Chapter 10

Onum  Barr  was  an  old  man,  too  old  to  be  afraid.  Since  the  lastdisturbances, he had lived alone on the fringes of the land with what bookshe had saved from  the ruins. He had nothing he feared losing, least of allthe  worn  remnant of  his  life,  and so  he  faced  the intruder  withoutcringing.
"Your door was open," the stranger explained.
His  accent was  clipped and  harsh, and  Barr did  not fail to  notice thestrange blue-steel  hand-weapon at his hip. In the  half gloom of the smallroom,  Barr   saw  the   glow  of  a  force-shield   surrounding  the  man.
He  said, wearily,  "There  is no  reason to  keep it  closed. Do  you wishanything of me?""Yes." The  stranger remained  standing in the  center of the  room. He waslarge,  both in  height and  bulk. "Yours  is the  only house  about here.""It is a desolate  place," agreed Barr, "but there is a town to the east. Ican show you the way'.""In a while. May I sit?""If the  chairs will hold you,"  said the old man,  gravely. They were old,too. Relics of a better youth.
The stranger  said, "My name is Hober Mallow. I  come from a far province."Barr nodded  and smiled, "Your tongue convicted you of  that long ago. I amOnum   Barr   of   Siwenna   ? and   once   Patrician   of  the   Empire.""Then this is Siwenna. I had only old maps to guide me.""They would  have to be  old, indeed, for star-positions  to be misplaced."Barr sat  quite still, while the other's eyes  drifted away into a reverie.
He noticed  that the nuclear  force-shield had vanished from  about the manand admitted  dryly to himself that his  person no longer seemed formidableto  strangers   ? or  even,  for  good  or   for  evil,  to  his  enemies.
He said, "My house  is poor and my resources few. You may share what I haveif your stomach can endure black bread and dried corn."Mallow shook his head,  "No, I have eaten, and I can't stay. All I need arethe directions to the center of government.""That is easily enough  done, and poor though I am, deprives me of nothing.
Do  you  mean the  capital  of  the planet,  or  of  the Imperial  Sector?"The  younger man's  eyes narrowed,  "Aren't the  two identical?  Isn't thisSiwenna?"The old  patrician nodded slowly,  "Siwenna, yes. But Siwenna  is no longercapital of the Normannic Sector. Your old map has misled you after all. Thestars may  not change even  in centuries, but political  boundaries are alltoo fluid.""That's too  bad. In  fact, that's very  bad. Is the new  capital far off?""It's on Orsha II. Twenty parsecs off. Your map will direct you. How old isit?""A hundred and fifty years.""That old?"  The old  man sighed. "History  has been crowded  since. Do youknow any of it?"Mallow shook his bead slowly.
Barr said,  "You're fortunate. It has been an  evil time for the provinces,but for  the reign of Stannell VI, and he died  fifty years ago. Since thattime, rebellion  and ruin,  ruin and rebellion."  Barr wondered if  he weregrowing  garrulous. It was  a lonely life  out here,  and he had  so littlechance to talk to men.
Mallow said with sudden  sharpness, "Ruin, eh? You sound as if the provincewere impoverished.""Perhaps not  on an  absolute scale. The physical  resources of twenty-fivefirst-rank planets  take a long time  to use up. Compared  to the wealth ofthe last  century, though, we have gone a long way  downhill ?and there isno sign  of turning, not yet. Why are you so  interested in all this, youngman? You are all alive and your eyes shine!"The trader  came near enough to blushing, as the  faded eyes seemed to looktoo deep into his and smile at what they saw.
He said, "Now look here. I'm a trader out there ?out toward the rim of theGalaxy.  I've located  some  old maps,  and I'm  out  to open  new markets.
Naturally, talk of impoverished  provinces disturbs me. You can't get moneyout  of a  world unless  money's there  to be  got. Now how's  Siwenna, forinstance?"The old  man leaned forward, "I  cannot say. It will  do even yet, perhaps.
But  you a trader?  You look more like  a fighting man. You  hold your handnear your gun and there is a scar on your jawbone."Mallow jerked his head,  "There isn't much law out there where I come from.
Fighting and  scars are part of  a trader's overhead. But  fighting is onlyuseful when there's money  at the end, and if I can get it without, so muchthe  sweeter. Now  will  I find  enough money  here  to make  it  worth thefighting?   I  take   it   I  can   find  the   fighting   easily  enough.""Easily enough," agreed Barr. "You could join Wiscard's remnants in the RedStars. I don't know,  though, if you'd call that fighting or piracy. Or youcould  join our  present gracious  viceroy ? gracious by right  of murder,pillage,  rapine,  and  the   word  of  a  boy  Emperor,  since  rightfullyassassinated." The  patrician's thin  cheeks reddened. His  eyes closed andthen opened, bird-bright.
"You  don't  sound very  friendly  to  the viceroy,  Patrician Barr,"  saidMallow. "What if I'm one of his spies?""What if you are?"  said Barr, bitterly. "What can you take?" He gestured awithered   arm   at   the   bare   interior  of   the   decaying   mansion.
