The Original and Complete Null-A Trilogy, page 39
The solution occurred to him after a moment. “Have you a palace directory?”
She walked silently to the videophone in one corner, and brought a glowing, flexible plate, which she handed him with the explanation. “Just pull this slide down. Each time it clicks it shows the floor of the person you want, and where his apartment is. There’s a list of names on the back. It’s automatically kept up to date.”
Gosseyn didn’t need the list. He knew what names he wanted. With a quick movement of his hand he slid the lever to Reesha, covering the action as much as possible.
Presumably, Enro could “see” through a hand as readily as through walls, but there must be some limitation to his gift. Gosseyn decided to depend on speed.
One glance he took, had his information—and then he shifted the lever to the name of Secoh. That, also, required only an instant. He moved the lever casually but swiftly to zero position, and handed the plate back to Nirene.
He felt wonderfully calm and at ease. The Ashargin body was quiescent, accepting the violent positivities that were being forced upon it with an equanimity that promised well for the future.
“Good luck,” he said to Nirene.
He suppressed an Ashargin impulse to tell her where he was going. Not that Enro wouldn’t know in a few minutes. But he had the feeling that if he named his destination an attempt would be made to divert him.
Out in the hall, he walked swiftly toward the stairway, climbed one flight of stairs, which brought him within one floor of Enro’s apartments. He turned off to the right, and a moment later he was being admitted J:o the apartment of the woman he had once known as Patricia Hardie. He hoped that Enro would be curious as to what his sister and the Prince Ashargin had to say to each other, and that the curiosity would restrain him from immediate punitive action.
As Gosseyn-Ashargin followed the servant into a large reception room, he saw that Eldred Crang was standing at the window. The Venusian Ā detective turned as the visitor entered, and gazed thoughtfully at him.
There was silence as they looked at each other. It seemed to Gosseyn that he was more interested in seeing Crang than Crang could possibly be in the Prince Ashargin.
He could appreciate Crang’s position. Here was an Ā who had come into the heart of the enemy stronghold, who was pretending—with her connivance—that he was married to the sister of the warlord of the Greatest Empire, and on that tenuous basis—more tenuous even than he might realize, in view of Enro’s belief in brother-sister marriage—was apparently prepared to oppose the dictator’s plans.
Just how he would do it was a problem in strategy. But then there were people who might wonder how the Prince Ashargin could ever hope to set himself against the same tyrant. Gosseyn was trying to solve that problem by a bold defiance, based upon a plan that still seemed logical.
He had no doubt that Crang would be equally bold, if necessary. And that he would not have come at all if he had thought his presence would not have some effect’.
It was Crang who spoke first. “You wish to see the Gorgzin Reesha.” He used the feminine of the title of ruler on Enro’s home planet.
“Very much.”
Crang said: “As you possibly know, I am the Gorgzin’s husband! I hope you don’t mind telling me your business first.”
Gosseyn welcomed it. The sight of Crang had braced him immensely. The non-Aristotelian detective was so skillful an operator that his mere presence on this scene seemed partial proof at least that the situation was not as bad as it seemed.
Crang spoke again. “What’s on your mind, prince?” he said pleasantly.
Gosseyn launched into a frank account of what had happened to Ashargin. He finished, “I am determined to raise the level of the prince’s position here in the palace. So far he has been treated in an unforgivably debasing fashion. I should like to use the good offices of the Gorgzin to alter the attitude of his excellency.”
Crang nodded thoughtfully. “I see.” He came away from the window, and motioned Gosseyn-Ashargin into a chair. “I hadn’t really estimated your position in this picture at all,” he said. “From what I had heard, you were accepting the debasing role which Enro assigned to you.”
“As you can see,” said Gosseyn, “and as Enro must be realizing, the prince insists that so long as he is alive he be treated according to his rank.”
