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'The Mother is the Nest and the Nest is the Mother,' said Misk.

'Yes,' said Sarm, and the two Priest-Kings approached one another, bowed and gently locked their antennae.

When they disengaged themselves, Sarm turned to face me. 'Nonetheless,' he said, 'I shall speak to the Mother about this matter.'

'Of course,' said Misk.

'I should have been consulted,' said Sarm, 'for I am First Born.'

'Perhaps,' said Misk.

Sarm looked down at me.I think he had not forgiven me the start I had given him on the platform high above the canyon, near the elevator.

'It is dangerous,' he said.'It should be destroyed.'

'Perhaps,' said Misk.

'And it curled its antennae at me,' said Sarm.

Misk was silent.

'Yes,' said Sarm.'It should be destroyed.'

Sarm then turned from me and with his left, forward supporting appendage depressed a recessed button in the dais on which he stood.

Hardly had his delicate foot touched the button than a panel slid aside and two handsome men, of the most symmetrical form and features with shaven heads and clad in the purple, plastic tunics of slaves, entered the room and prostrated themselves before the dais.

At a signal from Sarm they leaped to their feet and stood alertly beside the dais, their feet spread, their heads high, their arms folded.

'Behold these two,' said Sarm.

Neither of the two men who had entered the room had seemed to notice me.

I now approached them.

'I am Tarl Cabot of Ko-ro-ba,' I said to them, extending my hand.

If they saw my hand they made no effort to accept it.

I assumed they must be identical twins.They had wide, fine heads, strong, broad bodies, and a carriage that suggested calmness and strength.

Both were a bit shorter than I but were somewhat more squarely built.

'You may speak,' said Sarm.

'I am Mul-Al-Ka,' said one, 'honoured slave of the glorious Priest-Kings.'

'I am Mul-Ba-Ta,' said the other, ''honoured slave of the glorious Priest-Kings.'

'In the Nest,' said Misk, 'the expression "Mul" is used to designate a human slave.'

I nodded.The rest of it I did not need to be told.The expressions 'Al-Ka' and 'Ba-Ta' are the two first letters of the Gorean alphabet.In effect these men had no names, but were simply known as Slave A and Slave B.

I turned to Sarm.

'I assume,' I said, 'you have more than twenty-eight human slaves.'There were twenty-eight characters in the Gorean alphabet.I had intended my remark to be rather vicious but Sarm took no offense.

'Others are numbered,' he said.'When one dies or is destroyed, his number is assigned to another.'

'Some of the low numbers,' volunteered Misk, 'have been assigned as many as a thousand times.'

'Why do these slaves not have numbers?' I asked.

'They are special,' said Misk.

I regarded them closely.They seemed splendid specimens of mankind.Perhaps Misk had meant merely that they were unusually excellent representatives of the human type.

'Can you guess,' asked Sarm, 'which one has been synthesised?'

I must have given quite a start.

Sarm's antennae giggled.

'Yes,' said Sarm, 'one was synthesised, beginning with the synthesis of the protein molecules, and was formed molecule by molecule.It is artificially constructed human being.It is not of much scientific interest but it has considerable curiosity value.It was built over a period of two centuries by Kusk, the Priest-King, as a way of escaping in his leisure hours from the burdens of his serious biological investigations.

I shuddered.

'What of the other?' I asked.

'It too,' said Sarm, 'is not without interest and is also bestowed upon us by the avocational whims of Kusk, one of the greatest of our Nest.'

'Is the other also synthesised?' I asked.

'No,' said Sarm, 'it is the product of genetic manipulation, artificial control and alteration of the hereditary coils in gametes.'

I was sweating.

'Not the least interesting aspect of this matter,' said Sarm, 'is the match.'

To be sure I could not tell the two men, if they were men, apart.

'That is the evidence of real skill,' said Sarm.

'Kusk,' said Misk, 'is one of the greatest of the Nest.'

