He said, “Which, chamber ought I choose, Brother Pol?”
“It doesn’t matter. Take the nearest. Everybody else will do the same.”
“Are they all here for assignment somewhere, these People?”
“It does not always follow, Sir Kor, that audience with the Trisz means assignment. The Trisz are a gentle and benevolent race. They hear and act upon complaints of the People, in addition to doing business with them.”
Kor recalled his lessons on the subject, but the course had been scanty.
“What kind of problems, Brother?”
“No problem is too small to deserve the attention and best effort of the Trisz,” Brother Pol replied sanctimoniously. “A person may desire the love or companionship of one of the opposite sex. Or perhaps he is ambitious, and wants a position in the court of a Lord, or in a business establishment, or in the service of the Trisz. Whatever it is, the Trisz, when properly petitioned, bend every effort to solve that problem to the individual’s satisfaction. Our prayers to the Lord Sun, Sir Kor, are answered by the Trisz!”
Kor pondered the other’s statements.
“Do you mean to say that if a man wants a certain woman, the Trisz would forcibly procure her for him?”
“Forcibly? Oh, no, Sir! She would be procured—but, not forcibly. Anyway, what right would she have to refuse, if it is the will of the Trisz? Besides, the Trisz make it pleasant for her.”
Advanced hypnosis, of course, Kor remembered. Where a problem could not be, or was not, solved to the petitioner’s satisfaction, the same method of hypnosis made it seem to him that it had been. The text books had been specific on this point.
The benevolent Trisz. Bah!
Brother Pol touched Kor’s arm.
“It’s just about time, Sir. Let me remind you: when you speak to the Trisz, remember to use the customary language gestures. These are not only a sign of respect, as you have been taught, but also for recording by machines. The Trisz keep records for future generations, when your recorded voice may be unintelligible in the light of the language then to be spoken. The sign language will remain the same forever. As for the Trisz themselves, they need neither your voice nor the signs, as they read your discourse from your mind.”
Liar, thought Kor. Then he reconsidered. After all, Brother Pol knew no better. Every body thought the Trisz could read minds, but the Saints knew they could not. The respectful “gestures for the recorders” which law and custom commanded to be used in speaking to the Trisz were a complex sign language which rapidly and coherently carried the speaker’s meaning to the aliens. Kor knew he could think anything he pleased in the presence of the Trisz, so long as his expression or attitude did not betray him.
A gong sounded a silvery, melodious note. A soft voice, borne on amplifiers, rustled across the tremendous audience chamber.
“Audience call…audience call. Approach the Trisz with humility, reverence, and sobriety. Gesture your prayers, and they will be answered. Audience call. Enter now into the presence of the mighty Trisz!”
An excited stir passed through the crowd. Feet scraped on the gleaming floor. Garments swirled with color. The air vibrated with last moment, whispered comments. Kor stepped to the nearest drape and drew it back.
The room on the other side was small, not more than double a man’s length on each side. Directly across from the entrance, the wall receded into a shallow bay or niche. The walls were bare. The floor was of the same gleaming plastic as in the audience hall.
Kor extrapolated briefly. The act gave him a sullen, defiant feeling. He could detect nothing immediate save the usual restless unease, a feeling of menace. All the factors were still not present, he thought.
A column of pale, lovely fire stood suddenly in the niche … the Trisz. Kor realized he was not actually seeing the Trisz, which was an invisible manifestation of strange energy. Its presence was detectable only by its effect upon the air within the niche, and this effect was heightened by hidden projectors which sprayed the disturbed air molecules with changing hues of light. It was effective, Kor admitted, even as good as some of the stunts the Saints occasionally conjured in the Chapels to impress the People with the wonder-working qualities of the Lord Sun.
He knelt on one knee and watched the Trisz fade through lavender, into pale green, retire into yellow, and emerge into glowing crimson.
Thin, tinny, and strident, the thought-impression that was the “voice” of the Trisz was impressed upon Kor’s conscious mind.
“Hail, Man! The Trisz welcome you to Ka-si.”
Kor made proper gestures of salutation, accompanying the signs with words intended for the audio-recorders…and for the ears of listening Triszmen, he had no doubt.
“Greetings in the name of the Lord Sun, O mighty Trisz!”
The Trisz turned a tender pink.
“I have looked into your mind, O Man. I perceive that you are Kor Danay, graduate Man of the Institute of Den-ver.”
Liar, Kor thought. His registration papers had been sent ahead of him.
“True, O mighty Triz,” he replied.
“The Trisz hold the Men in high esteem. They are ever in dear remembrance. The Trisz are the protector of the People—the Men are the weapon in the Trisz right hand.”
“True, O mighty Trisz,” Kor humbly acquiesced.
What a farce, he thought to himself. Let’s get the stupid formalities over with and find out what comes next. Go ahead, read my mind! You could detect my expanded superconsciousness, but my conscious mind is a closed book to you, you puff of wind in a colored light!
The Trisz continued. “We are pleased with the thoughts of respect and devotion that flow from your mind, O Man. Your journey has been a long one, and difficult. You desire rest and tranquility. The intensity of your thought amounts to prayer, which the Trisz take pleasure in fulfilling. But first, tell us of your journey.”
