The Usurper (51 page)

“Yes,” said Cornhair, in misery.

“The second entry,” said Tenrik, “is that you were once the Lady Publennia Calasalia, of the Larial Calasalii.”

“No, no, Master!” begged Cornhair. “Scrape it away. Rub it out! Do not let that be known! The Larial Calasalii were hated. They were ruined! That is behind me! That is far away! Please, Master! I am now only a poor slave! Remove it from the placard. Men would hate me! I would be treated badly! I would live under the lash! I might be tortured, and slain!”

“It was a condition of your sale,” said Tenrik.

“Please, no, Master!” begged Cornhair.

Tenrik turned away, and left the shelf.

Cornhair pulled futilely at her wrists, manacled behind her. She struggled, shaking the chain looped about her neck. She sobbed.

Then she stood still, head down, the placard dangling about her neck.

She recalled the words of her former Mistress, that she would make sure of something in her sale, which would make a difference, something which some might find of interest.

“Perhaps I will not be sold,” she thought. “Perhaps no one will want me. Perhaps I will be auctioned somewhere, in a different market, as before. Perhaps he who buys me will have no interest in the placard. Perhaps he will be unable to read, or unable to read Telnarian. Perhaps he will know nothing of the Larial Calasalii. Perhaps he will have no interest in such things. This is a small market. Telnar is a large city. I have little to fear.”

It was now late in the afternoon.

The street was more crowded.

“Make way!” she heard. “Make way!”

Cornhair first saw two soldiers, or two whom she took to be soldiers, from the uniforms and accouterments, but the uniforms were none she recognized. Certainly they were not those of familiar contingents in the imperial forces, or those of guardsmen. These two soldiers, for they were soldiers of a sort, each carried a staff, some four feet in length, some two inches in width, with which they pressed aside men and women, cleaving a passage through the crowd. These two men were followed by another man, a large, proud-walking, darkly bearded man of fierce aspect. He, too, was uniformed, but differently. Cornhair understood him to be an officer, or official, of sorts, in any event, a person of some importance and authority. Behind him, armed with swords and bows, were four men, following in twos. This small entourage, then, consisted of an officer, or official, and six men, two to clear the way, and four in support.

The officer, as we shall speak of him, stopped, and viewed the shelf. Presumably there would be little of interest here to one of such apparent degree. The slaves were lovely, but, then, that is common with slaves. Presumably not one of the commodities which Tenrik hoped to vend were high slaves, exquisitely and lengthily trained slaves, unusually gifted slaves, familiar, say, with the songs of Tenabar IV and Sybaris, mistresses of the lyre, lute, and giron, knowledgeable in the literary classics of antique Telnaria, skilled in the dances of the desert world, Beyira II.

Cornhair did not know what such men might be doing in Telnar, or, particularly, in this rather shabby district. Surely they should be about some business in the vicinity of the palace, in, say, the administrative halls or courts.

The officer then turned away from regarding the goods on the shelf, and spoke to one of his subordinates, who then turned and, to the amazement of Cornhair, entered the restaurant across the way, and ascended the narrow stairway within it, on its right side, as one would look inward, which would lead up, doubtless, to various rooms or apartments. Some such rooms may be rented for the hour, or the night. In this way, they may serve the purposes of the less affluent in much the same way as more elegant and more discreet surroundings may serve the purposes of the better fixed and more discerning.

A short while later the subordinate descended the stairs followed by, to Cornhair's dismay, the Lady Gia Alexia.

The Lady Gia Alexia then, with great deference, and servile awe, approached the officer. They conferred briefly. The Lady Gia Alexia then pointed to Cornhair, and the officer said something to his subordinate, the man who had fetched the Lady Gia Alexia, and he approached the shelf, and ascended to its surface.

Cornhair shrank back against the wall.

The subordinate lifted the placard on its cords away from Cornhair's neck, descended from the shelf, and, in a moment, presented it to the officer, who perused it briefly, and returned it to him. The subordinate then returned to the shelf, ascended again to its surface, and hung the placard again about Cornhair's neck. These proceedings had not escaped the notice of Tenrik, who now appeared beside Cornhair.

“Perhaps Master, or his principal,” he said, glancing toward the officer below, “is interested in a slave?”

“This slave,” said the subordinate, indicating Cornhair.