“Your use of the third person interests me,” said Crang, “and I am also interested in the qualifying phrase ‘so long as he is alive.’ If you are able to hold firmly to the implications of that phrase, it seems to me the, uh, prince might obtain redress from the Gorgzid.”
It was approval of a kind. It was cautious and yet unmistakable. It seemed to assume that the dictator might be listening in on the conversation, and so the words were on a high verbal level. Crang hesitated, then went on:
“It is doubtful, however, if my wife could be of much assistance to you as an intermediary. She has taken the position of being absolutely opposed to the war of conquest which her brother is waging.” That was information indeed, and from the look on Crang’s face, Gosseyn realized that the man had imparted it to him deliberately.
“Naturally,” said Crang, “as her husband, I also oppose the war without qualification.”
Briefly, it was dazzling. Here was their method of boldness, different from his own, yet rooted in the special reality of Patricia’s relationship to Enro. Gosseyn grew critical. The-method had the same inherent flaws as did the opposition he was developing at this moment. How were they overcoming the flaw? Gosseyn asked the question.
“It seems to me,” he said slowly, “that in taking such a stand, you and the Gorgzin have greatly restricted your freedom of action. Or am I wrong?”
“Partly wrong,” said Crang. “Here in this sun system, my wife’s legal rights are almost equal to those of Enro. His excellency is greatly attached to the traditions, the customs and the habits of the people, and so he has made no effort to destroy any of the local institutions.”
It was more information. And it fitted. It fitted his own plan. Gosseyn, was about to speak again, when he saw that Crang was looking past his shoulder. He turned, and saw that Patricia Hardie had entered the room. She smiled as her eyes met his.
“I was listening in the next room,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Gosseyn indicated that he didn’t, and there was a pause. He was fascinated. Patricia Hardie, the Gorgzin Reesha of the planet Gorgzid, sister of Enro—the young woman who had once pretended to be the daughter of President Hardie of Earth, and who had later pretended to be the wife of Gilbert Gosseyn—with so great a career of intrigue behind her, she was unquestionably a personality to be reckoned with. And, best of all, she had never to his knowledge wavered in her support of the League and of Ā.
She was, it seemed to him, becoming more beautiful, not less. She was not quite so tall as Leej, the Predictor woman, but she seemed more lithely built. Her blue eyes had the same imperious expression in them as was in Leej’s gray eyes, and both women were equally good looking. But there the resemblance ended.
Patricia glowed with purpose. Perhaps it was a youthful purpose, but the other woman didn’t have it. Possibly, he knew what Leej was like, and knew, also, Patricia’s career. That could be very important. But Gosseyn thought it was more than that. Leej was a drifter. As long as she had been aware of her future, she had had no reason to be ambitious. And even if she should suddenly acquire a purpose, now that she could no longer depend on her prophetic gift, it would take a long time to change her habits and her basic attitude.
Crang broke the silence: “Prince,” he said and his tone was very friendly, “I think I can clear up your puzzlement as to why you are married to Lady Nirene. My wife, knowing nothing of the conversation of last week, took it for granted that any relationship between Nirene and yourself would be legalized by the church.”
Patricia laughed softly. “It never occurred to me,” she said, “that there were undercurrents in the situation.”
Gosseyn nodded, but he was grim. He assumed that she was aware of Enro’s past intentions for her, and that she regarded those intentions lightly. But she was missing, additional undercurrents, it seemed to him, Enro must still hope for a legal marriage relationship with his sister, or he would not, have tried to prevent her from learning that he regarded the relationship as unimportant where other people were concerned. His about-face gave a sharp insight into both his character and his purposes.
“Your brother,” Gosseyn. said aloud, “is a remarkable man.” He paused. “I presume he can hear what we’ve saying here—if he so desires.”
Patricia said. “My brother’s gift had a curious history.” She paused, and Gosseyn, who was looking directly at her, saw from her expression that she intended to give him information. She went on, “our parents were either very religious or very clever. They decided that the male Gorgzid heir should spend his first year after birth in the crypt, with the Sleeping God. The reaction of the people was hostile in the extreme, and so after three months Enro was removed, awakened, and thereafter his childhood was normal.
