The Best of Lester del Rey

The Seat of Judgment

Night had fallen, but the city gleamed with the angry red of dying fires, and the crowds still fought back and forth across the streets, howling in sorrow and rage. But in front of the barracks beyond the Earth palace, the fighting seemed spent, and the mob had thinned to a scattering of huddled, dazed figures.

Lorg, one of the Ludh mercenaries, broke from a side street in an exhausted attempt to run. Two of his arms hung useless, his clothing was ripped to shreds, his bow was gone, and his body was covered with wounds; he no longer felt them—his mind was filled only with the need for a weapon.

He hesitated, listening for pursuit. Then, with a final staggering run, he burst through the barracks door and headed for the bow racks.

Light hit his eyes, jerking him to a stop. They’d guessed his destination and beaten him here. There were a dozen of them, headed by the renegade, Pars, whose bow was already pulled taut.

Pars’ voice was sick as he stared at his fellow Ludh, nodding to the others. “He’s one of the butchers,” he said heavily. The bowstring stretched tighter.

“Renegade! Adominist!” Lorg screamed the words, knowing it was too late for words. “When Earth catches you—!”

Pars’ head shook more firmly. “Earth!” He spat the word out harshly. “The men of Earth are dead a hundred years, Lorg. Only the weaklings are left. They’ll never a&i until they have to—and then too late. Pray to your own false gods, Lorg, not to Earth!”

Lorg leaped, but the arrow was already in flight. It was a sliver, a wand, a lance—then a stake driving toward him.

Pors dropped the bow and leaned against the wall, sobbing harshly—but not for the death of Lorg.

Beyond the high walls of the spaceport, Sayon seemed almost unchanged by the thirty years since Eli Judson had last seen the planet. Time might have ceased to exist here, though it had dealt heavily enough with him. The grayish-blue uniform of the Colonial Service hung slackly on his sinewy, old man’s body. The black was almost gone from his hair, bitter lines had been etched across his hollow-cheeked face, and his sight was almost useless without his glasses. In a few more years, it would be too late for even the geriatric treatments back on Earth to help him.

He grunted uncomfortably as the llamalike beast he rode jolted up the rough road to the top of a hill, then held up his hand to stop his escort. “It looks peaceful enough,” he observed.

“So does a fusion bomb until it goes off,” Dupont answered hi his irritatingly high-pitched voice. His stout face was sweating profusely, and he made nervously futile gestures with a handkerchief.

Earth must be hard up to pick such a man for planet administrator, even on a backwater world like this, Judson thought. He shrugged and reached for his binoculars to survey the valley below.

The air was crystal clear in the aftermath of one of the seasonal storms. Groves of dense-fruited faya berries and pastures dotted with flocks of green-wooled theom covered the hillsides. Downtrail, a caravan was meandering upward, loaded with precious spices, perfumes, and uranium ore for the space trade, and he could hear the faint tinkle of bells as the beasts moved. Other caravans were winding through a pass in the opposite hills to the north, and the eastern harbor was crowded with galleys and gaudy with their multi-colored sails.

He shifted to study the city beyond the quays. Kalva had grown until its maze of low buildings and twisting little streets now stretched far beyond the old walls. Judson knew that most of the city was filled with squalor and filth, but distance softened that. The yellow bricks and dark tile roofs seemed to sparkle serenely in the afternoon sunlight with a hint of patterns that never became fixed.

Over the center of the city, the great temple reared its seven marble tiers, capped by a flattened dome of burnished gold plate. Judson shifted to higher magnification to study the square in front of the building. The crowds seemed thick there, but hardly anyone was going up the great steps. With the festival of Mesea due to begin tomorrow evening, that was a jarringly false note.

Dupont coughed nervously. “We’d better get going. If there’s any trouble…”

“From one Sdyonese?” Judson asked.

“Mohammet was only one man, and a sick one,” Dupont pointed out. “Besides, these people have a lot of legends of human gods.”

“Goddesses,” Judson corrected him. Then he grimaced as memories came pouring back. Meia was thirty years in his past and should have been forgotten. He stiffened in the saddle and motioned them on.

This time two of the bowmen of Ludh moved in front. They were the usual mercenaries in this section of the galaxy—yellow, hairless apes with wolf muzzles. As soldiers, they were so good that one should have been guard enough, instead of the six Dupont had brought.

They came to the caravan he had seen, drawn aside to let them pass. There seemed nothing wrong in the attitude of the woman leader, though he saw Dupont frown at an odd sign she made; it was probably religious, though he didn’t recognize it.

The Sayonese were more nearly human than most races, but still alien enough. The women’s chests were flat under their brief halters—naturally, since they were marsupials—and feeif pouches showed clearly above the slit skirts both “gexes wore. Both their wrinkled skin and coarse hair were green, while their ears and noses were grotesquely large. With their squat, heavy bodies they might have been trolls from Earth’s mythology. But after the snakes of Tarshi or the bowmen of Ludh, they looked amazingly manlike.

