33. Losham
LOSHAM
Losham's office had been transformed once again, this time in preparation for the video meeting that would determine the future of the Brotherhood, and more importantly, his future as its undisputed leader.
Two laptops, a bank of monitors, and a control unit feeding the island's broadcast network were all the items Rami had assembled in preparation. On the largest screen, they could see the conference hall on the military side gradually filling with males in dress uniforms.
Bertram stood next to Losham, looking rested and content. He hadn't mentioned the two women Losham had gifted him for the night, and that was fine. He'd already thanked Losham for them the day before.
"At least they are showing up on time," Bertram said.
"Discipline begins at the leadership level." Losham watched the screen. "You establish the tone, and others follow."
Eighteen names had been on the list Losham had prepared for Bertram.
Five were junior brothers, and thirteen were senior commanders who had been part of the former senior brothers' inner circles and had moved on to the juniors.
Fourteen had arrived by the time Losham started counting, then four more.
As the doors at the back were drawn shut, eighteen males knelt on the floor.
The agreement with the clan was that he would call only if there was a problem, but there didn't seem to be. Everyone meant to be in that room was there, and it was only a matter of counting the minutes to the strike and making sure that no one left before that.
"I was wondering why these eighteen." Bertram studied the screen.
"Because these are the ones who most need reminding of their proper place.
" Losham kept his eyes on the feed. "They've grown lax in their loyalty and their expressions of it.
Today they reaffirm their devotion before their lord's eyes as well as the eyes of every other member of the Brotherhood watching the feed. "
Bertram nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. If he suspected something, he kept it to himself.
Near the front, Losham recognized the heavy shoulders of Shavek, who had colluded with the insane cult leader of the Sacred Mothers and hadn't bothered to report what was going on in the enclosure.
He was dressed in his finest for today's devotions, thinking he was going to impress their father.
At least he was properly dressed for his own funeral and meeting Mortdh beyond the veil.
Losham had expected to feel something, some remorse, or pity, maybe even guilt, but there was nothing. None of those males would have hesitated for a second before blowing him to pieces if they got the chance.
His brothers had taken the front row, as was customary for Navuh's blood.
Five of them knelt shoulder to shoulder, offering their devotions to a father who had not raised them and who would not have spared them a thought.
They had all been raised in the breeders' enclosure and sent to the training camp.
They had to earn their rank just like everyone else.
The only real advantage their blood had ever bought them was a slightly better education.
The three juniors who were not in the room, the ones Losham had decided to spare, had left the island already on the pretext of hunting for the hard-to-find replacement parts for the radar. The errand was legitimate enough to go unchallenged.
He had chosen with care the five who were to attend and those who were to be spared.
Zorath was cool-headed and had never been caught scheming, which was as close to trustworthy as the Brotherhood produced.
Modak followed orders and had never had an idea worth acting on.
As for Borhash, Losham didn't trust his joker act, but since he had no following, he was not a problem either.
The five in the hall were a threat, and they needed to be eliminated to secure Losham's position for years to come.
Horek had run Hocken's intelligence and knew too much, Koshan had been Kolhood's logistics man and wanted more, and Bokev was Mazlen's muscle.
Shavek, who at first had appeared harmless because of his devotion to Mortdh, had turned out to be a fanatic who thought that sacrificing children was a good way to appease their god.
Mazlen was the primary target because he was the most dangerous of the bunch.
They would not be easy to replace.
"Are you ready to begin, my lord?" Rami asked.
Losham nodded. "Yes. It's time."
Eighteen faces lifted to look at the screen where Losham appeared. He couldn't see himself because the camera aimed at the attendees was mounted above that screen, but he didn't have to. He knew what he looked like and what he projected.
"Brothers," Losham began. "Warriors of the Devout Order of Mortdh.
For too long, the demands of these difficult times have eroded the discipline and practices that made the Brotherhood strong.
Today, we set things right. Today, we once again offer our devotions to Lord Navuh and to the god Mortdh.
Today, we reaffirm who we are and where we came from. "
They went down together, eighteen foreheads pressing to the floor, eighteen backs bent in submission. Losham led them through the devotion using his father's cadence.
Glory to Lord Navuh the wise and the just.
In his guidance and mercy we put our trust.
With his bounty we thrive.
By his will we live, and we die.
We are all brothers in the Devout Order of Mortdh.
In his name we wage this Holy War.
Losham had a window, and his task was to keep them on their knees until it closed.
