had stolen a march, conquered a city of legend and mystery, and now, instead of being a hundred and fifty kilometers north, beyond Seggidugu, now he loomed over them, could watch their every move from the towers of Basilica.
It would be a devastating blow. Knowing that Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno would watch their fleet arrive and have plenty of time to bring his men down from Basilica and slaughter their army as it tried to land, Potokgavan would not dare to send an expeditionary force to the Cities of the Plain. And as for the cities themselves, they would surrender one by one, and soon Seggidugu would find itself surrounded, with no hope of succor from Potokgavan. They would make peace on any terms they could get. There probably wouldn't even be a battle-complete victory, at no cost, all because Basilica was in chaos and this soldier had come to tell Vozmuzhalnoy Vozmozhno of his glorious opportunity.
The tent flap reopened and Plod came back in. "The storm is dying down," he said.
"Very good," said Moozh.
"What was all that about?" said Plod.
"What?"
"That nonsense you were saying to that Basilican soldier."
Moozh could not imagine what Plod was talking about. Basilican soldier? He had never seen a Basilican soldier in his life.
But Plod glanced at one of the chairs, and now Moozh vaguely remembered that not long ago someone had sat in that chair. Someone ... a Basilican soldier? That would be important-how could he have forgotten?
I didn't forget, thought Moozh. I didn't forget. God has spoken, God has tried to make me stupid, but I refuse. I will not be forced into obedience.
"How do you assess the situation?" he asked. It would never do to let Plod think that Moozh was actually confused or forgetful.
"Basilica is for away," said Plod. "We can give this man sanctuary or kill him or send him back, it hardly matters. What is Basilica to us?"
Poor fool, thought Moozh. That's why you're merely the dear friend of the general, and not the general yourself, though I know you long to be. Moozh knew what Basilica was. It was the city of women whose influence had castrated his ancestors and cost them their freedom and their honor. It was also the great citadel poised above the Cities of the Plain. If Moozh could possess it, he wouldn't have to fight a single battle-his enemies would collapse before him. Was this the plan that he had had before, the one that God was trying to make him forget?
"Write this down," said Moozh.
Plod opened his computer and began to press the keys to record Moozh's words.
"Whoever is master of Basilica is master of the Cities of the Plain."
"But Moozh, Basilica has never exercised hegemony over those cities."
"Because it's a city of women," said Moozh. "If it were ruled by a man with an army, that would be a different story."
"We could never get there to take it," said Plod. "All of Seggidugu lies between us and Basilica."
Moozh looked at the map and another part of his plan came back to his mind. "A desert march."
"During the month of western storms!" cried Plod. "The men would refuse to obey!"
"In the mountains there's shelter. There are plenty of mountain roads."
"Not for an army," said Plod.
"Not for a large army," said Moozh, making up the plan as he went along.
"You could never hold Basilica against Potokgavan with the size army you could bring," said Plod.
Moozh studied the map for a moment longer. "But Potokgavan will never come, not if we already hold Basilica. They won't know how large an army we have, but they will know that we can see the whole coastline from there. Where would they dare to bring their fleet, knowing we could see them from far off and greet them at the shore, to cut them apart as they land?"
Plod finished typing, then studied the map himself. "There's merit in that," he said.
Why is there merit in it? Moozh asked silently. I haven't the faintest idea why I have this plan, except that a Basilican soldier apparently came here. What did he tell me? Why does this plan have merit?
"And with the present chaos in Basilica, you could probably take the city."
Chaos in Basilica. Good. So I wasn't wrong-the Basilican soldier apparently let me know of an opportunity.
"Yes," said Plod. "We have the perfect excuse for doing it, too. We aren't coming to invade, but rather to save the people of Basilica from the mercenary soldiers who are wandering their streets."
Mercenary