Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

Milamber stood and paced a little. “Of course. I am studying it, and have chosen to wait before I act. I need more time to understand the history you taught me so well. But I do have some speculations of sorts on what’s wrong, and they will give me a starting point.” He inclined his head, asking if he should go on. Hochopepa nodded that he should. “It seems to me there are several major problems here, problems I can only guess at in terms of impact upon the Empire.

 

“First”—he held up his index finger—“those in power are more concerned with their own grandeur than with the well-being of the Empire. And as they are those who appear to the casual eye to be the Empire, it is an easy thing not to notice.”

 

“What do you mean?” the older magician asked.

 

“When you think of the Empire, what comes to mind? A history of armies warring across the lands? Or the rise of the Assembly? Perhaps you think of a chronicle of rulers? Whatever it is, most likely the single most obvious truth is overlooked. The Empire is all those who live within its borders, from the nobles to the lowest servant, even the slaves who work the fields. It must be seen as a whole, not as being embodied by some small but visible part, such as the Warlord or the High Council. Do you understand that?”

 

Hochopepa looked troubled. “I’m not sure, but I think . . . Go on.”

 

“If that is true, then consider the rest. Second, there must never be a time when the need for stability overrules the need for growth.”

 

“But we have always grown!” objected Hochopepa.

 

“Not true,” countered Milamber. “You have always expanded, and that seems like growth if you don’t investigate closely. But while your armies have been bringing new lands into your borders, what has happened to your art, your music, your literature, your research? Even the vaunted Assembly does little more than refine that which is already known. You implied earlier that I was wasting my time finding new ways to ‘toss energy around.’ Well, what is wrong with that? Nothing. But there is something wrong with the type of society that looks upon the new as suspect.

 

“Look around you, Hocho. Your artists are in shock because I described what I had seen in paintings in my youth, and a few young artists became excited. Your musicians spend all their time learning the old songs, perfectly, to the note, and no one composes new ones, just clever variations on melodies that are centuries old. No one creates new epics, they only retell old ones. Hocho, you are a people stagnating. This war is but one example. It is unjustified, fought from habit, to keep certain groups in power, to reap wealth for those already wealthy, and to play the Game of the Council. And the cost! Thousands of lives are wasted each year, the lives of those who are the Empire, its own citizens. The Empire is a cannibal, devouring its own people.”

 

The older magician was disturbed by what he heard, in total contradiction with what he believed he saw: a vibrant, energetic, alive culture.

 

“Third,” said Milamber, “if my duty is to serve the Empire, and the social order of the Empire is responsible for its own stagnation, then it is my duty to change that social order, even if I must destroy it.”

 

Now Hochopepa was shocked. Milamber’s logic was without fault, but the suggested solution was potentially fraught with danger to everything Hochopepa knew and revered. “I understand what you say, Milamber, but what you speak of is too difficult to contemplate all at once.”

 

Milamber’s voice took on reassuring tones “I do not mean to imply that the destruction of the present social order is the only solution, Hocho. I used that to shock and to drive home a point. That is what much of my research is about, not only the visible mastery of energy, but also investigations into the nature of the Tsurani people and the Empire. Believe me, I am more than willing to spend as much time on the question as I need. I plan on spending some time in the archives.”

 

Hochopepa’s brows furrowed, and he studied his younger friend’s face. “Be warned, you may find some unsettling things in those archives. As I said, your education is not complete.”

 

Milamber let his voice drop. “I have already found some unsettling things, Hocho. Much of what is held to be common truth by the nations is based upon falsehoods.”

 

Hochopepa became concerned. “There are things that are forbidden for any but members of the Assembly to know, Milamber, and even then it is unwise to speak about them to even one of your brethren.” He glanced away, thinking, then said, “Still, when you have finished prowling around in those musty old vaults, if you need to discuss your findings, I’ll be a willing ear.” He looked back at his friend. “I like you and think you’re a refreshing change of pace for us, Milamber, but there are many who would rather see you dead as not. Don’t go chattering on to anyone but Shimone or myself about this social research you’re doing.”

 

“Agreed. But when I reach a judgment as to what must be done, I shall act.”

 

Hochopepa stood, an expression of concern on his face. “It is not that I disagree with you, my friend, it is simply that I must have time to assimilate what you have said.”