e
not?"
"Lord . . . !"
"Enough! Depart!"
The priest bowed quickly and left, closing the shelves behind him.
Brahma studied Sam, who was wearing dark jodhpurs, a sky-blue khameez,
the blue-green turban of Urath and an empty scabbard upon a chain belt of
dark iron.
Sam, in turn, studied the other, who stood with blackness at his back,
wearing a feather cloak over a suit of light mail. It was caught at the
throat with a clasp of fire opal. Brahma wore a purple crown, studded with
pulsating amethysts, and he bore in his right hand a scepter mounted with
the nine auspicious gems. His eyes were two dark stains upon his dark face.
The gentle strumming of a veena occurred about him.
"Sam?" he said.
Sam nodded.
"I am trying to guess your true identity. Lord Brahma. I confess that I
cannot."
"This is as it should be," said Brahma, "if one is to be a god who was,
is and always shall be."
"Fine garments, those you wear," said Sam. "Quite fetching."
"Thank you. I find it hard to believe that you still exist. Checking, I
note that you have not sought a new body for half a century. That is taking
quite a chance."
Sam shrugged. "Life is full of chances, gambles, uncertainties. . ."
"True," said Brahma. "Pray, draw up a chair and sit down. Make yourself
comfortable."
Sam did this, and when he looked up again, Brahma was seated upon a
high throne carved of red marble, with a matching parasol flared above it.
"That looks a bit uncomfortable," he remarked.
"Foam-rubber cushion," replied the god, smiling. "You may smoke, if you
wish."
"Thanks." Sam drew his pipe from the pouch at his belt, filled it,
tamped it carefully and struck it to fire.
"What have you been doing all this time," asked the god, "since you
left the roost of Heaven?"
"Cultivating my own gardens," said Sam.
"We could have used you here," said Brahma, "in our hydroponics
section. For that matter, perhaps we still could. Tell me more of your stay
among men."
"Tiger hunts, border disputes with neighboring kingdoms, keeping up the
morale of the harem, a bit of botanical research-- things like that-- the
stuff of life," said Sam. "Now my powers slacken, and I seek once more my
youth. But to obtain it again, I understand that I must have my brains
strained. Is that true?"
"After a fashion," said Brahma.
"To what end, may I ask?"
"That wrong shall fail and right prevail," said the god, smiling.
"Supposing I'm wrong," asked Sam, "how shall I fail?"
"You shall be required to work off your karmic burden in a lesser
form."
"Have you any figures readily available as to the percentage that
fails, vis-á-vis that which prevails?"
"Think not less of me in my omniscience," said Brahma, stifling a yawn
with his scepter, "if I admit to having, for the moment, forgotten these
figures."
Sam chuckled. "You say you have need of a gardener there in the
Celestial City?"
"Yes," said Brahma. "Would you like to apply for the job?"
"I don't know," said Sam. "Perhaps."
"And then again, perhaps not?" said the other.
"Perhaps not, also," he acknowledged. "In the old days there was none
of this shillyshallying with a man's mind. If one of the First sought
renewal, he paid the body price and was served."
"We no longer dwell in the old days, Sam. The new age is at hand."
"One would almost think that you sought the removal of all of the First
who are not marshaled at your back."
"A pantheon has room for many, Sam. There is a niche for you, if you
choose to claim it."
"If I do not?"
"Then inquire in the Hall of Karma after your body."
"And if I elect godhood?"
"Your brains will not be probed. The Masters will be advised to serve
you quickly and well. A flying machine will be dispatched to convey you to
Heaven."
"It bears a bit of thinking," said Sam. "I'm quite fond of this world,
though it wallows in an age of darkness. On the other hand, such fondness
will not serve me to enjoy the things I desire, if it is decreed that I die
the real death or take on the form of an ape and wander about the jungles.
But I am not overly fond of artificial perfection either, such as existed in
Heaven when last I visited there. Bide with me a moment while I meditate."
"I consider such indecision presumptuous," said Brahma, "when one has
just been made such an offer."
"I know, and perhaps I should also, were our positions reversed. But if
I were God and you were me, I do believe I would extend a moment's merciful
silence while a man makes a major decision regarding his life."
