They passed into a courtyard hemmed by ornate frosty buildings. Here a large door was suddenly flung open and golden radiance streamed forth, catching them by surprise. As the ramas stood solemnly by, human servitors came rushing out to take the bridles of the chalikos, unlock the ankle chains of the prisoners, and help them to dismount.
Then came the Tanu, twenty or thirty of them, laughing and calling out greetings to Creyn in the exotic tongue and chattering in animated exuberance over the time-travelers in musical Standard English. The Tanu wore thin flowing gowns and robes of vivid tropical colors, together with fantastic jewelry, wide yoke-collars all gemmed and enameled, with brocaded and jeweled ribbons dangling front and rear. The women had wired headdresses all hung with gemstones. Here and there among the lofty exotics were a few smaller human figures, just as gaudily dressed, but wearing silver torcs instead of the Tanu gold. Bryan studied these privileged humans with interest. They seemed to be socially integrated with the taller ruling race and just as anxious to make the acquaintance of the overawed prisoners.
Among the arrivals, only Aiken was completely at ease. With his pocketed suit flashing like liquid metal, he fairly hopped about the courtyard, making mocking obeisance to the laughing Tanu ladies, most of whom were nearly a third taller than he was. Bryan stood apart from the others and watched. The Tanu nobles were solicitous of the comfort of the prisoners, joking over the incongruity of the situation, somehow managing to make the newly met exiles feel wanted and welcome. Bryan had no doubt that mental speech was flying about as fervidly as the vocal sort. He wondered what kind of psychic stimulant might be operating at the lower levels of consciousness to make even sullen Raimo and the aloof Elizabeth slowly unbend and join in the conviviality. “We don’t want you to feel left out, Bryan.” The anthropologist turned and saw a slender exotic male garbed in a simple blue robe smiling at him. He had a handsome but sunken-eyed visage, lined about the mouth as Creyn’s was. Bryan wondered whether this might be a sign of extreme age among these inhumanly youthful-looking people. The man’s hair was of the palest ivory and he wore a narrow coronet of a material resembling blue glass.
“Permit me to welcome you. I am your host, Bormol, like yourself a student of culture. How eagerly we have awaited the arrival of another trained analyst! The last anthropologist who came to us arrived nearly thirty years ago and he was unfortunately in frail health. And we need your insight so urgently! We have so much to learn about the interaction of our two races if this Exile society is to flourish to our mutual advantage. The science of your Galactic Milieu can teach us the things we must know in order to survive. Come, we have good food and drink waiting for you and your friends inside. Share with us some of your first impressions of our Many-Colored Land. Give us your initial reactions!”
Bryan managed a rueful laugh. “You flatter me, Lord Bormol. And overwhelm me — I’m damned if I can make head or tail of your world as yet. After all, I’ve only just arrived. And excuse me, but I’m so tired out after this bloody shocking day that I’m ready to drop in my tracks.”
“Forgive me. I’d completely forgotten you’re without a torc. The mental refreshment that our people have been lavishing over your companions hasn’t affected you. If you wish, we can…”
“No, thank you!”
Creyn came up and smiled ironically at the anthropologist’s sudden alarm. “Bryan would prefer to do his work without the consolations of the torc… in fact, he has made this a condition of cooperation.”
“You don’t have to coerce me,” Bryan said testily.
“Don’t misunderstand!” Bormol appeared pained. He gestured at the gaudy throng, now leading the other prisoners inside with every evidence of good fellowship. “Are your friends being coerced? The torc isn’t a symbol of bondage but of union.”
Bryan felt a surge of anger and dreadful weariness erupt in him. His voice remained calm. “I know you mean well. But there are many of us humans, one might say most of us in my world of the future, most of the normal members of humanity, who would rather die than submit to your torc. In spite of all its consolations. Now you must excuse me. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not up to any learned discussions right now. I’d like to go to bed.”
Bormol bowed his head. One of the human servants came running up with Bryan’s pack. “We will meet again in the capital. I hope you will have modified your harsh opinion of us by then, Bryan… This is Joe-Don, who will take you to a retiring room at once. Rest well.”
Bormol and Creyn glided away. Almost everyone else had already left the courtyard, “Right this way, sir,” Joe-Don said, his breezy aplomb equal to that of a bell-man in one of the Old World’s posher hostelries. “We’ve got a nice room ready for you. But too bad you’ll miss the party.”
They went off into corridors decorated in brae and gold and white. Bryan caught a glimpse of the unconscious Stein being borne away on a litter by four more human attendants.
“If there’s a doctor in the house, Joe-Don, that man could use looking after. The poor chap got clobbered both physically and mentally.”
“Don’t worry, sir. Lady Damone, Bormol’s missus, an even better medic than Creyn. We get a lot of whacked out specimens passing through here, the time-portal being the shock that it is. But most of the casualties get fixed up pretty good. This Tanu bunch don’t have anything like the tank regeneration equipment we grew up with, but they slop on through pretty good regardless. They’re mighty tough themselves and they can heal most injuries and diseases with the help of the torcs. Lady Damone’ll give your pal a good vein-feed and see to his scattered marbles. Another day, he’ll be as good as new. Quite a pile of muscle, isn’t he? They must have him tapped for the Grand Combat.”
“And what,” Bryan asked quietly, “might that be?”
Joe-Don blinked, then grinned. “Kind of sports event they have a couple of months from now, and around the end of October. Traditional with these folks. They’re great ones for traditions… Well, here’s your room, sir.”
He threw open the door to an airy chamber that had white draperies billowing in front of a large window. A vertical string of sapphire lanterns hung beside a cool-looking bed. More conventional oil lamps cast a pool of yellow radiance on a table where a simple supper had been laid out.
Joe-Don said, “If you need anything, just pull this ring beside the bed and we’ll come running. I don’t suppose you’ll require any consoling companionship? No? Well, sweet dreams anyhow.”
He whisked out and closed the door firmly behind him. Bryan didn’t bother to test the lock. He gave a great sigh and began unbuttoning his shirt. Somehow, although he had not been aware of moving upward, he had come to the topmost floor of the Tanu mansion. The view from his window over looked much of the town and gave him a distant glimpse of the city gate. Roniah lay silent and glittering, an earthbound constellation, reminding him of a Christmas display he had seen long ago on one of the more extravagant Hispanic-heritage worlds.
He wondered in a perfunctory fashion what kind of exotic cheer his companions were presently enjoying down at the Tanu party. No doubt he’d hear all about it tomorrow. Yawning, he folded the shirt… and felt the small bulk of the duro-film sheets tucked into the breast pocket. He took them out and there was her picture, glowing dimly with its own light.
Oh, Mercy.
Have they taken you and made you one of themselves, as they are trying to do with my friends? Thin sad woman with yearning sea-deep eyes and a smile that keeps me bound despite all reason! I have never heard you play your harp and sing; but my mind’s ear creates you: