The foundation novels 7.., p.29
When the World Shook (1919), page 29
“For the matter of that he might steal our lamps,” suggested Bickley, “in which case we should be where Moses was when the light went out.”
“I have considered that possibility,” answered Bastin, “and therefore, although it is a dangerous weapon to carry loaded, I am determined to take my revolver. If necessary I shall consider myself quite justified in shooting him to save our lives and those of thousands of others.”
At this we both laughed; somehow the idea of Bastin trying to shoot Oro struck us as intensely ludicrous. Yet that very thing was to happen.
It was a peculiarly beautiful sunset over the southern seas. To the west the great flaming orb sank into the ocean, to the east appeared the silver circle of the full moon. To my excited fancy they were like scales hanging from the hand of a materialised spirit of calm. Over the volcano and the lake, over the island with its palm trees, over the seas beyond, this calm brooded. Save for a few travelling birds the sky was empty; no cloud disturbed its peace; the world seemed steeped in innocence and quiet.
All these things struck me, as I think they did the others, because by the action of some simultaneous thought it came to our minds that very probably we were looking on them for the last time. It is all very well to talk of the Unknown and the Infinite whereof we are assured we are the heirs, but that does not make it any easier for us to part with the Known and the Finite. The contemplation of the wonders of Eternity does not conceal the advantages of actual and existent Time. In short there is no one of us, from a sainted archbishop down to a sinful suicide, who does not regret the necessity of farewell to the pleasant light and the kindly race of men wherewith we are acquainted.
For after all, who can be quite certain of the Beyond? It may be splendid, but it will probably be strange, and from strangeness, after a certain age, we shrink. We know that all things will be different there; that our human relationships will be utterly changed, that perhaps sex which shapes so many of them, will vanish to be replaced by something unknown, that ambitions will lose their hold of us, and that, at the best, the mere loss of hopes and fears will leave us empty. So at least we think, who seek not variation but continuance, since the spirit must differ from the body and that thought alarms our intelligence.
At least some of us think so; others, like Bickley, write down the future as a black and endless night, which after all has its consolations since, as has been wisely suggested, perhaps oblivion is better than any memories. Others again, like Bastin, would say of it with the Frenchman, plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose. Yet others, like Oro, consider it as a realm of possibilities, probably unpleasant and perhaps non-existent; just this and nothing more. Only one thing is certain, that no creature which has life desires to leap into the fire and from the dross of doubts, to resolve the gold — or the lead — of certainty.
“It is time to be going,” said Bastin. “In these skies the sun seems to tumble down, not to set decently as it does in England, and if we wait any longer we shall be late for our appointment in the sepulchre. I am sorry because although I don’t often notice scenery, everything looks rather beautiful this evening. That star, for instance, I think it is called Venus.”
“And therefore one that Arbuthnot should admire,” broke in Bickley, attempting to lighten matters with a joke. “But come on and let us be rid of this fool’s errand. Certainly the world is a lovely place after all, and for my part I hope that we haven’t seen the last of it,” he added with a sigh.
“So do I,” said Bastin, “though of course, Faith teaches us that there are much better ones beyond. It is no use bothering about what they are like, but I hope that the road to them doesn’t run through the hole that the old reprobate, Oro, calls Nyo.”
A few minutes later we started, each of us carrying his share of the impedimenta. I think that Tommy was the only really cheerful member of the party, for he skipped about and barked, running backwards and forwards into the mouth of the cave, as though to hurry our movements.
“Really,” said Bastin, “it is quite unholy to see an animal going on in that way when it knows that it is about to descend into the bowels of the earth. I suppose it must like them.”
“Oh! no,” commented Bickley, “it only likes what is in them — like Arbuthnot. Since that little beast came in contact with the Lady Yva, it has never been happy out of her company.”
“I think that is so,” said Bastin. “At any rate I have noticed that it has been moping for the last two days, as it always does when she is not present. It even seems to like Oro who gives me the creeps, perhaps because he is her father. Dogs must be very charitable animals.”