So he drew it out, doing what he had witnessed his father doing countless times.
He puffed out his chest and filled the time with words that sounded important.
He led the devotion, then spoke on its meaning, then called for each commander to affirm his oath aloud, one after another, while the clock on the wall counted down the minutes.
In the middle of the ninth or tenth oath, Mazlen moved.
He lifted a phone discreetly from a pocket of his dress uniform, glanced down at the screen, then rose from his knees and straightened.
Mazlen couldn't be allowed to leave. He was the one who had challenged Losham openly on the day Bertram had been named, and the one who topped Losham's elimination list.
"Mazlen." Losham did not raise his voice. "You are not done reaffirming your devotion."
Seventeen heads did not lift off the floor because they knew better.
Mazlen stood alone. "It's the radar. The repair crew reports a problem. They need—"
"The radar will wait for the duration of the prayer," Losham said calmly. "Your devotion to a broken machine shouldn't exceed your devotion to the lord. Go down on your knees and lower your head in submission."
For a long moment, Mazlen did not move, and Losham tensed.
He couldn't force Mazlen to stay. He could only pressure him with the force of his personality, and that might not be enough.
When Mazlen put the phone away, knelt back down, and pressed his forehead to the floor, Losham let out a quiet breath and picked up the oath ceremony where he had left off.
He did not watch the clock after that. He watched the rows of bent backs, and kept talking. Somewhere to the northeast, over open water, he imagined a drone closing the distance.
The angel of death was nearing.
He was in the middle of a sentence when the feed turned white.
No sound came through because the microphones had died along with everything else.
The screen suddenly flared with a silent burst of light, engulfing the hall and the eighteen bent figures inside.
Then it turned black, replaced by the gray static of a signal searching for a source that no longer existed.
Losham did not look away.
The office was very quiet. On the smaller monitors, the other island feeds ran on, ordinary, showing the harbor, the hotel lobby, a corridor. Only one screen was gray.
"Dear Mortdh," Bertram said.
Losham turned to him and found the general exactly as he needed him to be. He was staring at the dead feed, all color drained from his face, watching most of the command structure turn to dust in an instant.
"Bertram," Losham said softly.
Bertram looked at him.
"The lord is not without reach, and neither am I.
I command a force that answers to me alone, and this morning it removed every male plotting against the lord's authority and, by extension, against mine.
They signed their own death warrants when instead of falling in line, they sought to seize power.
I summoned you here to witness their execution.
That's what happens to those who mistake my patience for weakness. "
Bertram's throat worked. He was a soldier, and he had seen death before, some worse than the swift execution of eighteen traitors.
"An outside force," Bertram repeated.
"An independent force that answers to me alone. I have not spent the years away from the island idly. I prepared." Losham held his gaze. "You saw what it can do, and that is what you will tell the men. When they ask what happened and why, you will tell them that the lord struck down the disloyal."
"Yes." Bertram straightened. "Yes, my lord."
"Good." Losham turned back to the gray screen and, after a moment, nodded to Rami to shut it off. "It is done."
Rami killed the feed, and silence stretched over the office.
Losham had no rivals left on the island, and the significance should have felt overwhelming, but instead it felt like the relief after removing a heavy burden. The muscles were still tense and strained, unaware that the workload had vanished.
He had removed those who threatened to take the Brotherhood from him, and now the chairs those males had filled were empty. The whole apparatus of a ten-thousand-strong army would fall apart unless he could quickly find replacements.
And then there was the enclosure. Shavek was ash now, but the cult was still there, four hundred strong and swelling, led by a woman who answered to no one Losham could reach.
Rami's plan was good.
A new faith, with new teachers, a hood over the whole flock. And it would hold about as well as the recorded devotionals, which was to say not at all, unless he kept a competent thraller permanently in the enclosure.
"Rami." Losham walked over to the glass doors overlooking the courtyard below. "Get me the enclosure's head of guards. The senior human."
"You have a replacement in mind?"
"No. I have many holes to fill up and only one morning to start, but I want to ensure no children are sacrificed before I find a solution.
I need him to forbid all gatherings for now, including the Sacred Mothers' and any others, and to increase security.
" He watched a delivery cart cross the courtyard, its driver unaware that the island had just been remade above his head.
"Bertram. Prepare a list of possible candidates to replace each of the eighteen I just executed. "
Losham walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of fine whiskey. "But first, a toast to the new beginning."