Even their customs and religions resembled some Earth had once known, though their god was a righteous, demanding Mother-Principle. Earth had expected easy conquest, counting on their legends of incarnate goddesses who were practically perfect images of human women, but only drastic action and the burning of half the temple had overcome that mistake a century ago. Since then, however, the priestesses had maintained peace well enough—at least until now.

“Have you seen this prophet you reported?” he asked Dupont.

The man shook his head, reaching for his kerchief again. “Only films from a distance. He came out of the desert a year ago and stuck to the provinces, picking up converts. It wasn’t until last week he moved to’Kalva for the holidays. And you can’t believe all the reports. They’re a mess of lies about miracles.”

“You haven’t picked him up for questioning?”

“I’m not supposed to mix in with local religion. You know that!” Dupont’s voice was petulant. “It’s up to you and the high priestess, the Fas Kaia. She’s the one who asked the Sector Governor for a warship and a company of Earth guards to keep peace.”

Judson grimaced again. The Sector Governor had a warship, but no adequate crew of fighting men for it. The youth of Earth was too busy enjoying the luxuries from a thousand worlds to bother controlling the planets now, it seemed. So he’d been sent instead, over his protests. As a mere vice-governor, he was expendable.

They were entering Kalva now, heading toward the temple and the Earth Administration palace beyond. Judson studied the crowds, realizing time had brought changes. Poverty was worse and the slaves looked ill fed. The temple taxes must be murderous. The streets were jammed with people and more pilgrims were arriving with every caravan, many wearing swords in defiance of Mesea custom. The old market was solid with skin tents and crude shelters, filling the air with stench and clamor. One skin-rotter could infect the whole area.

“Converts to Oe Athon,” Dupont commented, making a mispronounced mockery of the title. “It thins out beyond the temple. There’ll be time for a bath before the Fas Kaia reaches the palace, I guess.”

The huddled ranks of unwashed Sayonese made way for them reluctantly. Their green faces stared at the humans and Ludh without seeming to see them, filled with a curious, expectant ecstasy. They might have been drug addicts, except that the drugs Earth shipped were too expensive for the masses. They seemed peaceful enough—but fanatics could seek peace one minute and start a jehad the next.

Now the street swept around the huge temple, and the crowd grew thinner. Ahead lay the palace, the Ludh barracks, and the ugly, barren cemetery hill at the end of the street. Judson glanced at the forbidding mound, then began yanking out his binoculars, cursing.

Near the top of the cemetery hill, four thin posts carried the rotting flesh of Sayonese bodies. Nearby, another wretch was still alive, sitting on the sharpened point of a stake. It had been greased until his straining hands couldn’t hold his weight, and his feet rested on a mound of sand that sifted away with each writhing, tortured movement. Slowly but steadily, his body was sinking lower around the point.

At a tune like this, the fools had revived the Seat!

Judson swung out of the saddle to the ground, shaking his head as Dupont slowed. “Go on, damn it. I’ll handle this my way,” he shouted. The huddles of Sayonese parted to let him through, until he was past them, climbing up the steep steps to the temple.

The priestesses must have been watching. There was a shout, and two of them trotted down to help him. To his surprise, he was in need of their assistance; his age was showing in the labor of his breathing. “Tell the Fas Kaia I’m here,” he jjanted.

“The Fas Kaia-greets the Oe Eli,” a heavy alto voice answered from the top of the steps, speaking in pure high Saydnese.

He caught his breath while they studied each other. She was an old woman, so fat that her skin was stretched to paleness, and her bloated body was loaded with jewels. But there was a firmness about her as she waved the lesser priestesses away. She nodded at last. “You’re a strong man and a realist, I think. Thank Her for that.”

“Realist enough to know you’can’t tax people to starvation and hold them by torture,” he told her sharply. He gestured toward the hill. “Did you think I was too stupid to see that?”

She sighed, turning one ear toward the screams of the dying man that came faintly over the noise from the streets.

“I expected you to see it,” she said quietly. “These are bad times, Oe Eli—so bad that those rogues dared to try looting the temple. I may have lied in calling them followers of Athon, but their sentence was legal. As for the tax—I get what I can, but I don’t starve my people. They do that themselves. Every fool on Say6n is in Kalva, to see this Athon or watch what I do to him. I’ve emptied my own stores, and there still isn’t enough food for afl.”

Slowly the anger ran out of him. Even under the codex Earth had drafted, the Seat was approved for anyone who profaned the temple. Such stupidity deserved whatever it got. “My apologies, Kaia.”

“There was no offense, Eli,” she told him, smiling quickly at the ritual of names. “Now, if you’ll consent, we can talk better in my quarters.”

In the little room behind the great gold and jade statue of Her, she waved the slaves aside and served him mild faya wine and some of the matchless Kalvan cheese. Then she sank back gratefully onto her cushions, setting up a tinkling of ornaments.

