Norton, Andre - Brother To Shadows

"A man who is weapon trained," Zurzal spoke again in his lecture voice, "can be taught those weapons which are new to him if he is open to the learning and not so tightly confirmed in his beginnings that he cannot see the value of change when the conditions are right. There is something else—most of these ably armed and trained men of other worlds do not possess issha. Nor any equivalent to that—therefore, they are in a way maimed when they meet one who possesses it. Consider that well, my young Shadow."

He leaned farther back in his chair and closed his eyes as if he had indeed finished with instruction, leaving Jofre to take to pieces and consider, near to word, all he had been told.

There were the outside weapons and even among his own kind those were diverse and many. But there was the inner strength—issha and assha cherished. Jofre set himself on that inward journey to assess what he did have— to build upon any shred he could find, not spend time regretting what he did not. The Quietness of the Center— that enfolded him and he opened himself fully to it. He "saw"—saw the muscles which lay under skin and knew what each could be called upon to do—saw the steady beat of heart blood through his veins and knew what must be done in time of injury to seal off the vital parts. His body was a weapon and that belief had been pressed upon him with brutal force from the beginning of his training—the body first—and then other arms—even makeshift objects which could be called upon to expand the reach, toughen an assault, raise a tight defense.

Deliberately his memory turned to the arms field of the Lair, refought rough battles there, where broken bones and sometimes even life itself was the payment for a moment's inattention or folly. These off-worlders cherished weapons afar—which meant that one must somehow nullify their range, reduce a struggle to the body to body—since he lacked throwing knives, poleax, sword.

What he had was himself and, of his bones, blood and flesh, he must make the best possible use. If any of these strange weapons came within his reach and he could gain mastery of them, so much the better, but desire was not a fact and it was facts he must cling to.

There would be, he thought as he came step by step, breath by breath, from the Center and fastened again on the outer world, little chance to try any ploy while they were aboard ship. Even if by some totally unheard of smile of the Assha Gods he might be able to somehow seize control of the ship, he would still be helpless within a metal shell, surrounded by enemies, and unable to command the forces which would take them planetward.

Therefore—wait—the patience of the issha was well-known, another of their unseen weapons. Wait and learn. He must know more now of this Tssek, of what they might face upon disembarking there.

He shifted his weight a little and Zurzal looked at him.

"What is the nature of Tssek, Learned One?"

The Zacathan nodded as if he were answered a question he had not asked.

"It is what is termed a heavy metal world. There are many great cities wherein factories turn out machinery for mining—not only the mines of the north mountains which appear to be bottomless in their promise of rich ore—but also for shipping off-world. Machines work and the people labor with them. It is very different from Asborgan."

Well, he had half suspected that he would not be favored by fortune even in that much. Jofre nodded. He was being shunted into an entirely different life. But he had one rock to cling to—issha training. That was not of machines, but of men. If men came to depend upon machines so greatly, would they strive to keep also in balance with the Quiet of Center?

"It is a contentious world," the Zacathan was continuing, "or once was. Parts of the land are rich in minerals, or in soil able to produce bounteous crops. The people are—or perhaps we should say were—inclined to greed. Generations ago there were a number of nations which warred, each striving to take over some advantages they believed their neighbor controlled—a good port, a fertile valley, mines newly discovered in the upper ranges.

"It was then that they forged ahead in the making of weapons. Rumor suggests that some of the dissatisfied dealt with the Guild, buying up off-world weapons which they might copy in their own way. Which may not be too far from the truth, for the Guild is noted for fishing in disturbed waters.

"Then, as has been many times over in the history of numberless worlds, there arose to power their leader of genius. In a single generation Fer s'Rang, as I have said, united the Tribes, united them as a whole world. He proved, however, to be unusual in the fact that after he made himself Holder of Tssek that act indeed meant the saving of his world. Peace brought trade and the factories turned out products which could be sold off-world. The people prospered—except for a handful of the old noble families who resented their loss of power and made of themselves an irritation to the Authorities.

"Fifty years ago—these of Tssek are long-lived and their medical science was much advanced by their wars—there was a final meeting arranged between Fer s'Rang and the two most important rebels. Fer s'Rang died—"

"Assassinated!" Jofre could follow this kind of politics very well.

But Zurzal was shaking his head. "No. He seemed to have died quite naturally, though he was still, by the standards of Tssek, only in middle age. They believed some inner hidden weakness hit. At his death he had made plain that he was to be succeeded by the man who is the present Holder and was then his trusted second-in-command. It is that ceremony which the Holder wishes to reenact by the time scanner for all of Tssek."

Jofre used finger speech. "Then there is something he must prove." To follow this idea was easy.

"He wishes," to Jofre's surprise the Zacathan answered him aloud—did he not care that there might be those same ears he warned of earlier? "He wishes to recover the past for the glory of Tssek, for the edification of those born since that historic hour."

Words which held a very clear meaning. It was necessary somehow that this Holder make plain the fact that the rulership had indeed passed peacefully to him and by the will of his own lord. Therefore, there must be those who did not believe this; there were questions being asked somewhere—and with force enough so that the Holder must make his answer very plain. Even though Zurzal had warned this messenger that perhaps the time recaller would not work—the Zacathan had never claimed that it could, he only hoped that it might. Which meant—Jofre's lips turned up in the thinnest of smiles—the Holder had some plan he thought would make the experiment foolproof. That was something to consider. The Brothers had taken part in subterfuges of one kind or another—played major roles in some.This was not a strange and alien form of warfare.

"Learned One," he said in the quiet tone of one stating a fact, "if anyone can show the Holder what he wishes from the past, then that one must certainly be you."

They were not visited again by the Horde Commander. Twice Harse appeared with messages from his officer, asking if all was to the Zacathan's liking and if there were anything he wished. The pretense of honored guest was now being played to the limit.

On the appearance of the Tssekian guard Jofre made himself as inconspicuous as possible while he studied every movement of the man's body. At first Harse had kept his back to the door, outside which Jofre could hear some movement—which suggested he had come with backups. But on the second visit he was forced to cross the cabin to give Zurzal a tape case and explain that this was a mock-up of the ceremony of which the Zacathan was to be an important part, sent to him to study.