Shadow of the giant

wariness. His failure to stop
Virlomi from giving such outrageous offense—to a man who had admittedly gone
too far himself—looked like weakness to them. He knew they were wondering just
how much influence Virlomi had over him. And whether he was truly functioning
as Caliph any more, or was just a henpecked husband, married to a woman who
thought she was a god.
    In short, was Caliph Alai succumbing to idolatry by being
married to this madwoman?
    Not that anyone could say such a thing—even to each other,
even in private.
    In fact, they probably weren't thinking it, either.
    I'm thinking it.
    When he and Virlomi were alone, Alai walked out of the room
to the conference room toilet, where he washed his face and hands.
    Virlomi followed him inside.
    "Are you strong or weak?" she asked. "I
married you for your strength."
    He said nothing.
    "You know I'm right. Peter Wiggin can't touch us. Only
Han Tzu stands between us and uniting the world under our rule."
    "That's not true, Virlomi," said Alai.
    "So you contradict me, too?"
    "We're equals, Virlomi," said Alai. "We can
contradict each other—when we're alone together."
    "So if I'm wrong, who is a greater threat than Han
Tzu?"
    "If we attack Han Tzu, unprovoked, and it looks as if
he might lose—or he does lose—then we can expect the Muslim population of
Europe to be expelled, and the nations of Europe will unite, probably with the
United States, probably with Russia. Instead of a mountain border that Han Tzu
is not threatening, we'll have an indefensible border thousands of kilometers
long in Siberia, and enemies whose combined military might will dwarf
ours."
    "America! Europe! Those fat old men."
    "I see you're giving my ideas careful
consideration," said Alai.
    "Nothing's certain in war," said Virlomi.
"This might happen, that might happen. I'll tell you what will happen.
India will take action, whether the Muslims join us or not."
    "India, which has little equipment and no trained army,
will take on China's battle-hardened veterans—and without the help of the
Turkish divisions in Xinjiang and the Indonesian divisions in Taiwan?"
    "The Indian people do what I ask them," said
Virlomi.
    "The Indian people do what you ask them, as long as
it's possible."
    "Who are you to say what's possible?"
    "Virlomi," said Alai. "I'm not Alexander of
Macedonia."
    "That much is abundantly clear. In fact, Alai, what
battle have you ever fought and won?"
    "You mean before or after the final war against the
Buggers?"
    "Of course—you were one of the sacred Jeesh! So you're
right about everything forever!"
    "And it was my plan that destroyed the Chinese will to
fight."
    "Your plan—which depended on my little band of patriots
holding the Chinese army at bay in the mountains of eastern India."
    "No, Virlomi. Your holding action saved thousands of
lives, but if every single Chinese they sent over the mountain had faced us in
India, we would have won."
    "Easy to say."
    "Because my plan was for the Turkish troops to take
Beijing while most of the Chinese forces were tied up in India, at which point
the Chinese troops would have been called back from India. Your heroic action
saved many lives and made our victory quicker. By about two weeks and an
estimated hundred thousand casualties. So I'm grateful. But you've never led
large armies into combat."
    Virlomi waved it away, as if such a gesture could make the
fact of it disappear.
    "Virlomi," said Alai. "I love you, and I'm
not trying to hurt you, but you've been fighting all this time against very bad
commanders. You've never come up against someone like me. Or Han Tzu. Or Petra.
And definitely no one like Bean."
    "The stars of Battle School!" said Virlomi.
"Ancient test scores and membership in a club whose president got
outmaneuvered and sent into exile. What have you done lately, Caliph
Alai?"
    "I married a woman with a bold plan," said Alai.
    "But what did I marry?" asked Virlomi.
    "A man who wants the world to be united in peace. I
thought the woman who built the Great Wall of India would want the same thing.
I thought our marriage was part of that. I never knew you were so
bloodthirsty."
    "Not bloodthirsty, realistic. I see our true enemy and
I'm going to fight him."
    "Our rival is Peter Wiggin," said Alai. "He
has a plan for uniting the world, but his depends on the Caliphate collapsing
into chaos and Islam ceasing to be a force in the world. That's what the Martel
essay was designed to do—provoke us into doing something