Atta (1953) by Francis Rufus Bellamy
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mind and with it my whole estimate of the abilities of
the Fusan people. For beyond the pillars and inside them
a vast amphitheater covering perhaps twenty acres
arched its irregular dome to an incredible height. I say
incredible because the sense of distance was stupefied by
the shining material out of which the dome had been
hollowed.
Beneath this dome and extending in an oval lay an
open space dotted occasionally with rough stone posts.
Its walls were also of some kind of shining silica, raised
perhaps ten feet above the ground, and above these,
around the whole great irregular oval, tier after tier of
rough lateral seats rose, filled with thousands of ruddy
Formicans with here and there a dark mahogany-colored
Forzan of Atta’s hue. Only at the far end was there a break
in the circle of spectators. There the tiers of seats descended sharply to a kind of raised dais with four huge stones behind it
This dais was empty, but messengers or pages or attendants were busy hanging bags of nectar in front of some two dozen wide seats, and beneath them to the
right and left, in small enclosures like open opera boxes,
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were perhaps a half dozen more Fusans who seemed to
be dealing with small crowds of petitioners, occasionally
passing their messages up to two high stone lecterns
above them. These lecterns were almost exactly alike, one
on each side, and behind each one stood an impassive individual who did not move or speak.
“Nuru is the one on the left,” said Atta. “The other
is Dra cfi M
“What does Nuru do?” I asked.
“He sets forth the duties of each caste. He has memorized the Past,” said Atta. “Draca prosecutes all infractions. The leaders will shortly fill the dais seats. So we are in time.”
The great crowds of spectators, Atta explained briefly,
as we moved forward to the dais across the Oval, had a
double interest in being present: to hear the decisions of
the leaders and to get entertainment from the combats
that were staged, sometimes between Fusans and prisoners, occasionally between prisoners. This was the reason for the size of the arena. No week in winter passed without a spectacle of some kind.
“Haven’t any of them anything else to do?” I inquired
satirically.
“They represent their courtyards,” Atta answered. “It
is a mark of honor to be present in the Oval. By night
every Fusan will have heard one of this assemblage tell
the happenings of the day.”
“Doesn’t anyone write down the proceedings?” I asked.
“Nuru’s factotums commit them to memory,” said Atta
briefly. “Outside the leaders, people are not taught unnecessary crafts.”
“You mean Fusans can’t read or write?” I asked,
“Why should they?” replied Atta.
A mighty shout from the spectators cut short this colloquy, and I turned to see what could have occasioned it, for the dais was still empty in front of us.
“A test of strength,” said Atta as two distant figures
emerged from a gateway behind us, far down at the
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right “A Rubicundian, perhaps, and a Fusan soldier.
The Rubicundians always give a good show.”
"What kind of test?” I inquired.
“Arm- or leg-breaking,” said Atta, “without striking.
Some of our soldiers can tear a shoulder from its socket
if they get the right grip. Come. We must enter your
petition before finding seats.”
He strode forward again, a step ahead of me, and I
followed with Trotta’s halter on my arm, slightly put out
by his casualn6ss. Indeed, I could not help being impressed by his nonchalance. It was almost as if he were about to enter me as some kind of animal in a state fair,
instead of staking my life before ten thousand overwhelmingly alien enemies.
This casualness was extraordinarily noticeable as we
appproached the official boxes and he spoke to one of
the messengers.
“Petition to serve, Code Thirty-one, Description Stranger and Beast, Endorser Atta of Forza.”
He repeated this formula several times, until the messenger had it verbatim, and then he waited cheerfully while the message was delivered to Nuru in the stone
pulpit above us. Apparently, however, Atta knew the
official personally, for when Nuru looked down Atta’s
face broke into a faint smile and he waved one feeler
slightly. To my amazement the august Memorizer of the
Records did likewise; and an instant later he began to
descend the incline from his lectern.
“Atta!” he exclaimed with what appeared to a cold,
gentle smile. “What new fancy is this? Stranger and
Beast? And where have you been? Not in Forza, I
gather?”
“No,” said Atta. “I came across this Stranger and his
steed in the Rubicundian country, where I was a prisoner.”
“Steed!” exclaimed Nuru, turning to me. “What does he
do with the Beast?”
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“He rides it, if you can believe me,” said Atta. “He uses
it to help overcome an antagonist.”
“By the Code of our Ancients!” exclaimed Nuru. He
turned to me, and for an instant he resembled some cruel
Persian straight from the pages of Herodotus. “Where did
you learn such a trick?” he inquired.
“I was brought up to handle beasts,” I said.
“Where?” he asked curtly.
"On my father s farm,” I replied.