“Fifty
darins
,” said Tenrik, to begin the bargaining.

“One
darin
,” said the subordinate.

“Surely Master jests,” said Tenrik. “Consider the eyes, blue as the velvet of the skies of Corydon, the hair as golden as the shimmering crops of the Corn World, in the third planting, the exquisiteness of her features, so exquisitely, so helplessly, so vulnerably feminine, the delights of her bosom, the narrowness of her waist, the sweet width of her hips, the softness of the shoulders, the sweetness of her thighs and calves, the slimness of her ankles. Cheap at fifty
darins
.”

“One
darin
,” said the subordinate, “but you will receive this gold
darin
, should you sell her for a single
darin
.”

Tenrik grasped the gold piece. “She is yours, for a single
darin
!” he said.

“Master!” wept Cornhair, in protest, and Tenrik seized her by the hair, turned her head toward him, and cuffed her twice. Tenrik was not ill disposed toward her. Indeed, he had just made a considerable profit on her. But she should have known better.

The subordinate placed a single copper
darin
in Tenrik's palm. He then drew a small, folded sheet of paper from his purse, unfolded it, and gave it to the merchant. “Deliver her to this address,” he said.

“Ah!” said the merchant, his eyes widening, regarding the opened bit of paper.

Cornhair dared not speak.

The subordinate then withdrew from the shelf, and rejoined the officer and the others.

Cornhair saw that the officer then handed something to the Lady Gia Alexia, on which her small fist closed instantly, greedily.

The small group then turned about, and, remarshaling themselves, withdrew, returning in the direction from which they had come.

“Make way!” called the two soldiers, now, again, in the lead, brandishing their pressing, crowd-cleaving staffs. “Make way!”

The Lady Gia Alexia thrust her way through the crowd, to the foot of the shelf, and, looking about herself, and holding the object so that few were likely to see it, she opened her palm to Cornhair, who saw within it a golden
darin
. “Farewell, slave,” she said, laughed, and then turned away, and hurried through the crowd. She had been successful, it seems, in finding a suitable buyer for Cornhair. A golden
darin
, of course, would purchase several slaves of the normal market value of Cornhair.

“May I speak, Master?” begged Cornhair.

“Certainly,” said Tenrik.

“Those men who bought me,” said Cornhair. “I do not recognize the uniforms, the emblems, and badges.”

“There is no reason you should,” said Tenrik. “The forces in which they serve are private forces. They have no official position within the empire. Their army is a private army, to be sure, one of the largest and most dangerous in the empire. It is the first time I have dealt with them.”

As indicated earlier, certain men, and families, have retainers, armed or otherwise. Just as a man might have a bodyguard, he might have ten bodyguards, or a hundred, and so on. A band may become a company, and a company a small army, and a small army a larger army. It was not unusual in the empire, particularly on more remote worlds where the authority and power of the empire was limited, or absent, for powerful men to form such groups. In our accounts we have already met one such, that of the wealthy merchant, Pulendius, of Terennia. Captain Ottonius, long ago known as the peasant, Dog, had trained in his gladiatorial school. And, needless to say, such armies, being the instruments of their commanders, and occasionally the tools of ambition and greed, do not always restrict their activities to enforcing the law and keeping the peace. Similarly, it is not always wise, or safe, to inquire into the antecedents of dynasties. Brigands and bandits not unoften lie at the roots of kingdoms.

“Ho!” called Tenrik to his man, the slaver's man. “Behold!”

The slaver's man joined Tenrik on the shelf and looked at the paper in Tenrik's hand, that given to Tenrik by the subordinate, that on which was inscribed the address to which Cornhair was to be delivered.

“By the sky,” said the slaver's man, “I know the place, the great villa northeast of the city, overlooking the river, with the walls, the barracks, with the guards, the unleashed, prowling vi-cats.”

“I have never been there,” said Tenrik.

“Nor I,” said the slaver's man. “It is not to be approached.”

“They will be expecting the slave,” said Tenrik.

“Master,” said Cornhair. “May I know who bought me, may I know who owns me?”

“It is on the paper,” said Tenrik.

“Master!” begged Cornhair.

“Take her from the shelf,” said Tenrik, to his man. “Wash her, and feed and water her. And then kennel her, stoutly. In the morning, we will put her in the wagon and deliver her.”

“Very good,” said the slaver's man.

