by John Norman
My old hatred of Vika now began once again to infuse my blood, and my hands ached to grip her and shake her until her bones might break and then throw her to my feet.
"What became of them?" I asked.
"They were used as Muls," said Misk.
My fists clenched.
"I am glad that such a creature," said Misk, "is not of my species."
"I am sorry," I said, "that she is of mine."
"When you broke the surveillance device in the chamber," said Misk, "I felt I had to act quickly."
I laughed. "Then," I said, "you actually thought you were saving me?"
"I did," said Misk.
"I wonder," I said.
"At any rate," said Misk, "it was not a risk we cared to take."
"You speak of 'we'?"
"Yes," said Misk.
"And who is the other?" I asked.
"The greatest in the Nest," said Misk.
"The Mother?"
"Of course."
Misk touched me lightly on the shoulder with his antennae. "Come now," he said. "Let us return to the chamber above."
"Why," I asked, "was I returned to Earth after the siege of Ar?"
"To fill you with hatred for Priest-Kings," said Misk. "Thus you would be more willing to come to the Sardar to find us."
"But why seven years?" I asked. They had been long, cruel, lonely years.
"We were waiting," said Misk.
"But for what?" I demanded.
"For there to be a female egg," said Misk.
"Is there now such an egg?"
"Yes," said Misk, "but I do not know where it is."
"Then who knows?" I asked.
"The Mother," said Misk.
"But what have I to do with all this?" I demanded.
"You are not of the Nest," said Misk, "and thus you can do what is necessary."
"What is necessary?" I asked.
"Sarm must die," said Misk.
"I have no wish to kill Sarm," I said.
"Very well," said Misk.
I puzzled on the many things which Misk had told me, and then I looked up at him, lifting my torch that I might better see that great head with its rich, disklike, luminous eyes.
"Why is this one egg so important?" I asked. "You have the stabilization serums. Surely there will be many eggs, and others will be female."
"It is the last egg," said Misk.
"Why is that?" I demanded.
"The Mother was hatched and flew her Nuptial Flight long before the discovery of the stabilization serums," said Misk. "We have managed to retard her aging considerably but eon by eon it has been apparent that our efforts have been less and less successful, and now there are no more eggs."
"I don't understand," I said.
"The Mother is dying," said Misk.
I was silent and Misk did not speak and the only noise in that paneled metallic laboratory that was the cradle of a Priest-King was the soft crackle of the blue torch I held.
"Yes," said Misk, "it is the end of the Nest."
I shook my head. "This is no business of mine," I said.
"That is true," said Misk.
We faced one another. "Well," I said, "are you not going to threaten me?"
"No," said Misk.
"Are you not going to hunt down my father or my Free Companion and kill them if I do not serve you?"
"No," said Misk. "No."
"Why not?" I demanded. "Are you not a Priest-King?"
"Because I am a Priest-King," said Misk.
I was thunderstruck.
"All Priest-Kings are not as Sarm," said Misk. He looked down at me. "Come," he said, "it is late and you will be tired. Let us retire to the chamber above."
Misk left the room and I, bearing the torch, followed him.
17
The Scanning Room
Though the moss in the case was soft I had great difficulty in falling asleep that night, for I could not rid my mind of the turbulence which had been occasioned in it by the disclosures of Misk, the Priest-King. I could not forget the winged figure on the stone table. I could not forget the plot of Misk, the threat which loomed over the Nest of the Priest-Kings. In fevered sleep it seemed I saw Sarm's great head with its powerful, laterally moving jaws hovering over me, that I heard the cry of larls and saw the burning pupils of Parp's eyes and his reaching toward me with instruments and a golden net, and I found myself chained to the foot of Vika's couch and heard her laugh and I cried aloud and shouted and sat up on the moss startled.
"You are awake," said a voice on a translator.
I rubbed my eyes and stood up, and through the transparent plastic of the case I saw a Priest-King. I slid the door open and stepped into the room.