“‘A wise man has many swords’,” she quoted. “I am glad your Governor sent you instead of the warship the administrator requested—which could have done no good. Perhaps together you and I can find a solution. Eh’, when you were here before, how much did you learn of Her incarnations and their power?”

He could feel the muscles of his face tense, but he forced himself to remain calm. “I met one of your goddesses and saw what she could do,” he answered.

“Meia!” Kaia’s eyes seemed to gleam suddenly, as if a light had been turned on behind them. Then she relaxed again. “I heard rumors, though I was only serving in the temple brothel at the time. Well, at least you know that a child can be born to our race who looks something like one of you—and who can grow up to work miracles. This Athon claims to be one of them.”

“A man?” Judson asked in surprise, though he should have expected it.

She nodded. “All were girls, except the first, who founded our religion in a series of bloody holy wars. Some legends make it seem that he was fertile, unlike the girls, and that they may all have been seed from his loins. But the people believe they are incarnations of the Goddess, and they don’t disturb the temple too much. Athon does.”

“Yet you didn’t have him assassinated when he first appeared?” Judson asked. He was trying to adjust his thinking to the new facts. Some kind of strange mutation, recessive and with linked genes, carrying the ability of mental healing? It was possible. Earth had found and developed a few minds with some of the same ability; they were the ones who handled the expensive geriatric rejuvenation treatments.

“I tried,” she admitted. “More than once. But he converted my assassins and my spies. Then I tried to persuade the administrator to proclaim him a human, pretending to be Sayonese. There was the missionary woman before my time, you know. She tried it, until Earth found her here.”

Judson had some memory from his reading. He frowned over the idea. It would make things easier, certainly. The Sayonese took the mysterious word “Science” as the unimpressive answer to anything humans might do, and they’d “regard any alien race dabbling in their religion as “the ultimate abomination. Damn Du-pont! The man could have used his brains instead of the rule book once in his life; instead, he’d played it safe until the last possible minute and then yelled for help.

“I suppose Dupont took it under advisement and warned you not to touch the man until it could be proved he wasn’t human?” he guessed. At her nod, he swore softly. It fitted too well. “Do you think this Athon is human?”

She shrugged, glancing bitterly at a framed copy of the Earth-Sayon covenant. “Who knows what a male incarnation would be like? And how can I tell about Earthmen when every one I have seen is different in size, shape—and even color? My hands are bound. If he is human, I can do nothing. If he is of Sdyon, he is beyond my power as an incarnation! Yet he must be stopped, for the good of both your world and mine. Here!”

She pulled a jewel-studded box to her and began removing papers from it, written in the native script. “Can you read these?” she asked. At his nod, she passed them over to him. “Take them with you. You’ll see he preaches both a Father-Principle and a Mother-Principle. He wants the riches of the temple stripped away and divided among everyone. He claims all races are equal. Eli, consider what that would do to Earth’s position! Or think how little you could deal with Sayon without the temple—as the temple cannot do without Earth now. Is Earth strong enough in this Sector today to conquer Sayon against a fanatic people—or to hold the other worlds if this planet breaks away?”

Abruptly, she stopped to study him. Then a slow, hard smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I was desperate enough to think of bribing you, Eli. But a poor man after forty years in your Service must be ah honest one. Still, at least, you can see what I chose for you.”

It lay on the bottom of the box, gleaming iridescent in the light and silvery white in the shadows—a necklace of the almost mythical moon pearls. On Earth, one would buy full geriatric treatments and ten would win the governorship of almost any Sector he could name. His hand shook, but he managed a smile as he reached out to close the lid.

Her own laugh sounded strained as she put the box away. “Well, perhaps someday the Goddess will reward you for honesty. One can always hope,” she said. Then she heaved herself up and turned to the doorway. “I’ve got a chariot waiting to take you to the palace.”

It was on a nearby ramp that ran downward gradually until it passed through a narrow gate below the steps, but Judson hardly noticed the path the priestess driving it chose. He was cursing to himself and at himself as the picture of his interview with Kaia solidified in his thoughts. She’d given him a little information, shoved the entire responsibility on him, and—yes, damn it—she’d managed to offer him the moon pearls for his help! Those final words could only mean that. She’d managed it within an hour of meeting him; yet on her own ground and hi her own specialty, she couldn’t handle the problem she’d given him!

Abruptly, the chariot jerked to a jarring halt and began backing. He looked up. The street they had been about to enter—the main street between palace and temple—was crammed with some kind of procession. In the very center, however, there was a clear space where one heavily-robed figure moved by itself.

He caught the priestess’ hands as she tried to turn the team around. “Wait. Is that Athon?”

She nodded, hate and sickness on her face.

The binoculars did little good. The light was already failing, and the slow-moving figure seemed completely covered in a robe and hood. Judson turned to glance at the crowd, then focused in shoct on two of the Ludh bowmen, marching toward the rear! They had no business here! If the Ludh could be converted…

A startled noise from the mob broke the weird minor chant that had been rising, and he spun back to see a Sayonese man running toward the solitary marching figure. In one arm he was brandishing a sword weakly,

shouting as he ran. The flesh on his body was covered with the great scabs of brown skin-rot, and he was wasted to almost skeletal thinness.