“And have her chained,” said Tenrik, “heavy chains.”

“But she is a woman,” said the man.

“Nonetheless,” said Tenrik, “put heavy chains on her.”

The padlock was removed from the two links of the common chain it bound, that looped about Cornhair's neck, which chain, then freed, was opened and lifted away, over her head, which freed her from the common chain. She was not freed from the manacles which fastened her hands behind her. One key, incidentally, as is often the case, was matched to all the shelf padlocks and all the manacles used to hold the shelf stock. This constitutes a considerable convenience for the merchants and their staffs.

As she was in the presence of free men Cornhair immediately knelt.

“Master,” she said to Tenrik.

“Slave?” he responded.

“May I inquire,” she said, “to whom I belong, who owns me?”

“Keep her on her knees, your hand in her hair,” said Tenrik to his man.

Cornhair was then on her knees, her hands manacled behind her, the slaver's man's hand fastened in her hair, looking up at Tenrik.

“Master?” she begged.

Tenrik glanced, again, at the paper. “Rurik,” he said, “Rurik, Tenth Consul of Larial VII, Rurik, of the Larial Farnichi.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

“This,” said Julian, “is our colleague, Tuvo Ausonius, of Miton, once an executive in the finance division of the first provincial quadrant. He came with us from Tangara to Telnaria.”

“The noble Ausonius is not unknown to me,” said Iaachus. “We have had dealings.”

“More than one of your dealings has not turned out well,” said Julian.

“One tries to do what is in the best interests of the empire,” said Iaachus.

“As you see it,” said Julian.

“Of course,” said Iaachus.

The force of the explosive device had been evaded; the attack of the ship had been thwarted; the raid of the bearers­ of the imperial commission had been countered. These events had occurred at Julian's villa on Vellmer, when Otto had been in residence, awaiting the documentation pertinent­ to his commission in the auxiliaries.

“How nice to see you again,” said Iaachus to Tuvo Ausonius.

“And you,” said Ausonius, bowing.

“On Vellmer,” said Julian, “Ausonius learned manhood and honor.”

“Such things,” said Iaachus, “may complicate, even impede, statecraft.”

“Tuvo Ausonius is our eyes and ears on the street,” said Julian. “I am known, Captain Ottonius is conspicuous.”

“I have my sources of information, as well,” said Iaachus.

“A hundred spies,” said Julian.

“In Telnar alone,” said Iaachus. “The empire is large and information is precious. Without it one gambles.”

“And with it, as well,” said Julian.

“True,” said Iaachus.

“And you will gamble on us?” said Julian.

“I have little choice,” said Iaachus.

“You need us,” said Julian.

“I, and the empire,” said Iaachus. “Unfortunately one must sometimes trust those whom one does not trust.”

“We, as well,” said Julian.

“There are demands in the street, for the public appearance of the princesses,” said Iaachus.

“Few know the princesses by sight,” said Otto. “Substitute actresses, or slaves in gaudy finery.”

“But some know,” said Iaachus, “and large, vulnerable secrets are the least well kept.”

“Too,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “word is spread about, that the princesses vacation abroad, venturing to scenic places, lightheartedly touring on a dozen worlds.”

“In this, see the hand of Sidonicus,” said Iaachus.

“Obviously you know more than we,” said Julian.

“In his way,” said Iaachus, “Sidonicus poses a greater threat to the empire than Abrogastes.”

“How so?” said Julian.

“He wants the empire, the galaxy, the galaxies, either from the throne or from its enemies. He preaches the superiority of the
koos
to the state. The
koos
is to rule, which, of course, he speaks for, and the state is to obey. He wants to crown emperors, and have it that no one can be emperor who is not crowned by him.”

“He would then select emperors,” said Otto.

“And would-be emperors would hasten to do his will,” said Iaachus.

“And without risk he would rule worlds,” said Otto.

“At his word,” said Iaachus, “he might declare an emperor unfit, false, or illegitimate, unfavored by Karch, and his subjects thereby relieved of all allegiance and duties to their sovereign.”

“Madness,” said Otto.

“Weapons, even in the hands of the insane, have edges and weight. A knife in the hand of a lunatic is still sharp. It obeys the hand that wields it.”

“Surely men can see through this sort of thing, understand its purposes, the motivations involved,” said Otto.

