I just nodded, and the door closed again. I wondered whether it was a good idea to tell them that I couldn’t go anyplace right now if my life depended on it. Every muscle ached, every part of my mind was filled with sponge and cobwebs. I had more than slept off my months of toil, I’d slept for the first tune free of the constant and intangible tension and uncertainty that life had produced.
I lay there, occupying myself as I could by trying to locate the peephole, which wasn’t difficult. In order to take in the entire room, it had to be above and probably opposite me as well. A cursory figuring of the proper angles led me to the small discolored brick niche that almost certainly had a human eye behind it.
Breakfast arrived shortly, and I struggled up to meet it. It was a relatively simple affair, true—just some wheat toast, jellies, a few small sweet rolls, and a glass of juice—but after the gruel I’d been fed the past few months, it looked like heaven. My greatest need was the mug of hot—well, I wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted something like mocha and was obviously a strong stimulant Everything tasted simply wonderful and did the trick.
By the time young attendants of Supervisor rank had cleared my little portable breakfast table and taken it away, I felt ready for anything and anybody. The sight of people with the power acting as the most menial of servants fit my idea of what the Castle had to be like. From past experience in the service, I knew a general or admiral was boss, the authority figure to be feared and respected. But at Military Systems Command, for example, junior generals and admirals were only glorified messengers. Power wasn’t just what you had, it was always what you had compared to those around you.
Still, the Supervisor class had it easy compared to the masses on Lilith. Their toil was dignified, civilized, and most of all, comfortable. Still, the youth of many of them marked diem as native-born, and also reminded me that Ti, too, was somewhere here in the Castle. It would be delicate, but I had to see how she was faring and to help if I could. In a sense I owed all this to her.
All set for my introduction into society, I hadn’t long to wait before my guide and evaluator appeared. He hadn’t knocked, a sign of extreme rank, and he was something to see. Cal Tremon was a huge man, but this chap was equally large and as well proportioned, although a lot of his body was hidden by gold-braided clothing of the- deepest black—a rather fancy shirt and tailored pants, the latter held up by a shiny, thick belt and tucked into equally shiny and impressive black boots.
The man -himself was clean-shaven except for a thick and droopy mustache. He had a rough, experienced face, burned and etched by sun and wind. His imposing gray eyebrows set off the coldest pair of jet-black eyes I’d ever seen. His hair, carefully cut and manicured, was full and somewhat curly, the gray of it marking the type of man he was rather than his age —he might have been thirty or sixty for all anyone could tell.
I knew in an instant this was a dangerous man, one whose fierceness and aristocratic bearing made the late, unlamented Kronlon look as threatening as Ti. I stood up and bowed slightly, feeling we might as well get off to a good start.
“I am Master Artur,” he said, in a voice so low and thunderous that it alone would be intimidating enough to make most people jump when it sounded. Worse, I was convinced that tins was Artur’s nice, pleasant voice. I really didn’t want to see this old boy mad, at least not at me.
“I am Keep Sergeant-at-Arms,” he continued, looking me over. I could not fathom what might be going through his brain.
“I am Cal Tremon,” I responded, hoping that was sufficient.
He nodded. “So you fried old Kronlon, did you? Well, good riddance to the little rat anyway. I never did like him much, although he did his job well enough. Well, enough of that. I’m to take you over to Medical and then we’ll put you through your paces. Feel up to it?”
I nodded, although still a little hung over from my long sleep. “Now is as good a time as any,” I responded, and bowed again slightly.
“Come along.” He gestured with his hand, and with that he turned and walked briskly out the door. I followed as best I could, noting the big man’s proud, military-style gait. He was no native of Lilith, I decided, and I wondered just who and what he had been.
The Castle was far more alive during the day, with hordes of people all over,, many on cleanup and maintenance errands, but a lot seemingly just milling around. They all seemed so neat and clean and civilized, though, that they produced an odd set of comparisons in my mind. What these people were to the civilized worlds, ancient Greece of our ancestral world must have been to those of the early industrial revolution. Technologically primitive did not mean truly primitive at all.
Still, the technology that was in evidence was shock enough. Since coming to Lilith I’d been conditioned to believe that such clothing and buildings and things of this nature just weren’t possible here. That’s why people slept inside bunti trees and wore nothing. Now I was beginning to appreciate the other side of the power the Warden organism could bestow—the power that was fundamental to civilized thought and society.
The power to alter one’s environment for one’s own ends—that was the key denied to the pawns, the element that kept them in abject misery and slavery. The capricious rules of the Warden organism said that such a power was reserved to a select few.
I did notice, though, the slight traces of fear in these people’s faces as Artur passed, the sideward glances and forced attempts not to appear to be looking at us. No doubt about it—they were terrified of him, as were the few Masters we encountered.
Artur dropped me at Medical and told them where to find him when they were through. They just nodded respectfully and said as little as possible, but you could feel the relief when the big man left the room. They measured, poked, and probed as best they could, having no Outside instrumentation. They did have some clever substitutions, though, fashioned1, apparently, out of things in the environment itself. A clinging sort of vine from which they appeared to be able to read my blood pressure; a small yellow leaf whose color change to red showed to experienced eyes my body temperature. All these and more were dutifully recorded with reed pens on some thin, leafy substance that served for paper.
All of these men and women were Supervisor class, though. Only after they were through with the preliminaries and satisfied did they call in their own chief. He was a small, pudgy, middle-aged man who had the look of the civilized worlds about him without the physical standards exactingly carried through. He wore a soft white satiny robe and sandals, apparently because that was what was comfortable.
“I am Dr. Pohn,” he began in the usual medical manner. He picked up the sheets and glanced idly at them. “I see you’re disgustingly normal. Believe it or not, just about everybody is, you know. That’s the Warden organism’s trade-off to us for living off our bodies. Damage almost anywhere except the brain itself is corrected, new limbs grown, and so forth. And the viruses here are too alien for any of us to have to worry about. Still, we go through the forms. You never know when you’re going to find someone unusual. Besides, we’re interested in comparative readings from people such as you who have demonstrated abilities with the power.”
I nodded, remembering now that Tiel was obsessed with breeding a class with the power. This, then, would be the man in charge of the Knight’s pet project.
“Were you a doctor—before?” I asked, both curious and trying to be friendly.