Marune Alastor 933 Page 3

  Rady shrugged. "The choice is yours. You can walk out of here at any time. The Social Service will find you employment and you can start a new life."

  Pardero shook his head. "I never could evade the pressure. Perhaps there are people who need me, who now grieve for me."

  Rady said only: "Tomorrow we'll start the detective work."

  An hour after twilight Pardero met Ariel at a cafe and reported the events of the day. "Rady admitted bafflement," said Pardero, with something like gloomy satisfaction. "Not in so many words of course. He also said that the only way to learn where I came from was to find out where I lived. In short, he wants to send me home. First we must find home. The detective work starts tomorrow."

  Ariel nodded thoughtfully. Tonight she was not her usual self; in fact, thought Pardero, she seemed strained, and preoccupied. He reached out to touch her soft blond hair, but she drew back.

  "And then?" she asked.

  "Nothing much. He told me that if I were reluctant to proceed, now was the time to make a decision."

  "And what did you say?"

  "I told him that I had to go on, that perhaps somewhere people searched for me."

  Ariel's blue eyes darkened sorrowfully. "I cannot see you anymore, Pardero."

  "Oh? Why not?"

  "For just the reasons you cited. Amnesiacs always wander away from their homes and then - well, form new attachments. Then their memory returns and the situation ends in tragedy." Ariel rose to her feet. "I'll say good-by now, before I change my mind." She touched his hand, then walked away from the table.

  Pardero watched her diminish down the avenue. He made no move to stop her.

  Instead of one day, three days passed before O.T. Kolodin sought out Pardero.

  "Today we visit the Connatic's Palace and explore the Ring of Worlds."

  "I'll enjoy the excursion. But why?"

  "I've been looking into your past, and it turns out to be a hopeless tangle; or, more properly, a blur of uncertainties."

  "I could have told you that myself."

  "No doubt, but one must never take anything for granted. The facts, duly certified, are these. Sometime on tenth Mariel Gaean you appeared at Carfaunge Spaceport. This was an unusually busy day and you might have arrived aboard any of six ships of four different transport lines. The previous routes of these ships took them to a total of twenty-eight worlds, any of which might be your place of origin. Nine of these worlds are important junctions and it is possible that you made your voyage by two or even three stages. Amnesia would not be an insuperable objection. Stewards and depot personnel, taking you for a lackwit, would consult your ticket and shift you from ship to ship. In any case the number of worlds, depots, ships, and possible linkages becomes unmanageable. Or at least an inquiry of last resort. First we will visit the Connatic! Though I doubt if he will receive us personally."

  "Too. bad! I would like to pay my respects."

  They rode by aircab across Flor Solana to Moniscq, a town beside the sea, thence under the Ocean of Equatorial Storms by submarine tunnel to Tremone Island. An airbus flew them south, and presently the Connatic's so-called "palace" became visible, appearing first as a fragile shine, an unsubstantial glimmer in the air, which solidified into a tower of stupendous dimensions, standing upon five pylons, footed upon five islands. A thousand feet above the sea the pylons joined and flared, creating a dome of five groins, the underside of the first deck. Above rose the tower, up through the lower air, up through the sunny upper air, through a wisp of cirrus to terminate in the high sunlight. Kolodin asked casually: "Have you such towers on your home world?"1

  Pardero glanced at him skeptically. "Are you trying to trick me? If I knew this, I wouldn't be here." He returned to contemplation of the tower. "And where does the Connatic live?"

  "He has apartments at the pinnacle. Perhaps he stands up there now, by one of his windows. Again, perhaps not. It is never certain; after all, dissidents, rogues, and rebels are not unknown to Alastor, and precautions are in order.

  Suppose, for example, that an assassin were sent to Numenes in the guise of an amnesiac, or perhaps as an amnesiac with horrid instructions latent in his mind."

  "I have no weapons," said Pardero. "I am no assassin. The very thought causes me to shudder."

  "I must make a note of this. I believe that your psychometry also showed an aversion to murder. Well, if you are an assassin, the plan will not succeed, as I doubt if we shall see the Connatic today."