“Father’s?” He raised his eyebrows.
“He comes of an uncivilized tribe,” explained Atta unconcernedly. “Too few to have formed a community, he tells me.”
“Too few or too barbarous, I suppose,” commented
Nuru. He looked at me very sharply.
“He has lacked our advantages,” admitted Atta. “So he
has had to make up for them himself.”
Nuru smiled coldly and turned to me. “Do you wish to
serve Fusa?” he asked.
“I think I could be of value against her enemies,” I
said modestly.
Nuru stroked his head. “Is this your Beast?” he asked,
turning his eyes on Trotta.
“Yes,” I said more boldly. “And I could have brought a
thousand like her had I known a year ago this was to
happen.”
“What an idea!” exclaimed Nuru. He stared at me with
a sudden new interest. “How did you train her?”
One merely accustoms the beast to the idea,” I said.
Nuru nodded. “Orthodox, very orthodox,” he said. He
looked up and saw Draca stalking down the incline from
the Prosecutor’s box across the way.
“I should like to suggest that you endorse no one today,” he said abruptly to Atta. “Let your entry prove his worth in the accustomed manner. Draca will like it better
that way, I think.”
“Draca?” repeated Atta. “Does Draca rule Fusa now?”
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Nuru gave a wry smile. “He has learned how to be very
disagreeable/’ he admitted.
“Are you serious?” asked Atta.
“He has been making a specialty of accusation lately,”
s
aid Nuru. “He accused me yesterday of favoring Halket.”
“Halket!” exclaimed Atta. “Who needs to favor the
General of the Army?”
“He made the accusation,” said Nuru.
“Isn’t it of record,” remarked Atta, “that hate also was
once a personal feeling? And jealousy?”
Nuru shook his head. “I am not jesting,” he said. “I
would give Draca no handle if I were you.”
Atta’s eyes flashed briefly, and he was about to make
some warm reply. But I interrupted before he could do
so. “I have no objection,” I said. “Give me a couple of
gladiators and I will write my own endorsement.”
“Naturally,” said Atta grimly. “But since when in Fusa
has a soldier’s word been insufficient?”
“Shh-h,” said Nuru. He laid a feeler on Atta and turned
to watch the approaching figure of the Prosecutor. “Observe his mood.”
Atta turned to look. I did so too, and I must confess
that the countenance of Draca was not a reassuring one.
Even in the Great Oval confused by the shouting and
the distant combat, his face stood out. He was unusually
tall, and his height gave him a hawklike appearance, for
his brows, instead of emphasizing a broad forehead like
Atta’s or giving a gentle effect like Nuru’s flowing tufts,
were drawn down heavily to a sharp, menacing beak.
His eyes, too, were not pale or gently diffused, but darkly
concentrated, almost stabbing with a kind of angry light.
He nodded to Atta coldly, took a swift glance at me,
and turned to Nuru. “I see our Atta has consented to pay
us a visit, now the summer is over,” he said above the
tumult.
“He has been among the Rubicundians,” said Nuru.
“He certainly has not been here,” said Draca.
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“The way was not open,” said Atta, “until four days
ago.”
“What is the Code in such cases?” inquired Draca of
Nuru.
“There is no Code when one is imprisoned,” said Nuru.
“Not if the Rubicundians held him as a slave.”
“That is correct,” said Atta.
“Any witnesses?” asked Draca.
“I was there,” I said.
“And who are you?” asked Draca rudely. He spoke insultingly, and I knew by instinct that I was face to face with one of those officials who in any community dislike
the people they are supposed to serve and so insist on
making them observe the last letter of the law. In this
case I was an adjunct of Atta, whom he clearly did not
like; therefore he wished also to insult me.
I did not feel like accepting an insult meekly. “If you
put me in the arena opposite you, perhaps I could show
you my value,” I said with a taunting grin.
“So?” said Draca. He pursed his lips. But the taunt had
got through his conceited hide. He looked at me steadily
and then turned to Nuru. “This fellow appears made of
soft stuff for a fighter,” he said. “Who is he?”
“A petitioner to serve, under Code Thirty-one,” said
Nuru. “Introduced by Atta.”
“Oh,” said Draca, “Both Atta’s petitioner and Atta’s
witness, eh?” He set his jaw grimly. "Very interesting.”
“Nonsense,” said Atta. “There is no mystery here. I
need no witness, and Brokle”—thus he always mispronounced my name—“needs no endorsement. We are both able to take care of ourselves. Why try to make a plot
out of it?”
“Protecting Fusa can scarcely he called ‘making a
plot,’ ” said Draca dryly.
