"Because your smuggled history text may differ from the program of the Game," Uga said. "That I well understand. My interest is merely in verifying that you are in fact a scholar of Steppe history, and not a spy from the Khagan's court."
Apt suspicion, and plausible enough so that Uga would not need to search further for the truth. "I could be both," Alp pointed out.
"Or neither. But there will come opportunities to separate your motives and your knowledge from those of the Khagan—whom, naturally, I serve loyally until his demise ten Days hence. Meanwhile we shall take you on faith.
Limited faith, but it can grow."
"Fair enough," Alp agreed.
Dismissed, he left Uga's ger. Alp had now been in the Game several Hours, and nature had further call upon him. He walked out onto the sand, seeking a suitable spot—but a guard challenged him.
Among true Uigurs there never would have been any confusion. But Alp realized suddenly that these imitation nomads would not understand. They were not accustomed to using the sand, his new memory said. They had facilities within their tents.
All right. He turned back.
He found the place in his tent. It was a kind of chair with a hole in the top. He had heard of this type of thing; the Chinese and others used similar devices on occasion. There would be a bucket that had to be emptied periodically...
He looked. There was no bucket. Instead there was the shimmer of running water.
Running water! Alp recoiled in shock. It was forbidden to urinate into running water! No man fouled the precious fluid that all men had to drink!
Yet it was so: these Galactics were less than men, and this was the proof. They never buried their dung decently in sand but made a point of dropping it obscenely into this channel of running water. It was then carried down into a grinding unit that prepared the substance for "recycling"...
Alp left his tent hurriedly, circumvented the guard, and upheld the standard of personal hygiene he had been raised with. There were, after all, limits.
Chapter 7
MISSION
At two a.m.—February, 842—the Khagan's directive came. Within minutes Uga's small party of warriors took off for the arduous journey to China. Women, servants and tents were left behind; this was business. The blast of the jets melted long furrows in the winter snow as the horses galloped into the sky. The tiny camp was lost to sight at once, and in a moment the entire planet disappeared. These were light-speed steeds! Uga went, and Alp, and Pei-li, and a picked body of fifteen hard riders. Uga's mission was to negotiate with the Emperor for the hand of a T'ang princess in marriage—to the Khagan. It was dubious business, as the Chinese were extremely jealous of their princesses, especially where nomads were concerned... More especially when Uigur power was fading. In fact, historically the mission had been unsuccessful—as Alp had informed Uga.
" Noyan to my ship," Uga said on the screen as the fleet achieved speed. Alp wondered why the chief continued to insist on this personal contact despite inconvenience, when the screens were quite adequate for communication. It was the usual nomad way, true—but this astonishing flight through reaches Alp had not before imagined had demonstrated clearly that the usual nomad ways were no longer applicable. This was not the natural Steppe; it was the Game.
But a Uigur did not answer in such a situation, he obeyed. Alp was a noyan, a member of the Steppe aristocracy, both in life and here.
He set the reins for rendezvous and gave his horse its mechanical head. The machine-creature made the maneuver and docked, sealing one of its airlocks to one of Uga's steed. Each horse had three such locks, so it was possible for up to four to unite in a cluster during flight. Or more, if it wasn't necessary for each to face into a common chamber. In this way no one horse was overburdened, though overall maneuverability suffered.
Pei-li docked next. The two visitors stuck their heads through the locks into Uga's ship, turning off their screens. Their dialogue was thus assured of privacy.
Pei-li's head suggested a large brutish body, that one should not draw sword against unless one intended to slay. His mouth was taciturn, his eyes watchful.
"Ko-lo is dubious about this mission," Uga said to Pei-li. "What is your sentiment?"
"A fool's errand," Pei-li growled. "We shall die in China."
"Is that your view?" Uga asked Alp.
"I do not know more than I have told you about this matter," Alp said. "You will return alive, unsuccessful, and the Khagan will blame you for failure. Many of your men will die, and you may have to recruit from dissident Chinese horsemen on your return trip. The rest—we shall discover."
