Lord Kemal saw again in memory the handsome soaring bird of his morning's ride, and he felt E'duard's sadness. Yes, he could believe in the feelings of the underpersons. E'duard touched his hand with a tentative finger.
"I could tell that you grieved for him without knowing any of the circumstances. It is one of the reasons I willed you to come tonight." There was a quick change in his mood. "We must deal first with the aroi."
"I have heard the word, but I don't know its meaning," the Space Lord acknowledged.
"I'm not surprised. The aroi lead a life of pleasure: they sing, they dance, they entertain, and they serve as a kind of priesthood. Both men and women make up the aroi, and they are respected and honored. But there's a singularly ghastly requirement for joining the aroi."
The Space Lord looked his question.
"All living descendants of the current mate of the person joining the aroi must be sacrificed. Or the mate must die, and if there is more than one offspring of that union, an equivalent number of other volunteers must also die."
Lord Kemal comprehended. "So that is the reason that Lari's mother drowned herself in the sunless sea—to save her infant son. But why did the old Governor join the aroi?"
"Don't you see? With Kuat as governor and the old Governor with the aroi, that pair of conspirators wields a power over this planet so absolute—"
"So it was a conspiracy from the beginning."
"Of course. Kuat was the son of the first wife, when the governor was in his first youth. In his old age he wanted to continue the power but with the help of a viceroy, as it were."
"And the diehr-dead in the laboratory?"
"That is the reason that the matter is urgent. They are full-grown and almost sentient. They must be destroyed before they are substituted for the originals and the originals killed."
"I suppose there is no other way, but it seems almost like murder."
E'duard disagreed. "The substitution is both physical and spiritual murder. These diehr-dead are like robots without soul—" He saw the Space Lord's faint smile. "—I know you do not believe in the Old Strong Religion, but I think you know what I mean."
"Yes. They are not, in the sense you mean, living beings. They have no will of their own."
"The aroi are two villages away, about one hundred li. After they have performed their entertainment in those villages, they will proceed here. That will be the signal for the harvest of the buah fruit and the substitution of the diehr-dead for their living counterparts. Then there will be no opposition to Kuat on the planet, and he can give his cruelty full rein . . . and plan for the conquest of other worlds. His brother Lari is one of the planned victims because he fears the boy's popularity with the crowds."
The Space Lord was almost incredulous. "But the two persons he has seemed to be truly fond of are Lari and the girl Madu."
"Nevertheless one of the diehr-dead in the laboratory is a replica of the boy Lari."
"Won't the old Governor, the father, object?"
"Possibly, although the mere fact that he joined the aroi when he knew what the cost would be in human terms argues against his interference."
"And Madu?"
"He will keep her as she is, for the time being, and try to mold her to his will. He so little respects individuality that if he cannot, he will obtain some bit of her flesh and eventually she too will be replaced by a diehr-dead. He could be satisfied with a physical replica without caring that the person was missing."
The Space Lord felt his tired mind attempting to ingest more than was possible at one time. Immediately E'duard was sympathetic.
"I have kept you too long. You must rest. We will be in touch. And don't worry; Kuat's mind barrier applies to him too; only underpersons and animals are exempt, and we are all in league."
As he made his way back to his living quarters, Lord bin Permaiswari was again aware of the silence, the absence of any human activity anywhere in the palace. He wondered how long it had been since he had left his room to seek Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston in the cat stables. He wished he had remembered to ask E'duard how he had acquired that unlikely name. Immediately he was aware of E'duard's voice spieking in his mind: "It was bestowed upon me for some small service I rendered the Instrumentality on old Manhome." The Space Lord started with surprise. He had forgotten that there were no space barriers to spieking if he left his mind open. He spieked "Thank you," then closed his mind.
