Falling in pain next to the head, Doyak laughed hysterically, outsounding Randil's continuous screams. Before the life drained from his body he croaked, "See, Father—tell us what you see. Your eyes see now, don't they, Father?"

  And the eyes saw.

  FOUR

  « ^ »

  Among the more important characteristics of Homo sapiens IV in his relatively advanced stages of civilization is his preoccupation with conflict. Though it stems from, and is therefore related to, his earlier savage state, this contest syndrome should not be confused with the primitive's tendency toward violence, which is a more easily understood response to a life of continual threat to survival.

  Far from being a response to protect oneself, the contest syndrome in the civilized individual (which adjective, in this sense, is admittedly open to question) is closely aligned with an inner urge to accomplish one's own extinction. The urge manifests itself in a variety of actions, each, however, containing the common factor of exposing oneself to danger. Thus the phrase "I love a good scrap" and its underlying psychology is applied to such diverse activities as climbing a mountain ("because it's there") and diplomatic haggling, as well as physical violence.

  Whatever the particular manifestation, however, it is considered sound theory that the contest syndrome would in all individuals of the species express itself in actual physical violence if all individuals were in proper physical condition thus to engage themselves. It is therefore paradoxically fortunate for their survival that so many of the species who achieve relatively high standards of civilization lose through nonuse the very physical characteristics upon which, in earlier stages, their survival depended and without which civilization would not have been achievable.

  —from Homo Sapiens IV, reference file

  "Intelligent Life Under Committee Scrutiny"

  "They still see," Aylan said.

  "But Bolsk—you said he died."

  "That is correct, but the eyes see, nonetheless. It is not easy to explain, but let me try. On any given continuum of the many that form the mechanics of what you know as the universe, there are links—touching points through which motion flows. Such a point is like the doorway that connects this room to the next. Its purpose is to direct the flow of motion. To continue with the same analogy, it is obvious that it is architecturally unsound to connect certain rooms by doorways. Doors are not built sometimes for the reason that, were one to be cut, the separating wall might be weakened to the point where the entire structure would fall.

  "While in the totality of things, there are many doorways—and windows—which are needed, there are also places where no doorway or window can be tolerated. Between Trovo and a certain elsewhere a window has existed since long before the death of Bolsk. Since his death, however, the window has widened. That window is the eyes, which are not yet a door but which may become so. It is only a matter of time. That is why the eyes must be put out."

  "By me," Kane said.

  "By you."

  "Why me? This I can't understand," Kane said. "After all, you people—your Committee—must have many worlds to draw from. Why Jared Kane? I can't possibly be the best qualified for the job. Or am I wrong, and you really don't have that many worlds to choose from?"

  The Imparter smiled. "We have every world to draw upon; yet we've chosen you. There were others we might have chosen, others who might be better qualified in some ways. But you, Jared Kane, were in the right place at the right time. You possess the disposition and skills necessary for a task of this nature, as well. We think you stand a good chance of success. And there is one other point."

  "Which is?"

  "Which is, Mr. Kane, that many of those we might have contacted for this job might have turned us down. You, I submit, are hardly in a position to do that."

  "No argument."

  Aylan stepped to the body of the guard near the utility door. Removing the knife from the guard's chest, he extended it to Kane. "Time moves on. You have your knife and gun. Do you require any other weapon?"

  "I have a second knife strapped to my leg and another six bullets. That should be enough, providing such mundane weapons will do the trick."

  "We may hope so," Aylan said pleasantly. "Press the bubble on the disc now, if you please."

  The Imparter for the Committee may or may not have understood the choice two word bit of profanity Jared Kane hurled at him just before pushing the little black bubble.

  There were a flash that was not lightning and a blackness that was more than darkness. There was a rush of air that stung his face but was not wind. Jared Kane closed his eyes and a millisecond later felt the sharpness of rock beneath his canvas shod feet. He opened his eyes to the bright afternoon.

  And immediately dived for the side of the road he'd been standing on.