'Which of these slaves,' I asked, 'is the one who was synthesised?'

'Can't you tell?' asked Sarm.

'No,' I said.

Sarm's antennae shivered and wrapped themselves about one another.He was shaking with the signs I knew now to be associated with amusement.

'I will not tell you,' he said.

'It is growing late,' said Misk, 'and the Matok, if he is to remain in the Nest, must be processed.'

'Yes,' said Sarm, but he seemed in no hurry to conclude his gloating.He pointed one long, jointed foreleg at the Muls. 'Gaze upon them with awe, Matok,' said he, 'for they are the product of Priest-Kings and the most perfect specimens of your race ever to exist.'

I wondered about what Misk meant by 'processing' but Sarm's words irritated me, as did the two grave, handsome fellows who had so spontaneously groveled before his dais.'How is that?' I asked.

'Is it not obvious?' asked Sarm.

'No,' I said.

'They are symmetrically formed,' said Sarm.'Moreover they are intelligent, strong and in good health.'Sarm seemed to wait for my reply but there was none.'And,' said Sarm, 'they live on fungus and water, and wash themselves twelve times a day.'

I laughed.'By the Priest-Kings!' I roared, the rather blasphemous Gorean oath slipping out, somehow incongruously considering my present location and predicament.Neither Priest-King however seemed in the least disturbed by this oath which might have brought tears to the eyes of a member of the Caste of Initiates.

'Why do you curl your antennae?' asked Sarm.

'You call these perfect human beings?' I asked, waving my arms toward the two slaves.

'Of course,' said Sarm.

'Of course,' said Misk.

'Perfect slaves!' I said.

'The most perfect human being is of course the most perfect slave,' said Sarm.

'The most perfect human being,' I said, 'is free.'

A look of puzzlement seemed to appear in the eyes of the two slaves.

'They have no wish to be set free,' said Misk.He then addressed the slaves.'What is your greatest joy, Muls?' he asked.

'To be slaves of Priest-Kings,' they said.

'You see?' asked Misk.

'Yes,' I said.'I see now that they are not men.'

Sarm's antennae twitched angrily.

'Why do you not,' I challenged, 'have your Kusk, or whoever he is, synthesise a Priest-King?'

Sarm seemed to shiver with rage.The bladed hornlike projections snapped into view on his forelegs.

Misk had not moved.'It would be immoral,' he said.

Sarm turned to Misk.'Would the Mother object if the Matok's arms and legs were broken?'

'Yes,' said Misk.

'Would the Mother object if its organs were damaged?' asked Sarm.

'Undoubtedly,' said Misk.

'But surely,' said Sarm, 'it can be punished.'

'Yes,' said Misk, 'undoubtedly it will have to be disciplined sometime.'

'Very well,' said Sarm and directed his antennae at the two shaven-headed, plastic-clad slaves.'Punish the Matok,' said Sarm, 'but do not break its bones nor injure its organs.'

No sooner had these words been emitted from Sarm's translator than the two slaves leaped toward me to seize me.

In that same instant I leaped toward them, taking them by surprise and compounding the momentum of my blow.I thrust one aside with my left arm and crushed my fist into the face of the second.His head snapped to the side and his knees buckled.He crumpled to the floor.Before the other could regain his balance, I had leaped to him and seized him in my hands and lifted him high over my head and hurled him on his back to the stone flooring of the long chamber.Had it been combat to the death in that brief instant I would have finished him leaping over him and gouging my heels into his stomach rupturing the diaphragm.But I had no wish to kill him, nor a matter of fact to injure him severely.He managed to roll over on his stomach.I could have snapped his neck then with my heel.The thought occurred to me that these slaves had not been well trained to administer discipline. They seemed to know almost nothing.Now the man was on his knees, gasping, supporting himself on the palm of his right hand.If he was right-handed, that seemed foolish.Also he made no effort to cover his throat.