“You have seen the globe with the crystal rods?”
“Yes.”
“We are under the shadow of its core. There had to be some retreat for us into reality. Otherwise we would lose the meaning of the dream.”
The winding stair went up and up. The chain between my ankles clattered musically. Several times I tripped on it and fell.
“Never mind,” Duani said. “You’ll grow used to it.”
We came at last into a circular room high in the tower. And I stopped and stared.
Most of the space in that room was occupied by a web of metal girders that supported a great gleaming shaft. The shaft disappeared upward through the roof. It was not tall but very massive, revolving slowly and quietly. There were traps, presumably for access to the offset shaft and the cogs that turned it. A ladder led to a trap in the roof.
All the visible metal was sound with only a little surface corrosion. What the alloy was I don’t know and when I asked Rhul he only smiled rather sadly. “Knowledge is found,” he said, “only to be lost again. Even we of Shandakor forget.”
Every bit of that enormous structure had been shaped and polished and fitted into place by hand. Nearly all the Martian peoples work in metal. They seem to have a genius for it and while they are not and apparently never have been mechanical, as some of our races are on Earth, they find many uses for metal that we have never thought of.
But this before me was certainly the high point of the metalworkers’ craft. When I saw what was down below, the beautifully simple power plant and the rotary drive set-up with fewer moving parts than I would have thought possible, I was even more respectful. “How old is it?” I asked and again Rhul shook his head.
“Several thousand years ago there is a record of the yearly Hosting of the Shadows and it was not the first.” He motioned me to follow him up the ladder, bidding Duani sternly to remain where she was. She came anyway.
There was a railed platform open to the universe and directly above it swung the mighty globe with its crystal rods that gleamed so strangely. Shandakor lay beneath us, a tapestry of many colors, bright and still, and out along the dark sides of the valley the tribesmen waited for the light to die.
“When there is no one left to tend the machine it will stop in time and then the men who have hated us so long will take what they want of Shandakor. Only fear has kept them out this long. The riches of half a world flowed through these streets and much of it remained.”
He looked up at the globe. “Yes,” he said, “we had knowledge. More, I think, than any other race of Mars.”
“But you wouldn’t share it with the humans.”
Rhul smiled. “Would you give little children weapons to destroy you? We gave men better ploughshares and brighter ornaments and if they invented a machine we did not take it from them. But we did not tempt and burden them with knowledge that was not their own. They were content to make war with sword and spear and so they had more pleasure and less killing and the world was not torn apart.”
“And you—how did you make war?”
“We defended our city. The human tribes had nothing that we coveted, so there was no reason to fight them except in self-defense. When we did we won.” He paused. “The other non-human races were more stupid or less fortunate. They perished long ago.”
He turned again to his explanations of the machine. “It draws its power directly from the sun. Some of the solar energy is converted and stored within the globe to serve as the light-source. Some is sent down to turn the shaft.”
“What if it should stop,” Duani said, “while we’re still alive?” She shivered, looking out over the beautiful streets.
“It won’t—not if the Earthman wishes to live.”
“What would I have to gain by stopping it?” I demanded.
“Nothing. And that,” said Rhul, “is why I trust you. As long as the globe turns you are safe from the barbarians. After we are gone you will have the pick of the loot of Shandakor.”
How I was going to get away with it afterward he did not tell me.
He motioned me down the ladder again but I asked him, “What is the globe, Rhul? How does it make the—the Shadows?”
He frowned. “I can only tell you what has become, I’m afraid, mere traditional knowledge. Our wise men studied deeply into the properties of light. They learned that light has a definite effect upon solid matter and they believed, because of that effect, that stone and metal and crystalline things retain a ‘memory’ of all that they have ‘seen.’ Why this should be I do not know.”
I didn’t try to explain to him the quantum theory and the photoelectric effect nor the various experiments of Einstein and Millikan and the men who followed them. I didn’t know them well enough myself and the old High Martian is deficient in such terminology.
I only said, “The wise men of my world also know that the impact of light tears away tiny particles from the substance it strikes.”
I was beginning to get a glimmering of the truth. Light-patterns “cut” in the electrons of metal and stone—sound-patterns cut in unlikely looking mediums of plastic, each needing only the proper “needle” to recreate the recorded melody or the recorded picture.
“They constructed the globe,” said Rhul. “I do not know how many generations that required nor how many failures they must have had. But they found at last the invisible light that makes the stones give up their memories.”
In other words they had found their needle. What wave-length or combination of wave-lengths in the electromagnetic spectrum flowed out from those crystal rods, there was no way for me to know. But where they probed the walls and the paving blocks of Shandakor they scanned the hidden patterns that were buried in them and brought them forth again in form and color—as the electron needle brings forth whole symphonies from a little ridged disc.
How they had achieved sequence and selectivity was another matter. Rhul said something about the “memories” having different lengths. Perhaps he meant depth of penetration. The stones of Shandakor were ages old and the outer surfaces would have worn away. The earliest impressions would be gone altogether or at least have become fragmentary and extremely shallow.