IV
When he awoke from a dream-tormented sleep, the Space Lord felt a weariness which he knew E'duard would have termed a tiredness of the soul. There was no way in which he could communicate with the Instrumentality. The next scheduled spaceship for the spaceport above Xanadu was too far in the future to be of any use in the matter of the illegal diehr-dead. E'duard was right. The substitution must be stopped before it began. But how? He felt it somehow belittling to his position for a Space Lord to have to rely on an underperson; the only consolation was that the underperson involved was a descendant of the great E'telekeli.
As they ate their first meal of the day, Madu seemed subdued; Lari was not present. Lord Kemal, making his voice as pleasant as he could, queried Kuat about the boy.
"He's gone down to Raraku to dance with the aroi," Kuat said. Then, apparently, he realized that the Space Lord would not know the word "aroi." "It's a group of dancers and entertainers we have here on Xanadu," he explained kindly. Kemal felt a coldness about his heart.
He could hardly wait to communicate with E'duard. "Lari is missing," he spieked, as soon as he was sure that Kuat would not notice his expression.
"All the diehr-dead are still in place, our scouts report," E'duard spieked back. "We will try to locate him and communicate with you."
But time passed; the only things the underpersons were able to assure Lord Kemal were that Lari was not with the aroi at Raraku and that the diehr-dead replica of him was still in place in the laboratory. He seemed to have vanished from the planet.
Madu had taken Kuat's statement at its face value; she was much quieter now, but she apparently believed that Lari was dancing with the aroi. The Space Lord tried a gentle probing:
"I had gathered from what I heard that the aroi was a closed group which one had to join in order to participate."
"Oh, yes, to participate fully," Madu said, "but near harvest time the best dancers are allowed to dance with the aroi whether they are members or not. It will not be so long now. The aroi have moved from Raraku to Poike. Then they will come here. I will be so glad to see Lari again; I always miss him when he goes off to run or to dance."
"He has gone away before to dance?" the Space Lord asked.
"Well, no. Not to dance. To run, but not to dance before. But he is very good. He really hasn't been quite old enough before."
"And do you have other entertainment at the harvest besides the dancing?" the Space Lord asked, still seeking a clue as to the whereabouts of the vanished Lari.
Her smile had some of its old radiance. "Oh, yes. That is when we have the horse racing I told you about. It is Kuat's favorite sport. Only," her face clouded, "this time I'm afraid his horse doesn't have much chance of winning. Gogle has really been raced too long and too hard; his back legs are wearing out. The vet was talking about doing a muscle transplant if they had a suitable donor, but I don't think they've found one."
At the prospect of seeing Lari soon again, however, she seemed happier with some of the joy the Space Lord associated with her. They went for a cat ride, and Lord Kemal felt again the overwhelming sense of wonder and pleasure as he and the cat Griselda became as one being. Their feelings were in such close communication that he did not have to tighten his knees or hiss at her to obey his slightest wish. For the first time in days Lord bin Permaiswari was able to forget about E'duard and the diehr-dead, about his concern for Lari and his worry as to whether the Instrumentality would approve his cooperation with the bird-man.
For the first time, also, the Space Lord began to wonder to what extent Ma
du and Lari were committed to each other. Now that he had Madu to himself, he felt more than ever the strong attraction she held for him. He had never, in all the worlds he had known, felt such an attraction for a woman before. And, such was his honor, he began to feel it all the more imperative to restore Lari safely before he could express his feelings to her. He tried spieking to E'duard.
"Nothing," said the bird-man. "We have found no trace of him. The last time he was seen by one of our people was on the outskirts of the palace, headed in the direction of the stables. That is all."
On the day of the festival before the harvest the Space Lord, using Griselda as a pretext, once more went to the cat stables.
E'duard as Mr.-Stokely-from-Boston was hard at work. He looked gravely at the Space Lord, but his mind remained closed. He did not spiek. Lord bin Permaiswari found himself annoyed. He opened his mind and spieked, "Animals!"
E'duard winced slightly but did not spiek.
The Space Lord, apologetic, spieked, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
This time E'duard spieked back. "Yes, you did. And we are, but why so much contempt? We are each what we are."