"Greetings, Noble Sarm," I said.
"Greetings, Matok," said Sarm.
"Where is Misk?" I asked.
"He has duties elsewhere," said Sarm.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"It is near the Feast of Tola," said Sarm, "and it is a time of pleasure and hospitality in the Nest of Priest-Kings, a time in which Priest-Kings are well disposed to all living things, whatever be their order."
"I am pleased to hear this," I said. "What are the duties of Misk which keep him from his chamber?"
"In honor of the Feast of Tola," said Sarm, "he is now pleased to retain Gur."
"I don't understand," I said.
Sarm looked about himself. "It is a beautiful compartment which Misk has here," he said, examining the visually bare walls with his antennae, admiring the scent-patterns which had been placed on them.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want to be your friend," said Sarm.
I made no move but I was startled to hear the Gorean expression for 'friend' emanate from Sarm's translator. I knew there was no expression in the language of the Priest-Kings which was a satisfactory equivalent for the expression. I had tried to find it on the translator and lexical tapes which Misk had placed at my disposal. Literally what hearing the expression from Sarm meant was that he had had the item specially entered into his translator tapes and correlated with a random odor, much as if we had decided to invent a name to stand for some novel relation or object. I wondered if Sarm had much idea of the meaning of the expression "friend" or if it were merely used because he calculated that it would produce a favorable impression on me. He might have asked Mul Translator Engineers for such an expression and an explanation of it, and I supposed they might have given him the expression "friend" and explained it for him, more or less adequately, in terms of the normal consequences of the relation designated, such things as tending to be well disposed toward one, tending to want to do well by one, and so on. The occurrence of the expression on Sarm's translator tape, simple as it was, indicated that he had gone to a good deal of trouble, and that the matter, for some reason, was rather important to him. I did not, however, betray my surprise and acted as though I did not know that the expression was a new addition to the Gorean lexicon on his tapes.
"I am honored," I said simply.
Sarm looked at the case. "You were of the Caste of Warriors," he said. "Perhaps you would like to be given a female Mul?"
"No," I said.
"You may have more than one if you wish," said Sarm.
"Sarm is generous," I said, "but I decline his kind offer."
"Perhaps you would like a supply of scarce metals and stones?"
"No," I said.
"Perhaps you would like to be the Mul-supervisor of a warehouse or fungus farm?"
"No," I said.
"What would you like?" asked Sarm.
"My freedom," I said, "the restoration of the City of Ko-ro-ba, the safety of its people—to see my father again, my friends, my Free Companion."
"Perhaps these things can be arranged," said Sarm.
"What must I do?" I asked.
"Tell me why you have been brought to the Nest," said Sarm, and suddenly his antennae snapped downward towards me like whips, and n
ow rigid, they seemed to be trained on me, as though they might be weapons.
"I have no idea," I said.
The antennae quivered briefly in anger and the bladelike structures at the tips of Sarm's forelegs snapped out and back, but then the antennae relaxed and once again the four hooklike grasping appendages at the termination of each foreleg lightly, almost meditatively, touched one another. "I see," came from Sarm's translator.
"Would you care for a bit of fungus?" I asked.
"Misk has had time to speak to you," said Sarm. "What did he say?"
"There is Nest Trust between us," I said.
"Nest Trust with a human?" asked Sarm.
"Yes," I said.
"An interesting concept," said Sarm.
"You will excuse me if I wash?" I asked.
"Of course," said Sarm, "please do."
I stayed a long time in the washing-booth and when I came out and donned my plastic tunic it took quite some time to make the Mul-Fungus Porridge of just the consistency at which I preferred it, and then, since I had finally managed to make it the way in which it was least unpalatable, I took some time to, as one might say, almost enjoy it.
If these tactics were calculated to have some effect on Sarm, I think they most miserably failed of that effect, for during the entire time I took, which was considerable, he stood motionless in the room, save for an occasional movement of his antennae, frozen in that maddening, immobile but alert posture of Priest-Kings.
