He was brought before a trestle table, behind which sat half a dozen large men in various military styles,
and one small olive-skinned man who was gutting a fish and grinning hopefully at everyone.
“Well, now,” said Argavisti, “Cenobiarch of Omnia, eh?”
Brutha dropped Vorbis's body on to the sand. Their gaze followed it.
“I know him- said Borvorius. ”Vorbis! Someone killed him at last, eh? And will you stop trying to sell me fish? Does anyone know who this man is?" he added, indicating Fasta Benj.
“It was a tortoise,” said Brutha.
“Was it? Not surprised. Never did trust them, always creeping around. Look, I said no fish! He's not one of mine, I know that. Is he one of yours?”
Argavisti waved a hand irritably. “Who sent you, boy?”
“No one. I came by myself. But you could say I come from the future.”
“Are you a philosopher? Where's your sponge?”
“You've come to wage war on Omnia. This would not be a good idea.”
“From Omnia's point of view, yes.”
“From everyone's. You will probably defeat us. But not all of us. And then what will you do? Leave a garrison? For ever? And eventually a new generation will retaliate. Why you did this won't mean anything to them. You'll be the oppressors. They'll fight. They might even win. And there'll be another war. And one day people will say: why didn't they sort it all out, back then? On the beach. Before it all started. Before all those people died. Now we have that chance. Aren't we lucky?”
o;No help,” said Brutha, firmly.
“What?” said Simony. “We'll need a mighty army against that lot!”
“Yes. And we haven't got one. So we'll do it another way.”
“You're crazy!”
Brutha's calmness was like a desert.
“This may be the case.”
“We have to fight!”
“Not yet.”
Simony clenched his fists in anger.
“Look . . . listen . . . We died for lies, for centuries we died for lies.” He waved a hand towards the god. “Now we've got a truth to die for!”
“No. Men should die for lies. But the truth is too precious to die for.”
Simony's mouth opened and shut soundlessly as he sought for words. Finally, he found some from the dawn of his education.
“I was told it was the finest thing to die for a god,” he mumbled.
"Vorbis said that. And he was . . . stupid. You can die for your country or your people or your family,
but for a god you should live fully and busily, every day of along life."
“And how long is that going to be?”
“We shall see.”