"Sam, you are an impossible haggler! Who else would keep me waiting
while his immortality hangs in the balance? Surely you do not seek to
bargain with me?"
"Well, I do come from a long line of slizzard traders-- and I do very
badly want something."
"And what may that be?"
"Answers to a few questions which have plagued me for a while now."
"These being . . . ?"
"As you are aware, I stopped attending the old Council meetings over a
century ago, for they had become lengthy sessions calculated to postpone
decision-making, and were primarily an excuse for a Festival of the First.
Now, I have nothing against festivals. In fact, for a century and a half I
went to them only to drink good Earth booze once more. But, I felt that we
should be doing something about the passengers, as well as the offspring of
our many bodies, rather than letting them wander a vicious world, reverting
to savagery. I felt that we of the crew should be assisting them, granting
them the benefits of the technology we had preserved, rather than building
ourselves an impregnable paradise and treating the world as a combination
game preserve and whorehouse. So, I have wondered long why this thing was
not done. It would seem a fair and equitable way to run a world."
"I take it from this that you are an Accelerationist?"
"No," said Sam, "simply an inquirer. I am curious, that's all, as to
the reasons."
"Then, to answer your questions," said Brahma, "it is because they are
not ready for it. Had we acted immediately-- yes, this thing could have been
done. But we were indifferent at first. Then, when the question arose, we
were divided. Too much time passed. They are not ready, and will not be for
many centuries. If they were to be exposed to an advanced technology at this
point, the wars which would ensue would result in the destruction of the
beginnings they have already made. They have come far. They have begun a
civilization after the manner of their fathers of old. But they are still
children, and like children would they play with our gifts and be burnt by
them. They are our children, by our long-dead First bodies, and second, and
third and many after-- and so, ours is the parents' responsibility toward
them. We must not permit them to be accelerated into an industrial
revolution and so destroy the first stable society on this planet. Our
parental functions can best be performed by guiding them as we do, through
the Temples. Gods and goddesses are basically parent figures, so what could
be truer and more just than that we assume these roles and play them
thoroughly?"
"Why then do you destroy their own infant technology? The printing
press has been rediscovered on three occasions that I can remember, and
suppressed each time."
"This was done for the same reason-- they were not yet ready for it.
And it was not truly discovered, but rather it was remembered. It was a
thing out of legend which someone set about duplicating. If a thing is to
come, it must come as a result of factors already present in the culture,
and not be pulled from out of the past like a rabbit from a hat."
"It seems you are drawing a mighty fine line at that point, Brahma. I
take it from this that your minions go to and fro in the world, destroying
all signs of progress they come upon?"
"This is not true," said the god. "You talk as if we desire perpetually
this burden of godhood, as if we seek to maintain a dark age that we may
know forever the wearisome condition of our enforced divinity!"
"In a word," said Sam, "yes. What of the pray-o-mat which squats before
this very Temple? Is it on par, culturally, with a chariot?"
"That is different," said Brahma. "As a divine manifestation, it is
held in awe by the citizens and is not questioned, for religious reasons. It
is hardly the same as if gunpowder were to be introduced."
"Supposing some local atheist hijacks one and picks it apart? And
supposing he happens to be a Thomas Edison? What then?"
"They have tricky combination locks on them. If anyone other than a
priest opens one, it will blow up and take him along with it."
"And I notice you were unable to suppress the rediscovery of the still,
though you tried. So you slapped on an alcohol tax, payable to the Temples."
"Mankind has always sought release through drink," said Brahma. "It has
generally figured in somewhere in his religious ceremonies. Less guilt
involved that way. True, we tried suppressing it at first, but we quickly
saw we could not. So, in return for our tax, they receive here a blessing
upon their booze. Less guilt, less of a hangover, fewer recriminations-- it
is psychosomatic, you know -- and the tax isn't that high."
"Funny, though, how many prefer the profane brew."
"You came to pray and you are staying to scoff, is that what you're
saying, Sam? I offered to answer your questions, not debate Deicrat policies
with you. Have you made up your mind yet regarding my offer?"
"Yes, Madeleine," said Sam, "and did anyone ever tell you how lovely
you are when you're angry?"
Brahma sprang forward off the throne. "How could you? How could you
tell?" screamed the god.
