said, smiling, ‘once wrote that the Entity referred to man as the instrumentum vocale. The tool with a voice.’
‘And you find this amusing?’
‘Truly, I do,’ Danlo said, looking down at the flute he held in his hand. ‘Because these tools that we are also have free will. And our lives are the songs that sing the universe into existence.’
‘What songs will we sing, I wonder, if we become involved in the gods’ wars?’ Lord Nikolos asked.
‘I do not know,’ Danlo said. ‘But if we could remember this secret of the Eddas, then in a way it would be we human beings who used the Entity to destroy the Silicon God, yes?’
‘Is this what you advise, Pilot? That the Order use its resources in helping the Entity fight Her war?’
Danlo suddenly fell into silence, and he gripped his flute so hard that the holes along the shaft cut into his skin. He said, ‘I … do not believe in war at all. The Lord Akashic must know that I have taken a vow of ahimsa.’
Never to harm any living thing, Danlo thought. Even at the cost of one’s own life, never to dishonour another life, never to harm, never to kill.
‘Well, I don’t believe in war either,’ Lord Nikolos said from his chair. ‘War is the stupidest of human activities, with the possible exception of religion. And as for the kind of religious war of which you’ve spoken today …’
Lord Nikolos let his voice die for a moment as he turned to catch the eyes of the Sonderval and Morena Sung and the other lords sitting near him. He shook his head sadly as if all agreed that religious war was by its very nature insane. Then he continued: ‘Nevertheless, it is upon us to consider this war that the Architects fought among themselves and would bring to other worlds. Perhaps we must also consider the wars of the gods.’
Danlo looked at Lord Nikolos then, and quickly bowed his head.
‘Pilot,’ Lord Nikolos asked, ‘have you finished your story?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I must ask you to wait outside while we consider these stupidities and crimes that you have brought to our attention.’
Danlo bowed his head. He knew of the rule that only lords and masters may attend the most serious deliberations of the Order. He stepped out of the black diamond circle and moved to pick up his wooden chest where it sat on the floor.
‘A moment,’ the Sonderval said suddenly. He slowly stood away from his chair and stretched himself up to his full eight feet of height. ‘I would like to applaud the Pilot’s accomplishment in discovering so much and falling so far.’
So saying he rapped his diamond pilot’s ring against the table. Helena Charbo and Aja, sitting across the room at the master pilots’ table, knocked diamond against wood, as did Lara Jesusa and Alark of Urradeth. But none of the other lords and masters in the hall that day wore rings, and so they had to content themselves with clapping their hands together and bowing their heads in honour of Danlo’s great feat.
‘And now,’ the Sonderval said, ‘I would like to ask Danlo wi Soli Ringess to remain here with us today.’
At this unexpected presumption. Lord Nikolos turned abruptly and shot the Sonderval a puzzled and offended look.
‘I would like to ask him to remain as a master pilot,’ the Sonderval explained. ‘Can anyone doubt that his accomplishments merit his elevation to a mastership? I think not. And therefore, as Lord Pilot, I welcome him to the rank of master. We will hold the ceremony later in the Pilots’ Hall.’
For a long time Lord Nikolos and the Sonderval stared at each other like two cats preparing to spring at each other’s throat. True, as Lord Pilot, the Sonderval had the power to make new masters as he chose. But he was supposed to put the names of all candidates before a board of master pilots who would make their recommendations according to each candidate’s prowess and worthiness. And then by tradition, if not rule, the Lord of the Order himself would approve the elevation and make the first welcoming of the new master. Precipitous times often require precipitous decisions, but the Sonderval usurped Lord Nikolos’ prerogatives less from need than pure arrogance. Since the Sonderval thought that he himself should have been made the Lord of the Order on Thiells, he exulted in acting in Lord Nikolos’ place whenever he could.
‘Very well,’ Lord Nikolos finally said, forcing the words from his tight, thin lips. He turned to Danlo, who still stood at the centre of the hall watching this little drama between the most powerful lords of his Order. ‘Very well, Master Pilot, would you please remain here while we make our decision as to what must be done?’
Danlo bowed formally, then smiled and said, ‘Yes.’ Then he carried his wooden chest over to the table where the master pilots sat and took his place on a chair between Lara Jesusa and Alark of Urradeth. Alark, a quick, hot-tempered man who had once crossed the Detheshaloon solely as the result of a dare, embraced Danlo and whispered his welcome as he rapped his ring against the table.
‘And now,’ Lord Nikolos said, standing to address the lords, ‘we must reconsider our mission in light of all that Danlo wi Soli Ringess has told us.’
So began the great war debate in the Hall of the Lords. At first, it was more a personal argument between the Sonderval and Lord Nikolos. Although no one favoured full war, the Sonderval wanted to lead a group of lightships to the Civilized Worlds, there to intercept and destroy Bertram’s Jaspari’s fleet along the stellar Fallaways before they could reach Neverness. Lord Nikolos, however, a frugal man always concerned to husband his resources, pointed out that the New Order’s lightships were few in number, and every ship would be needed now that Tannahill had been found. For the Order’s mission. Lord Nikolos suggested, was still to the Architects of the Old Church. An embassy would have to be sent to Tannahill. The Order would have to provide the Architects with ships and pilots so that the Church’s missionaries could spread their new programs to every corner of the Vild. Architects everywhere must know that they were no longer permitted (or encouraged) to blow up the stars.
‘We must not become involved in these wars between religions and their sects,’ he told the assembled lords. And here he turned to smile at Danlo. ‘And as for the wars between the gods, unless one of us suddenly remembrances these war secrets of the Elder Eddas, then we cannot become involved, for there is nothing we can do to touch the gods or influence them in any way.’
Most of the lords accepted the logic of Lord Nikolos, but the Sonderval turned to him and asked, ‘But what of the Iviomil fleet that the warrior-poet and the renegade lead towards Neverness? Are we simply to abandon the world from which we came?’
‘Have you heard me speak of abandonment?’ Lord Nikolos asked.
‘I haven’t heard you speak of protecting our brothers and sisters on Neverness!’ the Sonderval said with great passion. Once, years before, he had lost his beloved when a comet struck her planet, and since that time he had never been with another woman. ‘I would hope this isn’t because you’re afraid of risking a few tens of lightships.’
‘There are always risks no matter what course of action we choose,’ Lord Nikolos said. ‘But risks must be calculated. Costs must be assessed.’
‘Calculations and costs!’ the Sonderval mocked. ‘Thus do the merchant-pilots of Tria speak.’
‘Thus