The men nearest him started for him, just as he staggered. But there was still strength enough in his body. With a final yell, he raised the sword and plunged it deep into his own breast.

The robed figure stopped beside the threshing body on the street. A hand came out of the robe to pluck the sword easily from the wound, almost without touching it. Then the hand withdrew, and Athon bent over, as if chiding the dying man. Finally he straightened. The swordsman was quiet for a second. Then the body stirred, sat up, sprang to its feet with a wild cry of joy, and dashed back into the crowd. There were no brown scabs left on the emaciated figure.

The chant rose to a wild frenzy and the procession moved on. In the center, the robed figure seemed to shake its head sadly.

At Judson’s nod, the priestess got the chariot turned and began heading back through twisted alleys toward the palace. His mind was churning wildly on what he had seen. It was so completely beyond any use of healing power known to Earth—or even to the,legends here—that it could only be called a miracle, unless it had been the best-staged piece of trickery ever performed so openly.

If word of such things got back to Earth, there’d be ships headed here in droves from every cult known to man, filled with credulous fools and profiteers—and among them might well be some of the hereditary president’s family. Fas Kaia had been more truthful than she knew when she equated her danger with Earth’s. In the unstable conditions back there, just the knowledge that such things could be would threaten the whole system. Meia had been a danger once; Athon was doom! At the palace, Dupont and his homely sister, with the eight human assistants who comprised all the Earthmen hi Kalva, were in the middle of some vague attempt at a welcoming party, but they seemed relieved when Judson pleaded extreme fatigue. They’d probably turn it into a dope binge now, from rumors of what went on here, with Dupont’s sister being passed around from man to man, not excluding her brother. But that was none of Judson’s business. With the decreasing number of women who came away from Earth for any reason now, men couldn’t be blamed for making the most of whatever they could find. Earth put stiff penalties on consorting with aliens, but it happened sometimes, even on Ludh. For that matter…

He dropped the thought and unpacked in the apartment assigned to him. From the bottom of his small bag he drew a final piece—a tissue copy of Selected Books of the Testaments. He’d never read it, though he’d considered doing so; few men were familiar with any of the contents now, since the rise of the cult mysteries. But it had become his luck piece. He put it near him as he turned to the records Kaia had given him.

The contents only confirmed her words, without adding any new information. And even confirmation was meaningless, since they could be forgeries. He’d have to play things by ear, it seemed—and probably one of his problems would be the priestess herself.

But now the fatigue he had used as an excuse was turning to reality. He should call a slave to bathe him and prepare him for bed, but it was too much trouble. He made another futile attempt to think about his problems, then dropped onto the bed. He’d undress in a moment…

Priestesses, goddesses, prophets! The last thing he had ever wanted was to get mixed into another Sayonese religious mess. Once had been bad enough—and yet…

Thirty years before he grew old, a man could have plans for the future, even on an outworld in the Colonial Service. Eli’s hopes were based on a book dealing with the oddities in the ecological balance of a world where marsupials had won the race for domination. He was spending his biannual vacation by himself in the retreat of a village a hundred miles north of Kalva, using a building the Service had owned but abandoned.

The book was neatly finished, too, and he’d been practically assured rjutfjicaltion. Then there’d be recognition, promotion, a chance to return to Earth; in time, there’d be a wife to make up for ten years without women; there’d be children. He’d always wanted a son of his own, though the idea was growing old-fashioned in the current culture.

It might have worked, except for an unexpected storm that caught him taking a walk to clear his mind. The same storm found a window he’d left carelessly open and blew away his antibiotic kit and ruined his radio. That left only the native doctor, who knew nothing about pneumonia. Eli passed into a delirium with the unpleasant idea that he’d wake up only in heaven—in which he had no belief.

When he came to, he was less sure. He felt rotten, and his sight was cloudy, but there was either an angel or an Earth girl in the room, talking Sayonese with an old greeny. She wore native clothes, but no native had skin like that—or provocative hips—or such shoulders. Then as she turned, he grunted in surprise. Damned few Earth women looked that good without makeup, either. He began to consider the angel idea seriously.

She shook her head at him, switching to English that had almost none of the lisped dentals caused by Sayonese slotted palates. “I’m only a goddess,” she told him. “That is, I will be in another month. You’re lucky I hadn’t gone to Kalva yet, though. You were almost dead, and your cells are—well, they’re different. I had a hard time with you.” Then she bent closer, long yellow hair falling over his face. “Are you really an Earthman, Eli?”

“I’m as much from Earth as you are,” he mumbled, reaching for her.

She seemed puzzled at his efforts to kiss her, but made no protests until the greeny uttered something that sounded like teasing. Then she disengaged herself, running her hands over her chest. With a shock, he realized it was as flat as his own.

