Poul Anderson: The Day of Their Return

“Surely at last I too must go hide in the wilds from the Terrans, after they realize my significance. Or perhaps they will kill me. No matter. That only destroys this body. And in so doing, it creates the martyr, it fulfills the cycle. For Caruith shall rise again.”

The wind seemed to blow cold along Ivar’s bones, “Who is Caruith? What is he?”

“The mind of an Ancient,” Jaan said serenely.

“Nobody was clear about it, talkin’ to me—”

“They felt best I explain to you myself. For one thing, you are not a semi-literate artisan or herdsman. You are well educated; you reject supernaturalism; to you, Caruith must use a different language from my preachings to common Orcans.”

Ivar walked on, waiting. A jackrat scattered from the bleached skull of a statha.

Jaan looked before him. He spoke in a monotone that, somehow, sang.

“I will begin with my return hither, after the exile years. I was merely a shoemaker, a trade I had learned in what spare time I found between the odd jobs which helped keep us alive. Yet I had also the public data screens, to read, watch, study, learn somewhat of this universe; and at night I would often go forth under the stars to think.

“Now we came back to Mount Cronos. I dreamed of enlisting in the Companions, but that could not be; their training must begin at a far earlier age than mine. However, a sergeant among them, counselor and magistrate to our district, took an interest in me. He helped me carry on my studies. And at last he arranged for me to assist, part time and for a small wage, in archaeological work.

“You realize that that is the driving force behind the Companions today. They began as a military band, and continue as civil authorities. Nova Roma could easily reorganize that for us, did we wish. But generations of prophets have convinced us the Ancients cannot be dead, must still dwell lordly in the cosmos. Then what better work is there than to seek what traces and clues are left among us? And who shall better carry it out than the Companions?”

Ivar nodded. This was a major reason why the University had stopped excavation in these parts: to avoid creating resentment among the inhabitants and their leaders. The paucity of reported results, ever since, was assumed to be due to lack of notable finds. Suddenly Ivar wondered how much had been kept secret.

The hypnotic voice went on: “That work made me feel, in my depths, how vastly space-time overarches us and yet how we altogether belong in it. I likewise brooded upon the idea, an idea I first heard while in exile, that the Didonians have a quality of mind, of being, which is as far beyond ours as ours is beyond blind instinct. Could the Ancients have it too—not in the primitive dim unities of our Neighbors, but in perfection? Might we someday have it?

“So I wondered, and took ever more to wandering by myself, aye, into the tunnels beneath the mountain when no one else was there. And my heart would cry out for an answer that never came.

“Until—

“It was a night near midwinter. The revolution had not begun, but even here we knew how the oppression waxed, and the people seethed, and chaos grew. Even we were in scant supply of certain things, because offworld trade was becoming irregular, as taxation and confiscation caused merchantmen to move from this sector, and the spaceport personnel themselves grew demoralized till there was no proper traffic control. Yes, a few times out-and-out pirates from the barbarian stars slipped past a fragmented guard to raid and run. The woe of Aeneas was heavy on me.

“I looked at the blaze of the Crux twins, and at the darkness which cleaves the Milky Way where the nebulae hide from us the core of our galaxy: and walking along the mountainside, I asked if, in all that majesty, our lives alone could be senseless accidents, our pain and death for nothing.

“It was cruelly cold, though. I entered the mouth of a newly dug-out Ancient corridor, for shelter; or did something call me? I had a flashbeam, and almost like a sleepwalker found myself bound deeper and deeper down those halls.

“You must understand, the wonderful work itself had not collapsed, save at the entrance, after millions of years of earthquake and landslide. Once we dug past that, we found a labyrinth akin to others. With our scanty manpower and equipment, we might take a lifetime to map the entire complex.

“Drawn by I knew not what, I went where men have not yet been. With a piece of chalkstone picked from the rubble, I marked my path; but that was well-nigh the last glimmer of ordinary human sense in me, as I drew kilometer by kilometer near to my finality.

“I found it in a room where light shone cool from a tall thing off whose simplicity my eyes glided; I could only see that it must be an artifact, and think that most of it must be not matter but energy. Before it lay this which I now wear on my head. I donned it and"—there are no words, no thoughts for what came—"After three nights and days I ascended; and in me dwelt Caruith the Ancient.”

A bony sketch of a man, Colonel Mattu Luuksson had returned Chunderban Desai’s greetings with a salute, declined refreshment, and sat on the edge of his lounger as if he didn’t want to submit his uniform to its self-adjusting embrace. Nevertheless the Companion of the Arena spoke courteously enough to the High Commissioner of Imperial Terra.

“—decision was reached yesterday. I appreciate your receiving me upon such short notice, busy as you must be.”

“I would be remiss in my duty, did I not make welcome the representative of an entire nation,” Desai answered. He passed smoke through his lungs before he added, “It does seem like, um, rather quick action, in a matter of this importance.”

“The order to which I have the honor to belong does not condone hesitancy,” Mattu declared. “Besides, you understand, sir, my mission is exploratory. Neither you nor we will care to make a commitment before we know the situation and each other more fully.”

Desai noticed he was tapping his cigarette holder on the edge of the ashtaker, and made himself stop. “We could have discussed this by vid,” he pointed out with a mildness he didn’t quite feel.

“No, sir, not very well. More is involved than words. An electronic image of you and your office and any number of your subordinates would tell us nothing about the total environment.”

“I see. Is that why you brought those several men along?”

“Yes. They will spend a few days wandering around the city, gathering experiences and impressions to report to our council, to help us estimate the desirability of more visits.”

Desai arched his brows. “Do you fear they may be corrupted?” The thought of fleshpots in Nova Roma struck him as weirdly funny; he choked back a laugh.

Mattu frowned— in anger or in concentration? How can I read so foreign a face? “I had best try to explain from the foundations, Commissioner,” he said, choosing each word. “Apparently you have the impression that I am here to protest the recent ransacking of our community, and to work out mutually satisfactory guarantees against similar incidents in future. That is only a minor part of it.

“Your office appears to feel the Orcan country is full of rebellious spirits, in spite of the fact that almost no Orcans joined McCormac’s forces. The suspicion is not unnatural. We dwell apart; our entire ethos is different from yours.”

From Terra’s sensate pragmatism, you mean , Desai thought. Or its decadence, do you imply? “As a keeper of law and order yourself,” he said, “I trust you sympathize with the occasional necessity of investigating every possibility, however remote.”

A Terran, in a position similar to Mattu’s, would generally have grinned. The colonel stayed humorless: “More contact should reduce distrust. But this would be insufficient reason to change long-standing customs and policies.