The wily Clyon noticed his master, Prince Pallicrates, across the length of the glimmering room and headed toward him by a devious route. Catching the eye of Pallicrates he made a certain sign which the leader of the faction was sure to comprehend, then wandered, seemingly at random, into the lantern-lit pleasure gardens that surrounded this tier of the palace.
As in the gardens of Ralidux, the delicate blossoms were shielded from the piercing cold air and rude winds of this altitude by a domed roof of crystal, creating an effect similar to that of a greenhouse. Here the air was humid and heady with the mingled perfumes exuded by the enormous, cultivated flowers.
Clyon selected a secluded corner of the garden and within a few moments Pallicrates joined him. The arch-conspirator was a tall, superbly muscular man with a coldly beautiful face whose perfection was marred only by the expression of disdain he habitually wore, and by certain lines of cruelty about his mouth. His eyes were aloof, keen, uncompromising.
“Well?” he demanded.
In a fawning manner, the older man quickly apprised the prince of his suspicions concerning Ralidux. The taint of heretical error, he hinted, may have spread to Kalistus, the co-leader of the current sequence of experiments, as well. In fact, he conjectured, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that both of the brilliant young savants were leagued together in a series of covert experiments forbidden by Council decree.
“In short, then, you suspect that either Ralidux or Kalistus, or both, have fallen into the mad heresy of believing that the animals are of an intelligence equal to our own?” the prince murmured.
“Master, I do. But as yet I lack positive evidence to support my conjecture.”
“I see.” The prince rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, pondering the implications of the situation. They were interesting and not without promise. The Pallicratian faction had sustained a blow to its prestige when control of the current sequence of experiments had been given to two highly promising young adherents of the rival faction which centered about the effete and ineffectual Prince Thallius, whom Pallicrates hoped to supplant. Here fate had handed him a means of rectifying the situation, while dealing a blow of his own to the prestige of the Thallians. For if the two youths could be found guilty of heretical error, the luster of Thallius would be tarnished thereby, and his own name would shine all the brighter.
“Continue surveillance,” he commanded. “Have the two watched night and day. Compile dossiers of relevant information. And report to me daily on the progress of your investigations.”
“Yes, master!” Clyon bowed obsequiously.
“It will prove extremely interesting, and of great potential worth to our cause, if the youths can be proved to have fallen into the dangerous heresy of suspecting intelligence in the beast-creatures.”
“It will indeed, master. And the L-sequence stands now at a point of crucial significance. If we can manage to replace the two heretics with two trusted Pallicratians, our cause can reap the full benefits of a successful experiment sequence.” Clyon smiled. The prince flashed him a haughty glance from eyes of cold silver.
“Only if the experiments are successful, old fool. However, it has not escaped me that, when and if the secret of immortality is conquered at last by a triumph of Calidarian science, it must be scientists of the Pallicratian faction who are given the credit for the momentous discovery. See to your surveillance, and let me hear frequent reports.”
It was less than an hour later that Clyon’s spies reported that Ralidux and Kalistus had both left the Flying City by unobtrusive ways and had met together in secret for a time, returning together with an antique mechanism. The nature and purpose of the mechanism, unfortunately, was not obvious to the spies assigned to observe the actions of the two suspected heretics, for the spies had received technological training inadequate to identify it.
Clyon rubbed his palms together in silent gloating, and carefully entered the information in the fresh new dossiers he had just opened. Then he activated the octagonal viewplate in his suite and placed a private call to a Pallicratian colleague who occupied a high position in the hierarchy of the thought-police.
The sky-sled floated a few feet above the floor of Kalistus’ laboratory, humming softly. The young savant and his companion studied it through a variety of lenses.
“The antigravity effect seems illusory,” said Kalistus. “According to my meters, the craft is not sustained in its weightlessness by means of kaophonta. That is to say, I detect no gravity crystals present in the structure, unlike those used to sustain the City aloft.”
Ralidux nodded. “The sled is not truly weightless, then, but merely seems to be, because it has been sensitized to the magnetic field generated by the planet. It rides the magnetic lines of force created by the planetary field. Interesting.”
“But this is the same method by which the City flies where the Council wills. The City, however, employs both the magnetic-field effect and the kaophonta engines. Why do you suppose the sled is powered only by the magnetic field?”
Ralidux shrugged. “Perhaps the device dates from an earlier era in which the use of gravity crystals had not been perfected. Or perhaps the weight of the City is such that the magnetic field alone is not sufficient to render it effectively weightless, while the sled is light enough to ride the magnetic currents without need of the kaophonta to counteract its weight. Whatever the explanation, the discovery is one of great moment; we are both famous men as soon as we announce the event!”
Kalistus frowned uncertainly. “It will be difficult to explain how we chanced to discover the sky-sled,” he said slowly. “In your case it was simple curiosity, stimulated by the ambiguous description of the antiquity in which the beast-creatures were nesting when seized by Plycidus’ huntsmen. But in my case, well…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. He had not revealed to Ralidux that the captive Kalood was an intelligent being and had telepathically revealed that the abandoned sky-sled was empowered for flight.
It was not that he distrusted Ralidux especially, but the fear of committing heresy was deeply ingrained into the nature of the Calidarian savants. And the thought-police were everywhere. So he kept the matter to himself.
That night as he slept, Kalistus was visited by a peculiar dream. It seemed to him that a still, soft voice was whispering from deep within his soul—a voice whose urgings were irresistible and whose commands his will was unable to overrule.
Like a somnambulist he rose from his silken couch and entered into the laboratory which adjoined his sleeping quarters. There in the corner stood a strong cage of crystal bars, which, still drowned in slumber, he unlocked. Then the quiet inner voice commanded him to return to his bed and to sleep without dreams until the dawn. As he left the room, walking slowly and stiffly, Zarqa opened the door of his cage and emerged. The telepathic powers of the million-year-old Kalood were such that he could not only communicate with another mind, he could control it if he wished. It was a power he seldom cared to employ, for his race deemed it an evil thing to manipulate the mind of another sentient being in this manner.
However, the power was his to use when conditions warranted so unethical an intrusion into the mind of another. And, unlike his former captor, Sarchimus the cunning science-magician of Sotaspra, who had been wary of the possibility and had guarded against it by means of telepathy-weakening force fields, the savant of Calidar had not foreseen the possibility, or, if he had, had neglected to protect himself against it.