“Since we are speaking face to face I can accept this information as factual until I have been instructed otherwise by my Master,” the Teldin said, and the sudden change in its manner was unmistakable. It added, “But my Master will not accept anything you say.”
“For this reason,” Martin persisted, “I have been instructed to land on this world and gather information about your species and its culture so that my Master will know whom to approach with the initial offers of friendship and exchanges of knowledge.”
“Your Master seems lacking in sensitivity and intelligence,” the Teldin said, this time without any apology.
“Your Master might just as well have sent a radio transmitting and receiving device.”
“That has already been tried,” Martin said, “without success.”
“Naturally,” the Teldin said.
The situation had gone sour, there could be no doubt about that. The impression given by the Teldin was that it belonged to an intensely status-conscious slave culture in which the Masters spoke only to other Masters or to God, and when a Master spoke to a slave, the slave had to believe everything it was told and, presumably, disbelieve everything it had been told earlier by a lowlier being.
This is crazy, thought Martin. “What would have been your reaction if I’d been a Master?”
“Had you been a Master,” the Teldin replied, “I would not have been able to give you any information until it had been vetted for content and accuracy by my own or another Master. Knowledge which is not passed down from a Master is, as you know, untrustworthy. The only assistance I could have given you would have been to arrange a meeting with another Master. Had you been a Master we could not have exchanged hearsay as freely as we have been doing.”
“May this exchange continue?” Martin asked eagerly. “I have many questions. And answers.”
“Yes, Martin,” the Teldin said. “It may continue until I have reported your presence and everything that has transpired between us to my Master, who will assess the value of the material and instruct me accordingly.
“My curiosity is such that I am in no great hurry to make my report,” the being added. “And my name is Skorta.”
“Thank you, Skorta,” Martin said, relieved. The atmosphere seemed friendly once more, but he still needed clarification on the Master-slave relationship. He said, “Will you make your report in person, and where?”
“Careful,” Beth warned.
“Thankfully, no,” Skorta said. “I must make a hearsay report by radio. The device is in my Master’s education complex in the city.”
“Are you a teacher!”
Martin could hardly believe his luck. It would not matter which subject Skorta taught, because it was sure to have a grounding in many subjects, and it was quite probable that the Teldin would be able to furnish them with all of the information necessary for the completion of their assignment, possibly within a few hours.
“Properly speaking, only a Master can teach,” it replied. “That is the law, I relay the approved information, suitably simplified for the age-groups concerned, to unruly little beings who only rarely think of questioning the validity of the information they receive. Even the words of a Master, as you know, may be doubted when they have been passed down through too many slaves.”
“I should like to see your students,” Martin said, “and other people in the city. Would I be able to meet a Master?…”
Martin felt like biting off his tongue. Without thinking he had blundered into that highly sensitive area again, and he could almost feel the atmosphere congeal. The Teldin made a soft, untranslatable sound which might have been a sigh.
“Stranger,” it said slowly, “your presence here is an insult and an affront to our Masters, since it is plain that your own Master thinks so little of this world and its people that it sent a slave to us as an emissary. To my knowledge there has never been a greater insult, and I cannot even guess at what the Masters reaction will be.
“But I am willing to take you to the city,” Skorta went on. “In fact, I am anxious to do so in order to prolong this contact with you, and to discover as much about your people and their civilization as I can before I am required officially to forget it. But I must warn you that the visit to the city could place you in great personal danger.”
“From the slaves or the Masters?” Martin asked. He was beginning to like this visually ferocious, four-armed nightmare that was glaring down at him. He could be certain of very little in the present situation, but he was sure that this being was honest and had a measure of concern for his safety.
“The slaves may restrain you if instructed to do so by the Masters,” the Teldin replied slowly, “but only the Masters bear weapons and only they may kill. Now, if you will climb into my carrier I shall transport you to the city.”
“Don’t go,” Beth said, and gave reasons.
“I have received information,” Martin said when she had finished talking, “that very shortly meteorite activity will increase in this area by a factor of three. I cannot be more specific because of ignorance regarding your units of time. According to the instruments in the orbiting vessel…”
“This is hearsay,” Skorta broke in.
“True,” Martin said quickly. “But the instruments are being read by my life-mate who is, naturally, anxious that no harm befalls me.”
“Then I understand why you attach so much importance to this information,” the Teldin said, “but I cannot. It comes through a device of your life-mate, through another device to you and then to myself. There are too many possibilities for cumulative error between the fact and the reported fact for me to accept this information as other than hearsay.
“Since you believe that the Scourge from the sky will be heavier soon,” Skorta went on, “do you wish to return to the safety of your vessel now?”
In his other ear Beth was saying much the same thing in more forthright language, adding that there would be another time and another Teldin to talk to. But Martin wanted to go on talking to this one, and the intensity of the feeling surprised him.
“If I returned to my vessel,” he said, choosing his words with care, “I could leave you a device which would enable us to continue our conversation. But this would be unsatisfactory for two reasons. I would not be able to visit your city, and you would consider any such conversation as untrustworthy hearsay. If, however, you can assure me from your own personal experience that this road is adequately protected, I would go with you to the city and continue to converse with you face to face.”
The Teldin exhaled loudly and said, “Stranger, at last you are thinking like a Teldin.” Martin boarded the tricycle and the Teldin began to pedal. Soon the protective wall was slipping past at a respectable rate of speed. Without taking its attention from the road, Skorta added, “I can also assure you that you can speak to me face to face while addressing the back of my neck.”
Chapter 7
ON only two occasions did the Teldin move briefly to the unprotected side of the road to let oncoming vehicles through on the inside. Right of way, it seemed, depended on the pennant flying on the approaching vehicle and on the size and position of the ownership badges being worn by the occupants.
A flag and distinctively colored vehicle driven by a Teldin wearing a large emblem on a shoulder sash indicated that it was a slave of the lower order, a public utility worker or such. Badges worn on armbands signified a much higher grade of slave, and emblems worn on the wrist indicated a person in the highest level of the hierarchy of Teldin slavehood.