"I was annoyed that your mind was closed to me, a Space Lord. You have the right to close your mind to anyone. I apologize."
E'duard accepted the statement graciously. He said, "There was a reason that my mind was closed to you. I was trying to decide how to tell you something. And I needed to know your full feelings about the girl Madu and the boy Lari before I can spiek freely."
Lord bin Permaiswari felt a sense of shame; he had behaved, not as a Space Lord, but as a child. He tried to spiek with complete frankness. "I am truly worried about the boy Lari. As to Madu, you must know that there is a strong attraction, but I must first find out about the boy and see what her feelings are."
E'duard nodded. "You spiek as I hoped you would. We have found Lari. He is crippled for life."
Lord Kemal's intake of air hurt his throat. "What do you mean?"
"Kuat had his vet take the boy's calf muscles and transplant them to his favorite horse, Gogle. The horse will be able to run one more race at top speed, thus fooling all those who bet against Kuat. It's improbable that any surgery will enable the boy to walk again, much less to run or dance."
The Space Lord found his mind a blank. He realized that E'duard was still spieking.
"We will have the boy in his wheelchair at the horse race tomorrow. You will need Madu's help. Then you can decide what to do."
Until the time of the race next day Lord Kemal found himself moving as if in a dream, dispassionately observing his movements. E'duard spieked to him only once. "We must kill off the diehr-dead at once," he said. "After the race tomorrow, when everybody is celebrating, will be the time. Keep Kuat busy and I will take care of the matter."
Fearful, unhappy, feeling weaker than he had since Styron IV, Lord Kemal bin Permaiswari accompanied Madu and Governor Kuat to the horse race. At their box sat Lari, white-faced, thin, much older, in a wheelchair. "Why?" spiek-shrieked the Space Lord.
E'duard's voice came through much more calmly. "Kuat actually thought he was being kind. With the boy crippled, he can't be the racer-hero he has been to the people of Xanadu. Kuat thought that way he wouldn't need to substitute the diehr-dead. He didn't realize he's taken the boy's chief reason for wanting to live; he might almost as well have substituted the diehr-dead."
Madu was sobbing. Kuat, in what he intended as rough kindness, stroked her hair. "We'll take care of him. And, Venus! Will we fool the bettors today! They think Gogle can't run anymore. Will they be fooled! Of course, it's only for this one race, but it'll be worth it!"
"Be worth it," the Space Lord thought. Be worth the rest of Lari's life, spent crippled, unable to do what he loved most.
"Be worth it," Madu thought. Never to dance again, never to run, to feel the wind in his hair as the crowds cheered.
"Be worth it," Lari thought. What does anything matter anymore?
Gogle won by half a track.
Kuat, his mood expansive, said to the others, "See you in the main salon of the palace. Have to collect my wagers."
Madu's face was carved of marble as she wheeled Lari toward a special two-cat cart brought up beside the stadium. Lord Kemal, without a word, mounted Griselda. He felt the need, for a little while, at least, for solitude.
They loped, in silent communication, away from the walls of the city. Lord Kemal heard a cry from the city gate, but he paid no attention. His mind was on Lari. Again the cry. Another lope. Suddenly Griselda faltered, stumbled, fell. At once the Space Lord was down, beside her face. Her eyes were glazing. He saw, then, the dart piercing her neck. Pisang. She tried to lick his hand; he petted her, his eyes filled with tears. She gave one great wrenching sigh, looked into her being, shuddered, and died. Part of him died with her.
When he reached the gate he queried the guard. No one was supposed to leave the city between the end of the races and the harvesting of the buah fruit. Griselda was the victim of an error of administrative oversight. No one had remembered to tell the Space Lord.
Silently he walked back through the pathways of the city. How beautiful it had seemed to him a short while ago. How empty and how sad it seemed now.
He reached the main salon shortly after Madu and Lari in his wheelchair arrived.
It was strange how all the budding desire for Madu had withered like a flower in the frost.
