"And you have no wager on the human races?"
"Oh, no. It would be degrading to human beings to wager on their abilities or accomplishments!"
There were three races that day, each one narrowing the field of contestants. It became evident that there was no real competition; Lari so far outdistanced the others that it was almost embarrassing. If he had not been so obviously a superb runner, it would have been easy to assume that the others had held back in order to allow the brother of the governor of Xanadu to win.
Kuat went off to the center of the stadium to participate in a copy of an ancient ritual from old Manhome in which a crown of golden leaves was set on Lari's hair.
In his absence, Lord Kemal heard various whisperings behind him in which he caught the words "dance with the aroi," "old governor will not be pleased," "too bad his mother . . ." Madu seemed not to be listening.
After the celebrations, when the Governor and his party had returned to the palace, Lord Kemal remembered the curious phrases; in particular he was puzzled by the present or future tense of "old governor will be (not would have been) pleased." It stuck in his mind and fretted there, like a splinter in a sore finger. His mind was only just recovering from the wounds of the fear machines, and he decided he could not risk a further infection.
While Kuat was having his second goblet of dju-di, Lord Kemal said, most casually, "How long have you been governor of Xanadu, Kuat?"
The latter glanced up, sensing something beneath the casualness of the immediate question.
Lari interrupted. "I was a small baby—"
Kuat's gesture silenced him. "For many years," he said. "Does it matter how many?"
"No, I was curious," said the Space Lord, deciding on modified candor. "I thought that the governorship of Xanadu was hereditary, but I heard something today which made me believe that the governor your father was still alive."
Again Lari, before Kuat could silence him, rushed to answer. "But he is. He's with the aroi . . . that's why my mother—"
Kuat's frown silenced him.
"These are not matters for the Instrumentality. These are matters of Xanadu's local customs, protected by Article #376984, sub-article a, paragraph 34c of the instrument under which Xanadu agreed to come under the protection of the Instrumentality. I can assure the Lord that only domestic matters of purely autochthonous origin are concerned."
Lord Kemal nodded in ostensible agreement. He felt that he had somehow uncovered another small portion of the mystery which intrigued him, interested him as nothing else had done since Styron IV.
III
On the fourth "day" of his stay on Xanadu, Lord Kemal went out with Madu and Lari for his first experience beyond the walls of the city since his arrival. By this time, the Space Lord had become quite fond of the cat Griselda. It pleased him inordinately when she gave a great purr of pleasure and lay down for him to mount without awaiting a command.
He saw animals in a new light. With poignancy he knew that underpersons, modified animals in the shape of human beings, were truly neither one thing nor the other. Oh, there were underpersons of great intelligence and power but . . . he let the thought trail off.
They raced across the plains with a singular joy. Windswept, treeless, the small planet had a wild beauty of its own. The black sea lashed at the foot of the chalk cliffs. Kemal, watching the li of sand, felt the strangeness of the place once more. In the distance he saw a great bird rise, falter, then fall.
Later, much later, the song the computer wrote when he fed it the facts of time and place became known throughout the galaxies:
On a dark mountain
Alone in the cloud
The eagle paused
And the wind shrieked aloud
The thunder rolled
And the mist of the cloud
Formed the eagle's shroud
As it fell to the ground
Wings battered and torn.
And the surf
At the foot
Of the cliff
Was white
That night,
And bright
The wings
Of the falling
Bird.
I heard
The cry.
Perhaps it was testimony to the depth of his feeling that the Lord Kemal fed these facts to the computer in such a way that some of his agony was expressed.
Madu and Lari watched also as the bird fell, their bright joy overcast by something they could not quite comprehend.
"But why?" Madu whispered. "It flew along as freely as we were riding, we bounded as it soared, all free and happy. And now . . ."
"And now we must forget it," said the Space Lord, of a wisdom born of endless endurance and a wariness he wished he did not feel. But he himself could not forget it. Hence the computer.
