Then they began to really think how far it must be between stars, if that tale were true, and that led them to thinking of eternity, of how long the world might last beyond their deaths, and of course that led them to talking about whether or not their ghosts really would live on after their bodies died.
So they spent an hour or two in one another’s company, passing the nighttime hours discussing the great questions that confront the young, and when at last they went back into the palace, each was smiling, but each felt a little sadness that these few hours together, alone, were over.
Countess Gilda decided on a bit of variety, and accepted another lord’s invitation to dance, though she kept glancing at Orgoru as she did, no doubt hoping to see him jealous—but before the green-eyed monster could come upon him, Gar and Dirk had buttonholed him near the refreshment table.
“You seem to be one of the younger lords,” Gar commented “How did you come to be here?”
“Like all the others, I was raised in hiding for fear of my father’s enemies,” Orgoru began. He didn’t mean to go on for very long, but Gar and Dirk asked him question after question, and seemed to be so genuinely interested that he found himself telling them the story of his life, in detail. He was just finishing when Countess Gilda came back in a swirl of skirts, pouting. “So you have missed me not at all, sir!”
“I have missed you most fantastically,” Orgoru said quickly, “and only my talk with these gentlemen has soothed my spirits.”
“I do not believe you! You would as soon talk to them as dance with me!” Gilda turned on her heel to flounce away.
Orgoru caught her hand and pressed a quick kiss upon it, as he had watched the other lords do. “Oh no, sweet sunrise, don’t leave me in the darkness of longing!”
“Well, I’ll abate my severity,” Gilda said, turning back with a sunny smile. “You may dance with me, then.”
“You are so kind and generous!” Orgoru cried, and led her out onto the floor.
“As I thought,” Gar said, watching them go, “delusions of grandeur.”
“Yes,” Dirk agreed, “but it’s charitable not to disillusion him. After all, he’s not hurting anyone here—and do you really think he’d be able to lead a successful life outside?”
“True—and it’s a kindness to shelter him here. A great kindness, especially considering that all the rest of them seem to be suffering from the same syndrome.”
Dirk nodded. “Just a matter of time before they’d start going around giving orders and expecting to be treated like royalty.”
“And being beaten for their pains. Who knows how they might end?” Gar asked.
“Rhetorical question, I hope,” Dirk replied. “They’d be ostracized or exiled, and die young.”
“Yes,” Gar said heavily. “So why not let them all gather here, where a central computer can keep them alive? They can be happy, of course—but they can’t have children.”
“A gold-plated insane asylum.” Dirk nodded. “How about those few children who are born, but are stolen by elves?”
“The human sentries are sedated, and robots take the babies,” Gar said immediately. “I hope they leave them on the doorsteps of cottagers who want children.”
“Probably—always a few woodcutters living alone in forests. But children who were raised here, would never be able to leave.”
“Yes—they’d certainly never have a normal upbringing, or learn how to fend for themselves,” Gar said. “It’s a great kindness, if you think of it that way.”
“It also supplies a purpose for a computer that’s been abandoned by its civilization,” Dirk pointed out.
“Yes.” Gar nodded. “I gather we’re going to be meeting that computer soon.” He looked up as Miles came drifting back with Ciletha, both with heady smiles, carefully not looking at one another—but their hands touched.
“The hour grows late, milords,” a young nobleman said, coming up to them. “You must be wearied after your travels. May I show you to your rooms?”
Dirk bit back surprise that an aristocrat would do a porter’s job—after all, there weren’t any servants here, just “aristocrats.” While he was still biting, Gar said gravely, “Why, yes, thank you. That would be most kind.”
Each had a suite to himself or herself, of course. When they had bathed, cleaned their clothes in the “shower,” and dressed again, Dirk and Gar met in Gar’s sitting room. Miles tapped on the door a few minutes later. Gar let him in, smiling. “You seem to have had a good evening.”
“Yes.” Miles smiled, letting the glow show. “Ciletha’s a most wonderful woman, sirs.” His brow creased. “How sad that she’s in love with that lout Orgoru!”
“Sad indeed,” Dirk said with a knowing smile. “You’ll have to do something about that.”
Miles looked up in surprise, then began to smile again, slowly.
“ ‘Lout’?” Gar asked. “Strange way to talk about a lord!”
“There are no lords or ladies in the whole world,” Miles said flatly, “only in tales for children. This Orgoru’s no more noble than I am, and I’ve seen his kind in my own village. There’re the ones who can’t do anything, so they try to pretend they’re better than anyone else—either that, or they just give up, eke out a living hauling and digging, and die young.” He saddened. “Maddening though they are, I suppose I’d rather they tried to lord it over the rest of us, and keep getting knocked down for their pains—I wouldn’t wish the other kind of life on a dog.”
“Not exactly a nice life either way,” Dirk said darkly. “Better for him to be here, where he won’t bother anybody.”
“No, not a bit!” Miles took fire. “What right does he have to live in luxury when he can’t even do as much work as I can? And what right does he have to the love of such a woman as Ciletha?”
“Both outcasts in their home village, I suppose,” Gar said, “who grew up together, and were each other’s only friend.”
“Ciletha, an outcast?” Miles stared.
“Men don’t always see a woman’s real worth, Miles,” Gar said, with a sardonic grimace. “In fact, I suspect these poor delusionaries don’t see the world as it really is at all.”
“Still,” Dirk said, “she’s bound to become disenchanted with Orgoru, watching him posturing here—and paying court to that poor horse-faced Gilda. Just be there for her, and be patient, and she’ll turn to you sooner or later.”
“I don’t know if I can accept being second choice,” Miles said, frowning. “How could I wed her if, all my life, I’d have to remember that she would have chosen Orgoru if she could have?”
“Wait until she knows enough about him to not choose him,” Dirk said.
There was a knock at the door. Gar went to open it. “Orgoru! Come in. We were just talking about you.”
“Why, how complimentary!” Orgoru came in a step. “But I have come to ask you if you are refreshed enough to meet the Guardian before you sleep.”
“We would be pleased.” But Gar’s gaze lingered on Orgoru, who forced a smile to hide his discomfort.
“He’s happier the way he is,” Dirk snapped. “True,” Gar agreed, “but we need him.”
Dirk frowned. “You sure you know what you’re doing? The human mind is a pretty delicate thing.”
“I know.” Gar stared at the madman. “Let me see if there would be any danger here.”
Orgoru felt as though the giant’s eyes were boring into his mind. Then, horrified, he felt something tickle, moving inside his head, and screamed, a raw hoarse cry, sinking to his knees; he barely heard Gar say, “This would be simple, though, and quite safe. He’s very uncomplicated, really—a classic case, needing only…”