Piers Anthony - Steppe

"You would not be equipped to appreciate this," Uga said. "In your world, every weapon is unique, and you know it by the feel. Here they are mass produced, each identical to the other, and not made of metal at all. You would not necessarily know which one you carried."

"I know you changed the one the Machine issued me," Alp said. "But yours seemed as good, so I made no issue."

Uga laughed. "So it was Uigur writing on that handle! I am illiterate, as are most successful Galactics, but I saw those little scratches almost by accident and I wondered, Pei-li told me it was not Galactic writing. Either it was accidental, random abrasion—or you were literate in some unknown script. I remembered your finesse with that sword, and I pondered... but the whole thing seemed too far-fetched to entertain seriously. We have time travel, but it is prohibitively expensive unless the object fetched is returned to its origin soon—and you weren't."

"Now you know why!" Alp said. "I speak and write Uigur; I cannot read Galactic."

"That figures—now. Those helmets teach only what the common citizen needs to know. Incidentally, don't depend on that instant education too much; it fades more rapidly than real knowledge, and only lasts a week or so. You hang on to what you need by using it, like the language, but the rest passes."

"But why did you exchange my sword?"

"A routine precaution—the same kind you take when you mark your weapons. I had no special reason to trust you, especially when your fighting skill was so evident. Note the color of the light-edge as you hold up the blade."

Alp noted. "Pure white, like fresh mare's milk. Pretty—though not as pretty as a true blade."

"Now tell me a lie—and watch that light."

"I enjoyed your personal concubine thrice while you slept," Alp said.

The sword-beam flashed red as he spoke.

"You never lied to me," Uga said. "The blade was your monitor."

Alp looked at the sword, keeping his face neutral despite the fury he felt. Why hadn't he been alert for that?

"Don't feel bad," Uga said benignly. "You could hardly anticipate every wrinkle of a technology fifteen centuries after your time!"

But this was a wrinkle that had been current in the stories of magic Alp had known as a youth! He should have anticipated its reality in this universe of magic. "Is it infallible?" he asked. "Some men can lie with a straight face, so that no one knows what is in their minds."

"Test it and see."

"I enjoyed your concubine only once," Alp said. The light changed. "I didn't enjoy her—she is old and ugly." Still the light was red. "Like your wife." It flickered. "I enjoyed my concubine." This time the light went white. "She is husky and stupid." White. "A stupid woman makes the best wife." It flickered again.

"Half truth," Uga said. "Stupid women make good nomad concubines but tend to bear stupid children. Conflict of interests there."

"The child Kokachin was not stupid..." Alp said, and the sword was white.

"So you see, your straight face cannot fool the monitor," Uga said. "It is based on principles you would not understand. It is keyed to your brain waves, not the muscles of your face and body. If you can tell right from wrong—if you know you speak falsely, it knows. If you lie without intent to harm, to spare someone's feelings—we call that 'white lying'—it shows pink. And if you intend to kill by treachery, it turns black."

Alp put away the sword, noting how its light showed through small holes in the scabbard. Uga might not be a true Uigur, but he was admirably cunning! "Pink for a white lie," Alp muttered. "And white for a pink lie?"

"Now I have revealed the secret of my power," Uga said. "How I can recruit strangers yet avoid betrayal, and how I know when the Khagan plots against me—if I have a chance to substitute the weapons of his envoys. Even the Game Machine does not know what I have done with these weapons—or if it does, it has not taken steps to prevent me. I am a laser-medic in life, and rather skilled... I charge you not to betray me, as I shall not betray you."

"I shall not betray you," Alp said, not looking at the swordlight. "That is inherent in the oath of fealty I made you."

"But that was before I exchanged your weapon. I was unable then to verify—"

"I do not lie at the behest of a weapon!" Alp said angrily. "I lie only when dealing with enemies, as is proper."

Uga shook his head, smiling. "That Uigur code of honor—how I admire it! But don't depend on it among Galactics. They are not made of the same stuff as you." He paused reflectively. "But all this is mere diversion. What is on your mind?"

"I must do well in the Game. Well enough to be able to enter another part when this one ends. And another after that, until—"

"Until the Game ends and you can enter another?" Uga frowned. "This is perilous. Your identity would be subject to thorough scrutiny at Game's end, and you would not be allowed to continue to the next. If you really want to survive beyond Steppe, your better bet is to purchase a Galactic pardon, so that you cannot be sent back."

"A pardon? For what?"

"For your origin. For entering our framework illegally. Since it was not entirely by your own choice, you should have some legal basis for your plea. But with enough money you can ensure success. Our governing council is forthright about such things."

"Graft?"

"Naturally not!" Uga said with another smile. "Merely a monetary facilitation. We are civilized!"

"How much?"

"Much, I'm afraid. Perhaps half a million Galactic points."

"I would have to be Attila!" Alp exclaimed, appalled.

"Perhaps you can be. With foreknowledge—of course Attila is past, but there must be other conquerors coming." He looked at Alp shrewdly. "Surely you have something in mind."

"I can not foresee events beyond my own time," Alp said. "But I think I might learn these—if I could leave the Game for a while, undetected."

"Leave the Game? Without a stake for re-entry?"

" I leave. The part remains. When I return, with new information—"

Uga was thoughtful. "You are an aggressive thinker—a man of my stripe, I flatter myself. You wish to maintain your part, so there is no record of your absence and the mundane police will not be alerted."

"I also wish to play this part out to the end, for it seems to have good potential—especially if I achieve the knowledge I need."

"How do you plan to sneak out of the Game? The Machine is a regular mother hen; it keeps close watch."

"I think it would be better if you did not know. My attempt may fail, and if you are implicated—"

"I am already implicated! The police would have everything from your head, believe me! Even if you died before capture, they would analyze the chemistry of your brain and read off pertinent memories on a computer printout. Besides which: how can I help if I do not know?"

"I require no help. Just an understanding of my motive, and patience."

Uga nodded. "Spoken like a true—oh, never mind that! You have sworn service to me within the environs of the Game, and you have no proper existence outside it. So your profit is my profit, until my part terminates naturally. If you should come anywhere close to achieving an Attila, my association with you should reward me greatly. Apart from the fact that I do have a certain moral responsibility for your welfare, so long as you are my man. Suppose I send you on an isolated mission of indeterminate length, to another region of space, perhaps bearing a report to the Khagan—"

Alp shook his head negatively.

"To some foreign court, then. You could visit the fabulous Byzantine—"

Alp shook his head again.

"No," Uga decided. "I need you nearer to me. A mission to another section of this planet, which happens to be your own Earth, one of the springboards of humanity. Unsurprising, considering that it was a timesnatch that brought you here, not a spacesnatch! A secret mission—no company."