“Some men,” said Iaachus. “Not others. And many men who understand the absurdity, the sickness, and the madness refrain from speaking, reluctant to perish at the hands of homicidal zealots.”

“There are rumors, too,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “of miracles.”

“Of course,” said Iaachus, “why not? Do they not, supposedly, abound in the pantheon of Orak and Umba, and in the lore of a thousand other faiths, sometimes weird and minor faiths, on ten thousand worlds?”

“What is a miracle?” asked Otto.

“Words are easily multiplied,” said Iaachus. “Facile verbalism produces in simple minds the illusion of understanding­. In reality the concept is unintelligible.”

“Let us suppose,” said Julian, “that Orak supposedly does something which violates the laws of nature.”

“How would one know it violated the laws of nature?” asked Otto.

“One would not,” said Julian.

“What if there were no laws of nature?” asked Otto.

“Even granted iron laws of nature, which seems unlikely,” said Iaachus, “many unusual and surprising things still take place, things we do not understand and cannot now explain.”

“Miracles?” asked Otto.

“There seems little point in calling them that, but I suppose one could do so, if one wished,” said Julian. “Most, of course, have no relationship whatsoever to one faith or another.”

“Perhaps such things could be staged, faked, and such,” said Otto. “Tricks, such as magicians perform, dazzling us.”

“Or more likely, simply alleged to have occurred,” said Iaachus. “Lies are less costly than tricks, which often require a context, an apparatus, confederates, and such.”

“What is the point of miracles?” asked Otto.

“They are supposed to attest the soundness of claims and doctrine,” said Iaachus. “They cannot do so, of course, for a variety of reasons. For example, logical relations obtain amongst propositions, formulas, and such, whereas things, occurrences, and phenomena do not entail anything, no more than, say, waterfalls, trees, and rocks. Surprising events, for example, are cognitively independent of their interpretation. Any event might be interpreted variously. Let us suppose that I maintained that the star of Telnaria orbited Telnaria, rather than Telnaria orbiting its star, and produced an unusual event. That would not prove that our star spun about our world. Similarly, suppose I claimed to be a prophet of Karch and something surprising took place. That would not prove I was a prophet of Karch, or even that there was such a thing as Karch. The point may be even more easily made. Let us suppose we have three individuals making incompatible claims, only one of which could be true, if any, and each of these individuals produced exactly the same miracle, or unusual phenomenon. What is one then to suppose, that the three logically incompatible claims are all true? Rather, it is clear that surprising occurrences and truth are logically independent.”

“When I was a boy, tending pigs in the
festung
village of Sim Giadini,” said Otto, “I wondered why faiths did not begin earlier, why they waited for thousands of years to appear. If Orak or Karch, or some other god or gods, made the world, if it was made, should they not have made their faith at the same time? For example, many must have died, tragically deprived, before this or that faith was even known.”

“It had not been invented yet,” said Iaachus.

“Many of the brothers in the
festung
,” said Otto, “claimed to have had visions of Floon.”

“And doubtless many did,” said Iaachus. “Experience is internal to the organism. It commonly has both internal and external causes. There is doubtless a tree outside your body but your seeing of the tree is within you, an aspect of your consciousness. It could not be otherwise. All experience is internal to the organism, but some experiences may lack external causes. They may have only internal causes. The most common instance of this is the dream. The dream tree is internally generated. It is rooted only in dream soil, and shimmers only in dream light.”

“Men sometimes see what they hope to see, what they want to see,” said Julian.

“Certainly thousands have had visions of Orak and Umba, and thousands of other gods,” said Iaachus.

“What of signs in the sky, as claimed on several worlds?” said Otto.

“It is easy to see figures in the clouds,” said Iaachus, “particularly if one wishes to see them, is eager to see them, and so on. Furthermore, some such claims seem to have been simply fabricated, as they are not reported in other sources in the same locale at the same time. Too, not everyone inspecting the sky sees such things, even at the same time others are claiming to do so. Remember the internality of experience. And, who knows how many claim to see such things who do not see such things, for one reason or another, perhaps wishing to conform, perhaps wishing to be approved, perhaps wishing to gain attention, perhaps wishing­ to seem important, perhaps wishing to avoid discrimination or persecution.”

“It is hard to know what to think,” said Otto.

“Things which do not move, too,” said Iaachus, “may seem to move. This has to do with movements in the eye itself.”

