Magicians of Gor

13 A Difference Seems Afoot in Ar

"There is another delka," I said to Marcus.

"Bold that it should be in such a place," said Marcus.

Marcus and I, some days after the incident of the shop, were strolling on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder, which is, I suppose, in a sense, the major thoroughfare in Ar. It is at any rate her most famous, if not busiest, avenue, and it gives access to the park of the Central Cylinder, which edifice is itself, of course, located within the park of that name. It is a long, shaded, wide, elegant avenue, with expensive shops and fountains.

"A barracks was burned last night," said Marcus. "I heard that."

"If it is true," I said, "I do not think it will be found on the public boards."

"Does there not seem a new spirit in Ar?" he asked.

"It seems quiet here," I said.

"Nonetheless," he said. "Things are different."

"Perhaps," I said.

"There, listen!" said Marcus.

We turned to look at the street. Approaching, singing, was a group of youths, in rows, a sports team, marching together. Their colors were of both Ar and Cos. Such teams, drawn from various parts of the city, competed in various games, in hurling the stone, in hurling the thonged javelin, both for distance and accuracy, in races of various sorts, in jumping, in wrestling, and such. There were meets, and local championships, with awards, such as fillets of the wool of the bounding hurt, dyed different colors, and for champions, crowns woven of the leaves of the mighty Tur tree. Eventually various teams, in their respective age brackets, would become city champions. Such sports as there were familiar to Goreans, and had for years been privately practiced at numerous palestrae throughout the city. Indeed, such palestrae, upon occasion, would compete with one another.

"That is different," said Marcus.

"There used to be such teams," I said.

"They have been revived," said Marcus.

"You see in this something of significance?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "Why would Cos revive such things? "To help them rule?" I asked. "To appear noble, well disposed, benevolent? To give the public baubles and toys, items of interest with which to beguile themselves? To create diversions, to distract Ar's attention from her defeat and sorry state?"

"They did not do this before," he said. "Why just now?"

We watched the youths as they passed us and continued on, down the street. "Why?" I asked.

"To counteract the Delta Brigade," he said. "To lessen its influence!"

"Cos does not even know we exist," I said.

"The Ubara knows," he said, "and Seremides, and the Polemarkos."

"I think you are mad," I said.

"This time," he said, "I think my Kaissa is more subtle than yours."

"I should like to think so," I said.

"What of the new art center?" he said.

"What of it?" I asked.

"That is the same thing," he said.

I laughed.

"No," he said. "I am serious! That is the same thing, but for the intellectuals, the scribes, the high castes!"

"And will they bring back the marbles from Cos for the art center?" I asked. "I am serious, Tarl," he said.

"Perhaps you are right," I said. "I hope so."

"I tell you things are changing in Ar now," he said. "They are becoming different."

"Perhaps," I said.

"The Initiates do not seem as welcome in the streets now," he said. "Men avoid them. Even some women avoid them. Some even demand they remain in their temples where they belong, away from honest, healthy folk."

"Interesting," I said.

"Now they often ring their bells and swing their censers to deserted streets," said Marcus. "In vain they chant their litanies to indifferent walls."

"I am sure it is not so bad as all that," I said.

"Are you so fond of the unproductive, parasitic caste?" he asked.

"I do not think much about them," I said.

"Surely you regret the minds they have stunted and spoiled," he said.

"If there are any such, of course," I said.

"They prey on credulity, they exploit fear, they purvey superstition," he said. "It is their way of making a living," I said.

Marcus grunted angrily.

"And doubtless many of them, or at least the simpler ones, do not even understand what they are doing. Thus it is hard to blame them, unless, say, for stupidity, or a failure to undertake inquiries or, if undertaking them, a failure to pursue them in an objective manner."