Kor thought, you want me to deny what happened, don’t you? Then you’ll claim to read the incidents from my mind and arrest me for attempting to restrain the truth. Well, I’ll tell you what happened.
He cast his glance piously upward, as if to view the Lord Sun gleaming above the softly glowing spindle of the Trisz.
“I owe my presence here only to the Lord Sun, my Protector, so eventful was my journey!”
“Most interesting,” squeaked the Trisz. “I read the details of your adventures in your thoughts, but please gesture the occurrence for the visual recorders.”
Kor gestured his story with pious overtones. The Trisz was uninterested in the first episode, where Kor related that he had been attacked by “robbers” disguised in the garb of loyal servants of the Trisz; but its interest revived with Kor’s relating of the incident at the inn—described from the Scarlet Saint’s point of view.
Suspicion, prime virtue of the conqueror, held the Trisz in thrall. It put questions apparently designed to lead Kor into some kind of semantic trap, but he evaded with a liberal use of pious platitudes.
It said, “Does this Lord Sun of yours often appear like this to the People?”
Kor adroitly refused to be committed, entering instead upon a long disquisition on religious visions, acknowledging their kinship to mental projection, and harmoniously organizing them with the concept of God as manifested in the symbol of the Lord Sun.
He quoted authorities, described circumstances. The Trisz bade him stop.
“This has been very interesting for the records,” it said. “Of course, we know of no such universal Lord Sun as you describe. We accept the realistic view that your opinions are evidence of a faulty mind-structure which you cannot help, and we therefore admit your right to worship such a god.” There was a moment of thoughtful pause, then the Trisz went on, “Your registration has been received and approved, Man, for assignment to the diocese of No-k
a-si. I discern from your thoughts that you passed last night in the quarters of a Blue Brother Pol who awaits you now in the central audience chamber. The floor guard has been instructed to deliver to him your orders of assignment. He will conduct you to your new post in the Scarlet Chapel of the No-ka-si region and perform the proper introductions. You will deliver yourself now into his guidance. Good luck attend you, Man.”
“Blessing of the Lord Sun, O mighty Trisz!”
Kor rose and went backward out of the chamber.
CHAPTER VII
Blue Brother Set Horan folded his pudgy hands. The saintliness of his demeanor was enhanced by a cherubic smile that played across his round features.
“My dear,” said he, with a tone of finality. “It has to be that way, don’t you see? However far the game must be played, it simply has got to be played as we are playing it. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it.”
The young woman seated opposite him bit her full underlip. She was lovely, a woman of the desert People. Her hair was a deep chestnut, arranged about her face in the popular style then fashionable among the well-to-do. She set firm, red lips and almost glared at the Blue Brother with eyes of deep sea-green.
“I tell you it is a dangerous game we are playing, Brother Set. Suppose something should go wrong? You know what Tor Shan has said, don’t you?”
Brother Set’s amiable features lost none of their look of cherubic cheer.
“Certainly it’s dangerous, but he has gotten this far, hasn’t he? You know as well as I that a Saint has to live dangerously—even this one. Tor Shan is of the opinion that our lad is of particular importance to the plans of the Men. Well, that remains to be seen, of course. I’m working under double orders, you know.”
“You mean—”
“Of course I mean! According to Tor Shan’s thinking we must lose no more time than necessary in getting this particular Man to the Organization. And I have orders from the Trisz, relayed through the City Council of Triszmen, to lose no time framing him with a good, solid charge that will merit a public execution. Do you think it has been easy for me, Lady Soma?”
The Lady Soma held a handkerchief against her lips.
“That is what I mean about its being dangerous. We both run a grave risk of being killed—if not by, the Trisz, then by him.”
Brother Set toyed a moment with a stylus, tapping the blunt end against his teeth, his expression thoughtful.
“Well,” he sighed at last, putting the stylus down. “It would be no more than I expected when I first undertook this hide-and-seek game years ago.” He smiled, “Though I will say, my dear Lady Soma, that you are entirely too lovely and young to die—!”
“Thank you,” she replied coolly. “At least, you have given me the well known skin of the teeth to escape by!”
“Thank the Lord Sun for that much,” chuckled the rotund Blue Brother. “But you neglect to take our Saint himself into consideration.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. “I wish I had the brains—or whatever it takes—to be chosen for Manhood! As it is…well, I have been fortunate, my dear. You see me now, an eldering priest of the Blue Order, raised to the honor of doing a job worthy of a Man—” He grimaced without the satisfaction, “Of knowing, when I die, that I could have smeared the lot of them if it weren’t for my confounded Oath!”
“Brother Set!”
“Ho! I know—envy does not become a Brother of the cloth. But just the same, my dear, I know a few of the things a Man can do (I am more fortunate in that respect than most of my Blue Brethren), and if I had their powers at my disposal, I’d do a little house cleaning of my own!” He chuckled shortly. “The Masters most likely took cognizance of this temperamental attitude of mine, which explains why I was relegated to this.” He shook the hem of his blue robe.