“What of those on whose bodies appear the marks of the torture rack?” said Otto.

“The mind,” said Iaachus, “can do strange things with the body.”

“It is hard to know what to think,” said Otto.

“Perhaps it is not all that hard, dear friend,” said Julian.

“The trust which human beings have is surely one of their most endearing characteristics,” said Iaachus. “Without­ it the enterprises of the charlatan and fraud would be far more difficult and perilous.”

“Why should Sidonicus, if he has, spread rumors of the princesses being on holiday?” said Julian. “Surely he knows the truth, if only from the empress mother.”

“May I speculate?” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“Surely, noble Ausonius,” said Iaachus.

“The Floonian ministrants wish to stand between humans, and other rational species, and Karch. They wish to control access to the table of Karch. Accordingly, they have the business of the smudging with oil, the approved prayers, the demanded exercises and required services, reserving to themselves the exclusive alleviation of the miseries and guilts which they themselves have produced, and so on.”

“Continue,” said Iaachus.

“Compatible with this program of managing and controlling the lives of others, whose economic resources they command, and on which they rely, they wish to regulate and supervise matings, to approve or disapprove of marriages, to perform or dissolve marriages.”

“That is known to me,” said Iaachus.

“Suppose, then,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “the princesses, in their alleged holiday, encountered, and allegedly fell in love with, as the reports might have it, unexpected and magnificent swains, young, handsome princes of mighty barbarian nations.”

“I see,” said Iaachus.

“New blood for the empire,” said Julian.

“The empire totters,” said Otto. “Fear bestrides the times. In what quadrant might dawn the sun of hope? Foreign blood and might, conjoined with sophistication and civilization, might undo a thousand years of diffidence, subsidence, and retreat.”

“It will never be,” said Iaachus.

“And who might arrange, and sanctify, and with what in mind, such unions?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

“Sidonicus, obviously,” said Iaachus.

“One must not allow the dark, ugly hand of these madmen to cheapen, soil, and pervert life,” said Julian.

“Many will welcome such things,” said Iaachus, “provided it is done in the name of right, of goodness, of justice, of love, and such.”

“What a meretricious pursuit of power,” said Julian.

“Better the fist and blade,” said Otto.

“They, at least, are honest,” said Iaachus.

“But in the world there are many mysteries,” said Otto.

“True,” said Iaachus. “Many things are mysterious. I fear the world does not speak our language, or have us much in mind.”

“If Sidonicus performs the marriages of the Princesses Viviana and Alacida to the sons of Abrogastes, and they have male issue, which, in time, seems likely,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “blood right to the throne will have been established.”

“Too,” said Iaachus, “such an act would much increase and enhance the prestige and power of the exarch, the high ministrant. He is so mighty that he may preside over the marriages of, so to speak, kings and queens. The next claim would surely be that ministrants alone have the right to ratify unions.”

“Quite possibly,” said Julian.

“And the hand of the exarch is laid ever more heavily on the empire,” said Iaachus.

“The sons of Abrogastes,” said Julian, “will further his schemes, as he has theirs. The exarch gives credence and legitimacy to their pretensions, and they, in turn, would lend him the support, and sword, of the state.”

“Would that we had an emperor!” said Iaachus.

“We do,” said Otto.

“A drooling, mindless child,” said Iaachus, “enamored of toys and terrified of insects.”

Otto was silent.

“What is to be done?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

“The projected marriages must not take place,” said Julian. “We must recover the princesses.”

“We do not even know where they are,” said Iaachus. “They could be on any one of a thousand worlds.”

“Surely on a barbarian world,” said Julian, “one not too far, not too close, a world familiar to the Alemanni and their allies.”

“There may be dozens such,” said Iaachus.

“There are,” said Otto.

“There is little time,” said Julian.

“Let us suppose,” said Otto, “there is a likely world. How would one proceed?”

“Any attempt to extricate the princesses from their predicament,” said Iaachus, “would have to proceed with great delicacy and in great secrecy. This militates against a massive effort, which would be easily detectable and the bungling or clumsiness of which might result in the removal and concealment of the princesses, or, even, worse, Orak forbid, in their loss. This is work for the surgeon's blade, not the woodsman's ax. Too, it would seem to me unwise to invest imperial forces in this enterprise. Questions would arise; security might be breached.”