  The orange suited rider on the small odd shaped horse thundered past the spot Kane had a moment before occupied. Somewhat belatedly both rider and horse reacted to the sudden appearance of the black clad man. "Whoa, Bounty—whoa there!" roared the rider, a short, pudgy, flat nosed man in his early fifties, Kane judged, as he looked up from the bushes into which he'd hurled himself. "Whoa, you uncooperative beast," the rider shouted, pulling back hard on the reins. "I say, whooooaaaahh!"

  The final shout punctuated the rider's leaving the suddenly raised hind end of the horse. The shout was followed by the clang of the rider's broadsword upon rock and the crash of the rider himself to the middle of the road.

  The little man sat like a Buddha with outstretched legs, his face reddening with fury under a Robin Hood hat topped by a brilliant orange feather, which was bent in half by the wearer's impact.

  "Black dressed varlet!" he roared at Kane. "You are the cause of my inhospitable coming together with Father Ground. Be you sorcerer or slave, beggar or baron, sophist or simpleton, prepare you to receive justice from Aufcash, Haggaday of the Hodgepoker."

  Kane rose. "I demand no more than justice, sir. But reflect upon my claim. If I caused your meeting with Father Ground, you certainly were the cause of my embrace with Mother Thorns, who would have remained in her bushes here had it not been for your swift approach."

  He stopped his speech, marveling at his facility in the local idiom. Meanwhile the stout little man had struggled to his feet and was brushing the dust of the road from his uniform. Three wanderers along the road had paused to view the spectacle, and to one the little man shouted, "Secure my mount whilst I make ready to deal honorably and swiftly with this fellow."

  Taking off his Robin Hood hat, he straightened the feather, then replaced the hat on his round head. He scowled at Kane.

  "You compound your offense, churl. First you unseat from his steed one who not only wears the Hodgepoker's orange but one who, it being obvious by his insignia"—he tapped a white woven circle on his left sleeve—"bears the rank and title of Haggaday. Second, after being made aware of this rank by words in ears as well as sight in eyes, you choose to smartly answer him who bears it. Third, you have the audacity to try and place the blame on this overlarge insult to myself upon myself. You do this—you who, like a wizard, appear from nowhere."

  Kane noticed that the three people who had been looking on had now multiplied into nine or ten. The road upon which he and the rider argued appeared to be on the side of a sloping hill. People were approaching from above and below, all no doubt smelling a good fight about to start. This, Kane decided, was no way to begin a mission that rightly demanded secrecy.

  "Begging your pardon, sir," he said, bowing slightly. "I wish no quarrel with a person of your status. I failed to recognize your status and worth only because I come from a far country where neither your orange uniform nor the white oval it bears is known. As for this unfortunate accident, I accept the blame and beg your pardon."

  "Accidents are easily forgiven," the little man said. "Indignities, however, demand sword satisfaction. And though I now should be riding full pace in my beloved Hodgepoker's service, I shall pause—regretfully but necessarily—to deal with you. Arm yourself to ward off your coming doom. I, Aufcash, attack!"

  The lunge was not well timed, but Kane had respect for the double edges of the broadsword that spearheaded the thrust. Pivoting on his left foot, he swung his right foot clockwise in a half circle until he had turned a full 180 degrees, by which time the lunge had fully passed him. It was a move Kane had learned in aikido training. At its completion he added a fist bottom strike to the back of his attacker's head, which sent its bearer into the thorns of the roselike bushes from which Kane had extricated himself moments before.

  "You—you varlet!" sputtered the little man, who hastily tore himself from the thorns. "Now to your offenses you add the striking of an official of the Hodgepoker. This has indeed become a serious matter."

  Kane turned his head slightly and saw that the twenty to thirty watchers were nodding agreement, though still as silent as they had been. "Listen, sir—er, Aufcash, if that's your name. I repeat that I want no quarrel with you. All I want—"

  "Charge!" bellowed Aufcash. And he charged, blade high and swinging downward. Kane stepped forward to receive the attacker's forearm with his own in a swift rising block. Curling his arm back along the little man's, Kane locked their elbows, pushed his shoulder into the other's chest, and, stepping forward again with his left foot, swung his right leg back hard against Aufcash's calves. The leg to leg contact completely broke the little man's balance, and he crashed to the road surface. He stared open mouthed at Kane, who had now picked up the broadsword.