“Why not let me use my right arm and make an end of
the matter?” I broke in. “Where I come from each man is
his own endorsement”
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“Precisely my opinion,” said Draca. "We should end all
those endorsements.”
“And listen only to Draea, I suppose?” said Atta.
"The strongest voice is the judgment of the Combat,”
said Draca. “Your entry is wiser than you are.”
“Then let the arena judge me, I say,” said L
“We are in agreement on that,” said Draca.
He made a sudden gesture to a passing messenger, and
before Atta or Nuru could dissuade him he had stepped
across the intervening space and held up the hurrying
courier. What he said to this messenger I have no means
of knowing, for at that moment a long, low, sustained
rustle, like the wind in a forest, swept the Oval, and I
could see that the distant combat was over and that all
the spectators had risen and were staring in our direction.
Only Draca, Nuru, and Atta seemed unaware of this
general movement. But it served to cover everything
Draca was saying.
“He is playing some trick,” Atta muttered in my ear.
“There are all kinds of tests. Conserve your strength if
he calls for more than one.”
But I felt that I had chosen the part of discretion, and
I was well satisfied. “Don’t worry about me,” I reassured
him.
And that was all we had time to say. For the vast crowd
had fallen suddenly silent, and messengers, soldiers, and
even Draca and Nuru stood motionless in deference to a
small group of Formicans that was now filing in slowly
from a number of entrances on the wall and taking seats
in the semicircular dais.
Not until the whole group had found seats and their
chairman had motioned to the crowd to do likewise did
the silence end. Then it was broken by a mighty shout.
“Fusa! Fusa! Fusa!” Thrice the shout rose to the top of
the shining vault and came back almost as an echo. Considered as a tribute to the City’s leaders it was genuinely stunning. I have seen many gatherings in my time. I have
attended hangings and seen the eyes of those who did
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the job. But never have I looked on faces so grim and
coldly menacing as those of Fusa’s high leaders. I was
not over thirty feet from them, and I could see even then-
eyes clearly. I could not pick out a single individual
whose features held one iota of gentle feeling. They were
twenty-four creatures who might have put on black iron
masks. Beside them, Atta seemed like some medieval
philosopher, and even Nuru held the indefinable aura of
the scholar. Only Draca could have sat down among
them without causing a ripple in the calm surface of their
menace.
“See you later,” I muttered to Atta under my breath.
And I watched him go with Nuru and Draca up the incline to the circular bench beside Nuru’s lectern, aware for the first time that I was indeed alone.
Then one of the huge shako-headed soldiers tapped me
pn the shoulder, and I found myself being guided away
from Atta and toward the far end of the arena.
Chapter 9
O f the next hour my memory is very vivid, for in it
I underwent the supreme test of my life. Even the
smallest details still stand out as unforgettable.
At the far end of the Oval, near where Atta and I had
He knocked on a high wooden barrier, which was
promptly carried to one side by four Forrnican attendants. Through the aperture thus opened Trotta and I were allowed to saunter into an enclosure much like a
paddock in a county fair.
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Here shakoed soldiers stood about in what appeared to
be sawdust aisles, and from near-by stalls a variety of
prisoners stared sullenly at us. I say prisoners because
I noticed at once a number of red Rubicundians and several groups of Fusan dwarfs, and there were also scores of savage Formicans and animals with whom I had no
acquaintance. All stared out at us with the peculiar hot
eyes of those who hate their torturers.
No indignity was offered me, however, and this forbearance I suppose was due to the instructions particular to my case. For a number of the attendants turned and
stared at me as I hobbled Trotta near the center, and
among them I noticed the messenger to whom Draca
had given his orders a few minutes perviously. He was
standing beside a large, ruddy, almost beefy individual—
a despicable caricature of Atta—who kept nodding his
shaggy head with an expression of the utmost satisfied
malevolence. This was the keeper of the prisoners, I
judged. For a moment I amused myself by staring back
at him. Then without warning I seized my short tomahawk from Trotta’s saddle and hurled it with careful aim at the wooden post against which he and the messenger
both leaned. To my gratification the blade struck within
an inch or two of their heads directly between them, and
they scattered as if shot. Grinning, I carelessly retrieved
my tomahawk and sauntered back, well satisfied.
For let me say here that this was not so childish a gesture as may appear. Not for many weeks had I been able to practise with my weapons, and just at that instant I
badly needed to regain the confidence that comes of sure
command of primitive arms. Trotta, too, was still pretty
well loaded down with the bundle of armor foil as well
as my lance, and to put her in shape for combat meant
completely unloading her and tightening up her harness.
I intended to run no risk of losing her or any of my possessions during the process, and I wished to serve notice that I was well able to protect myself against pilferers or