At last I emerged from the case.
"I want to be your friend," said Sarm.
I was silent.
"Perhaps you would like to see the Nest?" asked Sarm.
"Yes," I said, "I would enjoy that."
"Good," said Sarm.
* * * *
I did not ask to see the Mother, for I knew that was forbidden to those of the human kind, but I found Sarm a most attentive and gracious guide, quick to answer my questions and suggest places of interest. Part of the time we rode on a transportation disk, and he showed me how to operate it. The disk flows on a tread of volatile gas and is itself lightened by its construction from a partially gravitationally resistant metal, of which I shall speak later. Its speed is controlled by the placement of the feet along double accelerator strips which lie flush with the surface of the disk; its direction is controlled by the rider, who bends and turns his body, thereby transmitting force to the lightly riding disk, the principles involved being no more unusual than those employed in such homely devices as roller skates or the now vanishing skate boards once popular with Earth children. One stops the disk by stepping off the accelerator strips, which brings the disk to a smooth halt depending on the area available for braking. There is a cell in the forward portion of the disk which casts an invisible beam ahead and if the area for stopping is small, the stop is accordingly more abrupt. This cell, however, does not function if the accelerator strips are depressed. I would have thought that some type of cells for avoiding collisions when the accelerator strips are depressed might have been useful or that a bumper of gas, or a field of some sort, might have been practical improvements but Sarm felt that such refinements would be excessive. "No one is ever injured by a transportation disk," he told me, "except an occasional Mul."
At my request Sarm took me to the Scanning Room, whence the surface of Gor is kept under selective surveillance by the Priest-Kings.
Patterns of small ships, not satellites, invisible from the ground and remotely controlled, carry the lenses and receptors which beam information to the Sardar. I suggested to Sarm that satellites would be less expensive to maintain in flight but he denied this. I would not have made this suggestion at a later time but then I did not understand the Priest-Kings' utilization of gravity.
"The reason for observation within the atmosphere," said Sarm, "is that it is simpler to get more definition in the signal because of greater proximity to its source. To get comparable definition in an extra-atmospheric surveillance device would require more refined equipment."
The receptors on the surveillance craft were equipped to handle patterns of light, sound and scent, which, selectively collected and reconcentrated, were beamed to the Sardar for processing and analysis. Reconstituted in large observation cubes these patterns might then be monitored by Priest-Kings. Provisions were available also, as you might suppose, for taping the transmissions of the surveillance craft.
"We use random scanning patterns," said Sarm, "for we find in the long run, over centuries, they are more effective than following fixed scanning schedules. Of course, if we know that something of interest or importance to us is occurring we lock onto its coordinates and follow its developments."
"Did you make a tape," I asked, "of the destruction of the City of Ko-ro-ba?"
"No," said Sarm, "it was not of sufficient interest or importance to us."
My fists clenched, and I noted that Sarm's antennae curled slightly.
"I once saw a man die the Flame Death," I said. "Is that mechanism also in this room?"
"Yes," said Sarm, indicating with one foreleg a quiet-looking metal cabinet to one side possessing several dials and knobs. "The projection points for the Flame Death are located in the surveillance craft," said Sarm, "but the coordinates are fixed and the firing signal is relayed from this room. The system is synchronized, of course, with the scanning apparatus and may be activated from any of the control panels at the observation cubes."
"Of course," I said.
I looked about the room. It was an exceedingly long chamber and built on four levels, almost like steps. Along each of these levels, spaced a few feet from one another, were the observation cubes, which resembled cubes of transparent glass, and were approximately sixteen feet square. I was told by Sarm that there were four hundred such cubes in the room, and monitoring each, I could see a Priest-King, tall, alert, unmoving. I walked along one of the levels, gazing into the cubes. Most of them were simply filled with the passing scenery of Gor; once I saw a city, but what city it was I could not tell.