"On a dark mountain . . ."
More slowly now, chilled by the death of beauty, of life, they proceeded, each involved in thought.
"What waste!" the Space Lord thought. What waste of beauty. The bird had soared free as a dream. Why? A strange current of air? Or something more deadly?
"What did my mother feel?" thought Lari. "What were her feelings and thoughts when she walked into the warm deep dark sea—and knew she would never return?"
Madu felt confused and lonely. It was the first time that she personally had ever confronted death in any form. Her parents were unreal to her; she had never known them. But this bird—she had seen it alive and free, flying, concerned with nothing more important than its graceful glides and soaring; and now, suddenly, it was dead. She could not reconcile the two thoughts in her mind.
It was Lord Kemal who, because of his age and experience, recovered first. "You haven't told me," he said, "where we are going."
Madu's smile was a feeble echo of her usual glow, but she made the effort. "We're going to ride around the edge of the crater up there by the peak. It's a beautiful view, and when you stand there you can almost get the idea that you can see the whole planet."
Lari nodded, determined to participate in the conversation despite the dark thoughts which had clouded his mind. "It's true," he said. "You can even see the grove of buah trees from there. It's from the fruit of the buah trees that we get pisang and dju-di."
"I was curious about that," the Space Lord said. "I haven't seen a tree since I landed on the planet."
"No," said Madu and Lari simultaneously. It created a small diversion, and they both laughed spontaneously, acting more naturally than they had since the death of the bird. Unconsciously they communicated their more cheerful attitude to the cats, which now began to bound forward once more at increased speed.
The Space Lord's happiness at the upswing in spirits of his young companions was tempered with chagrin that the conversation, which had started to be interesting, could not continue while their steeds were proceeding at this breakneck speed.
As they continued uphill, however, the cats gradually began to slow. The change was imperceptible at first, but as the long climb continued, Lord Kemal could feel Griselda's increasing effort. He had begun to think that nothing could tire her, but the climb to the edge of the crater was considerably longer than it looked from below.
That the other cats were also feeling the strain was evident from their decreased pace.
The Space Lord reopened the conversation. "You were going to tell me about the trees," he said.
It was Lari who answered first. "You are quite right about not having seen any trees," he said. "The only trees which grow on Xanadu except the buah trees are the Kelapa trees, and they grow down in the craters of the smaller volcanoes. You can see some of them too when we get to the crater rim. But the buah trees always grow in groves—there must be both male and female to bear fruit, and the fruit can only be approached at certain times. Otherwise, even to inhale the scent is deadly."
Madu gravely concurred. "We must always keep at a distance from the buah grove until Kuat has consulted with the aroi, and when he tells u
s the time is right, then everyone on Xanadu participates in the harvest. The aroi dance, and it is the best time of all. . . ."
Lari shook his head, disapprovingly. "Madu, there are things we don't talk about to outsiders."
Her face suffused, eyes suddenly welling, she stammered, "But a Lord of the Instrumentality . . ."
Both men realized her unhappiness, and each in his own way hastened to remedy it. The Space Lord said, "I'm good at not remembering things I shouldn't."
Lari smiled at her and put his right hand hard on her shoulder. "It's all right. He understands, and you didn't mean any harm. We won't either of us say anything to Kuat."
As he lay in his room after dinner, the Space Lord tried to reconstruct the afternoon. They had reached the rim of the crater and it had been as Madu said: one could feel as if the horizon was infinite. The Space Lord had felt an overwhelming sense of the magnitude of infinity, something he had never quite experienced to this degree before in all of his trips through space or time. And yet there had been a small nagging feeling that something was not quite right.
Part of the feeling was associated with the grove of buah trees. He was sure that he had glimpsed a building as the uncertain, sometimes gusting, sometimes gentle wind blew the buah branches. He had not mentioned this observation to the young people. It was probably something else autochthonous and therefore forbidden to discussion, or surely one of them would have mentioned it.
