Sivetalin Aun raised the ceramic ball to his nostrils, inhaled deeply, and set it back down on his desk. "I do enjoy the scent of sehva blossom," he said. "I find it calming. Perhaps you would care to indulge, Grand Marshal?"
"I would not," said Tal. He continued to pace across Aun's elegantly furnished office. Aun privately sighed at the thought of what those military boots were doing to his carpet.
"If anyone is at fault," said Tal, "it is me. I ordered the test. I am fully confident that I can defend my actions, of course... but it was a military decision."
"But Enteskilen Mur was present," said Aun.
"In an unofficial capacity!" snapped Tal. He left off pacing and turned to face the High Magister directly. "He was no more than an observer."
"I see," said Aun. "But the Pontiff's argument is - you understand, it is not my argument, it is his - the Pontiff's argument is that the cult of Sebreac Tharr is inextricably linked with the military, now. They provide your special weapons... your captains and ship officers are all members of the cult... you, yourself, are a member in good standing...."
"Freedom of religion is an absolute right within the military," said Tal. "As it has always been. I cannot help it if my subordinates notice that, under the patronage of Sebreac Tharr... we conquer."
"Yes," said Aun, "yes, it is hard to argue with success." He gave vent to a theatrical sigh. "And yet, successful people attract attention, and not all of it welcome. Glavelecun Dir sees his influence waning... and the result of your test affected him, personally. I can understand his point of view - I do not necessarily condone it, but I can understand it. He feels slighted, he feels threatened... he takes this opportunity to pay back for the slights and neutralize the threats. It is all very unfortunate, but I do not know what is to be done. I certainly do not see what I can do. This is a religious matter, and one over which I have no influence... one over which I am allowed no influence. And, I must add, quite rightly so. Freedom of religion is a fundamental principle for everyone, not just the military. I cannot use my office to give orders to Dir on religious matters."
"You have no official influence," said Tal. "But you know Dir. You have a measure of informal authority over him. Use it. This trial is an error. It will weaken the confidence of the military, at a time when confidence is all-important."
"I greatly fear," said Aun, "I greatly fear... that the Pontiff will not prove amenable to persuasion."
---
The Grand Court of the Pantheon was a vast pillared enclosure, surmounted by a domed roof which was painted with scenes from the lives of all the gods of the Siohonin. The priests of those many gods stood, now, around the rim of the Court, a gaudily coloured assembly, all waiting for the drama that was to unfold.
Glavelecun Dir strode towards the Dais of Judgment at the centre of the Court, wearing his most majestic many-coloured robes, the black staff of Ceamag-Tai in his right hand. He stepped onto the dais, and raised the staff above his head.
"We are gathered here," he declaimed, "to do justice upon one who has flouted our traditions, has wilfully and shamelessly sown dissension among the religious caste, has tried - fruitlessly, but he has tried - to bring back the old times of discord and strife between the priests of the many gods. We come here to hear the case against the accused, and to condemn him for his reprehensible acts. Let the culprit come forward!"
There was a stir at the edge of the court, and Enteskilen Mur stepped out.
He wore the red, white and black robes of Sebreac Tharr, and the stylized flame gleamed in gold on his chest, and on the tip of the rod he carried in his right hand. He walked towards the dais with his shaggy grey head held high, his eyes fixed on Glavelecun Dir.
He came to the base of the dais, and stopped. Dir glowered down at him. The dais was - just - high enough that he overtopped Mur's height.
"Enteskilen Mur, High Priest of Sebreac Tharr, you stand accused of a heinous crime, that of open warfare on the priests and the true believers of another cult. Do you deny, o most base and perfidious of men, that you were present at the military test at orbital arcology Segonna-Yapt 107?"
"I do not deny this." Mur's resonant voice was firm. "It is a matter of public record."
"Public record! Yes!" said Dir. "That arcology was the property of the cult of Ceamag-Tai! The god's priests were aboard it when this test was carried out! Two hundred and fifty million worshippers, also, the property of Ceamag-Tai! We grieve, Mur, for the loss of our brethren! And for the great, the terrible, the calamitous financial damage done to the temple of Ceamag-Tai by the destruction of the arcology and its drabs! What have you to say, Mur? What possible justification can you give? What amends, what restitution can you make?"
"The Grand Marshal began his test without the attention of the true god Sebreac Tharr," said Mur. "Condemn me if you will, but do not sully the name of the true god."
"The true god? The true god? Your god, Mur, incites his followers to disregard the rights of other cults! Your god has inspired the military caste to forget its traditions, to put drabs to work on starships, to set centuries of worthy customs aside in the pursuit of vain and hollow worldly conquest! Your god, Enteskilen Mur -" Dir drew himself up to his full height, and made a sweeping gesture with his staff "- is a false god!"
There was a brief murmur of consternation from the watching priests at the rim of the court. It died away, swiftly, and in the silence, Mur said, "No."
"No?" Dir's face was purple with theatrical rage. "No? You dare to contradict your First Pontiff, you -"
"I dare." Mur's voice cut through Dir's expostulations. "I know why you have chosen to present this sideshow, Glavelecun Dir. You fear the influence of Sebreac Tharr, the growth of his priesthood. You fear the success of our armies under the true god's beneficent guidance. And so, like many another little man before you, you seek to undermine what you cannot control. I see through you, Glavelecun Dir. And I see, too, that you speak heresy and blasphemy. Sebreac Tharr is a true god, his truth proven beyond dispute by his mighty deeds. Where are the deeds of your god, Glavelecun Dir? Where are the miracles wrought by Ceamag-Tai? Your god, my friend, is as dead as his worshippers!"
"You - you -" Dir sputtered. "You liar! You blasphemer! You utter, self-condemned heresiarch! The agreement, the agreement between all the cults of the pantheon specifies, it specifies that all the gods should be treated with respect!"
"Oh," said Mur, "I am aware of this. And I propose that the agreement should be amended. Let the respect be extended only to true gods, and let those gods proclaim and give incontrovertible evidence of their truth. That is only reasonable, is it not, Glavelecun Dir? Come. Let me see a miracle of Ceamag-Tai. Let the god of death take me where I stand! A fair test, no? A fair test of his power?"
"You - The god does not deign to take notice of one such as you!" yelled Dir.
"He should," said Mur. "No miracle, then?" He raised his right hand, with the rod in it. The flame symbol of Sebreac Tharr gleamed. "Then I shall be as good as my word. Sebreac Tharr shall show forth his power, and everyone shall be convinced."
He turned, and raised the gleaming rod high over his head. "In the name of the true god, I condemn the false gods!" he bellowed. "I bring to you truth and cleansing flame! Throughout this court, through every city of the homeworld, every outpost in space, I call on the true god Sebreac Tharr to look upon the unbelievers and render his judgment!"
"You are the one who is here to be judged!" shouted Dir. And then he screamed.
Over his multi-coloured robes, red and yellow broke out; flames, licking up his body, engulfing him, turning him into a writhing, screaming fireball that toppled from the dais to crash to the floor of the court.
And around the rim of the court, too, flames burst out, enveloping the watching priests, who screamed and struggled vainly to flee -
"Burn!" shouted Mur, and his voice rang out louder than the shrieks of the blazing priests. "All you unbelievers, burn and know the truth! There is only one true god, and that is Sebreac Tharr! Serve him, or die in his cleansing flames! Burn, false priests! Burn, unbelievers! Burn! Burn! Burn!"
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