"How can you know this?" Pei-li demanded, obviously jealous of the seeming confidence Uga placed in Alp.
"Do you seek to exterminate me before the fact?"
"You will also survive," Alp said, keeping his face straight.
"This is Ko-lo's talent," Uga explained. "To foresee history." He rotated his head to face Alp again. "Why should I recruit Chinese, when you say I will hate them?"
Alp had to think about that. "Perhaps it is the T'ang empire you will hate, not the Chinese themselves. Perhaps you will only claim to hate them. I do not know your mind, only your actions—and those only vaguely."
"The Khagan knows no more than that," Uga said meaningfully. Then he got down to business: "In the T'ang dominions—distrust the screen. Always respond affirmatively."
Alp was puzzled again. "What if you ask for information? Something that can't be answered yes or no?"
Uga smiled, and so did Pei-li, feeling superior. "Then answer as pleases you," Uga said, "so long as you stay wide of the truth."
Then Alp understood how the communications screens differed from direct speech. Others could eavesdrop on screen dialogue, so it was not to be trusted in any critical situation. This information, too, was available in his new memory; it had merely been hidden behind the more technical complexities of Galactic intercourse. So much of this demon universe was like that—concealed not so much by any veil of secrecy, but by unclear implications of its superior technology. All Galactic swords were many-edged.
The ships disengaged and resumed formation. Alp found it challenging to correlate the vast steppe and desert he had ridden in life, to the vaster volume of space he now traversed. Very soon they left the entire system that included the planet Earth behind, accelerating to a velocity his mind was not equipped to conceive. They galloped between the myriad candles of the galaxy. Their course was set for the populous center; Uga's post had been near the fringe. The entire steppe Alp had known was a mere patch on that fringe-world. It was an exercise in perspective!
China in the world was southeast of the Uigur dominions. China in the galaxy was toward the interior of the bulging disk. In each case there were mountains, rivers, bandits, deserts and other natural hazards. A desert, in Game terms, was a region of space almost devoid of planet-bearing stars, so that there was no place to stop for rest and resupply except scattered oases. Mountains were ridges of stars whose interacting gravitational wells interfered with the course of the fleet. At sublight velocity that hardly mattered—but these horses traveled a hundred light years for every kilometer a real horse might, and faster in proportion. Alp had no real concept of the length of a light year, except that it was an extremely far piece. A hundred light years amounted to about a thousandth of the distance across the galaxy. Of course the distance to China was only a fraction of the galactic diameter, but again it illustrated the proportions.
Cruising speed of the ships was actually about ten thousand light years per hour—and what horse could run a hundred kilometers in an hour? But at that velocity the space horses quickly became winded, and it was necessary to change to new steeds every hour—or to allow the old ones to walk for a period. That high speed could not be maintained in the mountain region, regardless, for a cluster of stars, each one or two light years apart, was a serious navigational hazard. The stars themselves were nothing; it was almost impossible to hit one
at that speed no matter how hard one tried—and if a ship did, it would pass right through it at speed, unharmed. But their gravitational fields extended over significant volumes of space.
Alp shook his head. It all made sense to born Galactics, but to him it was foreign. Easier to view the dust-nebula as rivers, even if they didn't have normal currents.
At ten thousand light years per hour, the journey to the Chinese court would require two Hours, or one month historically—just as it always had. Time enough to take some rest from the sleep-helmet, except that Alp had a recent but strong aversion to such devices. So he set out to absorb some more comic-history background.
Cimmerian had a son named Scythian, and Scyth was now growing into aggressive gianthood. He was younger and stronger than his father and had little proper respect for parentage. Some dwarves openly doubted the filial relation, for parentage was always dubious among giants. At any rate, Scyth began to move into Cimmerian's territory and to shove him around. This naturally made the old giant furious—but it was far too late to undertake the disciplinary measures he should have invoked when Scyth was but a lad. So Cim had to give way.