“What’s a breasts, Uncle Kleon?” she asked.

“A breast, or two breasts—they come in pairs,” the creature told her, grinning in amusement. “Read his mind a little deeper and you’ll find a lot of things about them, I’ll bet.” His English was as easy and idiomatic as hers, though less clearly pronounced.

For a moment, she stared down at Eli. Then she began giggling like a schoolgirl as she left the room.

Kleon came over to drop heavily onto the bed. “I’m not really her uncle,” he said. “I’m her teacher, more or less, until she reaches the temple. I’m one of the few Sayonese who were admitted to one of your extension schools, before Earth decided to give up any idea of raising our living standard and to keep us on our own world. But I don’t hate Earth. I got over anger and hating long ago, which is probably why I’m still alive.”

“But what about her?” Eli asked.

The old man grinned affectionately. “She’s a lot more interesting than I am, I’ll admit. She’s what she says—a goddess. And a good thing, too. You were already in death shock when she got here. Haven’t you ever heard of our virgin goddesses?”

Eli had heard some stories, but he hadn’t really believed them. There had been a girl born about a century before who looked like an Earth woman and who had some fantastic power to heal the sick and restore the maimed. But not that human! He looked outside to where she was talking to a couple of Sayonese. Then he frowned. In the sunlight, there seemed to be a touch of green to her skin, and there was a hint of a line across her abdomen where a S&y&nese girl would have had a pouch. But it could have been only a subtle disguise.

“That’s her father and mother saying good-bye to her again,” Kleon said casually, indicating the two natives.

Eli fainted. When he next regained consciousness, his body seemed to be completely recovered, though it could only have been a couple of hours later. He drank some of the hot cheese soup Kleon offered him, swung out of bed, and faced the old man. “All right, give it to me in detail,” he suggested.

Kleon seemed ready and willing to oblige, and this time Eli was less skeptical. But he still had doubts until that evening when a wailing procession came up the road. Some had skin-rot, others were crippled, a few were blind. Then’^as they spotted Meia, their wails turned to cries «6f delight, and they made as much of a rush to her as they could, spreading out in front of her. Apparently, from what Eli could pick up of their degraded dialect, they had arrived late at her home village and been told she’d left, moving to Kalva for her birthday. Now finding her here was like a reprieve from hell. They seemed to regard Eli as a friend from heaven for having the good sense to get pneumonia and delay her.

One by one she took care of them, sometimes talking to them, sometimes laying on her hands. Eli watched, trying to spot the gimmick, and finally gave up. Under her fingers, flesh that had begun to corrode away literally grew new skin. Bones knit. Cataracts vanished from eyes. And once, to get at a broken spine, she casually levitated a native from the ground, spun him over, and pressed her hands to his back. There was a chant going on, but nobody seemed surprised at her feat.

When they were finally all cared for and spread out among the huts of the village, she turned to Eli. “It’s harder than it looks,” she told him. “But it feels good, too. Now, tell me about Earth.”

The others had all gone, leaving him alone with her. He tried to satisfy her curiosity. But sometimes he wasn’t too clear about what he was saying. It wasn’t easy to get used to the idea that a pretty, innocent young girl could be half alien kangaroo, half a being close enough to divinity to work miracles.

“I think we’ll stay here a few days,” she decided abruptly. “I want to know more about Earth people and to study you. Maybe I can even go to Earth and cure people.”

It was bad enough trying to go to sleep while he knew she was lying naked in the next room—she’d insisted on having him quarter Kleon and herself. But the picture of her on Earth eventually blotted all that out. The planet administrator here was a neo-Blavatskyite of the worst kind, and he’d love nothing better than taking back a real goddess, law or no law. Once the senatorial families learned of what she could do, all hell would break loose. There’d be at least a dozen kidnaping attempts a month, and probably half as many palace revolutions to control her. She’d be worse than the Tarshian hypnotic lizard of the last century. Besides, there’d be trouble here at the idea of letting her go, and she’d probably get killed before she really saw Earth.

He tried to argue her out of the idea during the next few days, sometimes with the casual help of Kleon. But she was quite sure she could handle anything, and she’d made up her mind.

“Besides, nobody hurts a virgin goddess,” she told him, as if that had anything to do with his arguments. It did serve to throw him off, though.

“Why a virgin, anyhow?” he asked. “You have a head goddess you call the Mother-Principle, but then she incarnates only in virgins. Isn’t that contradictory? I suppose she’d blast you asunder if you lost that one virtue.”

“She’d leave, because she’s the All-Mother, not the One-Mother. Anyhow, I can’t really breed—I’m not naturally fertile with our men. Maybe, for children and if I loved a man, in your terms, I wouldn’t mind not being a goddess—but I’m not going to lose what I have for nothing.”

Her words jerked his own thoughts back to level, with the sharp realization that he’d begun thinking of her as human again. Damn it, she might look like a woman, but even their basic cell structure was different. It would be easier to breed with an Earth tree than to have children with her. Not one of his chromosomes would match with hers. And morally, no matter what other reasons were involved, sex was related to having children. Besides, he knew nothing about Sayonese anatomy. Under her skirt, she might not be human at all.