Kuat entered, laughing.
Lord Kemal would be tortured for more than two centuries by a question. When did the end justify the means? When was the law absolute? He saw in his mind's eye Griselda bounding over dunes and plains—a Madu innocent as dawn—Lari dancing under a sunless moon.
"Dju-di!" demanded Kuat.
Madu moved gracefully toward the low table. She picked up the two-holed pitcher. Lord Kemal saw, through E'duard's spiech, that the pisang flow was being let into the amniotic fluid of the diehr-dead. Soon they would be truly dead.
Kuat laughed. "I won every bet I made today."
He looked away from Madu toward the Lord Kemal.
Almost imperceptibly Madu's thumb moved from one hole to the other.
Lord Kemal did nothing in the endless night.
Section II:
Miscellaneous Works
War No. 81-Q
(Original Version)
It came to war.
Tibet and America, each claiming the Radiant Heat Monopoly, applied for a War Permit for 2127 A.D.
The Universal War Board granted it, stating, of course, the conditions. It was, after a few compromises and amendments had been effected, accepted by the belligerent nations.
The conditions were:
a. Five 22,000-ton aero-ships, combinations of aero and dirigible, were to be the only combatants.
b. They were to be armed with machine-guns firing nonexplosive bullets only.
c. The War Territory of Kerguelen was to be rented by the two nations, the United American Nations and the Mongolian Alliance, for the two hours of the war, which was to begin on January 5, 2127, at noon.
d. The nation vanquished was to pay all the expenses of the war, excepting the War Territory Rent.
e. No human beings should be on the battlefield. The Mongolian controllers must be in Lhasa; the American ones, in the City of Franklin.
The belligerent nations had no difficulty in renting the War Territory of Kerguelen. The rent charged by the Austral League was, as usual, forty million dollars an hour.
Spectators from all over the world rushed to the borders of the Territory, eager to obtain good places. Q-ray telescopes came into tremendous demand.
Mechanics carefully worked over the giant war-machines.
The radio-controls, delicate as watches, were brought to perfection, both at the control stations in Lhasa and in the City of Franklin, and on the war-flyers.
The planes arrived on the minute decided.
Controlled by their pilots thousands of miles away, the gr
eat planes swooped and curved, neither fleet daring to make the first move.
There were five American ships, the Prospero, Ariel, Oberon, Caliban, and Titania, and five Chinese ships, rented by the Mongolians, the Han, Yuen, Tsing, Tsin, and Sung.
The Mongolian fleet incurred the displeasure of the spectators by casting a smoke screen, which greatly interfered with the seeing. The Prospero, every gun throbbing, hurled itself into the smoke screen and came out on the other side, out of control, quivering with incoordinating machinery. As it neared the boundary, it was blown up by its pilot, safe and sound, thousands of miles away. But the sacrifice was not in vain. The Han and Sung, both severely crippled, swung slowly out of the mist. The Han, with a list that clearly showed it was doomed, was struck by a lucky shot from the Caliban and fell several hundred feet, its left wing ablaze. But for a second or two, the pilot regained control, and, with a single shot, disabled the Caliban, and then the Han fell to its doom on the rocky islands below.
The Caliban and Sung continued to drift, firing at each other. As soon as it was seen that neither would be of any further use in the battle, they were, by common consent, taken from the field.
There now remained three ships on each side, darting in and out of the smoke screen, occasionally ascending to cool the engines.
Among the spectators, excitement prevailed, for it was announced from the City of Franklin that a new and virtually unknown pilot, Jack Bearden, was going to take command of three ships at once! And never before had one pilot commanded, by radio, more than two ships! Besides, two of the most famous Mongolian aces, Baartek and Soong, were on the field, while an even more famous person, the Chinese mercenary T'ang, commanded the Yuen.
The Americans among the spectators protested that a pilot so young and inexperienced should not be allowed to endanger the ships.
The Government replied that it had a thorough confidence in Bearden's abilities.
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