Джон Вэнс - Scanned by Highroller

They lived in an atmosphere of epic–of raids, massacres, fights with tall black jungle bipeds, fearsome and semi-intelligent. For weapons they used swords, lances, a portable arbalest which flung fist-size stones. Their language, divorced from the current of galactic civilization a thousand years, was a barely understandable pidgin and they wrote in pictographs.

The Belsaurion set down on a green plain drenched in sunlight. In the distance rain hung in veils from a black welter of clouds and a gorgeous rainbow arched over a forest of tall blue-green trees.

A rude pavilion of logs and corrugated metal served as depot and waiting room and when the Belsaurion finally shuddered to rest a little wagon with eight creaking wheels came chugging out across the grass, stopped alongside the ship.

Joe asked Hableyat, «Where is the city?»

Hableyat chuckled. «The Prince won't allow a ship any closer to his main settlements for fear of slavers.

These burly Ballenkarts are much in demand on Frums and Perkins for bodyguards.»

The port was opened to the outdoors. Fresh air, smelling of damp earth, swept into the ship. The steward announced to the saloon, «Passengers wishing to alight may do so. You are cautioned not to leave the vicinity of the ship until transportation has been arranged to Vail-Alan.»

Joe looked around for Elfane. She was speaking vehemently to the two Druid missionaries and they listened with expressions of mulish obstinacy. Elfane became enraged, jerked away, marched white-faced to the port and outside. The Druids followed, muttering to each other.

Elfane approached the driver of the eight-wheeled vehicle. «I wish to be conveyed to Vail-Alan at once.»

He looked at her without expression. Hableyat touched her elbow. «Priestess, an air-car shortly will arrive to convey us a great deal faster than this vehicle.»

She turned, walked swiftly away. Hableyat leaned close to the driver, who whispered a few sentences. Hableyat's face changed in the slightest degree–a twitch of a muscle, a deepening of his jowl-crease. He saw Joe watching, instantly became businesslike and the driver was once more blank-faced.

Hableyat moved off by himself in a preoccupied manner. Joe joined him. «Well»–sardonically–»what's the news?»

Hableyat said, «Very bad–very bad indeed–»

«How so?»

Hableyat hesitated an instant, then blurted in as frank an exhibition of emotion as Joe had seen him express, «My opponents at home are much stronger with the Lathbon than I knew. Magnerru Ippolito himself is at Vail-Alan. He has reached the Prince and evidently has uttered some unsavory truths regarding the Druids. So now I learn that plans for a Druid cathedral and monastery have been abandoned and that Wanbrion, a Sub-Thearch, is guarded closely.»

In exasperation Joe surveyed the portly Hableyat. «Well, isn't that what you want? Certainly a Druid advising the Prince wouldn't help the Mangs.»

Hableyat shook his head sadly. «My friend, you are as easily gulled as my militant countrymen.»

«I suppose I'm dense.»

Hableyat held his hands out from his sides as if revealing all to Joe by the gesture. «It's so obvious.»

«Sorry.»

«In this manner–the Druids plan to assimilate Ballenkarch to themselyes. My opponents on Mangtse, learning of this intent, rush forward to oppose it tooth and nail. They will not consider implications, probable eventualities. No, since it is a Druid scheme it must be countered. And with a program which, in my opinion, will seriously embarrass Mangtse.»

«I see what you're driving at,» said Joe, «but not how it works.»

Hableyat faced him with an amused expression. «My dear fellow, human reverence is by no means infinite. I would say that the Kyril Laity lavish the maximum on their Tree. So–what will be the reaction to news of another divine Tree?»

Joe grinned. «It will cut their reverence toward the first tree in half.»

«Naturally I am unable to estimate the diminution but in any event it will be considerable. Doubt, heresy, will find ears and the Druids will notice that the Laity is no longer unquestioning and innocent. They identify themselves now with the Tree. It is theirs, unique of its kind, solitary in the universe.

«Then–suddenly another Tree exists on Ballenkarch –planted by the Druids and there are rumors that its presence is politically motivated.» He raised his eyebrows expressively.

«But the Druids, by controlling Ballenkarch and these new industries, can still wind up on the credit side.»

Hableyat shook his head. «My friend, Mangtse is potentially the weakest world of the three. That's the crux of the entire matter. Kyril has its manpower, Ballenkarch has the mineral and agricultural wealth, an aggressive population, a warlike tradition. In any association of worlds Ballenkarch eventually will be the cannibal mate devouring his spouse.

«Think of the Druids–the epicures, the sophisticated masters of five billion slaves. Picture them trying to dominate Ballenkarch. It is laughable. In fifty years the Ballenkarts would be whipping the Thearchs from the gates of Divinal and burning the Tree for a victory bonfire.

«Consider the alternative–Ballenkarch tied to Mangtse. A period of tribulation, profit for none. And now the Druids will have no choice–they will have to buckle down and work . With the Ballenkart industries denied them they will of necessity bring new ways to Kyril– factories, industries, education. The old ways will go.

«The Druids might or might not lose the reins of power–but Kyril would remain an integrated industrial unit and there would go the natural market for Mang products. So you see, with the Kyril and Ballenkarch markets both removed our own Mang economy would dwindle, suffer. We would be forced to recover our markets by military action and we might lose.»

«I understand all this,» said Joe slowly, «but it gets nowhere. Just what do you want?»

«Ballenkarch is self-sufficient. At the moment neither Mangtse nor Kyril can exist alone. We form a natural couple. But as you see the Druids are dissatisfied with the influx of wealth. They demand more and they think to acquire it by controlling the Ballenkarch industries.

«I want to prevent this–and I also want to prevent a Mangtse-Ballenkarch understanding, which would be prima facie unnatural. I wish to see a new regime on Kyril, a government committed to improving the productive and purchasing power of the Laity, a government committed to the natural alliance with Mangtse.»

«Too bad the three worlds can't form a common council.»

Hableyat sighed. «That idea, while felicitous, flies in the face of three realities. First, the current policy of the Druids–second, the ascendancy of the Red-branch on Mangtse–and third, the ambitions of the Prince of Ballenkarch. Change all three of these realities and such a union might be consummated. I for one would approve it–why not?» he mused as if to himself and behind the bland yellow mask Joe glimpsed the face of a very tired man.

«What will happen to you now?»

Hableyat pursed his lips dolefully. «If my authority actually has been superseded I will be expected to kill myself. Don't look bewildered–it is a Mang custom, a method of underscoring disapproval. I fear I am not long for the world.»

«Why not return to Mangtse and repair your political fences?»

Hableyat shook his head. «That is not our custom. You may smile but you forget that societies exist through general agreement as to certain symbols, necessities which must be obeyed.»

«Here comes the air-car,» said Joe. «If I were you, instead of committing suicide, I'd try to work out some kind of scheme to get the Prince on your side. He seems to be the key. They're both after him, Druids and Mangs.»