"I couldn't, really," said Sam. "Until now. It was just a guess, based
upon some of your mannerisms of speech and gesture which I remembered. So
you've finally achieved your lifelong ambition, eh? I'll bet you've got a
harem, too. What's it feel like, madam, to be a real stud after having been
a gal to start out with? Bet every Lizzie in the world would envy you if she
knew. Congratulations."
Brahma drew himself up to full height and glared. The throne was a
flame at his back. The veena thrummed on, dispassionately. He raised his
scepter then and spoke:
"Prepare yourself to receive the curse of Brahma . . ." he began.
"Whatever for?" asked Sam. "Because I guessed your secret? If I am to
be a god, what difference does it make? Others must know of it. Are you
angry because the only way I could learn your true identity was by baiting
you a little? I had assumed you would appreciate me the more if I
demonstrated my worth by displaying my wit in this manner. If I have
offended you, I do apologize."
"It is not because you guessed-- or even because of the manner in which
you guessed-- but because you mocked me, that I curse you."
"Mocked you?" said Sam. "I do not understand. I intended no disrespect.
I was always on good terms with you in the old days. If you will but think
back over them, you will recall that this is true. Why should I jeopardize
my position by mocking you now?"
"Because you said what you thought too quickly, without thinking a
second time."
"Nay, my Lord. I did but jest with you as any one man might with
another when discussing these matters. I am sorry if you took it amiss. I'll
warrant you've a harem I'd envy, and which I'll doubtless try to sneak into
some night. If you'd curse me for being surprised, then curse away." He drew
upon his pipe and wreathed his grin in smoke.
Finally, Brahma chuckled. "I'm a bit quick-tempered, 'tis true," he
explained, "and perhaps too touchy about my past. Of course, I've often
jested so with other men. You are forgiven. I withdraw my beginning curse.
"And your decision, I take it, is to accept my offer?" he inquired.
"That is correct," said Sam.
"Good. I've always felt a brotherly affection for you. Go now and
summon my priest, that I may instruct him concerning your incarnation. I'll
see you soon."
"Sure thing. Lord Brahma." Sam nodded and raised his pipe. Then he
pushed back the row of shelves and sought the priest in the hall without.
Various thoughts passed through his mind, but this time he let them remain
unspoken.
That evening, the prince held council with those of his retainers who
had visited kinsmen and friends within Mahartha, and with those who had gone
about through the town obtaining news and gossip. From these he learned that
there were only ten Masters of Karma in Mahartha and that they kept their
lodgings in a palace on the southeastern slopes above the city. They made
scheduled visits to the clinics, or reading rooms, of the Temples, where the
citizens presented themselves for judgment when they applied for renewal.
The Hall of Karma itself was a massive black structure within the courtyard
of their palace, where a person applied shortly after judgment to have his
transfer made into his new body. Strake, along with two of his advisers,
departed while daylight yet remained to make sketches of the palace
fortifications. Two of the prince's courtiers were dispatched across town to
deliver an invitation to late dining and revelry to the Shan of Irabek, an
old man and distant neighbor of Siddhartha's with whom he had fought three
bloody border skirmishes and occasionally hunted tiger. The Shan was
visiting with relatives while waiting his appointment with the Masters of
Karma. Another man was sent to the Street of the Smiths, where he requested
of the metal workers that they double the prince's order and have it ready
by early morning. He took along additional money to ensure their
cooperation.
Later, the Shan of Irabek arrived at the Hostel of Hawkana, accompanied
by six of his relatives, who were of the merchant caste but came armed as if
they were warriors. Seeing that the hostel was a peaceable abode, however,
and that none of the other guests or visitors bore arms, they put aside
their weapons and seated themselves near the head of the table, beside the
prince.
The Shan was a tall man, but his posture was considerably hunched. He
wore maroon robes and a dark turban reaching down almost to his great,
caterpillar-like eyebrows, which were the color of milk. His beard was a
snowy bush, his teeth shown as dark stumps when he laughed and his lower
eyelids jutted redly, as though sore and weary after so many years of
holding back his bloodshot orbs in their obvious attempt to push themselves
forward out of their sockets. He laughed a phlegmy laugh and pounded the
table, repeating, "Elephants are too expensive these days, and no damn good
at all in mud!" for the sixth time; this being in reference to their
conversation as to the best time of year to fight a war. Only one very new
in the business would be so boorish as to insult a neighbor's ambassador
during the rainy season, it was decided, and that one would thereafter be
marked as a nouveau roi.