"Your life.""It would leave me  easily enough. It has been with me five years too long.
But you  are not  one of the viceroy's  men. If you were,  perhaps even nowinstinctive    self-preservation    would    keep    my   mouth    closed.""How do you know?"The old man laughed,  "You seem suspicious ?Come, I'll wager you think I'mtrying  to trap  you  into denouncing  the government.  No,  no. I  am pastpolitics.""Past politics? Is a man ever past that? The words you used to describe theviceroy  ?what  were  they? Murder,  pillage, all  that. You  didn't soundobjective.   Not   exactly.   Not   as   if  you   were   past   politics."The  old man  shrugged, "Memories  sting when  they come  suddenly. Listen!
Judge  for yourself!  When  Siwenna was  the  provincial capital,  I was  apatrician and  a member of the provincial senate. My  family was an old andhonored one.  One of my  great-grandfathers had been?No,  never mind that.
Past glories are poor feeding.""I  take  it," said  Mallow,  "there was  a  civil war,  or a  revolution."Barr's face darkened. "Civil wars are chronic in these degenerate days, butSiwenna  had kept  apart.  Under Stannell  VI, it  had almost  achieved itsancient  prosperity. But  weak  emperors followed,  and weak  emperors meanstrong viceroys,  and our last  viceroy ?the same  Wiscard, whose remnantsstill  prey on the  commerce among the  Red Stars  ?aimed at  the ImperialPurple. He  wasn't the first to  aim. And if he  had succeeded, he wouldn'thave been the first to succeed.
"But he  failed. For when the Emperor's  Admiral approached the province atthe head of a fleet, Siwenna itself rebelled against its rebel viceroy." Hestopped, sadly.
Mallow found  himself tense  on the edge  of his seat,  and relaxed slowly,"Please continue, sir.""Thank you,"  said Barr,  wearily. "It's kind  of you to humor  an old man.
They rebelled;  or I  should say, we rebelled,  for I was one  of the minorleaders. Wiscard left Siwenna, barely ahead of us, and the planet, and withit  the province,  were thrown open  to the  admiral with every  gesture ofloyalty to the Emperor. Why we did this, 朓'm not sure. Maybe we felt loyalto  the symbol, if  not the person,  of the  Emperor, 朼 cruel  and viciouschild. Maybe we feared the horrors of a siege.""Well?" urged Mallow, gently.
"Well, came  the grim retort, "that didn't suit  the admiral. He wanted theglory of conquering a  rebellious province and his men wanted the loot suchconquest would  involve. So while  the people were still  gathered in everylarge city,  cheering the  Emperor and his  admiral, he occupied  all armedcenters,  and  then  ordered  the population  put  to  the nuclear  blast.""On what pretext?""On the pretext that they had rebelled against their viceroy, the Emperor'sanointed. And the admiral became the new viceroy, by virtue of one month ofmassacre,  pillage  and  complete  horror. I  had  six  sons.  Five died  ?
variously. I had a daughter. I hope she died, eventually. I escaped becauseI was old.  I came here, too old to cause even  our viceroy worry." He benthis  gray head, "They  left me nothing,  because I  had helped drive  out arebellious   governor   and   deprived    an   admiral   of   his   glory."Mallow sat  silent, and  waited. Then, "What  of your sixth  son?" he askedsoftly.
"Eh?" Barr  smiled acidly. "He is safe, for he has  joined the admiral as acommon  soldier under  an assumed  name. He  is a  gunner in  the viceroy'spersonal fleet.  Oh, no,  I see your eyes.  He is not an  unnatural son. Hevisits me when he can and gives me what he can. He keeps me alive. And someday, our  great and glorious viceroy will grovel to  his death, and it willbe my son who will be his executioner.""And   you   tell   this   to  a   stranger?   You   endanger  your   son.""No. I  help him, by  introducing a new enemy.  And were I a  friend of theviceroy, as  I am  his enemy, I would  tell him to string  outer space withships, clear to the rim of the Galaxy.""There are no ships there?""Did you find any? Did any space-guards question your entry? With ships fewenough, and the bordering provinces filled with their share of intrigue andiniquity, none  can be spared to guard the  barbarian outer suns. No dangerever threatened  us from the broken  edge of the Galaxy,  杣ntil you came.""I? I'm no danger.""There will be more after you."Mallow  shook   his  head   slowly,  "I'm  not  sure   I  understand  you.""Listen!" There  was a  feverish edge to  the old man's voice.  "I knew youwhen you  entered. You have a  force-shield about your body,  or had when Ifirst saw you."Doubtful silence, then, "Yes, 朓 had.""Good. That  was a flaw, but you didn't know that.  There are some things Iknow. It's  out of fashion in these decaying times  to be a scholar. Eventsrace and  flash past  and who cannot  fight the tide  with nuclear-blast inhand is swept away,  as I was. But I was a scholar,  and I know that in allthe  history of nucleics,  no portable  force-shield was ever  invented. Wehave force-shields ?huge,  lumbering powerhouses that will protect a city,or even a ship, but not one, single man.""Ah?" Mallow's  underlip thrust  out. "And what  do you deduce  from that?""There  have been  stories percolating  through space. They  travel strangepaths and  become distorted with every parsec, 朾ut  when I was young therewas a small ship of strange men, who did not know our customs and could nottell  where they came  from. They talked  of magicians  at the edge  of theGalaxy; magicians who glowed  in the darkness, who flew unaided through theair, and whom weapons would not touch.
