"That is farther up, in the Temple and in direct charge of the Chief
Engineer," said Rayth politely. "It is, after all, among the most vital
jobs." He raised his eyebrows. "You didn't have an air plant at Nyrac,
did you?"
"No. We bought or took it from elsewhere as needed."
"Ah, I thought so. Most of the barbarians do. Now, Rikard, you are a
man of intelligence, and I ask you to think a bit. We must have extra
air, to replace that which is lost one way or another, but it takes
skill and some equipment to get it from the minerals in which it is
locked. Rather than war on us, one of the few places where they can
produce it, would it not have been wiser to accept us in friendship and
receive from us a steady and dependable supply?"
"We were freemen. Now we are slaves, and must grovel to your overlords
and give them all we make in exchange for a miserly ration. That is
reason enough to fight you."
"I don't think," said Rayth sardonically, "that your own slaves notice
any change."
Rikard clamped his lips tight.
Above the factory level was a park. It was known that the life of the
air, and hence of man, depended on green plants, so even the smallest
village had its farms and even the outlaws' crowded seal-tents had
contained some pots of vegetation. But Rikard and Leda had never seen
anything like this riot of blooms and rearing trees, had never felt
grass soft and cool beneath their bare feet, and the girl drew a gasp
of wonder and buried her face in a huge sweet cluster of roses.
Rayth drew his sword and cut the flowers and handed them to her with a
bow. "No fairer than you," he smiled.
She cursed and threw them at his feet.
There were folk of noble class around, warriors, administrators,
ranking Engineers, and their children and colorfully gowned women. They
gathered about, laughing, shouting, cheering, and Rayth nodded affably
but led the way onward.
Above the park were the levels of the spacious upper-class apartments,
where others of gentle birth went about in litters and slaves scurried
humbly on their errands. Rikard noticed the guardsmen standing rigidly
here and there, and decided that the power of the overlords was not so
secure as it might look.
On and on, until at last they stood before a high wall ornamented with
murals of ancient triumphs and festivals. Four sentries stood in front
of the door, bringing their spears to rigid salute as Rayth approached.
A footman opened the door and they were ushered into the prince's home.
It was richly furnished, with hangings and vases and furniture of
priceless ancient work--older than the Fall, it must be--as well as
the clumsier recent articles of carved wood and hammered metal. Rayth
led the way to a spacious chamber whose outer window looked on the
sky. Automatically, Rikard stepped over there to make a survey. This
place must be high in the dome which rose over the city's underground
levels. He could look down the great sweep of metal and concrete to the
rugged plain beneath, and out toward the sharply curving horizon and
the mighty ringwall which shouldered above it. The stars thronged and
blazed in a cold glory of sky.
"Unbind them," said Rayth.
Rikard stretched mightily, rubbing cramped arms. Leda stepped over
beside him and her hand stole into his. The guards marched out, except
for two who stood alertly against the wall.
"And now what?" asked the barbarian.
"Why, I suppose you will want to clean yourselves. There is a bathroom
over that way. Afterward we will eat, and then we can talk."
* * * * *
There were garments for the prisoners, of a soft colorfulness such as
they had not known since the last time Nyrac captured a trading caravan
in the tunnels, and there was a feast of skillfully prepared meat and
bread, fresh fruit, wine and delicacies for which they had no name.
They sat around the table and gorged.
Rayth exerted himself to be pleasant. He brought in slave girls to
dance and play, he kept the wine glasses full, and the words that
flowed from his smiling lips had nothing to do with immediate reality.
Despite himself, Rikard had to listen with interest and reply where he
could, and Leda sat enchanted.
The prince got onto ancient history, which seemed to be a pet subject
of his. He discoursed of a thousand years of war, politics, conquest
and liberation, dynasties and gods and people, and after the vague
heroic songs of the barbarians it was a new experience to listen to his
crisp cynical prose. They could still read and write in Coper City,
though only a few nobles besides the Engineers took the trouble to
learn, and so they remembered with precision.
"But the Fall?" whispered Leda. "What was that?"
"The Fall from Earth?" Rayth smiled and arched his brows. "Well, my
fair one, suppose you tell me what you think."
"Why--I never thought much about it," she said, her broad clear
forehead wrinkling above the steady blue eyes. "They say that man came
from Earth originally, and sinned, and was condemned to dwell in the
world here until the sin is redeemed. The souls of the dead return to
Earth--"
"Or to Mars, if they are criminals or Copers," grunted Rikard.
Leda threw him a little frown and spread her hands helplessly. "That is
all I know."
"Hm--well, it's the general story. Our Engineers tell it to our own
commons, since it helps keep them in check. But what would you say if I
told you Earth is another world like our own?"
"It couldn't be," said Leda. "The story is that on Earth you can walk
on the outside without a spacesuit. And there is green everywhere, and
great pools of water, and everyone has enough to eat."
"Oh, yes, beyond doubt Earth is not quite the same as Luna. After all,
man and his animals are so ill suited to life here that I think it only
reasonable to suppose they came from Earth--not in any mystic Fall,
but by ordinary physical means."
"They jumped?" asked Rikard scornfully.
"No, they--well--I'll come to that later. They had ways. Such few books
as have survived tell something about what happened. Men came here from
Earth to look for minerals which they needed. Cities were built here
and there over the face of Luna, and tunnels cut to connect them and to
get at the ores. They were wise, those ancients. They built not only
the things we now have and use in a blind fashion, by rote, without
much understanding--smelters, sun-power accumulators, spacesuits, and
all the rest--but they had other things as well. Weapons more deadly
than bow or ax, machines which carried them over the surface and hauled
their loads and did the work we must do by hand--but those things have
long worn out or been destroyed, and their remnants have been wrecked
for the metal in them. We have a few relics in our Temple here, that is
all." Rayth's eyes gleamed briefly.
He went on in a moment. "The sin and the Fall were something different
from what the Engineers have said in their sermons. I don't know
exactly what happened, except that even those wise ancients were not
united, they were divided into--cities, I suppose--and the separate
colonies here were owned by these various cities. A war broke out, not
a war as we know war but something with doom in it, all the power of
the machines turned loose to blast and burn. It must have destroyed
civilization on Earth; at least there have been no visitors from there
in a thousand years or more. Here on Luna the colonies also fought,
but in a more limited way since they had not the greatest engines of
destruction. But it was enough to wipe out many cities--you must have
seen some of the ruins--and to destroy most of the equipment. Such wise
men as survived had not the tools to work with to rebuild all they must
have, and the turbulent new generations paid little heed to teachings
which had no relation to their own experience. The remaining machines
wore out, the wise men died, the cities fought with swords and spears
for the necessities of life, and finally the long night of ignorance
fell on us. And that is the true story of the Fall."
"How do you know?" challenged Rikard.
"Oh, I have read the remaining old books and fragments of books, and
used my own head to piece together what little was known. Coper City
has kept more knowledge than the others anyway. Those went back to
naked barbarism, retaining barely enough tradition to survive; but we,
living in what had been the most important of the old colonies, kept
somewhat more than that. There have always been a few in Coper City who
knew the truth, though they lacked means to do anything about it."
Rikard leaned back in his chair and surveyed the prince with arrogant
eyes. "All right," he said. "I'll accept it. What's the difference
anyway? What do you have us here for and why are you telling us this?"
"Oh--I wanted you to realize that our frank goal of conquering the
world is not the unmitigated evil you insist. It will bring knowledge
to the barbarians, give them back their heritage, and end their stupid
squabbling in a unity of all mankind."
"At the price of making them slaves and paupers!"
"Well, I didn't say we were doing this for our health," said Rayth
mildly. "The outlier raids have been more than a little costly and
annoying to us, and of course we can always use more workers. However,
please don't tell me you are some kind of martyr whose heart bleeds
only for your poor oppressed people. You are angry because your
wealth and power were stripped from you. If you could get those back
threefold--"
* * * * *
His keen features jutted over the table as he leaned forward. "We
will impose the social pattern of Coper City everywhere, yes, because
it is our own. But we'll have to take the most able and trustworthy
barbarians into our own noble ranks as full citizens. How would you
like to trade the circumscribed darkness of Nyrac for a dwelling like
this, a score of slaves, a personal guard, a city for your private
estate? How would you like a hand in shaping the future?"
