CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
"A long time ago a bunch of people reached a general consensus as to what's real and what's not and most of us have been going along with it ever since." - Charles de Lint
"So how can we help the Evangels? You've never needed our help before."
"We understand you hold the key to our salvation to put it bluntly."
"Excuse me?" Play him along a little. She knew darn well what he wanted. You're not getting him now, she thought, not yet. In time, Joseph. In time...
"Sit down, Joseph. Make yourself comfortable. Can I have someone get you a drink? We have a wine fermented from our very own grapes—or a nice vodka from our homegrown potatoes."
She could be extremely pleasant when she wanted to be.
Joseph Land was a round little man, with just enough hair on the sides of his head to pull over the top in an attempt to hide his baldness. Mother-General was rather annoyed by his unhealthy form. Hair would have helped, she thought. Apparently, his people didn't believe in clone replacement. He was soft from no exercise, had bags under his gentle brown eyes, hands clean under the nails, his palms smooth and tender from a lack of physical work.
"The Prophesy," he continued. "It originated with you, didn't it?"
"Don't you believe it is Heaven inspired?"
He was no fool after all, she thought, but he was wrong. I didn't do it, much as I'd like to take credit for it.
"All things happen for a reason," he said. "His reason." Joseph was preaching. "The vehicle doesn't matter. The Prophesy is hopeful, however, we'd like an opportunity..."
"To what? Convert another one of us to your half-baked religion?"
"What happened to the mutual respect we once had for each other, Mother-General? I thought we were professionals learning so much from each other with these many meetings all these months." He sounded genuinely hurt and disappointed.
"You're right," she said. "I apologize for my tone." She saw he wasn't convinced. "No, I mean it Joseph. Nothing personal. It's just that we've lost ten soldiers in half as many weeks."
"The Lord needs..."
"Yeah...yeah, I know, the Lord needs all the help he can get to spread the word..."
"...about peace, brotherhood and acceptance."
"Well, it's hard to feel like we are brothers when we can't talk to one another," she explained. "Look, I...we need soldiers, damn it, or we won't have ourselves, let alone our brothers."
"You don't understand us, Mother-General. Is it all right if I call you by that name?"
"Better call me Lara. I'm not your general or your mother. Thank your Makr for small favors."
"I understand. I'm honored. I've never heard anyone call you by your given name. You know, we're soldiers, too, of a different kind. We are strong in our way. In many ways we are already free."
"Enough of this friendly diplomacy. Makr can have the world re-engineered by the time we have resolution here. I have what you say you need. Why do you want it? I would have thought the Evangels to be the first to believe in the Prophecy. You don't believe in the Prophesy, do you?"
"Many want to, but, no, some of us don't. We have our extremists, too, you know. I don't believe in the Prophesy, but many do. The message has reached many of our flock. Many who come from your ranks seem to have carried it with them and infected the flock. I merely want to inoculate them before it's too late."
Mother-General noted Joseph's tone was a bit mysterious—as if he was holding back key information. Did he know there are Shadow and Touchable volunteers who had agreed to join the "flock" to spread the Prophesy? He can't be that astute, can he? She had learned long ago not to underestimate her political competitors. That's the thing about survivors...they're all competitors. All survivors can always use some organization and direction. After all, her rise to Mother-General had been unprecedented. She was the first and she assumed the last Mother-General.
"Actually, my second husband, Charles, brought the Prophesy with him. I don't know where he got it. In the end he joined you. Handsome and smart. Not very daring though. He rose to the occasion. I'll give him that much. I think he really believed in the Cause. I miss him." And you, my friend, she thought, beware of Carlos. He thinks Evangels were responsible for his father's death.
"Charles was a good man," he said. "We lost many good men, women and children at First Sanctuary when the cyberts came."
He made his point so very subtly, she thought. How do you fit in the equation? What is it you really want? Can I trust you with the plan?
"I'll be honest with you..." he started, but she cut him off.
"What? Do you mean you aren't always honest with me?"
"No, of course not. It's just...a...a...saying?"
"Don't get so flustered, my friend. I'm making a joke."
His eyes said he didn't understand. She smiled.
"I know you're sincere, and I feel I can trust you," she said. To a point, but not any further. "You may have your communicators join our ranks, but they must be willing and able to fight, too." It was time anyway.
"The Reverend will be truly grateful for your co-operation." Message was sent.
"And I for his." It was done.