The Warlock Wandering by Christopher Stasheff Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction
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big coup d'etat, and set up the Proletarian Eclectic State of Terra."
"Before they even came to power?"
Yorick nodded. "And SPITE and VETO are still trying to finish the job. That's one of our agent's main jobs—
protecting Cholly and his establishment."
"What's so important about a tavern?"
"Oh, the tavern's just a front. His real establishment is just an idea and a method, with a set of tried-and-true techniques. People who need a reason for living take his method and go out and do the same kind of work, all on their own." Yorick grinned. "Drives PEST crazy. They keep trying to find out how his organization works—who gives the orders, and how they're transmitted—but there isn't any organization! Just ideas..."
"Sounds fabulous. What's his real work?"
"Mass education—without the masses realizing they're being educated. Cholly is Charles T. Barman, Major." Rod froze, staring at the cheery tavemkeeper. "That!?!
That is the man who created the educational system that gave birth to the Decentralized Democratic Tribunal?"
"Yeah, but he's only just now doing the creating, so the DDT's very vulnerable right at this time-locus, five centuries before it'll be bom. If anything happens to Cholly, the DDT
'revolution' might never happen. You see why we don't want to compromise our agent here. Don't stare, Major—
it makes you conspicuous. Shall we go?"
"Uh—yeah." Rod turned away, feeling numb. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."
"Nar, let's not," rumbled the sergeant. He wasn't all that big himself, but the troops behind him filled the doorway. Rod stared, shocked—it was the slob from the Wall that morning. Thaler's buddy. But he'd gone through a complete metamorphosis, and maybe even a shower. His uniform was neat and crisp, his cheeks were
THE WARLOCK WANDERING 51
shaven, and his hair was combed. "Amazing," he murmured. Behind the bar, Cholly looked up and saw. "Here, now!" he cried, and the whole tavern fell silent. "We'll have no violence in this house!"
"That's up to him," the former slob growled. "Come along to the General nice and peaceablelike, and there won't be no trouble."
Rod frowned. "The General?"
"Aye. You're under arrest."
Rod stood very still. The sergeant grinned.
"Not quite what I had in mind," Yorick muttered.
"Wherefore are we arrested?" Gwen asked. The sergeant shrugged. "That's for the general to say. Are you coming peaceably, or not?" The glint in his eye said he hoped "not."
Rod sighed and capitulated. "Sure. I always cooperate with the authorities."
"Well, almost always," Yorick muttered.
"Converse with the General was enjoyable," Gwen agreed. Behind her, most of the soldiers' faces broke into slow, sly grins.
"A woman can't say anything around here without being suspect," Rod sighed. "Of course, they didn't stop to think what kind of a woman would find a masochistic general to be pleasant company."
The grins vanished; the soldiers stared in horror. Rod nodded, satisfied. "I don't think you'll have any trouble around here, dear. Now we can go."
They might have been the dregs of military society, but they marched very nicely—all the way down the street, into the headquarters building. They came to a halt while the sergeant knocked on Shacklar's door, and'"the receptionist (human—it was a frontier planet; and male—it was a military prison) officially told him he could enter. Then they marched right into the office, and came to a stamping 52 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 53
halt in front of Shacklar's desk.
The General looked up from his paperwork and smiled warmly. "Very good. Sergeant." He saluted. "Dismissed." The ex-slob stared. "But, General... these people, they're..."
"Very pleasant conversationalists," the General assured him. "I've spoken with them already this morning. I'm sure there won't be any problem—especially with the Chief Chief available." He nodded toward a purple Wolman who stood beside his desk.
The sergeant looked the Wolman up and down, and
"Before they even came to power?"
Yorick nodded. "And SPITE and VETO are still trying to finish the job. That's one of our agent's main jobs—
protecting Cholly and his establishment."
"What's so important about a tavern?"
"Oh, the tavern's just a front. His real establishment is just an idea and a method, with a set of tried-and-true techniques. People who need a reason for living take his method and go out and do the same kind of work, all on their own." Yorick grinned. "Drives PEST crazy. They keep trying to find out how his organization works—who gives the orders, and how they're transmitted—but there isn't any organization! Just ideas..."
"Sounds fabulous. What's his real work?"
"Mass education—without the masses realizing they're being educated. Cholly is Charles T. Barman, Major." Rod froze, staring at the cheery tavemkeeper. "That!?!
That is the man who created the educational system that gave birth to the Decentralized Democratic Tribunal?"
"Yeah, but he's only just now doing the creating, so the DDT's very vulnerable right at this time-locus, five centuries before it'll be bom. If anything happens to Cholly, the DDT
'revolution' might never happen. You see why we don't want to compromise our agent here. Don't stare, Major—
it makes you conspicuous. Shall we go?"
"Uh—yeah." Rod turned away, feeling numb. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."
"Nar, let's not," rumbled the sergeant. He wasn't all that big himself, but the troops behind him filled the doorway. Rod stared, shocked—it was the slob from the Wall that morning. Thaler's buddy. But he'd gone through a complete metamorphosis, and maybe even a shower. His uniform was neat and crisp, his cheeks were
THE WARLOCK WANDERING 51
shaven, and his hair was combed. "Amazing," he murmured. Behind the bar, Cholly looked up and saw. "Here, now!" he cried, and the whole tavern fell silent. "We'll have no violence in this house!"
"That's up to him," the former slob growled. "Come along to the General nice and peaceablelike, and there won't be no trouble."
Rod frowned. "The General?"
"Aye. You're under arrest."
Rod stood very still. The sergeant grinned.
"Not quite what I had in mind," Yorick muttered.
"Wherefore are we arrested?" Gwen asked. The sergeant shrugged. "That's for the general to say. Are you coming peaceably, or not?" The glint in his eye said he hoped "not."
Rod sighed and capitulated. "Sure. I always cooperate with the authorities."
"Well, almost always," Yorick muttered.
"Converse with the General was enjoyable," Gwen agreed. Behind her, most of the soldiers' faces broke into slow, sly grins.
"A woman can't say anything around here without being suspect," Rod sighed. "Of course, they didn't stop to think what kind of a woman would find a masochistic general to be pleasant company."
The grins vanished; the soldiers stared in horror. Rod nodded, satisfied. "I don't think you'll have any trouble around here, dear. Now we can go."
They might have been the dregs of military society, but they marched very nicely—all the way down the street, into the headquarters building. They came to a halt while the sergeant knocked on Shacklar's door, and'"the receptionist (human—it was a frontier planet; and male—it was a military prison) officially told him he could enter. Then they marched right into the office, and came to a stamping 52 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 53
halt in front of Shacklar's desk.
The General looked up from his paperwork and smiled warmly. "Very good. Sergeant." He saluted. "Dismissed." The ex-slob stared. "But, General... these people, they're..."
"Very pleasant conversationalists," the General assured him. "I've spoken with them already this morning. I'm sure there won't be any problem—especially with the Chief Chief available." He nodded toward a purple Wolman who stood beside his desk.
The sergeant looked the Wolman up and down, and
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