As the evening wore on, the prince's physician excused himself so as to
superintend the preparation of the dessert and introduce a narcotic into the
sweetcakes being served up to the Shan. As the evening wore further on,
subsequent to the dessert, the Shan grew more and more inclined to close his
eyes and let his head slump forward for longer and longer periods of time.
"Good party," he muttered, between snores, and finally, "Elephants are no
damn good at all. . ." and so passed to sleep and could not be awakened. His
kinsmen did not see fit to escort him home at this time, because of the fact
that the prince's physician had added chloral hydrate to their wine, and
they were at that moment sprawled upon the floor, snoring. The prince's
chief courtier arranged with Hawkana for their accommodation, and the Shan
himself was taken to Siddhartha's suite, where he was shortly visited by the
physician, who loosened his garments and spoke to him in a soft, persuasive
voice:
"Tomorrow afternoon," he was saying, "you will be Prince Siddhartha and
these will be your retainers. You will report to the Hall of Karma in their
company, to claim there the body which Brahma has promised you without the
necessity of prior judgment You will remain Siddhartha throughout the
transfer, and you will return here in the company of your retainers, to be
examined by me. Do you understand?"
"Yes," whispered the Shan.
"Then repeat what I have told you."
'Tomorrow afternoon," said the Shan, "I will be Siddhartha, commanding
these retainers. . ."
Bright bloomed the morning, and debts were settled beneath it. Half of
the prince's men rode out of the city, heading north. When they were out of
sight of Mahartha they began circling to the southeast, working their way
through the hills, stopping only to don their battle gear.
Half a dozen men were dispatched to the Street of the Smiths, whence
they returned bearing heavy canvas bags, the contents of which were divided
into the pouches of three dozen men who departed after breakfast into the
city.
The prince took counsel with his physician, Narada, saying, "If I have
misjudged the clemency of Heaven, then am I cursed indeed."
But the doctor smiled and replied, "I doubt you misjudged."
And so they passed from morning into the still center of day, the Ridge
of the Gods golden above them.
When their charges awakened, they ministered to their hangovers. The
Shan was given a posthypnotic and sent with six of Siddhartha's retainers to
the Palace of the Masters. His kinsmen were assured that he remained
sleeping in the prince's quarters.
"Our major risk at this point," said the physician, "is the Shan. Will
he be recognized? The factors in our favor are that he is a minor potentate
from a distant kingdom, he has only been in town for a short period of time,
has spent most of that time with his kinsmen and he has not yet presented
himself for judgment. The Masters should still be unaware of your own
physical appearance -- "
"Unless I have been described to them by Brahma or his priest," said
the prince. "For all I know, my communication may have been taped and the
tape relayed to them for identification purposes."
"Why, though, should this have been done?" inquired Narada. "They
should hardly expect stealth and elaborate precautions of one for whom they
are doing a favor. No, I think we should be able to pull it off. The Shan
would not be able to pass a probe, of course, but he should pass surface
scrutiny, accompanied as he is by your retainers. At the moment, he does
believe he is Siddhartha, and he could pass any simple lie-detection test in
that regard-- which I feel is the most serious obstacle he might encounter."
So they waited, and the three dozen men returned with empty pouches,
gathered their belongings, mounted their horses and one by one drifted off
through the town, as though in search of revelry, but actually drifting
slowly in a southeasterly direction.
"Good-bye, good Hawkana," said the prince, as the remainder of his men
packed and mounted. "I shalt bear, as always, good report of your lodgings
to all whom I meet about the land. I regret that my stay here must be so
unexpectedly terminated, but I must ride to put down an uprising in the
provinces as soon as I leave the Hall of Karma. You are aware of how these
things spring up the moment a ruler's back is turned. So, while I should
have liked to spend another week beneath your roof, I fear that this
pleasure must be postponed until another time. If any ask after me, tell
them to seek me in Hades."
