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is threatened by darkness, by the storms of strife. Enemies conspire for our
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destruction. The winds of chaos build in strength
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to sweep away the reign of order. The laws of our society begin to crumble."
His voice climbing in volume, deepening in timbre, he declared, "We must draw
a line in the sand and proclaim, "This far and no farther!'"
He slapped one big hand against the tabletop. "We must all work together to
draw the line. There can be no dissent, no doubt, no individual ambitions.
Otherwise, all of the good accomplished by the Program of Unification will be
undone. The world will return to the madness and anarchy of the Beforetime, of
skydark, of the savagery of the Deathlands."
Barch paused, allowing his words to sink in.
Zaprado, the Historical Division's administrator, broke the spelL "Inspiring
words," he said dryly. "But with very little focus on the truly important
issue namely, what progress has your division made in apprehending Baron
Ragnar's assassin?"
Barch answered sternly, "At this moment, laying our hands on the baron's
actual murderer is of secondary importance."
Outraged gasps tore from seven throats. Timid little Walsh said hoarsely, "How
can you say that? As
Magistrate Division administrator, it is your duty to find our lord baron's
killer. Zaprado raised a valid point"
Barch favored him with a patronizing, almost pitying half smile. "My duty,
first and foremost, is to protect the ville. That is why we must keep the news
of the tragedy from leaking down into the Pits or to
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the Outlands. If the poison of insurrection is being brewed, knowledge of the
baron's death will cause it to boil over."
"But," pressed Walsh, "shouldn't the Magistrates devote all their efforts to
capturing Baron Ragnar's killer? That would nip a revolt in the bud."
Smoothly, Barch replied, "The responsibility for the Magistrate Division is
now in the more than capable hands of Royce. Direct your questions and
suggestions to him."
The men at the table stirred fitfully, gazing at Royce. He shifted his feet
uncomfortably and found a spot on the floor that seemed to fascinate him.
Thick-bodied Whitney, administrator of the Manufacturing Division, said
bluntly, "He has yet to be initiated into our order. According to our rules of
procedure, initiation must precede such a promotion."
Batch's voice became silky soft. Barch replied, "That is why he is here. To be
inducted. I've already briefed him about the Directorate. All that remains is
the ceremony itself. I intend to follow our protocols."
He slitted his one eye toward Walsh. "Unlike you, who permitted Royce to see
the gateway unit. His initiation began at that second, whether you wanted it
to or not."
Walsh's face screwed up, as if he were about to burst into tears. Garrick, a
member of the baron's staff, raised him-
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self from his chair. "The baron presides over the induction process and the
ceremony," he half stammered, half spluttered. "It is he and he alone who
makes the choice of who joins us. What you propose is is..."
His words trailed off as he groped for the proper descriptive adjective.
"Presumptuous?" Zaprado supplied helpfully.
"Exactly!" Garrick snapped. "Presumptuous and high-handed. The Directorate
will never recognize your authority!"
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Barch said quietly, "Take your seat, Garrick."
The man tried to meet Barch's obsidian, intimidating gaze, but he blinked,
then wilted back down in his chair.
Barch said, "How do you know the Directorate will not recognize me? To inform
me of that, must they not contact me?"
Exner, administrator of the Food Preservation and Distribution Division, said
falteringly, "Baron Rag-nar must have some means of communication with the
Directorate."
"Which is?" challenged Barch.
Exner passed a hand over his balding scalp. "I don't know. Only the baron
knows that."
"And of course," Barch said, "with him dead, the channel of communication if
such a thing exists is only one-way."
Blinking his eyes rapidly, Walsh asked, "What are
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you saying? That the Directorate is not aware of what has happened? Surely
they must be!"
"Why must they?" Barch challenged.
Walsh's lips worked as he tried to find words to put on them. After a moment,
he gave up and shook his head in grieved frustration.
Zaprado fixed an inquisitive, unblinking stare on Barch's face. "You were gone
from Ragnarville for several weeks, ostensibly on a mission for the baron."
Barch didn't respond. He met the archivist's direct gaze with his own.
"You took one of my historians with you," continued Zaprado, "Berrier, by
name. Yet you returned without her. I find that highly questionable." Barch
still did not speak.
"Even more questionable is the purpose of the assignment you gave her. As was
my right as senior archivist and Berrier's superior, I attempted to review her
work on the historical database. I say
'attempted' because my efforts were blocked. Someone had authorized the
insertion of a new, nonstandard encryption key into her files. I was locked
out."
Zaprado paused, still staring, waiting for a reaction or a comment from Barch.
When one wasn't forthcoming, he demanded, "Did you authorize the encryption?"
Lips barely moving, Barch replied slowly, "Of course I did. The baron's
mission was classified at
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such a high security level that not even you with your Xeno clearance were
allowed to be privy to it."
Zaprado nodded, as if in satisfaction. "And now Baron Ragnar is dead, and he
cannot speak of the purpose of your mission. But you can and you shall."
Barch shook his head. "That I will not do. The mission is ongoing, and its
successful completion will determine our victory over the conspiracy. If it is
compromised, the dark forces gathering around us will swallow us whole."
His lips twitched in a smile. "But you know that, don't you?"
Zaprado chuckled, a harsh, humorless rasp. "It's beneath you, Barch, to employ
such an old trick. Don't try to misdirect suspicion onto me."
He turned in his chair, sweeping his flinty gaze over the faces of the men at
the table. "I submit that Barch was somehow involved with the murder of Baron
Ragnar. I further submit that if there is a conspiracy, he is the brains
behind it. He should be stripped of his rank and removed from the Trust and
held in detention until his actions can be properly investigated."
The archivist fixed his gaze on Royce. "As the Magistrate Division commander,
I charge you with placing
Barch under immediate arrest."
Royce's tongue touched his lips. He didn't move or lift his eyes from the
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floor.
"Royce!" Zaprado raised his voice in a sharp, im-
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perious command. "Do your duty or share Barch's fate!" j
Royce cast a sidewise glance toward Barch. The i one-eyed man sighed as if in
resignation. ' 'Do as he |
says, Royce. Your duty, as per your orders."
No one saw Royce tense the tendons of his right wrist, but they all heard the
faint drone of a tiny electric motor and the solid slap of the butt of the Sin
Eater sliding into his hand.
The atmosphere of the room seemed to shatter at the bellowing roar of the
shot. The high-velocity round took Zaprado in the forehead, punching a neat,
blue-edged hole barely half an inch above his right eyebrow. His head snapped
back violently as the rear of his skull exploded, splattering the back of the
chair with a slurry of blood and grayish pink brain matter.
The raised arms and high back of his chair kept Zaprado from falling, though
his body sagged down toward the floor. There was a soft thud when his chin
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