“We don’t know that, General. All we have to go on is what your captured spy alleges. How can we be sure he’s telling the truth?”
The High General folded his arms. “I spent four days on him, Nicko. No man has ever held out longer than two days before. This was one determined, impressively well-trained Guarder. And when he finally broke, he confessed all he knew. Fortunately for him, they didn’t tell him that much. They’ve been quiet for years, and now it’s obvious why: they’ve changed their tactics, their training . . . maybe everything they do. We must have the citizens trusting the army, or we may have a disaster coming.”
“Impressively trained, you say?” Mal said, his eyes twinkling slightly.
The High General missed it. “My men must win over the hearts and minds of the people before the Guarders ever strike. We must be able to work together, or you might see your world crumble. And then those that remain will be as eager to depose you as they were Oren.”
“You best hope the Guarders are as fearsome as you believe they are,” Mal said with quiet ferocity. “Otherwise I would never tolerate this kind of disrespect from you.”
“Disrespect?!” The large man laughed, but without any joy. “Telling you the truth is disrespectful? Should I start calling you Querul the Third now?”
Mal clenched his fist, but knew his use of it would only amuse the condescending officer. Mal hadn’t been able to make a move without the nosing about of the High General, his snide remarks and his pointing out the faults and drawbacks to Mal’s plans. While he wasn’t always right, he was frequently enough to annoy.
Mal answered with a chilling calm. “High General, three administrators will stay on the Command Board to ensure balance in decision-making, and to prove to the world that the army and the government are completely united in all efforts.”
The High General studied him in silent coolness before he said, “One thing I’ve learned about educated men like you is that they assume everyone else is gullible enough to believe them. I, for one, have more faith in the public than I do in you. Warn the people, Mal. They deserve to know what they’re up against.”
“It’s not as if I control the reactions of the citizenry,” Mal countered. “If they still perceive the army as a threat, that’s up to you to resolve, not me. It’s the history of your army that still fills their grandparents with terror. You can’t deny history, Relf.”
The High General’s stony face hardened even more. “It’s all in how you present that story, Nicko. You can’t stay focused on what used to be, but see what it is now. Look at the color of the sky. People won’t care what the weather was last week, or decades ago. They need to prepare to deal with what’s coming now. Then what will you do? Convince them the sky is blue, no matter what they see?”
Mal leaned back in his chair. “Now why would a man like you be interested in what the children of Idumea are learning in school?”
“Why the change in the schools?” the general snarled.
Mal chuckled in a manner he’d practiced to be just to the side of oily. “Oh, my dear general—you’ve been at this for far too long. I promise you, six-year-olds being told that the sky is blue isn’t some kind of tactic. You need to take a few days off, Relf,” he said with a warm, sticky smile. “Take your wife and go to Coast or somewhere. Enjoy the salty air—”
The High General never shifted his cold glare. “I don’t need to take a few days off, Chairman.”
Mal’s gaze chilled as well. “But you do need to leave my office. In two minutes I have a meeting with the Administrator of Loyalty that I want to get through as quickly as possible. Unless there’s anything else?”
The High General straightened his jacket. “Nothing else, Chairman.” He spun on his heel and headed out of the office.
Barely a moment later a tall sneering man forced his way through the doors, and Mal could only sigh.
“Of course he’s expecting me! Now get out!” Administrator Gadiman shouted at an unseen page, who was likely cowering. Gadiman smoothed his red jacket and stretched out his neck while the Chairmen continued his long sigh. If Gadiman were an animal, his appearance would cause people to instinctively yelp, then proceed to stomp on him with their boots.
But for Mal, he was the perfect weasel.
“What have you for me today, Administrator?” Mal nodded to the stack of thick parchment files that held numerous thinner pieces of paper, tucked under Gadiman’s arm.
“All kinds of potential!” Gadiman sniggered with his version of a smile that consisted of bared teeth and thinned lips. “Over in Marsh there’s this group of cobblers—”