The Usurper

by John Norman

  While these religious, or ideological, developments were unfolding, the empire, as was not unusual, given its history, was subject to familiar stresses of a more secular, or political, nature. These stresses, in the current era, however, seemed particularly acute, ranging from those encountered at uncertain and disputed borders, invasions, raids, illicit migrations, failed punitive expeditions, and such, to those erupting within the core of the empire itself, unchecked crime, widespread corruption, and civic disturbances. To these more visible and explicit difficulties were added less dramatic, but similarly serious, difficulties, such as mineral and soil exhaustion and the contamination of air and water. As poverty became more widespread, famine and pestilence became more common. An epidemic, with the crowding and imperfect sanitation, could wipe out more than half of a city’s population in a matter of weeks. The state had become, even in previous centuries, overcentralized, unwieldy, and ill-governing, but remained vainly jealous of clinging to even minor worlds, worlds with which, in many cases, it was only in tenuous touch. Many worlds remained little more than nominal members of the empire. Others, still listed on the rolls of the imperial bureaucracy, had long ago repudiated the absent empire altogether, and instituted their own modes of governance.

  In the face of dwindling resources the empire must exercise restraint and care in the applications of its still considerable power, judiciously applying it, on the whole, only to critical points at crucial times, and only to the measure deemed suitable to a given situation. Accordingly, to speak figuratively, while the farmer might go forth bravely to confront the wolf or arn bear, a thousand filchen might be free to nibble in his granaries.

  We have already mentioned elsewhere, the cheapening of citizenship. No longer was it something of considerable value which, for many, must be earned, but it was now a gift bestowed in virtue of the accident of birth. Few respect that which costs nothing; it is taken for granted, and not prized. As the ecology of life deteriorated, the empire sought remedies. In the hope of improving the economy, the coinage was debased, with the natural consequence that, after the semblance of a brief recovery, money became less valuable, would buy less, and the situation, instead of being improved, grew worse, which lapse initiated a further debasement, with similar results, and so on. Later, the state would seek out those who might still be in a position to pay taxes, and attempt to save itself at their expense. But confiscatory taxes tended to be resisted by the prosperous who, expectedly, would reduce the output of their enterprises, transfer resources to new locales, conceal resources, and so on. To be sure, many of the prosperous were punished for such unconscionable behavior, and, accordingly, as they were methodically and systematically ruined, and reduced to the humiliori, the tax base declined proportionately. And finally, of late, on many worlds, to stabilize the tax base, the bindings had been emplaced, which forbade changing locales and occupations. For example the son of a farmer must be a farmer, the son of a physician a physician, the son of an artist or actor must be an artist or actor, and so on. On many worlds, associated with the decline of the influence of the empire, this would lead, particularly in agriculture, to a “binding to the soil,” or serfdom, as strong men with armed followers would come to take the place of a larger, more civilized state.

  Lastly one might note that the remaining wealth of the distraught empire, its gold, its women, and such, particularly given the attenuation and deterioration of imperial power, constituted no small temptation to the eyes and appetites of the ambitious, strident, and covetous. Many “barbarian nations” existed within and without the empire, and several of these nations, so to speak, despite certain rude customs, traditions, and values, were technologically adept in their own right, and others might be armed and trained by jealous or rebel worlds who bore no love to the imperial court. The successful attack of the Ortungen, a secessionist movement within the Drisriaks, on the imperial cruise ship, the Alaria, might be recalled.

  Prominent amongst the barbarian leaders was a man known as Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper.

  We apologize for these historical remarks, but I felt they might render certain aspects of the succeeding accounts more readily comprehensible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Elena,” said Iaachus, Arbiter of Protocol, “you may withdraw.”

  “I have brought kana,” she said. “Am I not to serve it?”

  “No,” he said.

  “But who, then, will serve it?” she asked.

  “Leave it on the table,” said Iaachus.

  “Surely I have not offended you?” she said.

  “Not at all,” Iaachus assured her.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  “Do not concern yourself,” he said.

  “You are to entertain a secret guest?” she said.

  “Not at all,” he said.

  “I hope I am not in disfavor,” said Elena.

  “No,” said Iaachus.

  “I fear I have offended you,” she said.

  “No,” said Iaachus. “I fear you might offend another.”

  “Ah!” she said. “Your guest is a free woman!”

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “I am fully clothed,” she said, “and well, if simply, gowned.”

  “You are barefoot,” he said, “and neck-ringed.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Nonetheless,” he said.

  “I see,” she smiled.

  “What free woman would not detest you?” asked Iaachus. “You are beautiful, quite so, your brown hair, your gray eyes, your exciting limbs and latitudes, the turns within your plain gown, that permitted you, your only garment, your body which, suitably exhibited, would fetch good coin off a girl block.”

  “It is my hope,” she said, “that Master has no intention to sell me.”

  “Not at present,” he said.

  “I love Master,” she said. “I love his chains! I love the feel of his hands on my body. Long ago he made me his! I was banded and branded, and then, later, he caressed me into the understanding of what I truly was, one appropriately submitted to a Master, which I had only suspected when a free woman.”

  “It was pleasant for me to do so,” he said.

  “Doubtless there are many pleasantries attendant on the Mastery,” she said.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “But there are pleasures, too,” she said, “I wonder if you understand them, on the part of the owned, on the part of those who find themselves subjected helplessly and without recourse to a welcome, coveted, enforced servitude.”

  “The feelings of a beast,” he said, “need not be considered. It exists for the service and pleasure of its Master.”

  “Master made me what I most desired, in my deepest heart, to be,” she said, “a slave.”

  “You had no choice,” he said. “It was done to you.”

