might know of us and be as we are."
"You hardly make that possible, subjugating your identity so completelyto that of another race. The worlds will never know of you unless youbecome strong and unified as a people and obtain a name of your own."
"Our name is known," said Venor. "We are the Idealists. You will notfind many worlds on which we are unknown, and they call us the ones whoserve. Even on your world you have the saying of a philosopher whotaught that any who would be master should become the servant of all.Your people once understood it."
"Not as a literal undertaking," said Cameron. "You can't submerge yourentire racial identity as you have done. That is not what the sayingmeant."
"To us it does," said Venor solemnly. "We would master the Universe--andtherefore we must serve it. That is the core of the law of theIdealists."
* * * * *
Cameron let his gaze scan through the window to the small clearing inthe thick forest, to the circle of wooden houses. _We would master theUniverse_--he restrained a smile.
"You cannot believe this," said Venor, "because you have neverunderstood the mark of the servant or the mark of the master. How oftenis there difficulty in distinguishing one from the other!"
And how often do the illusions of the mind ease the privations of thebody, Cameron thought. So that was the source of the Idealist serenity.Wherever they went they considered themselves the masters throughservice--and conversely, those they served became the slaves, hesupposed. It was a pleasant, easy philosophy that hurt no one. Exceptthe ones who believed it. They died the moment they accepted it, for allinitiative and desire were gone.
"The master is he who guides the destiny of a man or a race," said Venoralmost in meditation. "He is not the man who gathers or disperses thewealth, or who builds the cities and the ships to the stars. The masteris he who teaches what must be done with these things and how a peopleshall expend their lives."
"And the Markovians do this, in obedience to you?" said Cameronwhimsically.
"Wherever my people are," answered Venor, "strife ceases and peacecomes. Who can do this is master of worlds."
There was a strange solemnity about the voice and figure of the oldIdealist that checked the sense of ridiculousness in Cameron. It seemedsomehow strangely moving.
"You believe the worlds are better," he asked gently, "just because youare there?"
"Yes," said Venor, "because we are there."
There was a pathos about it that fired Cameron's anger. On scores ofworlds there were primitive groups like this one, blinding themselveswith a glory that didn't exist, in the grip of ancient, meaninglesstraditions. The younger ones--like Sal Karone--were intelligent, worthsalvaging, but they could never be lifted out of this mire of falsebelief unless they could be shown how empty it was.
"Nothing you have said explains the mystery of how this great thing isaccomplished," said Cameron almost angrily. "Even if we wanted tobelieve it were true, it is still as utterly incomprehensible as beforewe came."
"There is a saying among us," said Venor kindly. "Translated into yourtongue it would be: How was the wild dog tamed, and a saddle put uponthe fierce stallion?"
* * * * *
Stubbornly, then, Venor would say no more about the philosophy of theIdealists. He spoke freely of the many other worlds upon which theIdealists lived and served, and he affirmed the tradition that they didnot even know the place of their origin, the planet that might have beentheir home world.
He was evasive, however, when Cameron asked when the first contact wasmade between his people and the Markovians. There was something that theIds, too, were holding back, the sociologist thought, and there was noapparent reason for it.
Recklessly, he decided nothing could be lost by attempting to blast forit. "Why have the Markovians consistently lied to us?" he said. "They'vegiven us their history--and if your people know the feelings of otherworlds they know this history is a lie. Only a few generations ago theMarkovians pirated and plundered these worlds, and now they pose aslittle tin gods with a silver halo. Why?"
Sal Karone stood by with a look of horror on his face, but Venor made nosign of alarm at this forbidden question. He merely inclined his heldslowly and repeated, "How was the wild dog tamed, and a saddle put uponthe fierce stallion?"
* * * * *
That was the end of the interview. The Ids insisted, however, that heinspect the rest of the village and they personally guided the Terranson the tour. Cameron's trained eye took in at a glance, however, theevidence supporting his previous conclusion. The artifacts and buildingsdemonstrated a primitive forest culture. The other individuals he sawwere almost entirely the old and very young--the ones unsuitable asservants to the Markovians. Venor explained that family life among themparalleled in general that of the Masters. Whole Idealist families livedand served as units in the Markovian household. Exceptions existed inthe case of Sal Karone and others of his age who were separated fromtheir families and had not yet begun their own.
As they returned to the car Venor took their hands. He pressed Cameron'swarmly and looked into his eyes with deep sincerity. "You have made usglad by your presence," he said. "And when the time comes for you toreturn, we shall repay all the pleasure you have given us."
"I'm afraid we won't be able to do that," said Cameron. "We appreciateyour hospitality, but I'm sure time will not permit us to visit youagain, as much as we'd like to." In the past few minutes he had reachedthe conclusion that further research on this whole planet was futile.The best thing they could do was go somewhere else in the Nucleus andmake a fresh start.
Venor shook his head, smiling. "We will see each other again, Joyce andCameron. I feel that the day will be very soon."
It was senseless to let himself be irritated by the senile patriarch whospoke out of a world of illusion but Cameron could not help feelingnettled as he started back to the city. Somehow it seemed impossible toregard Venor as merely a specimen for sociological research. The Chiefof the Idealists reached out of his unreal world and made his contactwith the Terrans a personal thing--almost as if he had spent all hislife waiting for their coming. There was a sense of intimacy againstwhich Cameron rebelled, and yet it was not an unpleasant thing.
Cameron's mind oscillated between the annoyance of Venor's calmassertion that they would be back shortly, and the nonsense of the Idbelief that they controlled the civilizations in which they wereservants. How was the wild dog tamed, and a saddle put upon the fiercestallion?
He smiled faintly to himself, wondering if the Markovians were fullyaware that the Ids regarded them as tamed dogs and saddled stallions.They couldn't help knowing, of course, but it was hard to imagineMarthasa and his wife being very much amused by such an estimate. Thesituation would be intolerable, however, if it were met by anythingexcept amusement. It might be a mildly explosive subject, but he wasgoing to find out about that one small item before moving on, anyway,Cameron decided.
* * * * *
Sal Karone was strangely silent during the whole of the return trip. Heoffered no comments and made only brief, noncommittal replies toquestions about the country through which they passed. He seemeddepressed by the results of their visit. Probably because the violationof his warning to not question the lives of the Markovians. It was acurious evidence of their completely unreal, proprietary attitude inrespect to their Masters. They'd have to investigate Marthasa's responseas thoroughly as possible. There seemed to be no taboo on discussion ofthe Ids with him.
His annoyance at their acceptance of the invitation to the Id villageappeared to have vanished as he greeted them upon their return. "Wedelayed eating, thinking you'd be back in time. If you'll join us in thedining room as soon as you're ready--?"
The villa of Marthasa seemed different after the day's experience withthe Ids, although Cameron was certain nothing had changed either in aphysical way or in their relations with the Markovians
. It was as if hissenses had been somehow sharpened to detect an undercurrent of feelingof which he had previously been unaware. Glancing at Joyce, he sensedshe felt the same.
"I have the feeling that we missed something," she said, as they changedclothes to join Marthasa and his wife. "There was something Venor wantedus to know and wouldn't say. I would almost like to go back there againbefore we go away."
Cameron was surprised at his own annoyance with Joyce's statement. Itreflected the impressions in his own mind which he was trying to ignore."Nonsense," he said. "There's no use trying to read great profundity inthe words of an old patriarch of the woods. He's nothing except what heappears to
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