Berserker's Planet Fred Saberhagen

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The swift tropical Hunterian night had come on by the time he had finished bathing and dressing. A
young priest was promptly at hand to conduct him to the feast; it seemed that everything was running on a
smooth schedule.
With a word to his guide he stopped at Athena's room, next to his, and found her ready to join him, as
prompt as when they went off on a business trip. Her guide had told her that De La Torre and Celeste,
whose rooms were next along a covered walk, had already gone on ahead.
Joking a little about what sort of merchandise they might hope to sell to their new client Andreas,
Schoenberg and Athena followed their guides from one courtyard and cloister to another without being
brought again in sight of the city's streets. Evidently the Temple complex was extensive.
At last they entered a small door in the flank of the tall building Schoenberg recognized as the Temple
itself and were led down to a large room a short distance below ground level. It was refreshingly cool
after the day's sunlit warmth.
Already at table were De La Torre and Celeste, also garbed in white, De La Torre with a leafy garland
on his head like some ancient Roman. With them sat the High Priest, and half a dozen other men all of the
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highest rank. Some of these had accompanied Andreas on his first welcoming visit to the outworlders'
ship.
Servants moved quietly and efficiently about. The banquet room was large, pleasingly decorated with
fine hangings, softly lit with well-placed candles. All was as it should be.
"Our host has been telling me about Thorun's great hall," said De La Torre, after greetings had been
exchanged.
"So?" Schoenberg moved a hand around in an inclusive gesture. "Is this the place?"
One of the Inner Circle priests grinned, broadly and cynically. "No, Thorun's is really quite a different
world from ours. Or yours."
As at the Tournament, Schoenberg, when seated, found himself between Athena and Celeste. Here,
despite the outwardly pleasant surroundings, not only Celeste but Athena kept drawing close to him, as if
unconsciously. Not only were there no other women guests this evening, but Schoenberg had the feeling
that there might never have been any in the history of the Temple. Andreas and the other Hunterian
leaders never spoke to Athena unless she asked them a direct question, which she did of course from
time to time to show her nerve. Celeste, being a good playgirl, knew when she was expected to keep
quiet. If the Hunterians knew her real status, Schoenberg supposed, they would be outraged.
No doubt about it, his party was being accorded extraordinary treatment. He would have to at least
appear to agree to their requests when it came, whatever it might be.
The feast was elaborate and very good, though Schoenberg with an apologetic explanation to Andreas
advised the other outworlders not to partake of certain dishes, nor of the fermented milk that was
brought before them in great bowls. "It will be better for our Earthly stomachs if we drink clear water
here, if Thorun does not object."
Andreas waved a negligent hand. "Thorun is largely indifferent to such matters. Clear water is always a
good warriors' drink."
Schoenberg sipped his water, from a golden cup. "I look forward to seeing the next round of the
Tournament."
"I, too. I am delighted that our interests coincide. Unfortunately business has prevented me from seeing
any of the earlier rounds."
"I know what the press of business can be like."
Celeste's foot was tapping under the table.
Dancers had come on the scene and she was watching them with professional interest. They were good,
girls and youths dancing together, the show very crude by Earth standards of course, and too bluntly
erotic in places, but well practiced and full of energy. The Hunterian men at table watched the show with
somewhat grim expressions, or did not watch it at all. Schoenberg wondered if priests here were
supposed to be celibate. He would get around to asking that later, if at all. Sex on any planet was likely
to be an even more sensitive subject than religion, which these religious leaders did not appear to take
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too seriously.
All was new and interesting to the outworlders and the evening passed quickly for them. The night was
well advanced, the candles burning low, and the dancers literally collapsed from exhaustion, when
Schoenberg suggested that the time had come for him and his party to return to their ship.
Andreas made a gesture of polite disapproval. "Your beds here have been prepared. One of the dancing
girls yonder will share yours with you if you like."
"The offer is most pleasing. But I am concerned about my ship."
"Stay here. Spend the night under Thorun's roof. You and I have much more to talk about. And it would
be unpleasant, trying to climb the tall rock at night to reach your ship."
Schoenberg did not take long to make up his mind. "We accept your invitation gladly. If you will excuse
me, though, I must talk briefly to the people on the ship." He took the communicator from his belt,
activated it, waited for an answer. None was immediately forthcoming. He raised the device to his mouth
and spoke. "Suomi?"
"Stay here," said Andreas, making his face hideous with his smile. "In the morning I will try to facilitate
your meeting with him."
"You will try& I do not understand."
"You see, the man you left to guard your ship is there no longer. It is shameful but necessary to explain
that while the last round of the Tournament was in progress he took fright and fled from that place. I did
not wish to worry you unnecessarily, but we have not yet managed to locate him."
Schoenberg sat up straight, giving Andreas his best tycoon's look. "And what about my ship?"
"We are guarding it for you. Nothing in it will be damaged. No one can reach it, except by my authority.
Come, I must insist you stay the night."
VIII
Shortly after the next morning's dawn a slave came around to waken the eight survivors of the
Tournament.
Giles the Treacherous, roused instantly by the light tug on his sleeping robe, rolled over, remembered
fully where he was, and came awake with something of a start. Sitting up, he rubbed sleep from his eyes
and looked about him, then observed to anyone who cared to listen: "Our camp is growing somewhat
smaller day by day."
Though most of the seven others were awake, none of them chose to respond immediately. Like Giles,
they had simply wrapped themselves in robes or blankets for sleep, and now there was a general slow
emergence, as of a gathering of insects from cocoons.
It had rained a little during the night. The morning was gray and cheerless. On the previous evening the
eight warriors had bedded down quite close together, as if by common consent against some external
danger. The space they now occupied was tiny indeed compared with that of the first fine encampment
beside the river far below.
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When Giles stood up the river was visible to him down there, bend after bend of it snaking across the
flat country until it lost itself at last in fields of morning mist. Down there croplands made ragged
rectangles. For a moment-a moment only-Giles wished with the intensity of physical pain that he was
somewhere in his own remote province, striding stupidly behind a plow, as once he had done, long ago.
Long ago.
Omir Kelsumba, giant and black, was standing a few paces away and preparing to empty his bladder
down the hill. The slaves had not gotten around to digging a latrine for this campsite before most of them
were for some reason called away to other duties, yesterday afternoon. Omir spoke over his shoulder to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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