Perhaps the scanning beams could differentiate between the overlapping layers of impressions by that fraction of a micron difference in depth. Photons only penetrate so far into any given substance but if that substance is constantly growing less in thickness the photons would have the effect of going deeper. I imagine the globe was accurate in centuries or numbers of centuries, not in years.
However it was, the Shadows of a golden past walked the streets of Shandakor and the last men of the race waited quietly for death, remembering their glory.
Rhul took me below again and showed me what my tasks would be, chiefly involving a queer sort of lubricant and a careful watch over the power leads. I would have to spend most of my time there but not all of it. During the free periods, Duani might take me where she would.
The old man went away. Duani leaned herself against a girder and studied me with intense interest. “How are you called?” she asked.
“John Ross.”
“JonRoss,” she repeated and smiled. She began to walk around me, touching my hair, inspecting my arms and chest, taking a child’s delight in discovering all the differences there were between herself and what we call a human. And that was the beginning of my captivity.
6
THERE WERE days and nights, scant food and scanter water. There was Duani. And there was Shandakor. I lost my fear. And whether I lived to occupy the Chair or not, this was something to have seen. Duani was my guide. I was tender of my duties because my neck depended on them but there was time to wander in the streets, to watch the crowded pageant that was not and sense the stillness and the desolation that were so cruelly real.
I began to get the feel of what this alien culture had been like and how it had dominated half a world without the need of conquest.
In a Hall of Government,
built of white marble and decorated with wall friezes of austere magnificence, I watched the careful choosing and the crowning of a king. I saw the places of learning. I saw the young men trained for war as fully as they were instructed in the arts of peace. I saw the pleasure gardens, the theaters, the forums, the sporting fields—and I saw the places of work, where the men and women of Shandakor coaxed beauty from their looms and forges to trade for the things they wanted from the human world.
The human slaves were brought by their own kind to be sold, and they seemed to be well treated, as one treats a useful animal in which one has invested money. They had their work to do but it was only a small part of the work of the city.
The things that could be had nowhere else on Mars—the tools, the textiles, the fine work in metal and precious stones, the glass and porcelain—were fashioned by the people of Shandakor and they were proud of their skill. Their scientific knowledge they kept entirely to themselves, except what concerned agriculture or medicine or better ways of building drains and houses.
They were the lawgivers, the teachers. And the humans took all they would give and hated them for it. How long it had taken these people to attain such a degree of civilization Duani could not tell me. Neither could old Rhul.
“It is certain that we lived in communities, had a form of civil government, a system of numbers and written speech, before the human tribes. There are traditions of an earlier race than ours, from whom we learned these things. Whether or not this is true I do not know.”
In its prime Shandakor had been a vast and flourishing city with countless thousands of inhabitants. Yet I could see no signs of poverty or crime. I couldn’t even find a prison.
“Murder was punishable by death,” said Rhul, “but it was most infrequent. Theft was for slaves. We did not stoop to it.” He watched my face, smiling a little acid smile. “That startles you—a great city without suffering or crime or places of punishment.”
I had to admit that it did. “Elder race or not, how did you manage to do it? I’m a student of cultures, both here and on my own world. I know all the usual patterns of development and I’ve read all the theories about them—but Shandakor doesn’t fit any of them.”
Rhul’s smile deepened. “You are human,” he said. “Do you wish the truth?”
“Of course.”
“Then I will tell you. We developed the faculty of reason.”
For a moment I thought he was joking. “Come,” I said, “man is a reasoning being—on Earth the only reasoning being.”
“I do not know of Earth,” he answered courteously. “But on Mars man has always said, I reason, I am above the beasts because I reason.’ And he has been very proud of himself because he could reason. It is the mark of his humanity. Being convinced that reason operates automatically within him he orders his life and his government upon emotion and superstition.
“He hates and fears and believes, not with reason but because he is told to by other men or by tradition. He does one thing and says another and his reason teaches him no difference between fact and falsehood. His bloodiest wars are fought for the merest whim—and that is why we did not give him weapons. His greatest follies appear to him the highest wisdom, his basest betrayals become noble acts—and that is why we could not teach him justice. We learned to reason. Man only learned to talk.”
I understood then why the human tribes had hated the men of Shandakor. I said angrily, “Perhaps that is so on Mars. But only reasoning minds can develop great technologies and we humans of Earth have outstripped yours a million times. All right, you know or knew some things we haven’t learned yet, in optics and some branches of electronics and perhaps in metallurgy. But…”
I went on to tell him all the things we had that Shandakor did not. “You never went beyond the beast of burden and the simple wheel. We achieved flight long ago. We have conquered space and the planets. We’ll go on to conquer the stars!”
Rhul nodded. “Perhaps we were wrong. We remained here and conquered ourselves.” He looked out toward the slopes where the barbarian army waited and he sighed. “In the end it is all the same.”