  "Who then will we be seeing?"

  "A certain demosophist named Ollave, who has access to the data banks and the collating machinery. Quite possibly we will today learn the name of your home world."

  Pardero gave the matter his usual careful consideration. "And then what will happen to me?"

  "Well," said Kolodin cautiously, "three options at least are open. You can continue therapy at the hospital, although I fear that Rady is discouraged. You cart accept your condition and attempt a new life. You can return to your home world."

  Pardero made no comment, and Kolodin delicately forebore to put any further questions.

  A slideway conveyed them to the base of the near pylon, from which perspective the tower's proportions could no longer be sensibly discerned, and only the sensation of overwhelming mass and transcendent engineering remained.

  The two ascended in an elevator bubble; the sea, the shore, and Tremone Island dropped below.

  "The first three decks and the six lower promenades are reserved for the use and pleasure of tourists. Here they may wander for days enjoying simple relaxation or, at choice, exotic entertainments. They may sleep without charge in simple chambers, although luxurious apartments are available at nominal expense. They may dine upon familiar staples or they may test every reputable cuisine. of the Cluster and elsewhere, again at minimal cost. Travelers come and go by the millions; such is the Connatic's wish. Now we pass the administrative decks, which house the government agencies and the offices of the Twenty-Four Agents .

  ...ow we pass the Ring of Worlds, and up to the College of Anthropological Sciences, and here is our destination. Ollave is a man most knowledgeable and, if anything can be learned he will learn it."

  They stepped forth into a lobby tiled in blue and white. Kolodin spoke the name Ollave toward a black disk, and presently Ollave appeared. He was a man of undistinguished appearance, his face sallow and pensive, with a long thin nose and black hair receding from a narrow forehead. He greeted Kolodin and Pardero in a voice unexpectedly heavy and took them into a sparsely furnished office.

  Pardero and Kolodin sat in chairs and Ollave settled behind leis desk. Ollave addressed Pardero: "As I understand the situation, you remember nothing of your early life."

  "This is true."

  "I cannot give you your memory," said Ollave, "but if you are native to Alastor Cluster, I should be able to determine your world of origin, perhaps the precise locality of your home district."

  "How will you do that?"

  Ollave indicated his desk. "I have on record your anthropometry, physiological indices, details as to your somatic chemistry, psychic profile - in fact all the information Technicians Rady and Kolodin have been able to adduce. Perhaps you are aware that residence upon any particular world in any specific society, and participation in any way of life leaves traces, mental and physical. These traces unfortunately are not absolutely specific, and some are too subtle to be reliably measured. For instance, if you are characterized by blood type RC3, it is then unlikely that your home world is Azulias. Your intestinal bacteria furnish clues, as does the musculature of your legs, the chemical composition of your hair, the presence and nature of any body fungus or internal parasite; the pigments of your skin. If you make use of gestures these may be typified: Other social reflexes such as areas and degrees of personal modesty are also indicative, but these require long and patient observation and again may be obscured by the amnesia. Dentition and dental repairs sometimes offer a clue, as does hairstyling. So now:
do you understand the process? Those parameters to which we can assign numerical weights are processed in a computer, which will then present us a list of places in descending order of probability.

  "We will prepare two other such lists. To those worlds most convenient to Carfaunge Spaceport we will assign probability factors, and we will try to codify your cultural reflexes: a complex undertaking, as the amnesia no doubt has muted much of this data, and you have in the meantime acquired a set of new habits. Still, if you will step into the laboratory, we will try to make a reading."

  In the laboratory Ollave sat Pardero in a massive chair, fitted receptors to various parts of his body, and adjusted a battery of contacts to his head. Over Pardero's eyes he placed optical hemispheres and clamped earphones to his ears.

  "First we establish your sensitivity to archetypal concepts. Amnesia may well dampen or distort the responses, and according to M.T. Rady yours is an extraordinary case. Still; if the cerebellum only is occluded other areas of the nervous system will provide information. If we get any signals whatever, we will assume that their relative strength has remained constant. The recent overlay we will try to screen out. You are to do nothing, merely sit quiet; attempt neither to feel nor not to feel; your internal faculties will provide us all we want to know." He closed the hemispheres over Pardero's eyes. "First, a set of elemental concepts."