  "B-before you kill me," the little man said, quaking, "tell me by what name you go, sorcerer."

  Kane stepped over him and grabbed his sleeve. Raising him brusquely to his feet, he said evenly, "I have no reason to kill you and therefore don't see why I should. But I do want your word that you won't try to kill me again. Do I have it

  The little man nodded uncertainly. "You… you have it."

  Kane extended the sword handle first. "Then I return your weapon, Aufcash."

  "Sir!" the little man exploded. "My name is to be used only by those equal to me. Inferiors address me by my title, Haggaday."

  "Am I not your equal, Haggaday?"

  The little man seemed taken aback. Looking at the dust still on his uniform, he blushed. "The name is Aufcash," he said weakly.

  Both men suddenly roared with laughter. As Kane introduced himself he looked around to see if the spectators had appreciated the good humor that had ended the conflict. But there were no spectators.

  "Gone," commented Aufcash. "The people care to linger only where there is excitement now—as spectators only do they enjoy excitement. When the show is gone, so are they. Off to their homes to squabble with their ugly wives or off to the taverns to fill themselves with sense dulling brew."

  Kane now remembered that it had been almost a full eight hours since he'd eaten on Earth. "Taverns, did you say?"

  Aufcash winked. "I know of an especially hospitable one where the drink won't eat out your gullet and the food won't make you retch. It happens I have this evening free, so if I might make myself available as a guide to Jared Kane, I am at your service.

  Kane looked at the little man in wonder. "You have the evening free? Then why in blazes were you tearing up the road as you were?"

  "I forgot!" cried Aufcash. "The message! I'm supposed to be delivering a message from the Hodgepoker."

  "Is it all that important?" Kane asked.

  "Beyond important," was the answer. "It's to the Philosopher Rai."

  FIVE

  « ^ »

  Love (See also attraction; customs of courtship; devotion; ego projection; emotion; reproduction of species). A clever fiction created by a variety of societies to explain feelings normally excluded, for reasons of personal embarrassment or general notions of taste, from overt reference by those societies…

  —from Committee Medium HB-12,

  "A Handy Reference to Mind"

  "You will ride with me to Castle Bolsk?" Aufcash asked. "It's not far from here. Then, after my message is delivered, we may have our evening together."

  The little man's earlier mention of the Philosopher Rai had brought Kane's thoughts back to his own mission. The Imparter had said he'd arrive near the eyes, and now Aufcash had mentioned Bolsk's castle. "This castle of Bolsk—does the Philosopher Rai live there?" he asked.

  "The Philosopher Rai makes Castle Bolsk his home, yes." Aufcash replied. "The Hodgepoker's message being a written one, there will be no need for us to tarry after we have delivered it to his Deputy of the Hold. Even if Rai wishes to reply, he will do so in his own way, by his own messenger. He delights in confounding the Hodgepoker by secreting one of his own agents into the throne room and leaving his missives in the Hodgepoker's Seat of Justice. Guard it as the Haggadays may, the messages still appear. But say you'll accompany me."

  "But I have no mount," Kane replied.

  Aufcash whistled. "My mighty steed will be sufficient for both. Here, Bounty. Bend yourself to receive the Haggaday and his noble guest."

  Both Kane and Bounty were unsure of the horse's ability to carry the double load, but both acquiesced. As the animal plodded along the road, Kane took the opportunity to learn more of this place he found himself in.

  "A Haggaday is a guard of the Manse, charged with the security of the Hodgepoker's dwelling place and the safety of the Hodgepoker."

  "The Hodgepoker being your ruler, like a king," interpreted Kane.

  Aufcash shook his head. "Not a king. There have been no kings in all the countries of Trovo for many years. Not since the Philosopher Rai came to his power and deposed them all." The Hodgepoker, Aufcash said, was more of a governor or mayor, elected by the people he governed.