By now we were in the cave marching past the wrecks of the half-buried flying-machines, which Bickley, as he remarked regretfully, had never found time thoroughly to examine. Indeed, to do so would have needed more digging than we could do without proper instruments, since the machines were big and deeply entombed in dust.
We came to the sepulchre and entered.
“Well,” said Bickley, seating himself on the edge of one of the coffins and holding up his lamp to look about him, “this place seems fairly empty. No one is keeping the assignation, Arbuthnot, although the sun is well down.”
As he spoke the words Yva stood before us. Whence she came we did not see, for all our backs were turned at the moment of her arrival. But there she was, calm, beautiful, radiating light.
Chapter XXIII. In the Temple of Fate
YVA GLANCED AT me, and in her eyes I read tenderness and solicitude, also something of inquiry. It seemed to me as though she were wondering what I should do under circumstances that might, or would, arise, and in some secret fashion of which I was but half conscious, drawing an answer from my soul. Then she turned, and, smiling in her dazzling way, said:
“So, Bickley, as usual, you did not believe? Because you did not see him, therefore the Lord Oro, my father, never spoke with Humphrey. As though the Lord Oro could not pass you without your knowledge, or, perchance, send thoughts clothed in his own shape to work his errand.”
“How do you know that I did not believe Arbuthnot’s story?” Bickley asked in a rather cross voice and avoiding the direct issue. “Do you also send thoughts to work your errands clothed in your own shape, Lady Yva?”
“Alas! not so, though perhaps I could if I might. It is very simple, Bickley. Standing here, I heard you say that although the sun was well down there was no one to meet you as Humphrey had expected, and from those words and your voice I guessed the rest.”
“Your knowledge of the English language is improving fast, Lady Yva. Also, when I spoke, you were not here.”
“At least I was very near, Bickley, and these walls are thinner than you think,” she answered, contemplating what seemed to be solid rock with eyes that were full of innocence. “Oh! friend,” she went on suddenly, “I wonder what there is which will cause you to believe that you do not know all; that there exist many things beyond the reach of your learning and imagination? Well, in a day or two, perhaps, even you will admit as much, and confess it to me — elsewhere,” and she sighed.
“I am ready to confess now that much happens which I do not understand at present, because I have not the key to the trick,” he replied.
Yva shook her head at him and smiled again. Then she motioned to all of us to stand close to her, and, stooping, lifted Tommy in her arms. Next moment that marvel happened which I have described already, and we were whirling downwards through space, to find ourselves in a very little time standing safe in the caves of Nyo, breathless with the swiftness of our descent. How and on what we descended neither I nor the others ever learned. It was and must remain one of the unexplained mysteries of our great experience.
“Whither now, Yva?” I asked, staring about me at the radiant vastness.
“The Lord Oro would speak with you, Humphrey. Follow. And I pray you all do not make him wrath, for his mood is not gentle.”
So once more we proceeded down the empty streets of that underground abode which, except that it was better illuminated, reminded me of the Greek conception of Hades. We came to the sacred fountain over which stood the guardian statue of Life, pouring from the cups she held the waters of Good and Ill that mingled into one health-giving wine.
“Drink, all of you,” she said; “for I think before the sun sets again upon the earth we shall need strength, every one of us.”
So we drank, and she drank herself, and once more felt the blood go dancing through our veins as though the draught had been some nectar of the gods. Then, having extinguished the lanterns which we still carried, for here they were needless, and we wished to save our oil, we followed her through the great doors into the vast hall of audience and advanced up it between the endless, empty seats. At its head, on the dais beneath the arching shell, sat Oro on his throne. As before, he wore the jewelled cap and the gorgeous, flowing robes, while the table in front of him was still strewn with sheets of metal on which he wrote with a pen, or stylus, that glittered like a diamond or his own fierce eyes. Then he lifted his head and beckoned to us to ascend the dais.