  To Pardero's eyes and ears were presented scenes and sounds: a sunlit forest, surf breaking upon a beach, a meadow sprinkled with flowers, a mountain valley roaring to a winter storm; a sunset, a starry night, a view over a calm ocean, a city street, a road winding aver placid hills, a spaceship.

  "Now another series," came Ollave's voice. Pardero saw a campfire surrounded by shadowy figures, a beautiful nude maiden, a corpse dangling from a gibbet, a warrior in black steel armor galloping on a horse, a parade of harlequins and clowns, a sailboat plunging through the waves, three old ladies sitting on a bench.

  "Next, musics."

  A series of musical sounds entered Pardero's ears: a pair of chords, several orchestral essays, a fanfare, the music of a harp, a jig, and a merrydown.

  "Now faces."

  A stern and grizzled man stared at Pardero, a child, a middle-aged woman, a girl, a face twisted into a sneer, a boy laughing, a man in pain, a woman weeping.

  "Vehicles."

  Pardero saw boats, chariots, landvehicles, aircraft, spaceships.

  "The body."

  Pardero saw a hand, a face, a tongue, a nose, an abdomen, male and female genital organs, an eye, an open mouth, buttocks, a foot.

  "Places."

  A cabin beside a lake, a palace of a dozen domes and cupolas in a garden, a wooden hut, an urban tenement, a houseboat, a temple, a laboratory, the mouth of a cave.

  "Objects."

  A sword, a tree, a coil of rope, a mountain crag, an energy gun, a plow with a shovel and hoe, an official proclamation with a red seal, flowers in a vase, books on a shelf, an open book on a lectern, carpenter's tools, a selection of musical instruments, mathematical adjuncts, a retort, a whip, an engine, an embroidered pillow, a set of maps and charts, draughting instruments and blank paper.

  "Abstract symbols."

  Patterns appeared before Pardero's vision: combinations of lines, geometrical shapes, numbers, linguistic characters, a clenched fist, a pointing finger, a foot with small wings growing from the ankles.

  "And finally..." Pardero saw himself - from a distance, then close at hand.

  He looked into his own face.

  Ollave removed the apparatus. "The signals were extremely faint but perceptible.

  We have recorded your psychometrics and now can establish your so-called cultural index."

  "What have you learned?"

  Ollave gave Pardero a rather queer look. "Your reactions are inconsistent, to use an understatement. You would seem to derive from a most remarkable society.

  You fear the dark, yet it challenges and exalts you. You fear women; you are made uneasy by the female body - still the concept of femininity tantalizes you.

  You respond positively to martial tactics, heroic encounters, weapons and uniforms; on the other hand you abhor violence and pain. Your other reactions are equally contradictory. The question becomes, do all these strange responses form a pattern, or do they indicate derangement? I will not speculate. The data have been fed into an integrator together with the other material I mentioned.

  No doubt the report is ready for us."

  "I am almost afraid to examine it," murmured Pardero. "I would seem to be unique."

  Ollave made no further comment; they returned to the office, where O.T. Kolodin waited patiently. From a register Ollave drew forth a square of white paper.

  "Here is our report." In a manner perhaps unconsciously dramatic he studied the printout. "A pattern has appeared." He read the sheet again. "Ah yes...

  Eighteen localities on five worlds are identified. The probabilities for four of these worlds, with seventeen of the localities, aggregate three percent. The probability for the single locality on the fifth world is rated at eighty-nine percent, which under the circumstances is equivalent to near-certainty. In my opinion, Master Pardero, or whatever your name, you are a Rhune from the Rhune Realms, east of Port Mar on the North Continent of Marune, Alastor 933."

  1. A drab translation of the word geisling, which carries warmer and dearer connotations.

  Chapter 3

  In the blue- and white-tiled lobby Kolodin asked Pardero: "Well - so you are a Rhune. What then? Do you recognize the word?"

