It was no time to linger.
He packed hastily, leaving the book and the package for the last. Then he ripped away the wrapping, to study the necklace. The thirty jewels on it were silvery white in the shadows where he held them. They meant a measure of youth again—a wife to give him sons—Earth or any planet he chose. They meant everything he wanted, except peace within himself.
But he had done only what had to be. A man could never stand idly by and see his world ruined, even though the fools in it were bent on riding downhill to perdition. At least in his tune, Earth must retain her dominion.
Lightning flashed, a heavy bolt that crashed down against the roof of the temple. It was natural, since the gold dome was the highest point in the city, but it would be more food for the superstitious. The thunder rolled out, drowning the sound of the rain, and almost covering the footsteps behind him.
He looked around slowly, with no surprise. “It’s been a long time, Kleon.”
“Too long, Eli,” the old voice said. Amazingly, the man looked no older than he had in the village, but there were fatigue and pain hi every movement he made. “Your guards are gone, so I left my beasts and came in.”
“Vengeance?” Judson asked.
The head shook slowly. “I still leave anger to others,
Eli. Anyhow, vengeance for what? Meia wanted you. And he—he knew it had to be and brought it on himself. I was only a teacher, not a disciple, though I loved the man. No, I followed you to see you, and to take back word of you to Meia. She still lives hi the village, and still thinks of you.”
Judson shook his head. He’d schooled himself to think of her as being dead. But there was nothing ‘he could say.
The storm seemed to be thinning out, almost as quickly as it had come. Kleon moved to the windows, staring toward the hill. There were tears in his eyes, but his sigh was one of relief. “It is finished,” he said.
He bowed his head and seemed to be quoting. ” “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell hi the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined…. For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise and garments rolled hi blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.’ I can’t blame you for trying to stop a battle that will not be confined to this world, Eli, though the tune for any man to take action has passed—as even our priestess seems to know, to her sorrow.”
“I stopped it once,” Judson protested harshly.
Kleon stared at him, surprise on his old face. He glanced at the book on the table, and the surprise deepened. “I wondered, when you didn’t return. And yet. How could you fail to get her message and yet have the book all these years, Eli?”
He moved to the thin volume, pulling it open with a cord that day between the pages. Then he hesitated, and picked up the binoculars instead. “Look; Eli. Look carefully, and beneath the surface!”
Judson moved uncertainly to the window, unwilling but unable to resist. He focused on the figure that was still upright. Now, when it should have been dulled in death, the face had picked up a strange strength and nobility, and it seemed to stare at the sky, triumphant and waiting. But it was drawn thin by the hours of suffering, and there was something about the features-—the nose, the shape of the chin…
“No!” It ripped put of Judson, while the binoculars crashed to the floofcn”Ifs impossible! Physically impossible!” iV~;(
Kleon shook his head. “Not to one who had the Power, Eli. She burned herself out in one effort—but she succeeded. Here’s the message I brought you from her, thirty years ago.”
There was a dark circle around one verse on the page, followed by a thick, heavy exclamation point. Below that Meia’s signature was scrawled in English script. Judson bent over the book, focusing on the small, ancient print within the circle.
Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.
His eyes wavered from the page to the sight of the necklace that was to have given him youth again, and a wife—and a son; rejuvenation to give him more years to realize what he had done and to watch what must become of the power his race had won. Years to think—and sometimes to wonder what a too-human woman in a Village on Sayon might be thinking.
He took one last look up the hill, dry-eyed and frozen. Then he turned to follow Kleon out of the empty palace, knowing he could never leave Sayon again. The men turned the corner outside together, climbed silently onto the waiting beasts, and moved slowly north, away from the distant spaceport and the hell that was beginning already in the city.
Night was falling and the city began to gleam with the angry red of growing fires, while the crowds fought back and forth across the streets, howling in sorrow and rage….
Behind, the book lay open on the table. Wind came in from the windows, turning the pages slowly to the last chapter of Isaiah. Then a sudden gust blew the book closed.
Vengeance Is Mine
1
Hate spewed across the galaxy in a high crusade. Metal jfcips leaped from world to world and hurtled across Space to farther and farther stars. Planets surrendered their ores to sky-reaching cities, built around fortress-temples and supported by vast networks of technology. Then more ships were spawned, armed with incredible weapons, and sent forth in the eternal search for an enemy.
In the teeming cities and aboard the questing ships, foul-wrenching music was composed, epic fiction and gupernal poetry were written, and great paintings and tculpture were developed, to be forgotten as later and nobler work was done. Science strove for the ultimate limit of understanding, fought against that limit, aid surged past it to limitless possibilities. But behind all the arts and sciences lay the drive of religion, and the religion was one of ancient anger and dedicated hate.
The ships filled the galaxy until every world was conquered. For a time, they hesitated, preparing for the great leap outward. Then the armadas sailed again, mcross thousands and millions of light-years toward the beckoning galaxies beyond.
With each ship went the holy image of their faith and the unsated and insatiable hunger of their hate…
2
The cattrack labored up the rough road over the crater wall, topped the last rise, and began humming its way down into Eratosthenes. Inside the cab, the driver’s seat groaned protestingly as Sam shifted his six hundred terrestrial pounds forward. Coming home was always a good time. He switched lenses in his eyes and began scanning the crater floor for the first sight of the Lunar Base dome.
“You don’t have to be quite so all-fired anxious to get back, Sam,” Hal Norman complained. But the little selenologist was also’ gazing forward eagerly. “You might show a little appreciation for the time I’ve spent answering your fool questions and trying to pound sense into your tin head. Anybody’d think you didn’t like my company.”
Sam made the sound of a human chuckle with which he had taught himself to acknowledge all the verbal nonsense men called humor. But truth compelled him to answer seriously. “I like your company very much, Hal.”
He had always liked the company of the men he’d met on Earth or during his long years on the Moon. Humans, he had decided long ago, were wonderful. He had enjoyed the extended field trip with Hal Norman; but it would still be good to get back to the dome, where the men had given him the unique privilege of joining them. There he could listen to the often inexplicable but always fascinating conversation of forty men. And there, perhaps, he could join them in their singing. All the robots had perfect pitch, of course, but only Sam had learned to sing acceptably enough to win a place in the dome.