  “As it should have been!” she said. “How I longed to have it done to me! It prospered in my most secret dreams! How I longed to be one who is owned and must obey, one who must yield all and serve choicelessly, one who would find herself, kneeling, collared, head down, wholly subject to another.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “The conflicts, the wars, were done,” she said. “I was subdued, as I had desired, I was chained, made helpless, as I had hoped. In losing, reduced and tethered, I won, as I had dreamed, and wished. My victory was in my defeat.”

  “Do not concern yourself,” said Iaachus. “These things are neither here nor there. You are a slave.”

  “The unhappinesses, the uncertainties, the troublings, the ambivalences, the anxieties, the confusions were done,” she said. “I would belong! So let it be confirmed! Let the collar be locked on my neck!”

  “It was done,” he said.

  “A beast is grateful,” she said.

  “What free woman would not see y
ou as a reproach? What excitement and fear you might inspire in her! She need only look at you, gowned, and banded, to see herself similarly reduced and owned. What recognitions, and uneasinesses, what fears and desires, you would stir in her body!”

  “I shall withdraw,” she whispered.

  “Do so,” said Iaachus, “but the guest is not a free woman.”

  “No?” said Elena.

  “No,” said the Arbiter of Protocol, “but I fear the guest is one who might be as much, if not more, offended, at your presence.”

  “I withdraw,” said Elena.

  “Hasten,” said the Arbiter of Protocol.

  “Yes, Master,” said Elena, and slipped from the chamber.

  Shortly thereafter the guest was announced.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “How gracious of you to accept my invitation,” said Iaachus.

  “I have long anticipated receiving it,” said the guest. “You may kneel, and kiss my ring.”

  “I think not,” said Iaachus.

  “As you will,” said the guest.

  “Be seated,” said Iaachus. “Kana?”

  “Is the Arbiter of Protocol to pour?” inquired the guest. “Is there no servitor?”

  “I thought privacy might free our tongues,” said Iaachus, “even more than kana.”

  “I have not yet been granted an audience with the emperor and the empress mother,” said the guest.

  “Nor have thousands of others,” said Iaachus.

  “I am not as others,” said the guest.

  “That is why I have sought this exchange,” said Iaachus.

  “We no longer meet in caves, in abandoned buildings, in private homes,” said the guest.

  “Indeed,” said Iaachus. “You have four temples here in Telnar alone, imperial city of Telnaria.”

  “Only three,” said the guest. “One is a false temple.”

  “Even so,” said Iaachus, “three temples here, in imperial Telnar, Telnar, the seat of the empire, the august and famed meeting place of the senate itself.”

  “The senate is meaningless,” said the guest.

  “Surely not,” exclaimed Iaachus.

  “If it does not enact the imperial will,” said the guest, “it will be dissolved, and replaced, it being a trivial matter to appoint a more acquiescent membership.”

  “I fear you know little of the power of the senate,” said Iaachus.

  “It lacks fleets and armies,” said the guest.

  “Even so,” said Iaachus.

  “I think it must be unpleasant to be cast to serpents or boiled in the blood and fat of lizards,” said the guest.

  “I do not understand,” said Iaachus.

  “I think you do,” said the guest.

  “I fear not,” said Iaachus.

  “More benignly,” said the guest, “many a time a senator or fellow of deeds and wealth has been invited to revise his will in favor of the empire, following which, caring for his family and name, he has been found lifeless in a scarlet bath, his veins parted.”

  “No more,” said Iaachus. “Such dreadful doings, if they existed at all, would characterize more primitive times, more savage days, times and days lacking civilitas.”

  “Men are satellites,” said the guest. “They orbit various suns of power.”

  “The emperor would not hear of such a thing, nor the empress mother,” said Iaachus.

  “I suspect they would not hear of such a thing,” said the guest. “I suspect they would not be told.”

  “Speak with care,” advised Iaachus.

  “The emperor is a boy,” said the guest, “and the empress mother a timid, irascible, vain old woman.”

  “Beware,” said Iaachus.

  “Arrest me,” said the guest, “and Telnar will erupt in flame.”

  “You must be fatigued from your journey,” said Iaachus. “I understand you have recently arrived from Zirus.”

  “From the Holy World of Zirus,” said the guest.

  “Of course,” said Iaachus.

  “In whose marshes once swam and waded the Redemptor,” said the guest.

  “I understand,” said Iaachus.

  “Telnar,” said the guest, “is not merely the seat of the senate, as you remark, but it is also the seat of the imperial court.”

  “In season,” said Iaachus.

  “That season is now,” said the guest.

  “It is not easy to obtain an audience,” said Iaachus. “There are many others.”

  “Not such as I,” said the guest.

  He fingered the device slung about his neck, over his voluminous purple robes. It, and the chain from which it was suspended, appeared to be of gold. The device itself appeared to be a small replica of a rack, or grid.

  “The empire prides itself on its fairness, its tolerance and impartiality,” said Iaachus.

  “Faults, not virtues,” said the guest. “Falsity deserves no fairness. Surely you cannot think so. Iniquity deserves no toleration. Who could entertain such a thought? Wickedness is not to be viewed with impartiality. Is that not itself the greatest of wickednesses?”

  “Kana?” said Iaachus.

  “Please,” said the guest.

  “I am curious as to these movements within the empire,” said Iaachus.

  “Movement,” said the guest. “Truth is one.”

  “The individual in question, as I understand it,” said Iaachus, “died long ago.”

  “Not so long ago,” said the guest.

  “Generations ago,” said Iaachus.

  “If you like,” said the guest.

  “And left no written records, or writings.”

  “No,” said the guest.

  “Written accounts dealing with these matters date from long after the individual’s demise.”

  “Not so long,” said the guest.

  “Generations,” said Iaachus.

  “If you like,” said the guest.

  “Doubtless there was a prior oral tradition.”