Arkady Strugatsky - Hard to Be a God

Yes, thought Rumata, she definitely shouldn’t go home. And it’s absolutely certain that she can’t stay here, either. If anything happens to her… He imagined something bad happening to her and felt himself turn to stone.

“Are you asleep?” Kira asked.

He woke up and opened his hand. “No, no… And what else did you do?”

“And I also tidied up your rooms. It was really a mess in here. I found one book, Father Gur’s work. The one that’s about a noble prince who fell in love with a beautiful but wild girl from the other side of the mountains. She was completely wild and thought that he was God, but she still really loved him. Then they were separated, and she died of grief.”

“It’s a wonderful book,” said Rumata.

“I even cried. I kept feeling that it was about you and me.”

“Yes, it’s about you and me. And just about any people who love each other. Only we won’t be separated.”

You’d be safest on Earth, he thought. But how would you manage without me? And how will I manage here alone? I could ask Anka to be a friend to you there. But how will I manage here without you? No, we will fly to Earth together. I’ll pilot the ship myself, and you will sit next to me, and I’ll explain everything to you. So you won’t be afraid of anything. So you’ll never regret your terrible home. Because this is not your home. Because your home has rejected you. Because you were born a thousand years ahead of your time. Kind, loyal, unselfish, self-sacrificing. Those like you have been born in every age throughout the bloody histories of our planets. Bright, pure souls who don’t know hatred, who reject cruelty. Victims. Pointless victims. Much more pointless than Gur the Storyteller or Galileo. Because those like you aren’t even fighters. To be a fighter, you must know how to hate, and that is precisely what you don’t know how to do. Just like us nowadays…

Rumata dozed off again and immediately saw Kira standing on the flat roof of the Council with a degravitator on her belt, and a cheerful sardonic Anka impatiently pushing her into the mile-deep abyss.

“Rumata,” Kira said, “I’m afraid.”

“Of what, little one?”

“You just keep being silent. I’m scared.”

Rumata pulled her close. “All right,” he said. “Now I will talk, and you will listen carefully to me. Far, far away, on the other side of the saiva, there is a formidable, impregnable castle. In this castle lives the merry, kind, and funny Baron Pampa, the kindest baron in Arkanar. He has a wife, a beautiful, loving woman, who really loves Pampa sober and can’t stand Pampa drunk…”

He paused, listening. He heard the clatter of numerous hooves along the street and the noisy breathing of many men and horses. “This the place?” asked a coarse voice at the window. “Seems to be.” “ Stop!” Heels clattered on the front steps and several fists immediately started rapping on the door. Kira flinched and clung to Rumata.

“Wait, little one,” he said, throwing back the blanket.

“They’ve come for me,” Kira said in a whisper. “I knew it!”

Rumata freed himself from Kira’s arms with difficulty and ran to the window. “In the name of the Lord!” roared below. “Open up! If we have to break in, you’ll be sorry!” Rumata pulled back the curtain, and the room was flooded with the familiar dancing torchlight. There were numerous riders outside—sullen men in black with pointed hoods.

Rumata looked down for a couple of seconds, then examined the window frame. As was customary here, the frame had been firmly embedded in the window opening. Rumata groped for his sword in the dark and smashed the glass with the hilt. Shards of glass tinkled down. “Hey, you!” he barked. “Tired of being alive?”

The banging on the door stopped.

“They always mess things up,” someone said softly downstairs. “The master’s at home.”

“What’s that matter to us?”

“It matters because he’s the best swordsman in the world.”

“And they also said that he left and won’t come back till morning.”

“Scared?”

“We’re not scared, except there are no orders about him. If we have to kill him…”

“We’ll tie him up. Maim him and tie him up. Hey, who has the crossbows?”

“As long as he doesn’t maim us…”

“Nah, he won’t maim us. Everyone knows he’s taken a vow not to kill.”

“I’ll massacre you like dogs,” Rumata said in a terrible voice.

Kira was clinging to his back. He could hear the wild beating of her heart. Someone downstairs ordered in a raspy voice, “Break down the door, brothers! In the name of the Lord!” Rumata turned around and looked at Kira’s face. She was looking at him with horror and hope, like earlier. Reflections of torches danced in her tearless eyes.

“Come on, little one,” he said tenderly. “Are you scared? Are you actually scared of this trash? Go get dressed. We have nothing else to do here.” He hurriedly pulled on the metalstrom armor. “I’ll drive them away, and we’ll leave. We’ll leave for Pampa’s.”

She was standing by the window, looking down. Red flashes ran across her face. Rumata felt a pang in his heart from pity and tenderness. I’ll drive them away like dogs, he thought. He bent over, looking for his second sword, and when he stood up again, Kira was no longer standing by the window. She was slowly sinking to the floor, clutching the curtain.

“Kira!” he cried.

One crossbow bolt had pierced her throat. Another was sticking out of her chest. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. “Kira…” he called. She sobbed and stretched out. “Kira…” he said. She didn’t answer. He stood over her for a bit, then picked up his swords, slowly descended the stairs, and started waiting for the door to fall…

“And then?” Anka asked.

Pashka looked away, slapped his knee a few times, bent down, and reached for the wild strawberries by his feet. Anka waited. “Then…” he muttered. “No one really knows what happened then, Anka. He left the transmitter at home, and when the house started burning, the patrol airship realized that something was wrong and they immediately landed in Arkanar. They dropped grenades of sleeping gas on the city just in case. The house had almost burned down. At first they were taken aback, weren’t sure where to look for him, but then they saw…” He looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, it was obvious which way he went.” Pashka stopped talking and started tossing berries into his mouth one by one.

“Well?” Anka said very quietly.

“They came to the palace. That’s where they found him.”

“How did they find him?”

“Well… he was asleep. And everyone around him… they were also… lying down. Some were asleep and some, well… They found Don Reba there too.” Pashka took a quick look at Anka and averted his eyes again. “They took him away—I mean Anton—brought him to the Base. You see, Anka, he hasn’t told us anything about it. He doesn’t talk much at all anymore.”

Anka sat very pale and upright and looked over Pashka’s head at the meadow by the little house. Pine trees were rustling, swaying gently. Puffy clouds slowly drifted through the blue sky. “And what happened to the girl?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Pashka said harshly.

“Listen, Pasha,” said Anka. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, don’t be silly! I think he’ll be happy to see you.”

“And I keep thinking that he’s hiding somewhere in the bushes, looking at us and waiting for me to leave.”

Pashka chuckled. “No way,” he said. “Anton wouldn’t sit in bushes. He’s probably fishing somewhere, as usual.”