She giggled. “Eli, if you want me to take off my clothes, why don’t you ask? I don’t mind, really. Then you can see for yourself.”

“Go to hell!” he told her, and stomped off, determined to pack and leave at once. A man could stand just so much. Innocent she might be, but she knew she had him going and sBj& was enjoying it.

Still, he was tfierVton the fifth day, when he really should have been beginning the trip back to Kalva. Of course, they could have traveled together, but that would have been awkward. Instead of packing, he was walking beside her toward one of his favorite loafing spots at the top of a little hill.

They came to a little dip in the ground that cut off the wind and he threw down a blanket and dropped onto it. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and he intended to nap now; She’d brought along the single book Kleon had preserved from his schooling—a tissue edition of some of the books of Earth’s old Bible. She and Kleon must have memorized it, but they still pored over it regularly. He sprawled out and she snuggled down beside him. Probably deliberately, she was closer than she had to be. He could feel her breasts move against him as she breathed.

He sat up with a yelp, staring at her. Breasts? She’d been absolutely flat-chested when he first saw her! But she wasn’t now—not by a long ways.

“You wanted them, so I changed,” she said contentedly. “It’s about time you noticed! And I took away the green in my skin you didn’t like and made the line where I should have a pouch disappear, too. See?”

He saw, but at the moment he was more fascinated by what was there than by what wasn’t. If she were using padding, she was doing a darned good job of it.

“They’re real,” she told him. “I picked the ones in your mind you liked best. You can feel, if you don’t believe me. I don’t mind. After all, it won’t mean anything to—to me….”

But her breath caught as sharply as his, while his fingers slipped under the halter. He felt her tremble, and her nipples were lifting and eager for his hands.

For a minute, she bent to him, her lips parting and reaching for him. Then abruptly she tore away, staring at him with wide, startled eyes. For the first time, he saw fear on her face.

“No!” she whispered.

But it had to be. He saw it clearly now. Once she gave herself to him, she’d lose her dangerous powers and be just another girl. Maybe the change in her would be only a loss of faith hi herself, but that didn’t matter. It was his solution. Earth would never hear of her, and… and it had been ten years since he’d held a girl in his arms!

He started toward her. Her face paled, then firmed again, and something seemed to explode in his head. He staggered, missed his footing, and fell.

“No,” she repeated. “Not now. Not yet. I have to think.”

This time he waited, knowing he could do nothing to force a creature with the powers of a goddess. The pressures hi huii rose and fought for expression, but he could only lie and wait. And in the end, it was she who came to him, slowly pulling the halter off as she moved toward him. He lay immobile until she was almost touching him before he groped for her. She pulled closer, straining against him with heaving breasts.

“Show me hi your mind again. Show me everything,” she whispered. “I have to be sure.”

His hands had found the slit hi her skirt by then and the buckle, but he tried to follow her wishes with his unclear, churning thoughts. And suddenly she was completely against him, with nothing between, panting in his ear. “I’m sure. Eli, I’m sure!”

Ten years was a long time.

The last Eli saw of Meia, she was sleeping in complete exhaustion, but with a touch of a smile on her lips. She muttered something in a weak voice, and he kissed her lightly, trying to keep his mind from thinking too loud.

It was dark before he reached his house. He located his riding beast, saddled it, and started toward the building to collect his manuscript. Then he saw Kleon reading it, and gave up. He was in no condition to face the questions of the old man. He led the animal out onto the trail, mounted quickly, and headed for Kalva, hoping only that he had enough money on him for the trip.

It was a long rMe, and there was time for more than enough thought. Sometimes he gloated to himself over the end of herf power, as ft his victory proved that she had never been more than he was. Sometimes shame came over him, either at the breaking of the taboo against aliens or at what he had done to her. And always there were other feelings that he cursed and ranted against, but which lasted longer than the others.

At the end of a year, when his transfer was okayed, he spent all his money to send her a box of luxuries, using the village as her address. When his transfer ship was delayed, he began to fear she might trace him back, but he saw no more of her.

Instead, it was the aged Kleon who came, and by then it didn’t matter. Eli was inside the passenger fence, getting final clearance, and no natives were permitted. Kleon tried to pass and was turned back. Then, as he saw Eli, one thick arm swept forward, tossing something over the fence.

It was the thin, worn little mission book Meia had been reading. He stood holding it, trying to guess what it meant, as Kleon left. Shaking proved there was no note between the pages, and nothing was written inside the covers. It was a mystery to him. Yet he was homesick as the rocket roared upward, lifting him from Sayon.

Judson woke early, bothered by the light streaming from the windows on two sides of his apartment. He groaned, still aching, and fumbled about until he found his glasses. A slave must have come in during the night to undress him, and one entered now, bringing his freshened clothes and a welcome cup of coffee.