"We laughed.  I laughed, too. I  forgot it till today.  But you glow in thedarkness, and I don't  think my blaster, if I had one, would hurt you. Tellme, can you fly through air as you sit there now?"Mallow said calmly, "I can make nothing of all this."Barr smiled, "I'm content  with the answer. I do not examine my guests. Butif there  are magicians; if  you are one of  them; there may some  day be agreat influx of them, or you. Perhaps that would be well. Maybe we need newblood." He muttered soundlessly to himself, then, slowly, "But it works theother  way, too.  Our new  viceroy also  dreams, as  did our  old Wiscard.""Also after the Emperor's crown?"Barr nodded, "My son  hears tales. In the viceroy's personal entourage, onecould scarcely help it.  And he tells me of them. Our new viceroy would notrefuse the  Crown if offered, but he guards his  line of retreat. There arestories that, failing Imperial  heights, he plans to carve out a new Empirein the  Barbarian hinterland. It is said, but I  don't vouch for this, thathe has already given one of his daughters as wife to a Kinglet somewhere inthe uncharted Periphery.""If one listened to every story?
"I know.  There are many more.  I'm old and I  babble nonsense. But what doyou say?" And those sharp, old eyes peered deep.
The trader considered, "I  say nothing. But I'd like to ask something. DoesSiwenna  have  nuclear power?  Now,  wait,  I know  that  it possesses  theknowledge of nucleics. I mean, do they have power generators intact, or didthe recent sack destroy them?""Destroy them? Oh, no. Half a planet would be wiped out before the smallestpower station would be touched. They are irreplaceable and the suppliers ofthe strength  of the fleet." Almost proudly, "We  have the largest and beston this side of Trantor itself.""Then  what  would  I  do first  if  I  wanted  to  see these  generators?""Nothing!" replied  Barr, decisively.  "You couldn't approach  any militarycenter without being shot  down instantly. Neither could anyone. Siwenna isstill deprived of civic rights.""You   mean   all   the   power   stations   are   under   the   military?""No.  There are  the  small city  stations,  the ones  supplying power  forheating  and lighting  homes,  powering vehicles  and so  forth.  Those arealmost as bad. They're controlled by the tech-men.""Who are they?""A  specialized  group which  supervises  the  power plants.  The honor  ishereditary,  the  young  ones   being  brought  up  in  the  profession  asapprentices.  Strict sense  of  duty, honor,  and all  that.  No one  but atech-man could enter a station.""I see.""I don't say, though,"  added Barr, "that there aren't cases where tech-menhaven't been bribed. In  days when we have nine emperors in fifty years andseven of  these are assassinated, 杦hen  every space-captain aspires to theusurpation  of   a  viceroyship,   and  every  viceroy   to  the  Imperium,I suppose  even a tech-man can  fall prey to money.  But it would require agood deal, and I have none. Have you?""Money? No. But does one always bribe with money?""What else, when money buys all else.""There is quite enough  that money won't buy. And now if you'll tell me thenearest  city with one  of the stations,  and how  best to get  there, I'llthank you.""Wait!" Barr  held out his thin  hands. "Where do you  rush? You come here,but I ask no questions. In the city, where the inhabitants are still calledrebels, you  would be  challenged by the  first soldier or  guard who heardyour accent and saw your clothes."He rose  and from an obscure  comer of an old  chest brought out a booklet.
"My passport, 杅orged. I escaped with it."He  placed  it in  Mallow's  hand  and folded  the  fingers  over it.  "Thedescription doesn't  fit, but if you  flourish it, the chances  are many toone they will not look closely.""But you. You'll be left without one."The old exile shrugged  cynically, "What of it? And a further caution. Curbyour tongue! Your accent is barbarous, your idioms peculiar, and every oncein a while you  deliver yourself of the most astounding archaisms. The lessyou speak,  the less suspicion you  will draw upon yourself.  Now I'll tellyou how to get to the city?
Five minutes later, Mallow was gone.
He returned  but once, for a  moment, to the old  patrician's house, beforeleaving it  entirely, however. And  when Onum Barr stepped  into his littlegarden early  the next  morning, he found  a box at his  feet. It containedprovisions, concentrated provisions such as one would find aboard ship, andalien in taste and preparation.
But they were good, and lasted long.