In fact, it may have been this developing quarrel among the giants of Steppe that drove Cim down into the fringe of the territories of Greek and Hittite, with the consequent significance for the world.
Cim, however, was no giant to take that sort of bruising from an upstart youth for long. By and by he stood up and fought Scyth directly, son or no son. The two charged each other on their great horses, fired volleys of arrows, and finally dismounted to hack it with their swords.
The battle was earth-shattering (did that account for the gorge? Alp wondered facetiously), but slowly Scyth prevailed. Finally he opened his huge mouth and took a bite of Cim. Cim howled angrily, but bit by bit and bite by bite Scyth ate him, and at last swallowed him whole.
This, the cartoon narration assured the viewer, was the way giants were. Since any living thing that wasn't consumed remained a functioning entity on its own, there was no sense leaving any part of a vanquished enemy unconsumed.
For a Year or more—three or four centuries, historically—Scyth dominated the western steppe, making just about as much trouble for the civilized dwarves of the south as his progenitor had. Some wondered whether the original giant had really changed in nature at all, or merely altered his name. There was no way to be sure, since when one giant consumed another he tended to assume the attributes of the repast.
Then a third giant grew up, who may have been Scyth's own offspring—again allowing for the giants' notorious eclecticism about species perpetuation. They all, literally, were bastards. This newcomer's name was Sarmation: a bearded horseman in conventional tunic and wide trousers, with a good bow and strong arrows. He treated Scyth much as Scyth had treated Cim, and he dominated the region thereafter.
But meanwhile in the central steppe other giants were arising. This was the point where the pre-history of the Game closed, and the formal action commenced. For it was the central steppe that was the main stage.
Alp turned it off again. He could only absorb so much at one sitting. So all this had been no more than the introduction to the Game!
He checked the controls and looked at the picture of all the stars zooming by. There were more of them, now that the fleet was closer to the center; they were like bright dust motes in sunlight, beyond counting. But the ride itself was becoming tedious.
Then Uga's signal came, and they decelerated swiftly and oriented on a star, then on a planet, and finally on the Game-field of that planet. They landed, dismounted, stretched, ate, used the sanitary facilities (Alp abstained) and took fresh horses. This was a Game-depot, a Uigur post deep within Chinese territory, tolerated by the T'ang because of their alliance. In a few days that situation would change. Alp knew; meanwhile the stop certainly was convenient! His horse was worn out and could not have maintained the swift pace much longer without faltering.
This time each warrior took along a remount: a horse that would follow, riderless, until the rider needed it. For there was no Uigur post in central T'ang, and Chinese steeds, untrained to nomad rigors, would be useless.
In another Hour their journey would be over. Alp had to review as much of the remaining Game history as he could in that time, in order to comprehend the ramifications of the current mission. Perhaps he could skip over portions not immediately relevant to his needs. He turned on the new horse's screen and settled into it, while the stars swept by outside.
The giant now being introduced was familiar: Hsiung-nu, better known as Hun. Alp considered Hun to be the grandfather of all true fighting nomads, and the example that all had followed since. He watched this sequence with special interest, his sympathies with his illustrious ancestor.
Hun lived in the middle of Steppe, and he grew up about the time Scyth did. But the full Steppe was so broad that the two hardly knew each other. There were several dwarves and a formidable mountain range between them; not all of Steppe was flat, by any means!
Hun was formed from the integration of many minor dwarves of the region. It was not until Sarmation's time that Hun really got hold of himself and ranged the area as the first full-fledged, confident giant. But then he was a real terror, because he possessed the three fundamental sources of nomad power: the composite bow, the ability to work iron, and the stirrup. The first gave him superior shooting ability, the second improved his other weapons, and the third enabled him to ride his horse at full gallop without using his hands—so that they were free to wield bow and sword on the run.
What a warrior! Alp thought in admiration. There was little a modern Uigur could have taught old Hun!