One wall of windows faced north toward the hill, he saw. The other opened on a rear garden. He threw one of the windows open, letting in fresh air and a babble of childish voices. There were three little boys, from six to eleven, playing outside. From their looks, they were obviously Dupont’s. The man had been a fool to have them, but Judson couldn’t really blame him as he watched them, envy thick in him.

He shut the window again, just as Dupont himself came in. The man looked sick and scared. “The Fas Kaia arrested Athon!” he screamed, wasting no time on civilities. “She’s holding trial on him for profaning the temple. After I ordered her to leave him alone. Come on, we’ve got to stop it!”

The rule book was torn up, and Dupont’s carefully built shelter was gone. It was a shock to Judson too, but no cause for panic. He should have expected some such high-handed action from the priestess.

“I countermanded your order,” he said. He realized he was committing himself—probably accepting Kaia’s bribe—but there was no use trying to undo what she had done. The less damage the better. “If you’re worried, Dupont, maybe you’d better get your sister and your boys to the ship.”

The sickness in the man abruptly washed out all the fear. Incest was still enough to ruin him completely. But he nodded at last. He shook himself, pulling at some strength inside him to put on a normal appearance, then headed for the garden.

Judson hurried out to the street. There was no chariot waiting, of course; Fas Kaia obviously meant to have a fait accompli when he heard of it. He set out on foot, noticing that there were mobs clustered about the temple, and others streaming toward it. But they were still leaderless and unsure of what had happened. They made way for his uniform without thinking.

Inside the temple, a reluctant priestess led him to a great gold and silver door and swung it open for him. He could see Kaia at the far end of the huge room, addressing a prisoner in the hands of two Ludh. How the temple rated Ludh guards would have to be explained later.

She looked up and motioned him to her, standing up as he drew near. “I couldn’t get a chariot and message to you through the hostile crowd,” she lied easily in a low voice. “So I went ahead, hoping you’d hear. Here, I’ve already judged him an impostor of Earth stock, and handed him over to the temple as a spy in temple uniform—his robe really is an old temple one. I found rules about jurisdiction over spies in an old covenant of Earth and used them?”

“So you didn’t need me, after all?” he asked bitterly. He could admire her solution; with the detail of the temple uniform, it might even be legal. But her tactics rankled.

She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I’m glad you’re here, Eli. I’d rather not forge the papers. Here, take the seat of judgment and finish. You can certify to his being human, too.”

He found himself seated in the great chair, with the papers in front of him. They were in good order and in English. Kaia was thorough. But if he had even a shred of doubt about the man, after her arrogant assumption she could control him, he’d let her go whistle…

Abruptly, he saw the prisoner, and the anticlimax took all the stubbornness out of him. The man was unimpressive and plain, with mild blue eyes and carroty-red hair that could only come from Earth. There was even a hint of freckles across the nose.

Reluctantly, Judson signed. There was no doubt left, and nothing else to do. One man couldn’t count against whole worlds, any more than Meia had counted against Earth. But his hand shook as he put the pen back.

“Hear the judgment,” Kaia called immediately. “For sacrilege within the temple, let the self-termed O6 Athon die on the pointed seat this day. Take him away!”

Judson rose to protest. The man was practically a political prisoner. He’d only come for ritualistic laving, not to harm the temple literally. But it was too late for protests. Anyhow, the prisoner was speaking.

It was a rich, ringing voice that seemed to fill the whole room. “The world has judged and the world is judged,” Athon pronounced slowly. His eyes lingered on them and his hand came up in a strange gesture. Then he shrugged and let the guards move him away.

Judson felt his eyes smarting, and his vision seemed to blur. He reached for his glasses automatically and began cleaning them. Then shock hit him as he glanced at the papers before him. Without the glasses, the smallest

text was clearly visible. There had been a final miracle, even inside the temple.

Kaia was in front of him as he stumbled to his feet, and there was a package in her hands. “Sometimes the Goddess is quick to reward,” she chuckled. “Naturally, to refuse Her gift is to profane Her name. The temple thanks you, too, Eli.”

He took the package and thrust it into his pocket, knowing it bound him to her, and not caring at the moment. “You are kind, Fas Kaia,” he said formally. Then he headed for the exit and toward the street.

But now the crowd was thicker, pressing inward. As he came to the steps, he found himself swallowed by it, almost carried by it. It had always been a faceless, abstract crowd to him before—one with no character or feeling. He hadn’t really realized that it could claw and tear and smother with its solidity. And he was too old to tear through it.

Then another shock registered. A few feet away, the face of Kleon appeared, with the old eyes staring straight toward him, before the movement of the mob drove them apart. The surprise seemed to clear his mind, though. He lifted his voice to a shout. “They are taking him to the hill for the Seat. Kaia has ordered the Seat for him!”

Other voices picked up the cry and spread it. Now suddenly the crowd began to turn, trying to get away from the temple and toward the hill. Judson was forced along with them, but they were moving north, at least, toward the palace as well as the hill. He put all his failing energies to the task of working sideways, looking for a chance to drop out before they passed the palace.

