by M J Engh
"No," said the man. "We learned it from a strange creature treading water in the sea where we landed. Indeed, he sent us to you."
"My hopes were not in vain," said Lord Moon. "This Swimmer is one who swims without rest or charity. Ships meeting him ask what route to take, for no other knows so well the ways of the seas, but none can trust him. Often he sends them by safe ways, and often to destruction. He takes to himself many enemies, me among them, but almost above all the Islands of Lorran."
"Are those the islands," asked the man, "from which such clouds of arrows rose when we passed over?"
"Doubtless," said Lord Moon. And they talked on. "But you come from a world of fools," said Lord Moon presently. "Small wonder you left it."
"We shall go back soon," said the man, looking at him indulgently.
"Why should you leave this world?" asked Lord Moon. "Surely we have given you little reason."
"We shall come back," said the man, "and others with us." And he began to talk of the changes that would be achieved. "We are very curious to learn of this and that," he said. "We must make studies, we must observe. Of course we shall set up a colony here, and that will mean a number of things." And he explained some of them. Lord Moon frowned.
Then they went into Lord Moon's study, and he showed the man some of his work, first turning his mirror to the wall. The man was strangely affected. "I think," he said, "that we have come into fairyland."
"What is fairyland?" asked Lord Moon. And when the man had told him, he showed his other things.
"I think," said the man slowly, "that we have come into a place where magic is a valid form of science. But that is impossible."
"I serve also the Star of Impossibility," said Lord Moon.
That night he crossed the silver-colored bridge and spoke with his lords the Stars. "It may be the Swimmer waited to some purpose," he said. "These men can destroy us all. They come in scientific curiosity, which is worse than anger. Their greatest desire is to learn the names of things." And they talked.
Meantime the Swimmer swam slowly this way and that way, snickering hopefully to himself. And the daughter of the Star of Freedom looked westward from the fifth island and waited hopefully, for she knew somewhat of Lord Moon. And on a misty morning Lord Moon asked the stranger, "Do you trust me?"
"You have given me no reason not to trust you," said the man.
"I have taken pains not to," said Lord Moon. "I put much trust in your power. Let us bargain." And he told the man of the Star's daughter and the Islands of Lorran and the ship that had not come home and the other ship he could not beg. "If you bring me the woman," he said, "I swear that your greatest desire shall be granted."
"But how?" asked the man.
"I have means," answered Lord Moon. And he spoke of certain of his means, and of the power of his lords the Stars.
"We will bring you this woman," said the man, in due-time. "Not that I believe in your magic, but as an act of friendship. It seems that these Islands of Lorran are quite outside the established government, such as it is, and there is little to lose by offending them. Now as to our greatest desire—"
"You have no need to tell me," said Lord Moon. "All shall be arranged."
Now the strangers left in their vessel, and Lord Moon busied himself in his study. All night he worked, and the next day, and long into the next night. One brought him food there, and found him speaking by a curious device with his lord the Star of Impossibility. And toward the middle of that night they brought him news.
"The strangers have come back," they said, "trampling the sky to fragments, and bringing the daughter of the Star of Freedom."
Lord Moon leaned his face in his hands. Then he gave orders concerning the lodging to be provided for the Star's daughter, and he took a little phial and went to the strangers.
"Bring wine," he said, and it was brought and poured out to all the strangers. Then Lord Moon let fall a drop or two from the phial into each cup. "Drink all," he said, "and have your reward."
They were not eager for it. "What is this?" asked the leader.
"Do you trust me?" asked Lord Moon. So they drank.
Then all slept, except Lord Moon, and he crossed the silver-colored bridge and spoke with his lords the Stars. "I have done them an unkindness," he said. "What they drank will so swell and bloat their curiosity that in no world can they pause to satisfy it thoroughly, and their greatest desire will be to mark the names of worlds on a large map. I think that tomorrow they will go to seek new worlds."
"Ah, ah!" cried the Star of Love. "I could give you a potion for the woman, but I think you have no need of it."
"Certainly I was right," said the Star of Knowledge, "in counseling you to shun the Islands of Lorran."
So that night all slept well. And early in the morning Lord Moon heard a great noise, and knew it was the strangers trampling the sky in their strange vessel. He rolled over and slept again, and better this time. And a little later the Star of Freedom's daughter woke laughing. That morning the thought of his unkindness weighed heavy on Lord Moon, at moments; and in the afternoon, to forget it, he busied himself with the beast tues. None could deny that the results were happy.
But the Swimmer, swimming eastward of the Islands of Lorran, shook his fist at the sky and cried spitefully, "Fools, they have gone up against the wrong stars!"
WE SERVE THE STAR OF FREEDOM
by Jane Beauclerk
All night they sat around the campfire and talked. The strangers took much and gave little, so that by dawn they spoke the speech of Apertia, if badly, while their own language remained a thing hidden. Poal listened the more carefully for that.
"We come to trade," said the leader of the strangers. His hair was brown, his eyes and clothing blue.
"Indeed," said the rider of horses, looking up at the dawn. He turned to the others. "Friends and children, shall we move on?"