He searched his memory (yes, he felt, his mind was definitely recovering) for a person among the servants at the palace who might be willing to talk to a Lord of the Instrumentality. Suddenly he remembered something of which he must have made subliminal note at the time without being consciously aware. One of the men in the cat stable. What was it now? He had drawn a fish in the cat sand and then, glancing at the face of the Space Lord, had casually brushed it over. Later he had caught the gleam of metal at the man's neck. Could it have been a cross of the God Nailed High? Was there a member of the Old Strong Religion here on Xanadu? If so, he had a subject for blackmail.
Or did he? The man had been trying to communicate to him. Now that he thought of it, he was sure. Well, at least he had a possible colleague. Now all he had to do was remember the man's name.
He gave his mind free association; the face came to him; the man's hand fumbling at the chain at his neck . . . yes, certainly the cross, he could see it now . . . why hadn't he noticed it before? . . . but there it was, recorded on his mind . . . and, yes, the man's name: Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston. The unlikely suspicion that there was, after all, an underperson on Xanadu crossed his mind. Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston did not look as if he were animal-derived, but the name indicated something odd in his background.
Lord Kemal bin Permaiswari felt he could not wait until "morning" to try to further his acquaintance with Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston. What excuse could he have to go down to the cat stables at this hour? The gates of Xanadu were closed for the next eight hours. Then he realized that he had been thinking as an ordinary human being. He was a Lord of the Instrumentality. Why should he have to have an excuse for anything he chose to do? Kuat might be Governor of Xanadu, but in the schema of the Instrumentality he was a very small speck.
Nevertheless, the Space Lord felt it best to be circumspect in his movements. Kuat had demonstrated his ruthlessness, and certain of these "autochthonous" practices seemed very peculiar. A Space Lord who "accidentally" drank pisang while of a disordered mind might be written off. And there was the well-being of Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston to be considered.
Griselda. That was the answer. He had noticed that she was sneezing this afternoon . . . he had even mentioned it to Madu and Lari . . . and they had passed it off as dust or pollen. But it would serve as an excuse. He had become so obviously fond of Griselda as to be the subject of teasing of a mild sort on her behalf. Certainly no one would find his concern for her out of the ordinary.
The corridors seemed strangely deserted as he strode through on his way to the cat stable. He realized that he had not ventured from his living area after the final meal of the day since his arrival on Xanadu. Apparently everyone retired after this meal, servants and masters alike. He wondered if the stables would also be deserted.
It was his incredible good fortune to find Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston alone. At least, at the time, he assumed that the meeting was fortuitous. Later he questioned the bird-man. Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston had proved to be, as the Space Lord had wildly surmised, an underperson.
Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston's smile was wise and kindly. "You see, Governor Kuat has no suspicion at all that I am an underperson. And, of course, the universal mind barrier has no operative effect on me. It was a little difficult, but I see I did manage to get through to you. I was somewhat worried when my mind probe showed all the leftover scar tissue from Styron IV, but I've been using the latest methods to try healing your mind, and I'm sure we're succeeding very nicely."
The Space Lord felt an odd momentary resentment that this animal-derived person had such an intimate acquaintance with his mind, but the anger was short-lived because he quickly equated the empathy he had built up with Griselda to the mental communication he was having with the bird-man.
Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston smiled even more broadly. "I was quite right about you, Lord bin Permaiswari. You are the ally we have been needing here on Xanadu. You look surprised?"
Lord bin Permaiswari nodded. "The governor was so firm that there were no underpersons on Xanadu—"
"Getting through has not been without its difficulties," Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston acknowledged, "but I am not alone. And we have other human families, of course, but none so powerful as a Space Lord up to now."
Lord Kemal found that he did not resent the assumption that he was an ally. Again the bird-man read his thoughts and smiled at him. He had a curiously winning smile, assured but kindly. He looked trustworthy, and Lord Kemal felt himself ready to accept whatever the bird-man might say.
