I consider Safs defeat at Gharon in 442 to be a great tragedy. Militarily, it was a setback of minor importance. Indeed, by elevating Khalid the Blade to prominence, the aftereffects of the Abasent served to unite and strengthen Saf as it had never seen before.
But we knew Gharon was a task left unfinished, cruelly withheld. As a city, its buildings cast tall shadows over the Safid heart even as they crumbled in neglect. That it remained standing was an insult to us, that the insult bore no redress was worse still.
Even knowing this, I cannot say that Saf was hard most by the Abasent. Ghar itself suffered the most cruel fate I can imagine for a people. To be held in stasis, neither free nor conquered, with the blood of their emperor fresh upon ndiko soil, was more humiliation than Saf could have conceived to inflict on them in centuries of war. Our goal was ever redress; I will not claim that so did not wish Ghar to be laid low, but our intent was to heal ourselves through that suffering. The Abasent saw them humiliated as an end in itself.
What resulted was a nation of lost, impotent n, lacking even chains to strain against. For all that Ghar was a bloody nesis against the Safid people, even at its worst the Empire was walking its path, sowing the seeds of our eventual rise. With the emperors death the nation no longer held to that path, nor any at all. They only stood, aimless, hopeless, waiting for death to find them.
- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687
When the first stirrings of activity ran through the base, Michael gently extricated himself from under Sobriquet and prepared to et their contact. The base had one zuzendaritza office within its confines, though Lekubarris briefing had noted that it was modest in scale relative to most.
It was not an exaggeration. When he left the barracks with Zabala, they walked a short ways to another building, then up stairs to its top, down a hallway to its furthest extent, and through a door with peeling paint and a crack in the frosted glass of the door. Long ago soone had painted it with the words Batzarko Atzerri Zuzendaritza in thick, artless letters.
Michael wondered if Unai had ever been here.
He put the thought from his mind and rapped gently on the wood of the door, not trusting it to hold up to any strain without collapsing to splinters. When it opened, though, it moved soundlessly on oiled hinges to reveal a plain-looking man.
He looked at Michael for a long mont. Finally, he grunted. Ze arraio. So its going to be that sort of day.
Michael frowned at him, the mans face tickling his mory oddly. Do I know - wait, yes. He smiled, extending his hand. Bidarte, right? From the listening post back in Daressa.
Bidarte looked down at Michaels hand, then back up at his face; he made no move to reciprocate. You understand that Im not particularly pleased to have you show up at my doorstep, he said. Even less so than when Central advised that it might happen. This is a new posting for . I have things to do. Projects to look after. None of my business is likely to be simplified by your presence.
I see, Michael said, letting his hand drop back to his side. In that case, point towards the Institutes efforts in Ghar. Ill leave, and go trouble them instead.
The other man gave a low, unamused chuckle, stepping back to let the door swing wide. Michael stepped in at the silent invitation. The room beyond was expansive, much larger than he had expected from the outside. Rows of n and won labored at desks, sifting through reports or glaring through loupes at photographs.
Bidarte closed the door; Michael noted that the interior side had a fresh coat of paint and no wear to speak of. Point you towards the Institute, he muttered, walking towards another door set against the rear wall. And what do you intend to do with that information? Charge in, throwing your soul around? Kick them all into the sea? This isnt another War, not yet. Its a quieter ga. If you start making large moves, people are going to die. He turned to Michael. More people.
Michael felt the pain rolling off the older man, leaking its acid shades into his voice; he stopped walking and fixed Bidarte with a look. Hence my presence here, he said, asking for your guidance before I do anything substantial. Lekubarri told you would get oriented, and Im willing to sit down and listen to whatever you have to say.
He paused. But you dont want to talk about that, Michael said. You want to ask about Unai.
Bidarte hid his reaction well, but could not mask the electric jolt of anger and sorrow that rang through him as Michael spoke. He moved his arms slowly, deliberately, to lace his fingers behind his back; Bidarte looked at Michael with an utterly-calm expression. Will you make ask? he murmured.
Michael nodded towards the door Bidarte had been leading them to. For a mont the ndiko agent didnt move. Eventually he resud his walk, opening the door and ushering them into a modest office with no windows. He sat behind its lone desk; there were no other chairs. Im listening, Bidarte said.
Im not sure what you want to say, Michael sighed. You know hes dead, and you know it happened on my trip to Ardalt; that much is clear. He paused, letting a fresh wave of pain ripple through the room. Bidarte had shown no external reaction to his words thus far. So what you want from , I imagine, is the reason why hes dead. He paused. Im not sure I have a good reason to give you-
And yet here you stand, Bidarte interjected. Back in front of , asking for another direction. Ready to charge off. His eyes shifted, looking at Zabala. With another ndiko companion in tow. Perhaps you should consider your reason for leaving this ti, so that when this one dies you have that explanation at hand.