"Hades, my Lord?"
"It is the southernmost province of my kingdom, noted for its
excessively warm weather. Be sure to phrase it just so, especially to the
priests of Brahma, who may become concerned as to my whereabouts in days to
come."
"I'll do that, my Lord."
"And take especial care of the boy Dele. I expect to hear him play
again on my next visit."
Hawkana bowed low and was about to begin a speech, so the prince
decided upon that moment to toss him the final bag of coins and make an
additional comment as to the wines of Urath-- before mounting quickly and
shouting orders to his men, in such a manner as to drown out any further
conversation.
Then they rode through the gateway and were gone, leaving behind only
the physician and three warriors, whom he was to treat an additional day for
an obscure condition having to do with the change of climate, before they
rode on to catch up with the others.
They passed through the town, using side streets, and came after a time
to the roadway that led up toward the Palace of the Masters of Karma. As
they passed along its length, Siddhartha exchanged secret signs with those
three dozen of his warriors who lay in hiding at various points off in the
woods.
When they had gone half the distance to the palace, the prince and the
eight men who accompanied him drew rein and made as if to rest, waiting the
while for the others to move abreast of them, passing carefully among the
trees.
Before long, however, they saw movement on the trail ahead. Seven
riders were advancing on horseback, and the prince guessed them to be his
six lancers and the Shan. When they came within hailing distance, they
advanced to meet them.
"Who are you?" inquired the tall, sharp-eyed rider mounted upon the
white mare. "Who are you that dares block the passage of Prince Siddhartha,
Binder of Demons?"
The prince looked upon him-- muscular and tanned, in his mid-twenties,
possessed of hawklike features and a powerful bearing -- and he felt
suddenly that his doubts had been unfounded and that he bad betrayed himself
by his suspicion and mistrust. It appeared from the lithe physical specimen
seated upon his own mount that Brahma had bargained in good faith,
authorizing for his use an excellent and sturdy body, which was now
possessed by the ancient Shan.
"Lord Siddhartha," said his man, who had ridden at the side of the Lord
of Irabek, "it appears that they dealt fairly. I see naught amiss about
him."
"Siddhartha!" cried the Shan. "Who is this one you dare address with
the name of your master? I am Siddhartha, Binder of-- " With that he threw
his head back and his words gurgled in his throat.
Then the fit hit the Shan. He stiffened, lost his seating and fell from
the saddle. Siddhartha ran to his side. There were little flecks of foam at
the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were rolled upward.
"Epileptic!" cried the prince. "They meant me to have a brain which had
been damaged."
The others gathered around and helped the prince minister to the Shan
until the seizure passed and his wits had returned to his body.
"Wh-what happened?" he asked.
"Treachery," said Siddhartha. "Treachery, oh Shan of Irabek! One of my
men will convey you now to my personal physician, for an examination. After
you have rested, I suggest you lodge a protest at Brahma's reading room. My
physician will treat you at Hawkana's, and then you will be released. I am
sorry this thing happened. It will probably be set aright. But if not,
remember the last siege of Kapil and consider us even on all scores. Good
afternoon, brother prince." He bowed to the other, and his men helped the
Shan to mount Hawkana's bay, which Siddhartha had borrowed earlier.
Mounting the mare, the prince observed their departure, then turned to
the men who stood about him, and he spoke in a voice sufficiently loud to be
heard by those who waited off the road:
"The nine of us will enter. Two blasts upon the horn, and you others
follow. If they resist, make them wish they had been more prudent, for three
more blasts upon the horn will bring the fifty lancers down from the hills,
if they be needed. It is a palace of ease, and not a fort where battles
would be fought. Take the Masters prisoner. Do not harm their machineries or
allow others to do so. If they do not resist us, all well and good. If they
do, we shall walk through the Palace and Hall of the Masters of Karma like a
small boy across an extensive and excessively elaborate ant hill. Good luck.
No gods be with you!"
And turning his horse, he headed on up the road, the eight lancers
singing softly at his back.
The prince rode through the wide double gate, which stood open and
unguarded. He set immediately to wondering concerning secret defenses that
Strake might have missed.
