to Dickering wildly. Behind him, the late afternoon sky was a deep blue tinged with traces of orange, and the great central plain of Heldon lay spread at the foot of the mountaintop beyond the bastion of the forest. Framed by this mighty vista in the flickering torchlight, his hand on the primeval sceptre of the Helder nation, Feric seemed the incarnation of the legendary heroes of the dim past, and even Bluth and Decker could not but be somewhat awed.
"He who wields this Great Truncheon is the true ruler of all Heldon by genetic right, a right that goes far deeper than any law of Party or Council," Peric said. "Is there a man among you who believes that the Great Truncheon of Held is his to wield?"
All were cowed to silence.
Slowly and deliberately, Feric clasped his right hand around the handle of the Steel Commander. With an easy motion, he swept the Great Truncheon into the air high over his head.
Then he brought the Steel Commander down upon the heavy oaken tabletop and smashed it to flinders.
It was Bluth himself who led the others to their feet, saluting smartly, and shouting, "Hail Jaggarl"
6
Roaring across the plain toward the suburbs of Walder came a grand procession, the dash, sound, and color of which was enough to take the breath away and set the heart singing: two long rows of motorcycles howling down the road at fifty miles an hour at the rear of a sleek black gas car. Gone were the barbarian rags of the Black Avengers, replaced by the stylishly cut brown leather uniform of the Knights of the Swastika, set off with high-peaked foresters' caps also of brown leather, bearing bronze medallions of the new Party crest: an eagle bearing a swastika shield. Behind each motoroyclist trailed a red cloak emblazoned with a bold black swastika in a circle of purest white; this was repeated on the red armband each man wore on his right sleeve. The cloaks and armbands were miniatures of the four great red, black, and white Party flags secured to the frames of the motorcycles at the front and the rear of the double column. These flags, flapping in the wind of passage, were dominated by the black-and-white swastika emblems at their centers, and affixed to sturdy brazen poles capped with the Party shield. The motorcycles had themselves been redecorated to a uniform scheme: the frames were bright red, the fuel tanks done up in the color and design of the Party flag, the panniers finished in unadorned gleaming chrome, the tail fins likewise of chrome and formed into the shapes of great lightning bolts. Feric had well calculated the overall effect to stir the spirit and capture the eye of any true Helder.
The black command car itself was unadorned save for small Party flags above each front wheel. In the cab of the car were two uniformed Knights of the Swastika: a driver in the left seat, and a trooper beside him for the sake of symmetry. In the front of the open cabin sat Seph Bogel and Sigmark Dugel. Behind them, on a higher seat, sat Feric. Bogel, Dugel, and Feric were dressed in the uniform which Feric had designed for the Party elite. This was of black leather, tailored quite snugly, trimmed with chrome brightwork, and set off at the throat with red scarves secured with white-and-black swastika clasps. The armbands and cloaks were of a design identical with those of the Knights of the Swastika, but the black leather caps were more sleekly cut, with narrow chromed visors, and the Party crest done in silver, with the swastika etched in black.
Secured to Feric's waist, with a wide leather belt set off with chrome studs, was the Great Truncheon of Held, polished till it shone like a mirror.
Thus would Feric Jaggar enter the second city of Heldon
—at the head of a dashing storm troop, a pageant of sound and power and color carefully designed by his own hand to set the soul of the beholder soaring.
Indeed, the procession had already gathered a small following of private motorcycles, gas cars, and even bicyclists, pedaling frantically at top speed to keep up, by the time it reached the southern suburbs of Walder and slackened its pace to thirty miles an hour. Peric realized that these folk had been drawn by the exciting spectacle of 84
uniformed men dashing down the road at high speed, rather than by any loyalty to the Party, since the new colors had never before been displayed; still those who responded to such a sight with fervent enthusiasm were most likely men of the proper Helder spirit.
