“Each phratra is composed of ten genos. The elected head of each genos votes for the chief of the phratra to which he belongs.”
“And…” Guy said patiently.
The major wound it up. “The genos is the basic unit of our society. Its membership has a common name, going back to a supposed common ancestor. All members of the genos have certain rights and duties toward their fellow members.”
“Kind of a great big, happy family, eh?” Guy said.
“Exactly. It is a type of family, but composed of thousands of persons.”
“And each adult member has the right to vote for the person who represents the genos, eh?”
The major became slightly huffy. “Don’t be ridiculous. Not the men, of course.”
“Oh,” Guy said sarcastically. “Of course not.” The major said, “Today the Senate which is composed of the heads of each genos is not in session. You will be received by only the Hippolyte, flanked by her council which consists of the four phylon chiefs. When you are presented, you will bow and remain silent until addressed.” She added, “I’ll stand next to you. The Hippolyte seldom bothers with men, of course. Try not to make a flat of yourself.”
Guy said in a sarcastic tone, “I’ll do my best.”
Her eyes turned bleak. “Don’t be cute with me, boy. I’m handing this job because I was ordered to. But I don’t like uppity men, understand?”
“I suspected it all along, Major,” Guy got out. “Let’s go.”
Out in the corridors again, they fell into their old pattern of precedence. The major led, followed by the Earthling, followed in turn by Clete and Lysippe.
It would seem this building connected to the palace, or wherever it was that the Hippolyte held audience, by an underground passage. At any rate, they stepped into what Guy at first assumed was an elevator, but it turned out to be an elevator with ramifications. It sank, that feeling he could recognize, but at what he would have assumed to be the bottom of the shaft, no door opened. Instead, they began to move swiftly sideways. This continued for several minutes until they stopped, shunted this way, shunted that for a short distance, then began to mount again.
“What is this?” Guy growled. “An amusement park ride?”
“Shut up,” the major rapped.
“Shut up yourself,” he snapped back.
The three of them stared at him.
Finally Clete laughed. “Sweety,” she said, “you’re the most effeminate man I ever saw in my life. Damned if I know what Minythyia sees in you. She’d have to spend the first year teaching you your place.”
“That’d be fun,” Guy muttered. He was getting fed up with this chaotic relationship between the sexes. On top of everything else, that description he’d just had of the workings of the Paphlagonia government made about as much sense as anything else on this crackpot world. What were the duties of these layers upon layers of elected officials? Who profited by what? Who was the dog catcher, and who the Minister of War?”
The car he had mistaken for a simple elevator stopped and the door opened quietly.
His eyes widened in shocked disbelief.
They stepped into the biggest, gaudiest hall he had ever seen in his life. It made the surviving cathedrals of antiquity on Earth, at Rome, Seville, Rheims and Istanbul look like peasants’ huts in comparison. He closed his eyes momentarily to cut the glare and to suffer in silence.
“What’s the matter?” the major growled at him.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve simply never seen anything like this layout on any planet in the whole system, and we’ve got some dillies.”
Clete looked at him questioningly. “I thought you had never been over-space before.”
Guy Thomas covered. “I’ve seen a good many Tri-Di travelogues.”
The major said, “Come along.”
They left Clete and Lysippe at the entry and together began to march down the extended hall, eyes supposedly front, although, all along the way, Guy couldn’t resist shooting unbelieving glances left and right.
Could those pillars actually be solid gold? No, of course not. Ridiculous. They were probably simply covered with gold leaf.
Those lines of warriors. Holy Jumping Zen, all armed with scrambler rifles. There was enough fire power present to blow down the city.
Those mosaics over on the wall, the scenes of Amazons and what he assumed were Greek warriors, fighting in chariots. He didn’t like the way the mosaics gleamed reflected light. Oh, no. The mosaics, the tiny colored pieces which composed the mural, simply coudn’t be gems!
The hall could easily have accomodated an Earth-side football game. There was a self-conscious element in marching down its length. He had read once on one of the historical tapes, about the Italian dictator Mussolini who had an enormous office completely unfurnished except for the dictator’s desk at the far corner. A visitor had to walk the full length of the office, becoming more self-conscious every step, to appraoch the other. It had been deliberate, and so, Guy Thomas decided, must this be.
All right, so he was impressed by the pomp and wealth of the Amazon Hippolyte.
At long last, they came to a halt.
On a dias sat a tall, distinguished-looking woman in her late middle years. Her throne, a heavy wooden chair in which she sat, was simple. The only simple article of furniture or decoration in the whole layout, Guy realized. She was flanked, two to each side, by four other women in her same age group, though none quite so patrician. Their cuirasses were evidently of silver and richly embossed and inlayed with gems, one emeralds, one rubies, one diamonds, one sapphires. Probably, Guy decided, each Amazonian phylon had a symbolic color, a symbolic jewel. The Hippolyte’s own cuirass was of simple gold without embellishments.
They stood there for a long moment, Guy thinking, it’s your ball, start bouncing it.
The Hippolyte finally spoke, her rich, full voice in complete compatibility with her distinguished appearance.
“Present the Earthling,” she said.
The major barked, “Citizen Guy Thomas, of Earth, representing the Department of Interplanetary Trade of the United Planets.”
Guy bowed, moderately but sufficiently.
The Hippolyte said, “We understand you have come to our world to—”
“Just a minute,” the Phylon chief to her immediate right said.
The Hippolyte turned to her, eyebrows up. “Yes, Marpesia? You have reason to interrupt me?”
The Pylon chief nodded, without looking at her superior. Her eyes were narrow and on Guy Thomas.
“Only last year, when I was Amazonian Ambassador to to the United Planets, he was pointed out to me at an Octagon reception. His name isn’t Guy Thomas and he is not connected with the Department of Interplanetary Trade. His name is Ronald Bronston and he is top trigger-man for Sidney Jakes of the Notorious Section G of the Bureau of Investigation.”
VIII
There must have been some sort of signal. Warriors, who had been standing far to the side, were approaching on the double.
Guy Thomas didn’t bother to look for a possible way out. The legendary Houdini couldn’t have escaped from this monstrous reception hall, throne room, or call it what you will. There must have been a thousand uniformed and armed women present.
He stood, unchanging, looking straight ahead.
The Hippolyte held her silence for a long moment. In less than that time, Guy and the major were flanked with a double score of young, efficient-looking guards. The major, he noted, was glaring at him, speechlessly.