The courtyard was landscaped and partly paved. In a large garden area,
servants were at work pruning, trimming and cultivating. The prince sought
after weapon emplacements and saw none. The servants glanced up as he
entered, but did not halt their labors.
At the far end of the courtyard was the black stone Hall. He advanced
in that direction, his horsemen following, until he was hailed from the
steps of the palace itself, which lay to his right.
He drew rein and turned to look in that direction. The man wore black
livery, a yellow circle on his breast, and he carried an ebony staff. He was
tall, heavy and muffled to the eyes. He did not repeat his salutation, but
stood waiting.
The prince guided his mount to the foot of the wide stairway. "I must
speak to the Masters of Karma," he stated.
"Have you an appointment?" inquired the man.
"No," said the prince, "but it is a matter of importance."
"Then I regret that you have made this trip for nothing," replied the
other. "An appointment is necessary. You may make arrangements at any Temple
in Mahartha."
He then struck upon the stair with his staff, turned his back and began
to move away.
"Uproot that garden," said the prince to his men, "cut down yonder
trees, heap everything together and set a torch to it."
The man in black halted, turned again.
Only the prince waited at the foot of the stair. His men were already
moving off in the direction of the garden.
"You can't do that," said the man.
The prince smiled.
His men dismounted and began hacking at the shrubbery, kicking they way
through the flower beds.
"Tell them to stop!"
"Why should I? I have come to speak with the Masters of Karma, and you
tell me that I cannot. I tell you that I can, and will. Let us see which of
us is correct."
"Order them to stop," said the other, "and I will bear your message to
the Masters."
"Halt!" cried the prince. "But be ready to begin again."
The man in black mounted the stairs, vanished into the palace. The
prince fingered the horn that hung on a cord about his neck.
In a short while there was movement, and armed men began to emerge from
the doorway. The prince raised his horn and gave wind to it twice.
The men wore leather armor-- some still buckling it hastily into
place-- and caps of the same material. Their sword arms were padded to the
elbow, and they wore small, oval-shaped metal shields, bearing as device a
yellow wheel upon a black field. They carried long, curved blades. They
filled the stairway completely and stood as if waiting orders.
The man in black emerged again, and he stood at the head of the stair.
"Very well," he stated, "if you have a message for the Masters, say it!"
"Are you a Master?" inquired the prince.
"I am."
"Then must your rank be lowest of them all, it you must also do duty as
doorman. Let me speak to the Master in charge here."
"Your insolence will be repaid both now and in a life yet to come,"
observed the Master.
Then three dozen lancers rode through the gate and arrayed themselves
at the sides of the prince. The eight who had begun the deflowering of the
garden remounted their horses and moved to join the formation, blades laid
bare across their laps.
"Must we enter your palace on horseback?" inquired the prince. "Or will
you now summon the other Masters, with whom I wish to hold conversation?"
Close to eighty men stood upon the stair facing them, blades in hand.
The Master seemed to weigh the balance of forces. He decided in favor of
maintaining things as they were.
"Do nothing rash," he stated, "for my men will defend themselves in a
particularly vicious fashion. Wait upon my return. I shall summon the
others."
The prince filled his pipe and lit it. His men sat like statues, lances
ready. Perspiration was most evident upon the faces of the foot soldiers who
held the first rank on the stairway.
The prince, to pass the time, observed to his lancers, "Do not think to
display your skill as you did at the last siege of Kapil. Make target of the
breast, rather than the head.
"Also," he continued, "think not to engage in the customary mutilation
of the wounded and the slain-- for this is a holy place and should not be
profaned in such a manner.
"On the other hand," he added, "I shall take it as a personal affront
if there are not ten prisoners for sacrifice to Nirriti the Black, my
personal patron-- outside these walls, of course, where observance of the
Dark Feast will not be held so heavily against us . . ."
There was a clatter to the right, as a foot soldier who had been
staring up the length of Strake's lance passed out and fell from the bottom
stair.
"Stop!" cried the figure in black, who emerged with six others --
similarly garbed-- at the head of the stairway. "Do not profane the Palace
of Karma with bloodshed. Already that fallen warrior's blood is-- "
"Rising to his cheeks," finished the prince, "if he be conscious -- for
he is not slain."