“I’m proud, though, to be able to help the Men. But it worries me, this playing both ends against the middle—especially when I’m in the middle!”
The girl laid her hand softly upon his.
“We are most fortunate you did not become a Saint, Brother Set! Who could have served half so well as you?”
He leaned back in his plasticomfort chair, beaming with angelic pleasure.
“You say the nicest things, my dear!” He glanced at a chronometer on the wall and started up. “Good Lord! It’s after half-morning! They’ll be here any minute! Are you sure now, that you have everything in mind? We can’t slip on this, or—” He passed a rigid forefinger significantly across his throat.
“If I only knew how he could get out of it!”
“I told you what he did in the first two attempts that were made on his life. Remember what he did to those two Triszman Thugs. Picked one up and threw him at the other! Ho, ho! The woman told us about that; the men wouldn’t! And that murderer-for-hire, know where he is now? Out preaching to his flock on street corners! Resourceful, our Man! Lives up to the highest tradition of his Sainthood—and you can’t say I didn’t know he would!”
The Lady Soma patted his hand again.
“I know. You wouldn’t have sent those men against him to be killed. You knew he’d spare them.”
“That’s what I mean about being a Man,” Brother Set interjected. “For all I’m supposed to be a priest, I’ve got something of the Devil in me, too. I’d have torn ’em apart!”
“Silly!” Soma laughed with clear, tinkling merriment. “You’d have done nothing of the kind!”
Brother Set grinned and winked.
“And now maybe you feel better about the plan, eh?”
She started to frown, then smiled quickly at his droll expression.
“I guess I am mostly thinking of it from my own viewpoint.” She shuddered. “I’d hate to have anybody put me in that position.”
“Nobody shall. Now pull yourself together. I think I hear them coming.”
An acolyte, newly graduated into the ranks of Blue Brotherhood, preceded Kor and Brother Pol into the room.
Kor paused on the threshold, suddenly alert. Brother Set’s round features and saintly smile matched perfectly the image purloined from the mind of the assassin. Kor’s second thought as he advanced warily into the room was a startled impression of sheer loveliness as he caught sight of Lady Soma.
Brother Pol quickly made introduction between the Blue Brother Set and Kor in accordance with ecclesiastical protocol. This was carried over by Brother Set to include Lady Soma.
“—daughter of Lord Roen Gol, esteemed resident Lord of our own Ka-si district, civil functionary, protector of the People, etc., etc. You know what I mean?”
The ice was quite thoroughly broken from the beginning. Kor took special delight in the conversation that followed the departure of Brother Pol, in which Lady Soma was an interested participant.
She finally took her leave, and Kor found himself alone with the Blue Brother whom he had cause to distrust most heartily.
* * * *
Now that he was settled in the quarters occupied by his predecessor, a certain Sir Ten Roga, Kor had set this conference with Brother Set to discuss the affairs of the diocese. While he was much concerned to learn what had happened to Sir Ten, he felt that he had reason not to let this concern become too apparent.
Kor found many things to surprise him—for one, the population of the Ka-si region. He had not thought the desert would support so many. Brother Set began to explain matters of service personnel, who were drawn from the desert dwellers.
“The Civil Service examinations are constantly open, calling for volunteers to become Triszmen in one capacity or another. We, have a rather heavy drain on volunteers from this region. Since few are required in Ka-si itself, many are sent to other parts of the world, as need requires. Some, of course, are called for training as spacemen to man the Trisz vessels. And then, of course, there are the colonies.”<
br />
“The colonies, Brother?”
“You have not heard of the colonies, Sir? According to information, there are many worlds throughout the galaxy, each capable of supporting a large population. These worlds are only slightly, or not at all, populated. The Trisz, therefore, are introducing Rth People to these foreign worlds…colonizing them, as it were, for the better future of mankind and the galaxy as a whole. The Trisz are a most kind and benevolent race, Sir.”
“Yes—yes, of course,” Kor interposed. He remembered now a lecture on this subject at the Institute. What had been the point? Certain of the People were selected from time to time for these colonizing ventures, and whisked mysteriously off into space. In their desire to attain a future liaison with these colonized worlds of People, the Men had attempted to discover where they had been taken, but the search so far had not met with success. This lack of success was attributed to the small effort that could be expended in that direction, but the Men hoped some day to locate the colonies and reunite them with the parent People of Rth when the Universe should some day come under the reign of the Men. Star-combing was a vast undertaking, and in view of the limited number of Men available, it might take another thousand years to locate these lost colonies—unless access might be had to the records of the Trisz. There was always hope.
Kor hazarded a question.
“Are the colonists sent to any particular System in this or any other particular galaxy?”
Brother Set shrugged and smiled his saintly smile.
“Who knows where they go, Sir Kor? That is the business of the benevolent Trisz, who seek always the welfare of the People. Getting to the point, Sir, we are furnishing a quota of five hundred colonists very soon. Only a few more volunteers need to be signed up.”
“What happens if you fall short in your quota?”
Brother Set raised startled eyebrows, as if the question were unheard of.
The 7th Golden Age of Weird Fiction MEGAPACK®: Manly Banister Page 31