Somehow, he made it. He had no memory of it, nor of passing out on his bed. But he came to, filthy and torn, some time later. There was no answer when he yelled for a slave. He struggled through a hasty bath and into one of the standard Service uniforms in the closet. Then the silence of the house and the low rumble of sound from the north finally registered, and he looked out.

Kalva was deserted now. The entire populace was at the hill, where Ludh guards with crossbows held a small circle open at the tjjp. In the middle of that, there was a quiet figure. Foi> a inoment, Judson hoped that the tortured man was dead^ until the head moved weakly.

Athon had not saved himself. The judgment was fulfilled.

And in the sky, dark clouds were piling up for one of the periodic storms. Judson gazed at it, beginning to worry again. This was a primitive world, where omens were all-important. A storm now would indicate divine displeasure—it would damn him and Kaia more than all logic or law—more than he could damn himself, perhaps.

It was no time to linger.

He packed hastily, leaving the book and the package for the last. Then he ripped away the wrapping, to study the necklace. The thirty jewels on it were silvery white in the shadows where he held them. They meant a measure of youth again—a wife to give him sons—Earth or any planet he chose. They meant everything he wanted, except peace within himself.

But he had done only what had to be. A man could never stand idly by and see his world ruined, even though the fools in it were bent on riding downhill to perdition. At least in his tune, Earth must retain her dominion.

Lightning flashed, a heavy bolt that crashed down against the roof of the temple. It was natural, since the gold dome was the highest point in the city, but it would be more food for the superstitious. The thunder rolled out, drowning the sound of the rain, and almost covering the footsteps behind him.

He looked around slowly, with no surprise. “It’s been a long time, Kleon.”

“Too long, Eli,” the old voice said. Amazingly, the man looked no older than he had in the village, but there were fatigue and pain hi every movement he made. “Your guards are gone, so I left my beasts and came in.”

“Vengeance?” Judson asked.

The head shook slowly. “I still leave anger to others,

Eli. Anyhow, vengeance for what? Meia wanted you. And he—he knew it had to be and brought it on himself. I was only a teacher, not a disciple, though I loved the man. No, I followed you to see you, and to take back word of you to Meia. She still lives hi the village, and still thinks of you.”

Judson shook his head. He’d schooled himself to think of her as being dead. But there was nothing ‘he could say.

The storm seemed to be thinning out, almost as quickly as it had come. Kleon moved to the windows, staring toward the hill. There were tears in his eyes, but his sigh was one of relief. “It is finished,” he said.

He bowed his head and seemed to be quoting. ” “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell hi the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined…. For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise and garments rolled hi blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.’ I can’t blame you for trying to stop a battle that will not be confined to this world, Eli, though the tune for any man to take action has passed—as even our priestess seems to know, to her sorrow.”

“I stopped it once,” Judson protested harshly.

Kleon stared at him, surprise on his old face. He glanced at the book on the table, and the surprise deepened. “I wondered, when you didn’t return. And yet. How could you fail to get her message and yet have the book all these years, Eli?”

He moved to the thin volume, pulling it open with a cord that day between the pages. Then he hesitated, and picked up the binoculars instead. “Look; Eli. Look carefully, and beneath the surface!”

Judson moved uncertainly to the window, unwilling but unable to resist. He focused on the figure that was still upright. Now, when it should have been dulled in death, the face had picked up a strange strength and nobility, and it seemed to stare at the sky, triumphant and waiting. But it was drawn thin by the hours of suffering, and there was something about the features-—the nose, the shape of the chin…

“No!” It ripped put of Judson, while the binoculars crashed to the floofcn”Ifs impossible! Physically impossible!” iV~;(

Kleon shook his head. “Not to one who had the Power, Eli. She burned herself out in one effort—but she succeeded. Here’s the message I brought you from her, thirty years ago.”

There was a dark circle around one verse on the page, followed by a thick, heavy exclamation point. Below that Meia’s signature was scrawled in English script. Judson bent over the book, focusing on the small, ancient print within the circle.

Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.

His eyes wavered from the page to the sight of the necklace that was to have given him youth again, and a wife—and a son; rejuvenation to give him more years to realize what he had done and to watch what must become of the power his race had won. Years to think—and sometimes to wonder what a too-human woman in a Village on Sayon might be thinking.

He took one last look up the hill, dry-eyed and frozen. Then he turned to follow Kleon out of the empty palace, knowing he could never leave Sayon again. The men turned the corner outside together, climbed silently onto the waiting beasts, and moved slowly north, away from the distant spaceport and the hell that was beginning already in the city.

Night was falling and the city began to gleam with the angry red of growing fires, while the crowds fought back and forth across the streets, howling in sorrow and rage….

Behind, the book lay open on the table. Wind came in from the windows, turning the pages slowly to the last chapter of Isaiah. Then a sudden gust blew the book closed.