"Wait," said the blue-eyed stranger, and motioned. Some hurried to the vessel of the strangers. Another, in black clothing, drew Poal aside. "I take it from the way in which you listen," he said, "that you are an intelligent young man. Am I right?"
"You may be right," answered Poal. "It is your privilege."
The man nodded. "I am a historian," he said. "I wonder if anyone else understands the futility of this so well as I."
"How well do you understand it?" asked Poal.
"It is an old story," said the historian. "We open new markets, we make more goods. When the markets are glutted, or when they have learned to make goods for themselves, we must open others. It is futile."
"Why?" asked Poal.
"Because the universe is finite," said the historian, nodding.
Some returned from the vessel, bringing goods, and spread them before the rider of horses. "Here is jeweller's work," said the blue-eyed man, lifting a metal collar that sparkled darkly.
"Firelight lies," said the rider, and he trampled out the embers of the fire and lifted the collar in the clear light of dawn.
"Here is cloth," said the blue-eyed man. "Here are sticks that make fire. Here is soap. Here are weapons."
"It is bad policy," said the historian, "to introduce new weapons to inferior cultures."
"They are pretty things," said Paol.
"But not too durable," said the historian. "We need raw materials. We need ores. I see that you have a knife at your belt. Is it of a common metal?"
"Yes," he answered. "Steel."
The historian nodded. "Yes, now you are doomed," he said.
The rider of horses put down a strip of cloth, letting it slide between his fingers. "Friends and children," he said, "shall we move on?"
"It is day," said another. All rose, except Poal, and the rider went to his beasts.
"Wait," said the blue-eyed stranger hastily. "Let us trade."
"Why?" asked the oldest woman, who was mother to the rider of horses. "We have clothing and fire and weapons. What else do you offer?"
"This, and that, and these o
thers," answered the man, and he spoke of the usefulness and the beauty and the value of the things. By the time he finished speaking, all had gone, except Poal.
"Can it be," asked the man, "that you think these things useless, or ugly, or of no value?"
"For five spans of this cloth," answered Poal, "the Star of Beauty would wade the three hundred seas. For this jewelled collar, the Star of Wealth would melt his golden house to make coins. For three of these fire slicks, the Star of Poetry would cut off three fingers of his left hand."
"I do not understand your talk of stars," said the man, "but I take it that you think highly of our goods. Why then will you not trade?"
"We serve the Star of Freedom," answered Poal. And he rose to follow his people.
It was near noon when the rider of horses, walking between his two beasts, began to speak lovingly of a little weapon the strangers had shown, that struck down game beyond the reach of arrows and more surely. "Such a thing has many uses," he said; "especially near the dominion of the Star of Battle." For they climbed the rising road toward the mountains of Org.
They fell into talk of this, some praising the weapon, some decrying the Star, some saying they should turn back and visit with the strangers. As they talked, something passed over them and landed in the road ahead.
"What is it?" asked one.
"A new flock of strangers," answered his cousin. "This time let them teach us a new tongue. I weary of the speech of Apertia." But indeed it was only the blue-eyed stranger and some few of his companions, come in a smaller vessel from their great vessel. The rider of horses met them with smiles.
"Perhaps, if you will not trade, you will lead us to others who will," said the blue-eyed man. "I put it to you frankly that we need iron ore."
"We have often noticed with annoyance," said the historian, "how nothing quite replaces iron ore."
"You are in luck, my friends," cried the rider of horses. And he offered one of his beasts to the blue-eyed stranger, saying, "Come, I will show you your luck."
But the stranger started back suspiciously. "Sit on an animal?" he said. "Follow you alone? What trick is this?"
"Come all in your vessel, then," answered the rider. "Indeed you will need it to carry the ore."
So it was settled, and the strangers and the rider of horses flew away in the strangers' vessel toward the abandoned mine in the next valley. The rider had found this mine only the year before, the very year it was given up for lack of safe transport, that valley lying very near the dominion of the Star of Battle. The others waited and slept, to make up for the night of talk around the campfire. Toward evening the vessel came again.
"You understand that we must test it further," the leader of the strangers was saying. His blue eyes shone like polished bird's eggs. "But if it is good, we will offer you, say, twenty spans of the flowered cloth—"
"Why?" asked the rider of horses. He had the look of a man who has seen marvels, and his feet gripped the firm earth lovingly, but he leaned his hand on the vessel's side as the winner of a race leans on his horse's neck. "What could we do with twenty spans of such cloth?"
"Trade it," answered the blue-eyed man. "I have heard it said that someone called the Star of Beauty would give much for such cloth."
The rider shrugged. "What is it to us if the Star of Beauty goes clothed in silver or in rags?" he said. "We serve the Star of Freedom."
"What will you take, then?" cried the man. "I put it to you frankly that we want this ore."
"Take it," said the rider. "I give it to you, to keep or use or lose as you will. Friends and children, shall we move on?"
"We have slept and are ready," said Poal, and he took a little weapon quietly from the belt of one of the strangers and put it into his sleeve.
So they moved on up the mountain road, leaving the strangers with open mouths. A little while later they saw the vessel lift and fly back toward the great vessel. "They do wisely to turn aside from the dominion of the Star of Battle," said one.