  "Earlier in his career, Rai ruled all of Trovo personally," the little man continued. "In those days his lieutenants took care of all the administrative details, but the orders were his. Then, some forty or fifty years ago, the Philosopher seems to have lost interest in such things, except for the levying of taxes. Many of the communities then began to elect public administrators to intercede with Rai on their behalf. The current Hodgepoker is the second man to be so elected in Balik Trovo, most bountiful of all Trovo's lands and named after our first Hodgepoker. You pass over Balik land now, as you will when we reach Castle Bolsk."

  Aufcash eyed Kane closely, turning in his saddle to do so. "But how is it that you know not of these things? Surely there is no corner of Trovo so dark that the light of the two moons shines not upon it?"

  "Two moons?"

  The little man's eyes rolled in disbelief. "Of course two moons. Or do your eyes see more when you drink too much of the grape?"

  Two moons, Kane thought. Well, why not two moons? After all, he had no idea what or where Trovo was. It was just that everything else looked so… Earthlike. The blue skies, the clouds floating freely in the sky, the warm afternoon sun, even the green countryside through which they were now passing. More rugged looking than Earth, perhaps, but familiar. But, again, why not? Human life needed a certain type of environment in order to flourish, he supposed. Trovo and Earth might be expected to be much alike. The presence of two moons merely meant he'd traveled far. And yet…

  As strange as the customs of the country might prove, Aufcash wasn't as strange as he might have suspected an alien would be.

  Kane had experienced a similar feeling once before. It was the first time he was sent on an overseas assignment, the job necessitating his working in Great Britain. He had experienced a feeling of similarity that defied his logical knowledge that he was in a different country. The language was probably at the base of it. In both cases that was probably true. Here in Trovo, with the device planted in his ear, Kane could converse, communicate. Was that all there was to a feeling of being at home—to understand and to be understood?

  "Aufcash, tell me something. Do you believe there may be human life on planets other than Trovo?"

  The little man thought a moment. "There is much in the cosmos that I do not understand. There are some things that are best left unknown to small people like myself. But this I will say about you—I believe you to be a sorcerer, whom I will serve willingly as a friend until you do anything which must, by my overriding allegiance to my Hodgepoker and people, align me against you. Where you come from is no concern of mine, and knowledge of how you sprang suddenly in the middle of an empty road would serve only to confuse my simple brain. It is enough that I owe you my life and that I happen to like personally what you seem to be."

  Kane grinned. "In my country, friend, we think ourselves skilled in the diplomatic arts, but we could learn much from you. Yet although there are things you do not wish to learn, there are things I need knowledge of. The eyes of Bolsk, for instance."

  If Kane had expected a startled reaction from the little man, he was disappointed. "Bolsk? Bolsk is dead for at least eighty years. Whai about his eyes?"

  "What do you know of the circumstances of Bolsk's death?"

  "His son murdered him, it is said. Doyak, that was the son's name. After killing the old man, who some say deserved the death he received, the son is reported to have thrown himself upon his own sword. He had lost all his money and his health on some preposterous venture he'd undertaken. It was after this that the Philosopher Rai took over the castle, marking the beginning of his rise to power."

  "And what of the woman? The mistress of Bolsk—Randil. What happened to her?"

  Aufcash chuckled. "Most say that Rai took over her, also. She was supposed to have been very fair to look upon, but inside she had an ugly heart. At least, that is what people say, if you place much faith in what people say. I know nothing about these things, so I withold judgment."

  "And Rai—in what does his power lie? How was he able to depose the kings?"

  "Jared Kane, let me make another observation. From the questions you ask, it is plain that you expect to have dealings with the Philosopher. You know much more, I'm certain, about his history than I. But whatever power it is that Rai has, I would suggest that you do not place yourself directly against it. Your sorcery may or may not be of great strength, but there has never been a wizard with the power of Rai. What this power is I know not, but no man has withstood his wrath, that I do know."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10