“Yes. But that’s because of what they represent, not what they are. They represent freedom, I’ll grant you that. They represent a fantasy of Paradise. Freedom, equality, no property—lives of pure spirit. The adventists thought their savior would come from there. Their king. A lot still think so.”

Charity Starbridge said nothing, just taking the pipe as it was passed to her. For months she had barely spoken. But, she thought, I too am happy, like an antinomial. She had gotten very thin. Her thinness had given her face an appealing, famished quality, different from beauty, but not too different. Her eyes seemed very large. “I’m happy,” she said. “I’m happy just to be with you, and not in my room. Both of you.”

Abu smiled and reached to touch her hair, but Thanakar looked at her pityingly. What a prison that is, he thought, only to be able to say pleasant things. No wonder she hardly speaks. As a girl, he remembered, she had had a gleeful and sarcastic tongue.

Commissar Micum knocked and entered. He carried two envelopes in his hand. “News,” he said. He smiled at his wife, and she smiled back and tried to stand, to make the compulsory gestures of delight, but she had smoked too much. So she did them from the floor and banged her head into the carpet, and then sat up, rubbing her head and laughing. She was glad to see him, for the commissar was always kind to her, and she no longer expected more than kindness. Her sincerity showed in the way she moved her hands—not as skillfully as some wives, but happily. She clapped her hands and offered him the pipe. He shook his head. “Business before pleasure, love,” he said.

“What’s new?” asked Thanakar.

“The bishop has a new commander,” said the commissar. He was excited. He held one fist in the small of his back and walked crisply towards them, bending slightly forward at the waist. In the middle of the floor he stopped to brandish his envelopes. “There’s a new mobilization order for tomorrow. Even for old carrion like me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go,” said Charity, smiling.

“But I want to go, love.”

“Then I hope you will.”

Thanakar got to his feet. “Congratulations, sir,” he said.

“Thank you, my boy. I’m sure it’s just a baggage train. Grave-digging detail. But there’s good news all round. These are your commissions.” He gestured with the envelopes.

Thanakar reached to grab them, and the commissar kept talking. “It’s something new. He wants a field hospital. The bishop must be livid. Quite illegal, of course, but it had to come. I always said it had to come, and if it takes an atheist to push it through, then God bless him for it. You’re commissioned surgeon, with a provisional rank of captain. Captain Thanakar Starbridge!” He saluted gleefully, and then he stopped. “There’s one for you too,” he said to Abu.

“They’ve sunk as low as that? They must be desperate. They must be going to lose,” said the prince calmly. He sat on the carpet as before, without moving, staring straight in front of him.