while, waiting for a target.”
“Are you looking for more of them?”
“We are now,” Oi said. “You’ll understand when I say they’re hard to find. When you’re elected leader you might authorize some more resources to the task.”
“Indeed. And, how is the vote going?”
“It’s going uneventfully,” Oi said. “You will be elected leader of the Conclave in just a few ditu, I expect. It would have been done sooner but some of the representatives can’t vote without making a speech.”
“How hard did you have to work to change minds?”
“Not as hard as I might have in any other circumstance,” Oi said. “People are still in shock about the general. They know who you were to him. Many of them are voting for you as a final way to honor him.”
“That’s a sentiment that would amuse Tarsem,” I said.
“I’m sure,” Oi said. “Not that I didn’t have to threaten a couple of representatives, of course. But, again, fewer than I might have to otherwise.”
“I’ll need their names.”
“You’ll have them. Try not to have them killed.”
“I’m more subtle than that.”
“You’ll have them killed later, you mean.”
“I won’t have them killed at all. Just their careers.”
“When the vote is final they will want you to speak to the Grand Assembly.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be ready. Thank you, Oi. That will be all.”
“One more thing,” Oi said, and produced in its tendrils a paper envelope. “A letter.”
“From whom?”
“From the general,” it said. “He gave it to me in our last meeting. He asked me to hold it and to give it to you, after his speech. He told me I would know when to give it to you.” It held it out to me. “I think it’s all right to give it to you now.”
I took the letter. “I assume you read it,” I said.
“In fact that is the one piece of information on this entire asteroid that I have not read.”
“Remarkable,” I said, looking at the envelope. “How did that happen, I wonder.”
“Simple. The general asked me not to.” Oi nodded and departed.
I opened the envelope and read the letter inside.
Hello, Hafte.
First I will apologize. If you are reading this, you are now leader of the Conclave. I know it’s not a position you wanted for yourself, and if you resent me a little for making you take it I understand. But also understand that I can’t imagine that the next leader of the Conclave would be anyone but you. You have too long contented yourself to be the advisor and the councilor. It’s not that I did not value your advice and counsel. But I always understood that your talents were not being used to their best extent, either by yourself or the Conclave. Now they will be. I hope you can forgive me for giving you that final push.
Not too long ago you and I sat in the Lalan park and you told me the story of Loomt Both and how he almost doomed the Lalans to extinction. You said to me that it was best for your people to have their pain early, to grow into their wisdom. I have come to believe the same is true for the Conclave. We had growing pains, rebellions, and loss. But none of these events have fixed the Conclave, changed it from a disparate collection of peoples into a single, galvanized nation. It needs something to be that catalyst.
If you are reading this, then you know what that catalyst was.
I set the letter down, trying to make sense of what I had just read. I looked around the park, and saw nothing but greenery, and a single young Lalan, mindlessly swimming in the pond. After a few moments I started reading again.
You were right. When the Conclave was an idea, and when it was growing, I was the right leader for it. But I’m not the right leader for it now. It needs someone else, someone with a cannier set of political skills. Someone like you. But neither can I simply step away and fade into the background. We both know there are those in the Grand Assembly who would have no intention of allowing me
“Are you looking for more of them?”
“We are now,” Oi said. “You’ll understand when I say they’re hard to find. When you’re elected leader you might authorize some more resources to the task.”
“Indeed. And, how is the vote going?”
“It’s going uneventfully,” Oi said. “You will be elected leader of the Conclave in just a few ditu, I expect. It would have been done sooner but some of the representatives can’t vote without making a speech.”
“How hard did you have to work to change minds?”
“Not as hard as I might have in any other circumstance,” Oi said. “People are still in shock about the general. They know who you were to him. Many of them are voting for you as a final way to honor him.”
“That’s a sentiment that would amuse Tarsem,” I said.
“I’m sure,” Oi said. “Not that I didn’t have to threaten a couple of representatives, of course. But, again, fewer than I might have to otherwise.”
“I’ll need their names.”
“You’ll have them. Try not to have them killed.”
“I’m more subtle than that.”
“You’ll have them killed later, you mean.”
“I won’t have them killed at all. Just their careers.”
“When the vote is final they will want you to speak to the Grand Assembly.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be ready. Thank you, Oi. That will be all.”
“One more thing,” Oi said, and produced in its tendrils a paper envelope. “A letter.”
“From whom?”
“From the general,” it said. “He gave it to me in our last meeting. He asked me to hold it and to give it to you, after his speech. He told me I would know when to give it to you.” It held it out to me. “I think it’s all right to give it to you now.”
I took the letter. “I assume you read it,” I said.
“In fact that is the one piece of information on this entire asteroid that I have not read.”
“Remarkable,” I said, looking at the envelope. “How did that happen, I wonder.”
“Simple. The general asked me not to.” Oi nodded and departed.
I opened the envelope and read the letter inside.
Hello, Hafte.
First I will apologize. If you are reading this, you are now leader of the Conclave. I know it’s not a position you wanted for yourself, and if you resent me a little for making you take it I understand. But also understand that I can’t imagine that the next leader of the Conclave would be anyone but you. You have too long contented yourself to be the advisor and the councilor. It’s not that I did not value your advice and counsel. But I always understood that your talents were not being used to their best extent, either by yourself or the Conclave. Now they will be. I hope you can forgive me for giving you that final push.
Not too long ago you and I sat in the Lalan park and you told me the story of Loomt Both and how he almost doomed the Lalans to extinction. You said to me that it was best for your people to have their pain early, to grow into their wisdom. I have come to believe the same is true for the Conclave. We had growing pains, rebellions, and loss. But none of these events have fixed the Conclave, changed it from a disparate collection of peoples into a single, galvanized nation. It needs something to be that catalyst.
If you are reading this, then you know what that catalyst was.
I set the letter down, trying to make sense of what I had just read. I looked around the park, and saw nothing but greenery, and a single young Lalan, mindlessly swimming in the pond. After a few moments I started reading again.
You were right. When the Conclave was an idea, and when it was growing, I was the right leader for it. But I’m not the right leader for it now. It needs someone else, someone with a cannier set of political skills. Someone like you. But neither can I simply step away and fade into the background. We both know there are those in the Grand Assembly who would have no intention of allowing me
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