Shadow of the giant

the hut. It was lighted
by three small flickering oil lamps. Shadows danced on the dried-mud walls.
    She greeted him with a smile that seemed warm and friendly.
Maybe this would go better than he had feared.
    "Tikal Chapekar," she said. "I'm glad that
our people are returning from captivity."
    "The new emperor is weak," said Chapekar. "He
thinks that he'll appease world opinion by letting his prisoners go."
    She said nothing.
    "You've done an excellent job of annoying the
Muslims," he said.
    She said nothing.
    "I want to help you."
    "Excellent," she said. "What weapons are you
trained to use?"
    He laughed. "No weapons."
    "So ... not as a soldier, then. Do you type? I know you
can read, so I assume you can handle record keeping on our military
computers."
    "Military?" he asked.
    "We're a nation at war," she said simply.
    "But I'm not a soldier of any kind," said
Chapekar.
    "Too bad."
    "I'm a governor."
    "The Indian people are doing an excellent job of
governing themselves right now. What they need are soldiers to drive out their
oppressors."
    "But you have government right here. Your aides, who
tell people what to do. The one who covered me with dirt."
    "They help people. They don't govern them. They give
advice."
    "And this is how you rule all of India?"
    "I sometimes make suggestions, and my aides put the vid
out over the nets," said Virlomi. "Then the people decide whether to
obey me or not."
    "You can reject government now," said Chapekar.
"But someday you'll need it."
    Virlomi shook her head. "I will never need government.
Perhaps someday India will choose to have a government, but I will never need
it."
    "So you wouldn't stop me from urging exactly that
course. On the nets."
    She smiled. "Whoever comes to your site, let them agree
or disagree with you as they see fit."
    "I think you're making a mistake," said Chapekar.
    "Ah," said Virlomi. "And you find this
frustrating?"
    "India needs better than a lone woman in a hut."
    "And yet this lone woman in a hut held up the Chinese
Army in the passes of the east, long enough for the Muslims to have their victory.
And this lone woman led the guerrilla war and the riots against the Muslim
occupiers. And this lone woman brought the Caliph from Damascus to Hyderabad in
order to seize control of his own army, which was committing atrocities against
India."
    "And you're very proud of your achievements."
    "I'm pleased that the gods saw fit to give me something
useful to do. I've offered you something useful, too, but you refuse."
    "You've offered me humiliation and futility." He
stood to go.
    "Exactly the gifts I once had from your hand."
    He turned back to her. "Have we met?"
    "Have you forgotten? You once came to see the Battle
School graduates who were planning your strategy. But you discarded all our
plans. You despised them, and followed instead the plans of the traitor
Achilles."
    "I saw all your plans."
    "No, you saw only the plans Achilles wanted you to
see."
    "Was that my fault? I thought they were from you."
    "I foresaw the fall of India as Achilles's plans
overextended our armies and exposed our supply lines to attack from China. I
foresaw that you would do nothing except futile rhetoric—like the monstrous act
of appointing Wahabi as ruler of India—as if the rule of India were yours to
bequeath to another in your will. I saw—we all saw—how useless and vain and
stupid you were in your ambition, and how easily Achilles manipulated you by
flattery."
    "I don't have to listen to this."
    "Then go," said Virlomi. "I say nothing that
doesn't play over and over again in the secret places in your heart."
    He did not go.
    "After I left, to notify the Hegemon of what was
happening, so that perhaps my friends from Battle School could be saved from
Achilles's plan to murder them all—when that errand was done, I set up
resistance to Chinese rule in the mountains of the East. But back in Battle
School, led by a brilliant and brave and beautiful young man named Sayagi, the
Battle Schoolers drew up plans that would have saved India, if you had followed
them. At risk of their own lives, they published it on the nets, knowing that
Achilles would let none of it get to you if they submitted it through him. Did
you see the plans?"
    "I was not in the habit of getting my war plans from
the nets."
    "No. You got your plans from our enemy."
    "I didn't know that."
    "You should have known. It was plain enough what
Achilles was. You saw what we saw. The difference is, we hated him, and