Hun's totem was the wolf, and like the wolf he was a raider. The sheepfold he eyed was the civilized bastion of China. It was his perennial ambition to break into that rich fold, slaughter the superfluous farmers, snatch up his bounty, and escape. At other times Hun ranged the plains with his own cattle. His ancestors had once domesticated the reindeer, but climate and terrain had converted him to the horse, and only his fine animal art now reflected his former life in the northern forests. North of Steppe at this time was nothing but an icy waste; the land of promise was always south.
Hun was short, for a giant, with a stocky body and a very large round head. His face was broad, his cheekbones prominent, his nostrils wide, his ears long. The cartoon exaggerated these traits, showing how they differed from the Galactic norm. Hun shaved his head except for a tuft on top, and he wore rings in his beard. His eyebrows were thick, his eyes almond shaped, and he had fiery pupils. Completely handsome, Alp agreed.
Alp could have dwelt indefinitely on this superlative figure of a man, but the narration moved on. So Alp identified with Hun and followed the ancient nomad's glorious adventures as if they were his own—as they were, in spirit. It was his recent experience in the galaxy that was alien!
Hun, master of his own region but by no means lord of all Steppe, decided to expand his territory. He would have liked to move south, into the large fertile region below the Yellow River (Alp laughed as he saw the cartoon river: it really was yellow!)—but the giant Ch'in had just formed here, consuming the other Chinese entities much as Sarm had consumed Scyth in the west. Ch'in was now monstrous. Soft, flabby and sedentary—but so huge that no ordinary giant could budge him. Ch'in had already butted Hun's foot from inside the great northern loop of the river
—an act of outrage for which any smaller giant would have paid dearly. But for the time being Hun had to expand at the expense of his weaker nomad neighbors: Yueh-chih to the west and Tung-nu to the east.
Then fat Ch'in lost his head. This was another frequent malady of giants; sometimes it led to disaster, but more often a replacement was available. When the new head was donned, the Chinese giant became known as Han. While he was changing heads, he naturally couldn't see very well, so Hun stepped across the river. But Han soon focused and pushed him right out again. The corpulent southerner was really pretty stron
g when he got mad. Alp ruefully admitted.
So a Month later Hun charged into Yueh-chih's territory. He beat up Yueh and cut off his head, rendering him temporarily out of sorts. Then he shoved the body westward and took over the land, only keeping Yuen's head to use for a drinking cup.
Now Yueh-chih had to go somewhere, because his horse and his cow were getting hungry, and even less important properties such as his wife were in dubious condition. So he continued west. It normally took a while to break in a new head, and Yueh's didn't think too well the first few days.
Yueh was one of a family of small giants who had moved east in the old days. Cimmerian had been his uncle, and Scythian his cousin, and Sarmation may have been his nephew. Their family was Indo-European, probably.
Some of the dwarves at the fringe of Steppe called him Tokhari—but not to his face.
Alp smiled grimly, remembering. No—no dwarf dared insult a giant directly! He probably ought to skip ahead, as Yueh-chih did not directly concern him—but he watched a while longer.
Because his head wasn't perfect yet, Yueh had trouble keeping himself together. One of his hands fell off and formed into a dwarf called Little Yueh. That one scurried south and settled in with the giant of the snowy mountains, Tibet. But most of Yueh went west across the desert. He was still a giant, albeit a lesser one, and he needed elbow room.
The trouble was, the territory west of Yueh's original haunts was occupied by another small giant. He was Wu-sun, also known as Alan. Alp remembered Alan: that giant had been the near neighbor of Tolach, father to Uigur.
Alp was already thinking in terms of giants rather than tribes, even when it came to his own studies pre-dating his arrival in the galaxy! There had been several scuffles between Tolach and Alan, so Alp wasted no love on the latter.
But that was a minor matter. In the cartoon history, Yueh beat Alan at first, but then Alan got his dander up and threw him out. Alan was blue-eyed and had a big red beard, and he was a fierce one!
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