"More wisely than need is, almost," said his brother. "They have marvellous little weapons for certain, and marvellous large ones, at a guess."
The rider of horses sighed, as a man sighs who thinks of his beloved.
"Does this please you?" asked Paol, putting the stranger's weapon into his hand.
"It pleases me," answered the rider of horses, "as it happens."
"I give it to you, to keep or use or lose as you will," said Poal. Then they went on happy and singing.
Now the road branched, the one fork turning sharp along the outer slopes of the mountains, while the other ran up into the steep pass between the peaks of Org and Desolation. Some would have turned down the outer road, but the rider of horses mounted and trotted toward the pass. They sat and waited.
"Is he mad?" asked an old uncle. "We have never taken the pass. To take the pass would be to cross the dominion of the Star of Battle."
"Only a little rocky corner of it," answered Poal, who held the rider's second horse. "It would save us many barren miles and days."
"Our rider is not mad," said another. "He has the little weapon."
"Yes, yes," nodded the old uncle, "but the Star of Battle is the Star of Battle."
Then, when they had done talking, the rider of horses returned. "The road is wild but good enough," he said, "and the mountains full of game. Friends and children, shall we take the pass?"
Many were willing, but not all, and so they parted at the parting of the roads. The larger number, Poal among them, went on toward the pass, but the others stayed a while by the roadside to choose a new rider for themselves. And the rider of horses gave them his second beast, that the new rider should not be ashamed.
The pass was narrow, with steep wooded walls, so that a few could have held it against unreasonable odds; but it was long years now since any had sought this entrance to the Star of Battle's dominion, and it stood unguarded. They crossed in the dusk, and came into a high valley among hills. There the rider of horses knocked down three of the beasts called lyo, and they made camp and feasted.
Before dawn they broke camp again, and were out of the hills by daylight. Now they followed a faded road through a rocky land, cut off from the rest of the Star of Battle's dominion by ragged ranges of bare stone. Halfway across it they were set upon by Lord Early and a force of twenty warriors, but the rider of horses knocked down three or four of them with the little weapon, and the rest passed on southward. That night they camped again among hills, and the next morning crossed the eastern spur of Craghead and came down into the fertile plain where the Star of Wealth had dominion.
Towns were set thick along the roads and rivers. In the first they were welcomed gladly, and a race was held. "Is it wisely done," grumbled the oldest woman, "to race a horse that has been hurried over rocks a day long, and gone without water, and been frightened with howling warriors? Is it done wisely?"
"Yes," answered the rider of horses, and he mounted and rode the race. Truth or luck was with him, for the town horse stumbled near the finish line and so lost to him by half a length.
"Camp here and be welcome," said the town rider sourly. So they camped. Some went about the town, giving and taking gifts; some took their ease in the sun, talking of the danger passed; and some went hunting in the fields, for the pleasure of seeing the rider of horses knock down birds with his little weapon.
"Strange that it never needs to be fitted with a new bolt," said one. "Doubtless it makes its own bolts."
"No," said Poal, who had listened more closely to the strangers' talk. "It carries many bolts, but in time all will be shot."
"Until then," said the rider of horses, knocking down a cluster of nuts from the top of a blyyo tree, "it is a pretty thing."
But when they came back to the camp they heard grumbling. "It is a sorry town," said one. "The people lock their houses against us; and what is worse, they lock their shops and stalls."
"Gifts are hard to find," said the sons and little brothers that
cared for the rider's beast. "We had to creep under the wall of the smithy, and that in broad daylight, to find nails for the horse's left hind shoe."
"This is a cheap thin welcome," said another, "and I for one will have none of it." Then many agreed and began to talk of moving on to another town; for their passage of the day before had made them proud, and they thought no welcome worthy of them.
"Well enough," said the rider of horses. "I am ready for another race." So they moved on, following a river eastward to another town, and there lost the race and were forced to move on again.
Now it drew on toward evening, and they were troubled to think that among so many towns they must shame themselves by sleeping in the fields. But they came to another town, and here Poal took the town rider's whip from his pocket a moment before the race, and they camped there that night and were all welcomed.
In the morning Poal rose early, with a great desire for turkey eggs, but the first yard of turkeys he found was guarded by a snarling hurus cat the size of a colt. "Take care, my kitten," said Poal. "If you purr too loud, you wake the people of the house." He scratched the beast's chin with a stick, and with another stick wound up the slack of its chain, and so jumped the fence and gathered a sleeveful of the little green eggs. He had turned to give the cat an egg, when something caught him in the ribs and wrapped around him.
"Thief," cried a voice. "Corrupter of cats! Murderer of unhatched fowls!"
Poal unwound the weighted rope from around himself, being careful of his eggs, and turned. It was a woman who had struck him thus cowardly from behind, and now stood threatening him with a stick. She was very young, and pleasant to look at. Her hair was violet-colored, wreathed with yellow flowers, and her eyes stung him like serpents.
"Out," she said, "or I loose the cat on you. And first put down the eggs."
"I take them as your gift," he answered. "I am hungry."
She lowered the stick a little, and looked at him more patiently. "Whom do you serve?" she asked.