"This might interest you," said Sarm, indicating one of the observation cubes.
I regarded the cube.
The angle from which the lens was functioning was unlike that of most of the other cubes. The lens was apparently parallel to rather than above the scene.
It was merely a scene of a road, bordered by some trees, which seemed to slowly approach the lens and then pass behind it.
"You are seeing through the eyes of an Implanted One," said Sarm.
I gasped.
Sarm's antennae curled. "Yes," he said, "the pupils of his eyes have been replaced with lenses and a control net and transmitting device have been fused with his brain tissue. He himself is now unconscious, for the control net is activated. Later we will allow him to rest, and he will see and hear and think again for himself."
The thought of Parp crossed my mind.
Once again I looked into the observation cube.
I wondered of the man through whose eyes I was now seeing, who he was, what he had been, that unknown Implanted One who now walked some lonely road somewhere on Gor, a device of Priest-Kings.
"Surely," I said bitterly, "with all the knowledge and power of Priest-Kings you could build something mechanical, a robot, which might resemble a man and do this work for you."
"Of course," said Sarm, "but such an instrument, if it were to be a genuinely satisfactory substitute for an Implanted One, would have to be extremely complex—consider provisions for the self-repair of damaged tissue alone—and thus, in the end, would itself have to approximate a humanoid organism. Accordingly with humans themselves so plentiful the construction of such a device would be nothing but an irrational misuse of our resources."
Once again I looked into the observation cube, and wondered about that unknown man, or what had been a man, through whose eyes I now looked. I, in the very Nest of Priest-Kings, was more free than he who walked the stones of some road in the bright sun, somewhere beyond the palisade, far from the m
ountains of Priest-Kings yet still in the shadow of the Sardar.
"Can he disobey you?" I asked.
"Sometimes there is a struggle to resist the net or regain consciousness," said Sarm.
"Could a man so resist you that he could throw off the power of the net?"
"I doubt it," said Sarm, "unless the net were faulty."
"If it could be done," I said, "what would you do?"
"It is a simple matter," said Sarm, "to overload the net's power capacity."
"You would kill the man?"
"It is only a human," said Sarm.
"Is this what was done once on the road to Ko-ro-ba, to a man from Ar, who spoke to me in the name of Priest-Kings?"
"Of course," said Sarm.
"His net was faulty?" I asked.
"I suppose so," said Sarm.
"You are a murderer," I said.
"No," said Sarm, "I am a Priest-King."
* * * *
Sarm and I passed further on down one of the long levels, looking into one or another of the observation cubes.
Suddenly one of the cubes we passed locked onto a given scene and no more did the scenery move past me as though in a three-dimensional screen. Rather the magnification was suddenly increased and the air became suddenly filled with more intense odors.
On a green field somewhere, I had no idea where, a man in the garments of the Caste of Builders, emerged from what was apparently an underground cave. He looked furtively about himself as though he feared he might be observed. Then, satisfied that he was alone, he returned to the cave and emerged once more carrying what resembled a hollow pipe. From a hole in the top of this pipe there protruded what resembled the wick of a lamp.
The man from the Caste of Builders then sat cross-legged on the ground and took from the pouch slung at his waist a tiny, cylindrical Gorean fire-maker, a small silverish tube commonly used for igniting cooking fires. He unscrewed the cap and I could see the tip of the implement, as it was exposed to the air, begin to glow a fiery red. He touched the fire-maker to the wicklike projection in the hollow tube and, screwing the fire-maker shut, replaced it in his pouch. The wick burned slowly downward toward the hole in the pipe. When it was almost there the man stood up and holding the pipe in both hands trained it at a nearby rock. There was a sudden flash of fire and a crack of sound from the hollow tube as some projectile hurtled through it and shattered against the rock. The face of the rock was blackened and some stone had been chipped from its surface. The quarrel of a crossbow would have done more damage.