"What is it you want?" The figure in black who was addressing him was
of medium height, but of enormous girth. He stood like a huge, dark barrel,
his staff a sable thunderbolt.
"I count seven," replied the prince. "I understand that ten Masters
reside here. Where are the other three?"
"Those others are presently in attendance at three reading rooms in
Mahartha. What is it you want of us?"
"You are in charge here?"
"Only the Great Wheel of the Law is in charge here."
"Are you the senior representative of the Great Wheel within these
walls?"
"I am."
"Very well. I wish to speak with you in private-- over there," said the
prince, gesturing toward the black Hall.
"Impossible!"
The prince knocked his pipe empty against his heel, scraped its bowl
with the point of his dagger, replaced it in his pouch. Then he sat very
erect upon the white mare and clasped the horn in his left hand. He met the
Master's eyes.
"Are you absolutely certain of that?" he asked.
The Master's mouth, small and bright, twisted around words he did not
speak. Then:
"As you say," he finally acknowledged. "Make way for me here!" and he
passed down through the ranks of the warriors and stood before the white
mare.
The prince guided the horse with his knees, turning her in the
direction of the dark Hall.
"Hold ranks, for now!" called out the Master.
"The same applies," said the prince to his men.
The two of them crossed the courtyard, and the prince dismounted before
the Hall.
"You owe me a body," he said in a soft voice.
"What talk is this?" said the Master.
"I am Prince Siddhartha of Kapil, Binder of Demons."
"Siddhartha has already been served," said the other.
"So you think," said the prince, "served up as an epileptic, by order
of Brahma. This is not so, however. The man you treated earlier today was an
unwilling impostor. I am the real Siddhartha, oh nameless priest, and I have
come to claim my body-- one that is whole and strong, and without hidden
disease. You will serve me in this matter. You will serve me willingly or
unwillingly, but you will serve me."
"You think so?"
"I think so," replied the prince.
"Attack!" cried the Master, and he swung his dark staff at the prince's
head.
The prince ducked the blow and retreated, drawing his blade. Twice, he
parried the staff. Then it fell upon his shoulder, a glancing blow, but
sufficient to stagger him. He circled around the white mare, pursued by the
Master. Dodging, keeping the horse between himself and his opponent, he
raised the horn to his lips and sounded it three tunes. Its notes rose above
the fierce noises of the combat on the palace stair. Panting, he turned and
raised his guard in time to ward off a temple blow that would surely have
slain him had it landed.
"It is written," said the Master, almost sobbing out the words, "that
he who gives orders without having the power to enforce them, that man is a
fool."
"Even ten years ago," panted the prince, "you'd never have laid that
staff on me."
He hacked at it, hoping to split the wood, but the other always managed
to turn the edge of his blade, so that while he nicked it and shaved it in
places, the grain held and the staff remained of a piece.
Using it as a singlestick, the Master laid a solid blow across the
prince's left side, and he felt his ribs break within him. . . . He fell.
It was not by design that it happened, for the blade spun from out his
hands as he collapsed; but the weapon caught the Master across the shins and
he dropped to his knees, howling.
"We're evenly matched, at that," gasped the prince. "My age against
your fat . . ."
He drew his dagger as he lay there, but could not hold it steady. He
rested his elbow on the ground. The Master, tears in his eyes, attempted to
rise and fell again to his knees.
There came the sound of many hooves.
"I am not a fool," said the prince, "and now I have the power to
enforce my orders."
"What is happening?"
"The rest of my lancers are arrived. Had I entered in full force, you'd
have holed up like a gekk in a woodpile, and it might have taken days to
pull your palace apart and fetch you out. Now I have you in the palm of my
hand."
The Master raised his staff.
The prince drew back his arm.
"Lower it," he said, "or I'll throw the dagger. I don't know myself
whether I'll miss or hit, but I may hit. You're not anxious to gamble
against the real death, are you?"
The Master lowered his staff.
"You will know the real death," said the Master, "when the wardens of
Karma have made dog meat of your horse soldiers."
The prince coughed, stared disinterestedly at his bloody spittle. "In
the meantime, let's discuss politics," he suggested.
After the sounds of battle had ended, it was Strake-- tall, dusty, his
hair near matching the gore that dried on his blade -- Strake, who was
nuzzled by the white mare as he saluted his prince and said, "It is over."