Michaels brow furrowed; he knew Bidarte was not as placid as he appeared on the surface, but his last comnt sparked a small flare of anger; his eyes narrowed. You want a reason? he asked. Unai and I were trying to fix a mistake we made together. To discharge our obligations to Leire, and to set right part of a disaster we caused through our blindness and inaction. He died because he placed himself in danger rather than see it fall on others, and even after he was beyond hope he saw us through to the end.
He took a step forward, so that he stood against the edge of the desk. Unai made his choices. He died without regrets. If you want to ask Zabala what his reason is, hes right here. Michael leaned forward, just enough to set the wood of the desk creaking ominously. I am painfully aware that I am not prepared to do what Im doing, but theres nobody else, and theres no ti to do anything but try.
Bidarte held his gaze for a long mont. His eyes turned back to Zabala; the ndiko soldier shrugged.
Izarrarentzat, he said. You know it was the sa for Unai.
Fanatics, every one of you, Bidarte muttered, leaning heavily back into his chair. He let his breath out in a long, slow exhale, then breathed in. His eyes ca up to Michael with a solidity they had lacked in the prior mont.
Ardalt intends to make a landing on Ghar, Bidarte said. Were not sure precisely where; most likely they have several sites plotted out. Their advance agents have been fonting unrest across the peninsula, no doubt in an effort to disrupt any response we might make to their incursion - not that this garrison is adequate to defend anything but itself. He inclined his head towards the door. And I doubt they will do even that much. If Ardalt contests Ghar we will have a matter of days to decide if we shall try to hold them or evacuate. The Batzar is incapable of deciding what to have for lunch in that ti, to say nothing of enforcing age-old guarantees; I expect we will be evacuated when the first Ardan boot touches Gharic soil.
Zabala made a disgusted noise. Theyre not even going to try? he asked.
To contest an enemy who clearly doesnt care about their losses, fighting on the doorstep of our greater enemy - when they could otherwise stand aside and watch the two fight? Bidarte snorted. Even you Star-worshiping hardliners have to concede that a major action in Ghar would leave us horribly vulnerable to a Safid counterblow; Taskin could catch us exhausted and scattered at any mont he chooses.
The Tenth Star made a promise, Zabala growled. On everyone's behalf.
Bidarte gave a derisive laugh. And they appreciate it so much, these Gharics. He pulled out a sheet of paper from a drawer and began to write on it in a neat, blocky hand. We have so ears within the Institutes cells. Tomorrow theres a demonstration at one of the citys old granaries. I can guarantee that the Institute will have a presence there. He finished writing, then quickly sketched a map of streets.
The last addition to the map was a large black dot, which he tapped with his finger. This is the location. If you manage to find anything about the landing sites, theres a telegraph on base. Theres a chance that with more specific information we can convince the Batzar to act, or at least that the military can conveniently have so forces on exercise nearby.
Michael frowned, leaning down to inspect the map; it showed the river as a primary landmark, with a few major roads sketched around it. The building itself was close to the citys southwest quarter, on the far side from the ndiko garrison.
Anything else I should know? he asked.
Only that the plan is not a good one, Bidarte said. If Lekubarri wants you to act directly now, though, then this is the only solid avenue we have to put you in touch with the Institutes agents. I cant guarantee that theyre not cutouts, or that anyone in the structure actually knows the invasion plans. It relies too much on luck, and youll be isolated in a sea of hostiles if anything goes wrong.
Michaels mouth twisted. Sounds about right, he muttered, reaching down to take the map; he folded the sheet and tucked it into his pocket. Thank you.
Dont thank , Bidarte said. Im not helping you. This errand youre on will only lead to bloodshed. He pressed his lips together. But as youre determined to do sothing regardless of your chance for success, its my duty to point you in the direction where youre least likely to cause a disaster.
The disaster is going to happen regardless of what I do, Michael sighed, straightening up. Hes going to sail here with the Ardans and land sowhere on Ghar. Theres no way that it ends cleanly, or painlessly. But if I do enough, theres a chance that it will end. The air in the room shivered, a light spray of dust trickling down from the ceiling.
Bidarte looked up, then back at Michael. And thats desirable? he asked.
I dont see how anything will manage to hold together if it continues, Michael replied. We all need a point to stop sliding forward into a terrible future; to catch our breath and co up with a real plan. So, yes. We do need an end. To war, to gas of power, and most especially to the man who is inciting both.
So might point out that all sides are seeking to end conflict, Bidarte observed. But theyre trying to end it in their favor; hence, the conflict.
Im sure youre right, Michael said. And Ive been told more than once that when I push, the world pushes back. Im going to try this like you said, working through the Institute to try and find sothing that will force the Batzars hand. He frowned. But failing that, I suppose Im going to find out who can push harder.
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