Again Marcus made an angry noise. He was one of those fellows who had not yet wearied of denouncing hypocrisy and fraud. He did not yet see the roll which such things served in the complex tapestry of life. What is some folks required lies, as the price of mental security? Should they be nonetheless denied their comforts, robbed of their illusions? Is their happiness worth less than that of others? Is it not better to tell them, if they are capable of no more, that the illusions are reality, that the lies are truth? If many desired such things, and cried out for them, is it any wonder that fellows would be found, perhaps even from noble motives, to sell them such wares, keeping the truth to themselves, as their burden and secret? I pondered the mater. I knew, as Marcus did not, of many civilizations which were unnatural, which had taken wrong paths, which were founded on myths and lies. Perhaps that is why Marcus disproved so sternly of the Initiates. To him, they seemed anomalous in the world he knew, pointless, dangerous and pathological. In the end few things are real, perhaps the weight and glitter of gold, the movement and nature of weapons, a slave at one's feet, and, too, perhaps in spite of all, if we will have it so, defiant, honor, responsibility, courage, discipline, such things, such baubles, such treasures. "Do you believe in Priest-Kings?" asked Marcus.

"Certainly," I said.

"I do not," he said.

"As you will," I said.

"But how are we to explain the Weapons Laws, the Flame Death?" he asked. "That would seem to be your problem, not mine," I said, "as I accept their existence."

"Something exists," he said, "but they are not Priest-Kings."

"That is an interesting thought," I said.

"It is only that they possess the power of Priest-Kings!" he said.

"That is a second interesting thought," I said. "But if they possess the power of Priest-Kings, why not call them Priest-Kings?"

"Do you think they would mind, if I did not?" he asked, somewhat apprehensively. "Probably not," I said. Indeed, provided men kept their laws the Priest-Kings were content to let them do much what they wished. The major concerns of Priest-Kings with men, it seemed, was to have as little to do with them as possible. That had always seemed to me understandable.

"But what is the relation of the Initiates to the Priest-Kings, if there are such?" he asked.

"One which is rather remote, I suspect," I said, "if it exists at all."

"You do not think the Priest-Kings are on intimate terms with the Initiates, do you?"

"Would you wish to be on intimate terms with an Initiate?" I asked.

"Certainly not," he said.

"There you are," I said.

"Look at that fellow," said Marcus, indicating a baker striding by. The fellow fixed a fearless gaze upon us.

"He is only one man," I said.

"There is something different in Ar these days," he said.

"He is only one man," I said.

"Who walks proudly," said Marcus.

"He will not walk so proudly if he is beaten by a Cosian patrol," I said. "In any event," said Marcus, " the power of the Initiates is certainly less now than before in the city."

"At least for the time," I said.

"For the time?" he asked.

"If men should become again confused, and fearful, and lose confidence in themselves, if they should again begin to whine, and to beg for authority and reassurance," I said, "the white robes will again appear in the streets."

"Initiates are not needed for such a purpose," he said.

"True," I said. It could be a caste, the state, a leader, many things.

"The Initiates might have provided a core of resistance to Cos," he said. "Cos saw to it, with offerings, and hetacombs, and such, that they would not do so."

"So they preached their passivity, their resignation?"

"Of course," I said. "But to reduce their offerings, threaten their coffers, imperil their power, and it will not be long before they locate their patriotism."

"Cos is very clever," said Marcus.

"Clearly," I said.

"I hate Initiates," he said.

"I had gathered that," I admitted.

"I despise them," he said.

"Perhaps it is merely that you find yourself reluctant to rejoice in dishonesty, and to celebrate blatant fraud and hypocrisy," I said.

"Do you think it could be so easily explained?" he asked.

"Possibly," I said.

"I do have my limitations," he said.

"We all do," I said.

"And yet," he said, "the world is very mysterious."

"True," I said.

"What is its nature?" he asked.

"I am sure I do not know," I said.

He suddenly struck his fist into the palm of his hand. It must of stung. A fellow turned about, looking at him, and then continued on his way. "But it is here I am," he exclaimed, looking about himself, at the street, the avenue, the buildings, the trees, the fountains, the sky. "And it is here I will live!"

"That seems to me wise," I said.

"I have enjoyed this conversation, Tarl," he said. "It has meant a great deal to me."