Days and nights and Duani, bringing me food, sharing her water, asking questions, taking me through the city. The only thing she would not show me was something they called the Place of Sleep. “I shall be there soon enough,” she said and shivered.
“How long?” I asked. It was an ugly thing to say.
“We are not told. Rhul watches the level in the cisterns and when it’s time…” She made a gesture with her hands. “Let us go up on the wall.”
We went up among the ghostly soldiery and the phantom banners. Outside there were darkness and death and the coming of death. Inside there were light and beauty, the last proud blaze of Shandakor under the shadow of its doom. There was an eerie magic in it that had begun to tell on me. I watched Duani. She leaned against the parapet, looking outward. The wind ruffled her silver crest, pressed her garments close against her body. Her eyes were full of moonlight and I could not read them. Then I saw that there were tears.
I put my arm around her shoulders. She was only a child, an alien child, not of my race or breed…
“JonRoss.”
“Yes?”
“There are so many things I will never know.”
It was the first time I had touched her. Those curious curls stirred under my fingers, warm and alive. The tips of her pointed ears were soft as a kitten’s.
“Duani.”
“What?”
“I don’t know…”
I kissed her. She drew back and gave me a startled look from those black brilliant eyes and suddenly I stopped thinking that she was a child and I forgot that she was not human and—I didn’t care.
“Duani, listen. You don’t have to go to the Place of Sleep.”
She looked at me, her cloak spread out upon the night wind, her hands against my chest.
“There’s a whole world out there to live in. And if you aren’t happy there I’ll take you to my world, to Earth. There isn’t any reason why you have to die!”
Still she looked at me and did not speak. In the streets below the silent throngs went by and the towers glowed with many colors. Duani’s gaze moved slowly to the darkness beyond the wall, to the barren valley and the hostile rocks.
“No.”
“Why not? Because of Rhul, because of all this talk of pride and race?”
“Because of truth. Corin learned it.”
I didn’t want to think about Corin. “He was alone. You’re not. You’d never be alone.”
She brought her hands up and laid them on my cheeks very gently. “That green star, that is your world. Suppose it were to vanish and you were the last of all the men of Earth. Suppose you lived with me in Shandakor forever—would you not be alone?”
“It wouldn’t matter if I had you.”
She shook her head. “It would matter. And our two races are as far apart as the stars. We would have nothing to share between us.”
Remembering what Rhul had told me I flared up and said some angry things, She let me say them and then she smiled. “It is none of that, JonRoss.” She turned to look out over the city. “This is my place and no other. When it is gone I must be gone too.”
Quite suddenly I hated Shandakor.
I didn’t sleep much after that. Every time Duani left me I was afraid she might never come back. Rhul would tell me nothing and I didn’t dare to question him too much. The hours rushed by like seconds and Duani was happy and I was not. My shackles had magnetic locks. I couldn’t break them and I couldn’t cut the chains.
One evening Duani came to me with something in her face and in the way she moved that told me the truth long before I could make her put it into words. She clung to me, not wanting to talk, but at last she said, “Today there was a casting of lots and the first hundred have gone to the Place of Sleep.”
“It is the beginning, then.”
She nodded. “Every day there will be anoth
er hundred until all are gone.”
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I thrust her away and stood up. “You know where the ‘keys’ are. Get these chains off me!”
She shook her head. “Let us not quarrel now, JonRoss. Come. I want to walk in the city.”
We had quarreled more than once, and fiercely. She would not leave Shandakor and I couldn’t take her out by force as long as I was chained. And I was not to be released until everyone but Rhul had entered the Place of Sleep and the last page of that long history had been written.
I walked with her among the dancers and the slaves and the bright-cloaked princes. There were no temples in Shandakor. If they worshipped anything it was beauty and to that their whole city was a shrine. Duani’s eyes were rapt and there was a remoteness on her now.
I held her hand and looked at the towers of turquoise and cinnabar, the pavings of rose quartz and marble, the walls of pink and white and deep red coral, and to me they were hideous. The ghostly crowds, the mockery of life, the phantom splendors of the past were hideous, a drug, a snare.
“The faculty of reason!” I thought and saw no reason in any of it.
I looked up to where the great globe turned and turned against the sky, keeping these mockeries alive. “Have you ever seen the city as it is—without the Shadows?”
“No. I think only Rhul, who is the oldest, remembers it that way. I think it must have been very lonely. Even then there were less than three thousand of us left.”
It must indeed have been lonely. They must have wanted the Shadows as much to people the empty streets as to fend off the enemies who believed in magic.
I kept looking at the globe. We walked for a long time. And then I said, “I must go back to the tower.”
She smiled at me very tenderly. “Soon you will be free of the tower—and of these.” She touched the chains. “No, don’t be sad, JonRoss. You will remember me and Shandakor as one remembers a dream.” She held up her face, that was so lovely and so unlike the meaty faces of human women, and her eyes were full of somber lights. I kissed her and then I caught her up in my arms and carried her back to the tower.
The Coming of the Terrans Page 10
