_________________________
A.R.Yngve

DARC AGES Book Three
_________________________
Chapter 23


Later in the day, Azuch Fache's private jet landed in Bor Damon's castle hangar, and the old warriors greeted each other again for the first time in months. Azuch embraced Bor like a long-lost son, then kneeled to Lady Osanna and kissed her hand.

"Praised be the Goddess that you could come, Lord Fache," Osanna said.

"I came as soon as my ship was ready for flight," he answered.

Azuch's wounds from the summer's tournament were healed, and he now moved his thick, scarred limbs with his former confidence and stature. The formalities briefly done away with, Bor and Azuch gathered with the lieutenants of both cities, Librian, Bwynn, and Andon Pasko to discuss the situation.



In the short time since Bor had taken action, he and Azuch had beamed invitations to several neighboring city lords. Among those, only two had yet bothered to reply at all: Lord Orbes and an obscure city-state in the Mediterranean region. They studied the documented information long and hard. Food and drink was served, but no wine; Osanna had seen to that.

After a time, Andon Pasko was the one to ask: "How... how far out can we communicate with other city lords? How many potential allies are in within our reach?"

Bor frowned at his stepson's unexpected query. If Andon had shown that kind of interest in state affairs before, he might have earned more than indifference from his new family...

"The laser network between our cities," Bor said without looking Andon in the eye, "is immobile and dates back to the foundation of our cities. Therefore, when a city lord ceases communicating with another city, he also risks cutting off the link to many other cities. Librian, are you finished with that world map?"

The old scholar looked up from the large map sheet he had been drawing on. He laid out the map on the table, for all to see.

"Here," Librian explained, "I have marked out all known laser links between cities. The green lines are open links, such as those between Lord Damon and Lord Fache's castles. Blue lines are links which I do not know about... and red lines are for links recently closed off."

The many red lines, stretching from Fache and Damon City to various other cities in Castilia, made the picture clear. They had, without much noise, been shut out of Espa's community of nobles. Some time was spent discussing which vital links they should negotiate back, so that they could reach friendly cities outside the province. No satisfying conclusion was reached. Their two cities remained outnumbered, surrounded and isolated in the center of the land, against a hostile alliance which stretched from heartland to coast. What intelligence Bor and Azuch's men had gathered, suggested that as many as twenty of the forty known city-states of Castilia were already -- or about to be -- allied to the Paskos.

Azuch brought up the question of their former allies, asking for some weak spot that might open the channels of communication back again. Bor attempted to concentrate -- when again the memory of his lost son flashed through his mind. Something always seemed to reminded Bor of Darc, and Dohan... even a mere sound...

He stood bolt upright; it was Andon who was causing the disturbing, strangely familiar sound.

"You!" he barked, pointing a stubby, accusing finger at the thin young nobleman. Andon stopped whistling, and went pale. Bor's blue eyes were a trifle bloodshot, but steady and stern. "What's that music?" Bor demanded. "Where did you hear it?"

Andon cringed before the hard eyes of the others, looking desperately to his wife for moral support; but Bwynn's eyes were just as unforgiving.

"I-I heard it being sung... by the kitchen staff, when I went there... it's called 'Rokenrol' ballads... popular among the common folk, musicians and minstrels are playing them all over the city."

"It is true," Bwynn confirmed. "There are illegal radio receivers in the city. Have you also been overhearing that music, brother?"

Bwynn's impassive, plain face seemed to soften. Bor blinked -- was Bwynn teasing him for tuning in to Darc's illegal broadcasts?

He grunted: "I have. I do not wish to discuss music -- it is not my field."

"We should be careful not to ignore that music, my lord," Librian fell in. "If Darc's music is spreading, it means his words are spreading too. All because of radio."

Bor grunted, sat down again; and suddenly, he exclaimed: "Radio! That could be the answer. It is madness, but..." Bor put his hands on the map, pointing as he explained. "Why should we bother to use the ancient laser network to reach the cities, when we could send radio wave signals -- to all the secret receivers that are being used to hear that fiend?"

One captain objected: "But -- radio has been forbidden ever since the Great Wars! Think of the risks, my lord -- the outrage, the chaos that will ensue."

Librian said, cautiously: "We could build a device to send such radio signals, but... it would leave our communications open. Any commoner, and all our enemies, could overhear us. And... they might..."

Bor was about to break one of the most long-standing taboos of society. What about the Lepers? Then again, he thought, who was he fooling? Darc had already broken that taboo. When Bor remembered Darc's previous speech about Lepers, a chill went down his spine. The shamelessness of that man... still, there was no other way.

He asked the others: "Can anyone find an alternative, in such a short time?" Everyone fell silent; the decision lay in Bor's hands. His face hardened. "So be it then. Librian! Get me the guild leaders now, and I mean now."



Meanwhile on Kap Verita, Mechao's two oldest sons were busy cleaning the tank of the artificial womb. All residues of unwanted genes had to be scrubbed off, and the tank thoroughly sterilized.

"What are you up to?" Darc asked them.

"Father will grow new guardians, to replace Pipo," one of them said.

"Good," Darc commented. "And please do it quickly."