“Why?” Martin asked. The other’s words had a distinctly insubordinate sound to them.
“They come only in response to reports of serious trouble,” the Teldin explained, breathing deeply between sentences because the road up to the school had steepened. “Not just to administer punishment but to extend or amend existing instructions regarding virtually everything. When a Master conies, the visit must not be wasted.
“It is a long, difficult, and dangerous journey for them,” the Teldin concluded, “and their lives are much too valuable to be risked without good reason.”
Martin had heard of absentee landlords in Earth’s history, but the concept of an absentee slavemaster was difficult to grasp, as was the idea of a slave society which seemed to be self-policing and largely self-governing. He could not understand why they remained slaves, why they did not rebel and start thinking as well as doing for themselves, or why they held their Masters, whose absence was infinitely preferable to their presence, in such high esteem.
The Masters, he thought, must be very potent individuals indeed. To complete the assessment he had to know more about them.
“Would the visit of a person from another world,” he said carefully, “be considered important enough to warrant the attention of a Master?”
“Watch it!” Beth said warningly.
“The visit of a slave from another world,” the Teldin corrected-without, however, answering the question.
The tricycle rumbled across the stony apron at the base of the cliff toward the vehicle entrance, and Martin saw that the tiny pupils of Skorta’s eyes had enlarged to four or five times their normal size. The dilation mechanism had to be a voluntary one because they were still several seconds away from the tunnel mouth. Plainly the Teldins had no trouble seeing in the dark. He adjusted his image enhancer.
Patches of luminous vegetation coated the tunnel walls, and at frequent intervals he could see short tunnels opening into artificial caves containing machinery whose purpose was not clear to him. Skorta told him that important and irreplaceable machines were housed in these caves to protect them from the Scourge, and that metal was scarce on Teldi.
The Teldi guided its tricycle into one of the caves and they dismounted.
“I realize that to a stranger like yourself this is hearsay,” Skorta said, “but it is widely held to be a fact that this school is the most efficient teaching establishment on the whole planet. The Masters of Transport, Agriculture, Communications, Education, and other associated Masterships send their slaves here, often from pre-puberty, and when they leave they are most valuable pieces of property indeed.”
Martin hastily revised his estimate of the Teldin’s status. It was closer to being a university lecturer than a schoolteacher, he thought, and asked, “What is your position in the establishment?”
“The position is largely administrative,” Skorta replied as it led Martin into a narrow tunnel which climbed steeply. “I am the senior teaching slave in charge. We are going to my quarters…”
He made another revision, from lecturer to Dean of Studies.
“Later, if you are agreeable,” it went on, “I would like you to meet some of the students. But there is a serious risk involved…”
“The students are unruly?”
“No, stranger,” the Teldin said. “The risk is mine in that the slave of another Master might report your presence before I did so. There is also the matter of your accommodation, should you wish to remain here for a time.”
“Thank you, I would like to…” Martin began, when Beth’s voice broke in.
“You can’t just move in like a visiting lecturer,” she said, “There are problems.”
“There are problems,” Skorta repeated unknowingly, “regarding your life processes, particularly food intake and waste elimination. It is a unique problem for us. There is no knowledge nor even the wildest or most speculative hearsay regarding the possible effects of off-planet diseases on the Teldin species, or the effectiveness of our disinfectants on your wastes. This aspect of your visit has only just occurred to me. It is a serious matter which requires consultation with our senior medical slaves. So serious, in fact, that they will be duty-bound to refer the matter to the Master of Medicine.”
The Teldin guided him into a large, cliff-face cave containing an enormous, high desk, chairs on the same massive scale, and walls covered by the luminous vegetation between gaps in the bookshelves. Martin had time to notice that the books were retained in place by heavy wooden bars padlocked at both ends.
Since the discussion about alien diseases, Skorta had been keeping its distance while still asking an awful lot of questions. Plainly the risk of a possible off-world infection was evenly balanced by its curiosity, and it was time he put the Teldin’s mind at rest.
He said, “Your offer of accommodation is appreciated, but rather than cause discomfort to both of us I would prefer to spend some time every day in my own vessel. May I have permission to move it to the fiat area in front of the school so that I can spend as much time here as possible?
“And the Master of Medicine has no cause for concern,” he went on before the other could reply, “since off-world pathogens will not effect Teldins, nor will Teldin diseases be transmissible to the many hundreds of different species who inhabit the Galaxy. That is…”
“Hearsay!” the Teldin broke in.
“Naturally,” Martin went on, “I have not visited all of these worlds, but I have lived for a time on three of them without contracting any other-species diseases.”
He was bending the truth slightly because one of the three was Teldi itself. The others had been Formalhaut Three and the single, lifeless plant which circled the Black Diamond at the galactic center.
“It is still hearsay, but I am greatly reassured,” the Teldin said. “And your vessel will arouse less comment outside our school than in any other part of the city.”
“Thank you,” Martin said. “If a problem arises suddenly, as it may have done today had I been a disease-carrier, how do the Masters learn of it?”
The Teldin pointed to a recess which contained a table, chair and shelves lined with what could only be Leyden cells. The batteries were wired in series to a collection of table-mounted radio equipment with which the legendary Marconi would have felt instantly at home. Skorta was giving him a rundown on the Teldin equivalent of the Morse code when Martin interrupted quietly.
“This is a mechanism. It transmits and receives information over a great distance, not face to face. Surely this is hearsay, and forbidden?”
The Teldin gestured toward the barred bookshelves and said, “That, too, is hearsay, but some of us are allowed to read it.”
“You confuse me,” Martin said.
“The volumes contain hearsay which is a transcription of much older hearsay,” the Teldin explained, “selected by the Masters for study by only the highest-level slaves, slaves who are able to assimilate the material without mental suffering caused by disaffection with their present circumstances, or thoughts of what might have been had the Scourge not come upon us. Ignorance makes it easier to accept the inevitable.”
“Are you saying,” Martin asked harshly, “that the majority of the slaves are kept in ignorance?”
“I’m saying that they’re happier in their ignorance,” Skorta replied. “This hearsay material is not kept from them entirely. But it must be earned piece by piece, as a reward for physical and mental effort.”