“You are here. It is well,” he said, which was all his greeting. Only when Tommy ran up to him he bent down and patted the dog’s head with his long, thin hand, and, as he did so, his face softened. It was evident to me that Tommy was more welcome to him than were the rest of us.
There was a long silence while, one by one, he searched us with his piercing glance. It rested on me, the last of the three of us, and from me travelled to Yva.
“I wonder why I have sent for you?” he said at length, with a mirthless laugh. “I think it must be that I may convince Bickley, the sceptic, that there are powers which he does not understand, but that I have the strength to move. Also, perhaps, that your lives may be spared for my own purposes in that which is about to happen. Hearken! My labours are finished; my calculations are complete,” and he pointed to the sheets of metal before him that were covered with cabalistic signs. “Tomorrow I am about to do what once before I did and to plunge half the world in the deeps of ocean and lift again from the depths that which has been buried for a quarter of a million years.”
“Which half?” asked Bickley.
“That is my secret, Physician, and the answer to it lies written here in signs you cannot read. Certain countries will vanish, others will be spared. I say that it is my secret.”
“Then, Oro, if you could do what you threaten, you would drown hundreds of millions of people.”
“If I could do! If I could do!” he exclaimed, glaring at Bickley. “Well, tomorrow you shall see what I can do. Oh! why do I grow angry with this fool? For the rest, yes, they must drown. What does it matter? Their end will be swift; some few minutes of terror, that is all, and in one short century every one of them would have been dead.”
An expression of horror gathered on Bastin’s face.
“Do you really mean to murder hundreds of millions of people?” he asked, in a thick, slow voice.
“I have said that I intend to send them to that heaven or that hell of which you are so fond of talking, Preacher, somewhat more quickly than otherwise they would have found their way thither. They have disappointed me, they have failed; therefore, let them go and make room for others who will succeed.”
“Then you are a greater assassin than any that the world has bred, or than all of them put together. There is nobody as bad, even in the Book of Revelation!” shouted Bastin, in a kind of fury. “Moreover, I am not like Bickley. I know enough of you and your hellish powers to believe that what you plan, that you can do.”
“I believe it also,” sneered Oro. “But how comes it that the Great One whom you worship does not prevent the deed, if He exists, and it be evil?”
“He will prevent it!” raved Bastin. “Even now He commands me to prevent it, and I obey!” Then, drawing the revolver from his pocket, he pointed it at Oro’s breast, adding: “Swear not to commit this crime, or I will kill you!”
“So the man of peace would become a man of blood,” mused Oro, “and kill that I may not kill for the good of the world? Why, what is the matter with that toy of yours, Preacher?” and he pointed to the pistol.
Well might he ask, for as he spoke the revolver flew out of Bastin’s hand. High into the air it flew, and as it went discharged itself, all the six chambers of it, in rapid succession, while Bastin stood staring at his arm and hand which he seemed unable to withdraw.
“Do you still threaten me with that outstretched hand, Preacher?” mocked Oro.
“I can’t move it,” said Bastin; “it seems turned to stone.”
“Be thankful that you also are not turned to stone. But, because your courage pleases me, I will spare you, yes, and will advance you in my New Kingdom. What shall you be? Controller of Religions, I think, since all the qualities that a high priest should have are yours — faith, fanaticism and folly.”
“It is very strange,” said Bastin, “but all of a sudden my arm and hand are quite well again. I suppose it must have been ‘pins and needles’ or something of that sort which made me throw away the pistol and pull the trigger when I didn’t mean to do so.”
Then he went to fetch that article which had fallen beyond the dais, and quite forgot his intention of executing Oro in the interest of testing its mechanism, which proved to be destroyed. To his proposed appointment he made no illusion. If he comprehended what was meant, which I doubt, he took it as a joke.