"I haven't understood it in the least," I said.

"Some folks are so shallow," he said.

"But perhaps you are right, I said. "Perhaps, things are different in Ar."

"Certainly!" he said, observing her.

"Hold, female!" said I.

The slave stopped, apprehensively.

"And surely she is not the first such you have seen of late," he said.

"No," I said. "Do not kneel," I told her. I wished the better to consider her legs.

Marcus and I walked about her.

"Consider the brevity of her tunic," he said, "its cleavage, its sleevelessness, the slashes at the hem of her skirt.

"Yes," I said.

The girl blushed crimson.

"This is a sign," he said, "that the virility of the men of Ar is reviving."

"Yes," I said.

"And surely you have not failed to notice that in the last few days many slaves, many, indeed, are scantier garmented than before," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"I think it is clear that the men of Ar are beginning to recollect their manhood," he said. "They are becoming more dangerous."

"Yes," I said.

Several weeks ago in Ar there had been some hints of an attempt on the part of the Ubarate, as a social-control procedure, to facilitate its goverance, a venture doubtless emanating from Cos, which had reason to fear an alert, healthy foe, to reduce the vitality and virility of the men of Ar, to further crush and depress them. This was to be done under the initial guise of sumptuary laws, ostensibly to limit the adornment and display of slaves, as though there could be much of that sort of thing in the defeated city. This was to be followed by legislation encouraging, and then apparently to later require, more modest garmenture for slaves. There were even suggestions of attempting to regulate the relationships obtaining between masters and slaves. There was some talk of greater «respect» for slaves, that they might be permitted to drink from the higher bowls at the public fountains, even the insanity that one might not be able to make use of them without their permission, thus turning the master into a slave's slave. Naturally the motivation of this, putting aside the standard camouflage of moralistic prose which may be conveniently invoked for any purpose whatsoever, even those most antithetical to nature, health, reason, truth and life, was no concern for slaves but rather a desire to diminish the men of Ar, to make them easier to manage and exploit. Naturally they were expected to accept their own castration, so to speak, as a cause for rejoicing, as a long overdue improvement of their condition. How glorious things were to be, once men had succeeded in achieving their own destruction. On the other hand the first straws testing the winds of Ar, cast in the streets, in the baths, in the taverns and markets, had been blown back with such fierceness that these castrative proposals had been almost immediately withdrawn. Indeed, a small announcement had even appeared on the boards, in the name of Ubara herself, that slave girls should obey their masters and try to be pleasing to them.

Revolution, I do not doubt, would have occurred in the city. The men of Ar would have died rather than give up at least the retained semblance of their manhood. They had experienced the dominance, the mastery. This, once tasted, is never relinquished. The mistake of the Central Cylinder in this case, of course, was in attempting to impose such reductionism on adult males, even defeated ones, who actually understood what was involved. The best prospects for the success of such policies are to implement them among men who have never tasted the mastery or, ideally, on innocent children who, if the programs are successful, will lead the child to suspect and fear himself, to experience shame and guilt at the very promptings of his own body and nature. It is a question, of course, as to the feasibility of these distortions, and the long-range consequences of them, if they prove feasible. Irreparable damage would result to the gene pool and the human race might actually, interestingly, eventually, for lack of will and joy, cease to thrive, as well, for if the human being cannot be a human being, why should it be anything else? Indeed, there is more than one way for a race to become extinct. The prehistoric wolf hunts now only in the corridors of the past. The poodle survives. Does the poodle remember? Does the wolf live in the poodle yet? I do not know. Would it not be interesting if the wolf were not dead but sleeping, and returned. Does this fear disturb the sleep of sheep?

"Kneel," I said to the female, "now."

Swiftly she knelt.

"You are pretty," I said.

"Thank you, Master," she said, frightened.

"Head to the pavement," I said, "palms on it."

She compiled, losing no time. She looked well, in this position of obeisance. "You seem fulfilled," I said.

"My master handles me well," she said.