“He was about eleven when he began to be able to see and hear things in distant places. Naturally father and mother immediately considered it a gift from the God himself.”
“What does, Enro think?” asked Gosseyn.
He didn’t hear her answer. A rush of Asharghi memories flooded into his consciousness about the Sleeping God, bits of things he had learned when he was a slave of the temple.
Every report he had heard was different. Priests were allowed to look at the God at their initiation rites. Not one of them ever saw the same thing. The Sleeping God was an old man, a child, a youth of fifteen, a baby—the subsequent accounts had as little relationship as that.
Those details held Gosseyn’s mind only flashingly, Whether those: who looked were hypnotically deluded, or whether the illusion was mechanical seemed of incidental importance. The aspect of the picture that almost shocked Gosseyn out of his. seat Was the detail of the Sleeping God’s daily existence—unconscious he Was, but fed and exercised by a complicated system of machinery. The entire temple hierarchy was organized to keep that machinery running.
The light, that broke: upon Gosseyn at that moment was dazzling because—this was the way a Gosseyn body would be looked after.
His mind strained at the thought. For many seconds, the idea seemed too fantastic for acceptance. A Gosseyn body here at what was now the headquarters of the Greatest Empire. Here, and protected from harm by all the forces of a powerful pagan religion.
Crang broke the silence. “Time for lunch,” he said. “That’s for all of us, I believe. Enro doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Lunch! Gosseyn estimated that an hour had passed since Enro had ordered him to report. Long enough to set the stage for a crisis. But lunch itself passed in virtual silence. The dishes were whisked off, and still Enro remained seated, thus holding the others to the table also. Fey the first time the dictator stared directly at Gosseyn-Ashargin. His gaze was bleak and unfriendly.
“Secoh,” he said, without looking around.
“Yes?” The lord guardian was quick.
“Have the He detector brought in.” The steely gaze remained fixed upon Gosseyn’s eyes. “The prince has been asking for an investigation and I am happy to oblige him.” Considering the circumstances, it was about as true a statement as Enro had made, but Gosseyn would have changed one word in the utterance. He had expected an investigation. And here it was.
Enro did not remain seated. As the lie detector knobs were fastened to Gosseyn-Ashargin’s palms, he climbed to his feet and stood looking down at the table. He waved the others to remain in their chairs, and began:
“We have here a very curious situation,” he said. “One week ago, I had the Prince Ashargin brought to the palace. I was shocked at his appearance and his actions.” His lips twisted. “Apparently, he suffered from a strong sense of guilt, presumably as a result of his feeling that his family had failed the people of the Greatest Empire. He was nervous, tense, shy, almost tongue-tied and a pitiful spectacle. For more than ten years he had been isolated from interplanetary and local affairs.”
Enro paused, his face serious, his eyes glowing. He continued in the same intense tone.
“Even that first, morning he showed one or two flashes of insight and understanding that were not in character. During his week on the flagship of Admiral Paleol, he behaved to some extent as his past history would have led us to expect. During his final hour aboard the ship, he changed radically once more and again showed knowledge that was beyond the possibilities of his, position. Among other things, he sent the following message to the destroyer, Y-381907 . . .”
He turned with a quick movement to one of the hovering secretaries, and held out his hand. “The message,” he said. A sheet of paper was handed to him.
Gosseyn listened as Enro read the message. Every word seemed as incriminating as he had known it was. A dictator, the most powerful warlord in the galaxy, had turned aside from his many ditties to give attention to an individual whom he had intended to use as a pawn in his own game.
Whether or not the unseen player who had similarized the mind of Gilbert Gosseyn into the brain of Prince Ashargin had foreseen such a crisis as this didn’t matter, Gosseyn might be a pawn himself, subject to being moved at someone else’s will, but when he was in charge events happened his way—if he could make them.
