
"Pay attention, Guo!" whispered Woddulakotat fiercely. "Stop daydreaming. They're getting around to
the meat of the question."
Guo repressed a whistle of derision. She adored her preconsorts especially Woddulakotat and
would under no circumstances reprove them publicly. The fact remained that they were still, in some
ways especially Woddulakotat a bunch of silly males. Fretting over foolishness.
For an eightday, now, since the discussion had finally turned to the problem of building a new army, her
preconsorts had been agitated over the issue of the army's commander. A wrong decision here, they
insisted, would be disastrous.
Guo must see to it that the right decision is made!
Silly males.The right decision will be made. As always. And I won't have to do anything.
The Goddess will not fail us.
Her preconsorts, she knew, were much taken by Ushulubang and the teachings of the Way. Most males
were, especially eumales. Had not Goloku taught that all gukuy are equal within the Coil? Did not
Ushulubang flail his Pilgrims with that precept, every day? In the most outrageous manner possible?
Imagine! Allowing thatpervert Dhowifa to ride about in her mantle, and proclaiming him the best of the
new apashoc.
Guo did not object, actually. She rather liked Dhowifa. The pervert had begun to spend much time with
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