"What would occur if you were not pleasing?" I asked.

"I would be beaten," she said.

"Stand," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Put your head back, your hands clasped behind it," I said.

"Oh!" she said.

"She is in the iron belt," I said to Marcus.

"Excellent!" he said. This, too, in its way, was a sign that manhood, or the suspicion of it, might be reasserting itself in the streets of Ar, that masters, or some of them at least, would no longer take for granted the safety of their girls in the streets. Naturally self-pride and health stimulates sexual vitality. Contrariwise, of course, as sexual vitality is stunted and crippled, so, too, will be masculine pride and health. One cannot poison a part of an animal without poisoning the whole animal.

"Speed off!" I said.

The girl sped away.

"I envy the fellow his slave," said Marcus.

"And he would probably envy you yours," I said.

"I would not trade Phoebe for her," he said.

"And he might not trade her for Phoebe," I smiled.

"Perhaps not," he said.

I wondered if a man could be a man without a slave. I supposed that he might be a strong fellow, and a good fighter, and such, without a slave. Similarly, one might have lived I supposed, without having eaten meat, without having heard music. I wondered if a woman knew what it was to be a woman without ever having had a master. It did not seem to me likely.

"Surely Cos will take note of these changes in Ar," I said.

"I have heard that there are fights among youths in Ar," he said, "that the gangs of youths called «Cosians» are now set upon by others, who speak of themselves in eccentric names, such as "The Ubars," "The Larls," and such."

"I have heard that," I said.

"And, too, interestingly," he said, "it seems that some of those lads who were «Cosians» now wander about under quite different colors, not affecting beards and hair styles reminiscent of those once associated with veterans, hirsute and shabby, returned from the delta."

"I have heard that, too," I said.

I could recall when I had first come to Ar months ago that these veterans had not been welcome in the city. In spite of the hardships they had endured and the risks they had taken on behalf of Ar, both for the Home Stone and city, they had been held in contempt. They had been insulted, spat upon, ridiculed, and despised. Emotions which might better have been spent on the enemy were ventilated on one's own brothers. Some had scorned them as embarrassments and failures, as defeated men and fools, tricked, humiliated and decimated in the north, me who had dared to return to Glorious Ar without the crown of victory. Better, said some, that they should have died in the marshes or remained in the north then return home in defeat and disgrace. But those who said that had perhaps not themselves been in the delta, or even held weapons. Others, adopting the political ruses of Cos, had scorned them as little better than criminals, and as purveyors of imperialism, as though the ambitions of Cos were not the equal of those of Ar. Many of these men were confused and bitter. Was it for this that they had done their duty, was if for this that they had faced the delta, the tracklessness, the tharlarion, the insects, the hunger, the arrows of rencers, the blades of Cos?

"Some of these lads, former, «Cosians» and others," I said, "are apparently little better, still, than vandals, but, others, interestingly, it is rumored, track troop movements, shadow Cosian patrols and record the rounds of watchmen, reporting to the Delta Brigade."

"If so," said he, "that is a dangerous game for boys. I do not think Cos, in spite of their youth, will hesitate to impale them or have them at the ends of ropes."

"Others set themselves to different tasks," I said, "such as the supervision and protection of their own neighborhoods."

"A hopeful sign," said he, "if Ar, if only in her youth, should once again begin to look after herself."

"There is the Delta Brigade," I said.

"We are not of Ar," he said.

"But others, whosoever they may be, must be," I said.

"That cannot long continue."

"No," I said.

"And it she who holds the sword," he said.

"Gross Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos, and many of his ministers," I said, "are doubtless in favor of wielding it. Until now they have doubtless been restrained only by the general effectiveness of their political warfare, the policies of spreading guilt, confusion and self-doubt in the enemy, pretending to be not the foe but the concerned friend and ally."

"Let those beware," smiled Marcus, "who are invited to dine with the sleen."

"There is a crowd ahead," I said, "at the public boards."

"They seem angry," he said.

"Let us see what is afoot," I said, and together we hurried forward, toward the boards.