"Hm." Rikard scowled and ran a hand through his stiff black hair. "You
won't give me that for nothing."
"No, no. But you'll need a strong patron, my friend. Everyone else will
assume as a matter of course that you'll be executed or sent to the
mines. It will take all my influence to get you pardoned. In exchange,
you can do me a few services." His teeth flashed white in his beard.
"The first of which can begin now!"
"_Hm?_"
"I want you to kill a man for me."
"Well--" Rikard sat thinking a moment, "Who is he?"
"I'll come to that. It's nobody you know or care about. If you fullfil
that mission, there will be others, and your rise can be swift."
"You turn me loose with a sword," said the barbarian slowly, "and
expect me to do just what you want?"
"Naturally," said Rayth, "I will keep your charming lady as a hostage."
He smiled on Leda and a slow hot flush crept up her cheeks and stained
her breast. "I shall see that she is not bored."
* * * * *
With a shave and a haircut, a decent tunic and a sword at his waist
and a feather-cap tilted rakishly over one ear, Rikard could pass for
anyone but the hunted rebel of Nyrac--a young guardsman off duty,
perhaps, recruited from some recently conquered province and swaggering
into the civilization which had swallowed his people. He drew no
special attention as he pushed through the crowded hubbub of the city,
except from an occasional bold-eyed maiden.
Toward the north side of the dome, roughly at ground level, was the
area of those who were more than simple freemen without being quite
nobles--merchants, shopkeepers, independent artisans of all kinds.
Moving through that district, Rikard was struck by the bearing of the
folk, neither servile nor haughty, neither uncouth nor overly mannered,
a more civilized version of the barbarians' egalitarianism. It occurred
to him that this class was an element which had entered into no one's
calculations.
But he had a mission, and the farther he went the more desperate it
began to seem.
_There's little choice_, he thought grayly. _If I'd refused, he'd have
had me slain then and there. But that I, who was chief over the freemen
of Nyrac, should sink to be Rayth's assassin--!_
Kill the Chief Engineer of Coper City.
Rayth had shown him the layout, warned him that the Temple had its own
guards, and said that several of his men had attempted the job before
and failed bloodily. On the other hand, could he but accomplish his
task and fight his way out of the Temple, there'd be a gang of the
prince's bully boys waiting to escort him home. Rikard had pulled off
more daring stunts than this.
As to why the old man should be murdered, Rayth had said little except
that he stood in the way of certain plans, and Rikard, who had small
tenderness for any Copers, didn't inquire further.
He cast a glance behind him now and again as he thrust through
the crowds which swarmed and eddied around bazaars, taverns, and
playhouses, and once or twice thought he glimpsed a couple of the
prince's hard-faced personal guards lounging inconspicuously after
him--but he wasn't sure, the mob was too much a blend of every element
in Luna. A richly dressed, pot-bellied merchant borne in a litter by
four slaves; a pair of gay young warriors staggering out of a tavern
compartment; a hawker shrieking his wares where two corridors ran
together; a wondering leather-clad barbarian; a fantastically painted
strolling player, thrumming his harp and grinning at the girls as they
went by; a humble gray worker; a serious-faced young Engineer, his long
red robes swirling about him--it was a gay and noisy throng, a whirl of
life and color, and Rikard could not altogether suppress an answering
smile. There was nothing like this in the poor little outlier towns.
He came from the passageway to a broad, grassy plaza, and felt a sudden
tightening of his muscles and a rising throb in his breast. Beyond it,
there was a great wall reaching the height of many levels, porticoed
and velvet-hung, with the sign of holy Earth inlaid above the door. The
Temple.
It was past time for services, and few people were in sight before the
wall--mostly acolytes hurrying on their various tasks, and six Temple
guardsmen standing rock-stiff in gilt breast-plates and plumed helmets
before the looming gate. Rikard stood for a moment studying them, the
long pikes and the swords at their hips, and wondered how many more
there were inside the sacred precincts. He drew a deep breath, filling
his nostrils with the cool rich scent of grass and flowering shrubs for
perhaps the final time.
Well--Leda was still Rayth's hostage. He shook himself, straightened
his back, and walked boldly up to the gate.