“Hearken all of you,” said Oro, lifting his head suddenly, for while Bastin recovered the revolver he had been brooding. “The great thing which I shall do tomorrow must be witnessed by you because thereby only can you come to understand my powers. Also yonder where I bring it about in the bowels of the earth, you will be safer than elsewhere, since when and perhaps before it happens, the whole world will heave and shake and tremble, and I know not what may chance, even in these caves. For this reason also, do not forget to bring the little hound with you, since him least of all of you would I see come to harm, perhaps because once, hundreds of generations ago as you reckon time, I had a dog very like to him. Your mother loved him much, Yva, and when she died, this dog died also. He lies embalmed with her on her coffin yonder in the temple, and yesterday I went to look at both of them. The beasts are wonderfully alike, which shows the everlastingness of blood.”
He paused a while, lost in thought, then continued: “After the deed is done I’ll speak with you and you shall choose, Strangers, whether you will die your own masters, or live on to serve me. Now there is one problem that is left to me to solve — whether I can save a certain land — do not ask which it is, Humphrey, though I see the question in your eyes — or must let it go with the rest. I only answer you that I will do my best because you love it. So farewell for a while, and, Preacher, be advised by me and do not aim too high again.”
“It doesn’t matter where I aim,” answered Bastin sturdily, “or whether I hit or miss, since there is something much bigger than me waiting to deal with you. The countries that you think you are going to destroy will sleep quite as well tomorrow as they do tonight, Oro.”
“Much better, I think, Preacher, since by then they will have left sorrow and pain and wickedness and war far behind them.”
“Where are we to go?” I asked.
“The Lady Yva will show you,” he answered, waving his hand, and once more bent over his endless calculations.
Yva beckoned to us and we turned and followed her down the hall. She led us to a street near the gateway of the temple and thence into one of the houses. There was a portico to it leading to a court out of which opened rooms somewhat in the Pompeian fashion. We did not enter the rooms, for at the end of the court were a metal table and three couches also of metal, on which were spread rich-looking rugs. Whence these came I do not know and never asked, but I remember that they were very beautiful and soft as velvet.
“Here you may sleep,” she said, “if sleep you can, and eat of the food that you have brought with you. Tomorrow early I will call you when it is time for us to start upon our journey into the bowels of the earth.”
“I don’t want to go any deeper than we are,” said Bastin doubtfully.
“I think that none of us want to go, Bastin,” she answered with a sigh. “Yet go we must. I pray of you, anger the Lord Oro no more on this or any other matter. In your folly you tried to kill him, and as it chanced he bore it well because he loves courage. But another time he may strike back, and then, Bastin—”
“I am not afraid of him,” he answered, “but I do not like tunnels. Still, perhaps it would be better to accompany you than to be left in this place alone. Now I will unpack the food.”
Yva turned to go.
“I must leave you,” she said, “since my father needs my help. The matter has to do with the Force that he would let loose tomorrow, and its measurements; also with the preparation of the robes that we must wear lest it should harm us in its leap.”
Something in her eyes told me that she wished me to follow her, and I did so. Outside the portico where we stood in the desolate, lighted street, she halted.
“If you are not afraid,” she said, “meet me at midnight by the statue of Fate in the great temple, for I would speak with you, Humphrey, where, if anywhere, we may be alone.”
“I will come, Yva.”
“You know the road, and the gates are open, Humphrey.”
Then she gave me her hand to kiss and glided away. I returned to the others and we ate, somewhat sparingly, for we wished to save our food in case of need, and having drunk of the Life-water, were not hungry. Also we talked a little, but by common consent avoided the subject of the morrow and what it might bring forth.
We knew that terrible things were afoot, but lacking any knowledge of what these might be, thought it useless to discuss them. Indeed we were too depressed, so much so that even Bastin and Bickley ceased from arguing. The latter was so overcome by the exhibition of Oro’s powers when he caused the pistol to leap into the air and discharge itself, that he could not even pluck up courage to laugh at the failure of Bastin’s efforts to do justice on the old Super-man, or rather to prevent him from attempting a colossal crime.