"Do you hear that, Master of Karma?" asked the prince. "Your wardens
are dog meat."
The Master did not answer.
"Serve me now and you may have your life," said the prince. "Refuse,
and I'll have it."
"I will serve you," said the Master.
"Strake," ordered the prince, "send two men down into the town -- one
to fetch back Narada, my physician, and the other to go to the Street of the
Weavers and bring here Jannaveg the sailmaker. Of the three lancers who
remain at Hawkana's, leave but one to hold the Shan of Irabek till sundown.
He is then to bind him and leave him, joining us here himself."
Strake smiled and saluted.
"Now bring men to bear me within the Hall, and to keep an eye on this
Master."
He burned his old body, along with all the others. The wardens of
Karma, to a man, had passed in battle. Of the seven nameless Masters, only
the one who had been fat survived. While the banks of sperm and ova, the
growth tanks and the body lockers could not be transported, the transfer
equipment itself was dismantled under the direction of Dr. Narada, and its
components were loaded onto the horses of those who had fallen in the
battle. The young prince sat upon the white mare and watched the jaws of
flame close upon the bodies. Eight pyres blazed against the predawn sky. The
one who had been a sailmaker turned his eyes to the pyre nearest the gate--
the last to be ignited, its flames were only just now reaching the top,
where lay the gross bulk of one who wore a robe of black, a circle of yellow
on the breast. When the flames touched it and the robe began to smolder, the
dog who cowered in the ruined garden raised his head in a howl that was near
to a sob.
"This day your sin account is filled to overflowing," said the
sailmaker.
"But, ah, my prayer account!" replied the prince. "I'll stand on that
for the time being. Future theologians will have to make the final decision,
though, as to the acceptability of all those slugs in the pray-o-mats. Let
Heaven wonder now what happened here this day-- where I am, if I am, and
who. The time has come to ride, my captain. Into the mountains for a while,
and then our separate ways, for safety's sake. I am not sure as to the road
I will follow, save that it leads to Heaven's gate and I must go armed."
"Binder of Demons," said the other, and he smiled.
The lancer chief approached. The prince nodded him. Orders were
shouted.
The columns of mounted men moved forward, passed out through the gates
of the Palace of Karma, turned off the roadway and headed up the slope that
lay to the southeast of the city of Mahartha, comrades blazing like the dawn
at their back.
III
It is said that, when the Teacher appeared, those of all castes went to
hear his teachings, as well as animals, gods and an occasional saint, to
come away improved and uplifted. It was generally conceded that he had
received enlightenment, except by those who believed him to be a fraud,
sinner, criminal or practical joker. These latter ones were not all to be
numbered as his enemies; but, on the other hand, not all of those improved
and uplifted could be counted as his friends and supporters. His followers
called him Mahasamatman and some said he was a god. So, after it was seen
that he had been accepted as a teacher, was looked upon with respect, had
many of the wealthy numbered as his supporters and had gained a reputation
reaching far across the land, he was referred to as Tathagatha, meaning He
Who Has Achieved. It must be noted that while the goddess Kali (sometimes
known as Durga in her softer moments) never voiced a formal opinion as to
his buddhahood, she did render him the singular honor of dispatching her
holy executioner to pay him her tribute, rather than a mere hired assassin.
. . .
There is no disappearing of the true Dhamma
until a false Dhamma arises in the world.
When the false Dhamma arises, he makes the
true Dhamma to disappear.
Samyutta-nikaya (II, 224)
Near the city of Alundil there was a rich grove of blue-barked trees,
having purple foliage like feathers. It was famous for its beauty and the
shrinelike peace of its shade. It had been the property of the merchant Vasu
until his conversion, at which time he had presented it to the teacher
variously known as Mahasamatman, Tathagatha and the Enlightened One. In that
wood did this teacher abide with his followers, and when they walked forth
into the town at midday their begging bowls never went unfilled.
There was always a large number of pilgrims about the grove. The
believers, the curious and those who preyed upon the others were constantly
passing through it. They came by horseback, they came by boat, they came on
foot.
Alundil was not an overly large city. It had its share of thatched
huts, as well as wooden bung