Their thoughts locked. "Let me introduce myself properly," spieked the bird-man. "My real name is E'duard, and my progenitor was the great E'telekeli, of whom you may have heard."
Lord Kemal found the false modesty of this statement rather touching. He bowed his head momentarily in respect; the legendary bird-man, the E'telekeli, was known throughout the Instrumentality as the acknowledged leader and spiritual advisor of the underpersons. This egg-derived underperson could be a most helpful ally in carrying out the work of the Instrumentality or an opposition of fearful proportions. The Lords and Ladies who ruled the Instrumentality were anxious for his cooperation.
Many underpersons were known to have extraordinary medical and psychic powers, and it comforted the Space Lord to know that the animal-derived person who had been manipulating his mind was a descendant of the E'telekeli. He found that he was spieking his thoughts because E'duard could obviously hier them. It would certainly make the process of solving Xanadu's mystery simpler for the Space Lord if they cooperated, but first he wanted to know if their peculiar alliance violated any of the laws of the Instrumentality.
"No." E'duard was emphatic. "In fact, it is a correction of matters which are in direct conflict with the laws of the Instrumentality, with which we have to deal."
"Something 'autochthonous'?" asked the Space Lord shrewdly.
"Native culture is involved," E'duard agreed, "but it's really being used as a screen for something far more evil—and I use the word 'evil' not only in this sense" (he held up the cross of the God Nailed High) "but in its sense of the basic violation of the rights of the living. I mean the right of an entity to exist, to exist on its own terms provided they do not violate the rights of others, to come to its own terms with life, and to make its own decisions."
For a second time Lord Kemal bin Permaiswari nodded in respect and agreement. "These are inalienable rights."
E'duard shook his head. "They should be," he spieked, "but on Xanadu, Kuat has found a way around that inalienability. You are, of course, familiar with th
e diehr-dead?"
"Of course. 'And ne'er a life of their own . . .'" he quoted from an ancient song. "But what does that have to do with the rights of the living? The diehr-dead are grown from the frozen bits of flesh of remarkable achievers long dead. It's true that in regenerating the physical person of the dead one we have sometimes had extraordinary results with the diehr-dead in their second lives; but sometimes not—their achievements seem to have been a combination of circumstances and genes, not of genes alone. . . ."
Again E'duard shook his head. "It's not of the legal, scientifically controlled diehr-dead I spiek, although I sometimes feel very sorry for them. But what would you think of diehr-dead grown from the living?"
The Space Lord looked his wonder and horror as E'duard continued. "Diehr-dead who are controlled like puppets by Kuat, diehr-dead who are substituted for the originals, so that in truth neither the diehr-dead nor the original has a life of its own. . . ."
With quick realization the Space Lord knew what was in the building he had glimpsed in the grove of buah trees. "That's the laboratory, isn't it?"
E'duard nodded. "It's a perfect location. Kuat has spread the rumor that the scent of the buah tree is deadly except when, after consultation with the aroi, he pronounces it safe to harvest the fruit. So nobody dares approach the laboratory. All nonsense. There is only a very short period, just before harvest, when the scent of the buah fruit is deadly . . . in other words, just enough truth to the rumor to give it currency. You saw our scout killed this morning—"
Lord Kemal looked uncomprehending.
"The unmodified eagle you saw fall from the skies this morning on your ride. He was scouting the laboratory for us. He was shot with a pisang dart. It's things like that which make people believe they must stay away from the grove."
"You could communicate?"
For the first time the Space Lord thought that the smile of the bird-man was a little smug. "Of course." Then his face fell and his eyes became old and sad. "He was a brother of mine; we were hatched in the same nest, but I was chosen for genetic coding as an underperson, and he was not. Our feelings are somewhat different from those of true persons, but we are capable of love and loyalty, and sadness as well. . . ."
When the People Fell Page 56