Enro was speaking again in his dark voice. “It did not occur immediately to either Admiral Paleol or myself what mission that ship was on. I will say only this now. We identified the ship finally, and it seems incredible that Prince Ashargin should ever have heard about it. Its mission was secret and important. And though I will not mention the nature of the mission, I can inform the prince that his message was not delivered to the ship.”
Gosseyn refused to accept that. “The roboperator on the flagship sent the message while I was there,” he said quickly.
The big man shrugged. “Prince,” he said, “it was not stopped by us. The message was not acknowledged by the destroyer. We have been unable to contact the Y-381907 for several days, and I am afraid that I shall have to ask you for some very straight answers. The destroyer is being replaced on Yalerta by a battleship, but it will require more than a month of flight for the replacement ship to reach that planet.”
Gosseyn received the two pieces of news with mixed feelings. It was a great victory that no more Predictors would be sent from Yalerta for an entire month. The destroyer was another matter.
“But where could it have gone?” he asked.
He thought of the Follower, and grew tense. After a moment he rejected the more dangerous implications of that idea. It was true, apparently, that the Follower frequently was not able to predict events that were related to Gilbert Gosseyn. Yet that applied only when the extra brain was being used. It seemed reasonable, accordingly, to believe that he knew where Gosseyn was.
Right there that train of logic ended. There was no reason at all why the Follower should suddenly become secretive with Enro as to the whereabouts of the destroyer. Gosseyn gazed up at Enro with unflinching eyes. The time had come to deliver another shock.
“Doesn’t the Follower know?” he asked.
Enro had parted his lips to speak again. Now, he brought his teeth together with a click. He stared at Gosseyn with baffled eyes. At last he said:
“So you know about the Follower, That settles it. It’s time the lie detector gives us some idea of what goes on in your mind.”
He turned a switch.
There was silence at the table, Even Crang, who had been absently pecking at the food on his plate, stirred in his chair, and laid down his fork. Secoh was frowning thoughtfully. Patricia Hardie watched her brother with a faint curl to her lips. It was she who spoke first.
“Enro, don’t be so stupidly melodramatic.”
The big man twisted towards her, his eyes narrowed, his face dark with anger. “Silence,” he said harshly, “I need no comments from a person who has disgraced her brother.”
Patricia shrugged, but Secoh said sharply: “Your excellency, restrain yourself.”
Enro turned toward the priest, and for a moment, so ugly was the expression on his face, it seemed to Gosseyn that he was going, to strike the lord guardian.
“Always were interested in her, weren’t you?” he said with a sneer.
“Your sister,” said the priest, “is co-ruler of Gorgzid and of the overlordship of the Sleeping God.”
Enro ran one hand through his red hair, and shook himself like a young Hon. “Sometimes, Secoh,” he said, and the sneer was broader, “you give the impression that you are the Sleeping God. It’s a dangerous illusion.”
The priest said quietly: “I speak with authority vested in me by the State and the Temple. I can do no less.”
“I am the State,” said Enro coldly.
Gosseyn said: “I seem to remember hearing that one before.”
Neither man seemed aware of his remark. And for the first time it struck him that he was witnessing a major clash. Gosseyn sat up.
“You and I,” said Secoh in a singsong voice, “hold the cup of life but for a moment. When we have drunk our fill, we shall go down into darkness—and there will still be a State.”
“Ruled by my blood.” Violently.
“Perhaps.” His voice sounded faraway. “Excellency, the fever that has seized on you I shall feed until victory is achieved.”
“And then?”
“You will receive the Temple call.”
Enro parted his lips to say something. Then he closed them again. There was a blank expression on his face, that slowly changed into a comprehending smile.
“Clever, aren’t you?” he said. “So I’ll receive the Temple call, will I, to become ah initiate. Is there anything significant, possibly, in the fact that you issue the calls?”