  "Not at all."

  "I suspected not."

  Ollave joined them. "Let's go acquaint ourselves with this world of yours. The Ring is directly below; Chamber 933 will be on Level Five. To the descendor!"

  As the bubble dropped them down the levels, Kolodin discoursed upon the Ring of Worlds. "- one of the few areas controlled by entrance permit. Not so in the early days. Anyone might visit his world's chamber and there perform whatever nuisance entered his head, such as writing his name on the wall, or inserting a pin into the globe at the site of his home, or altering the lineage of local nobility; or placing scurrilous reports into the records. As a result we must now declare ourselves."

  "Luckily my credentials will facilitate the matter," aid Ollave drily.

  The formalities accomplished, an attendant took them to that portal numbered 933 and allowed them admittance.

  In the center of the chamber a globe ten feet in diameter floated close above the floor, rotating easily to the touch. "And there you see Marune," said Kolodin. "Does it appear familiar?... As I expected."

  Ollave touched the globe. "A small dense world of no great population. The color gradients represent relief; Marune is a most rugged world. Notice these peaks and chasms! The olive green areas are polar tundra; the smooth blue metal is open water: not a great deal, relatively speaking. Note too these vast equatorial bogs! Certainly there is little habitable land." He touched a button; the globe sparkled with small pink light-points. "There you see the population distribution: Port Mar seems to be the largest city. But feel free to look around the chamber; perhaps you will see something to stimulate your memory."

  Pardero moved here and there, studying the exhibits, charts, and cases with only tentative interest. Presently he asked in a rather hollow voice: "How far away is this planet?"

  Kolodin took him to a three-dimensional representation of Alastor Cluster. "Here we are. on Numenes, beside this yellow star." He touched a button, a red indicator blinked, near the side of the display. "There is Marune, almost at the Cold Edge, in the Fontinella Wisp. Bruse-Tansel is somewhere about there, where those grid lines come together." He moved to another display. "This represents the local environment: a four-star group. Marune is" - he touched a button - "at the end of the red arrow, orbiting close around the orange dwarf Furad. The green star is Cirse, the blue dwarf is Osmo, the red dwarf is Maddar. A

  spectacular location for a planet, among such a
frolic of stars! Maddar and Cirse swing close around each other; Furad, with Marune keeping its monthly orbit, curves around Osmo; the four stars dance a fine saraband down the Fontinella Wisp."

  Then Kolodin read from a placard on the wall. "'On Marune, day and night do not alternate as is the case with most planets. Instead, there are varying conditions of light, depending upon which sun or suns rule the sky; and these periods are designated by a specific nomenclature. Aud, isp, red rowan, green rowan, and umber are the ordinary gradations. Night occurs at intervals regulated by a complex pattern, on the average about once every thirty days.

  "'Most of Marune is poorly adapted to human habitation and the population is small, divided about equally between agriculturists of the lowland slopes and residents of the several cities, of which Port Mar is by far the most important.

  East of Port Mar are the Mountain Realms, inhabited by those aloof and eccentric warrior-scholars known as Rhunes, whose numbers are not accurately known. The native fauna includes a quasi-intelligent biped of placid disposition: the Fwai-chi. These creatures inhabit highland forests and are protected from molestation both by statute and by local custom. For more detailed information, consult the catalogue.'"

  Pardero went to the globe and presently discovered Port Mar. To the east rose a succession of enormous mountain ranges, the high crags rising past the timber line, up past snow and glaciers, into regions where rain and snowfall no longer existed. A multitude of small rivers drained the region, wandering along narrow upland valleys, expanding to become lakes, pouring over precipices to reconstitute themselves in new lakes or new streams below. Certain of the valleys were named: Haun, Gorgetto, Zangloreis, Eccord, Wintaree, Disbague, Morluke, Tuillin, Scharrode, Ronduce, a dozen others, all sounding of an odd or archaic dialect. Some of the names lay easy on his tongue, as if he well knew their proper pronunciation; and when Kolodin, peering over his shoulder, read them off, he noticed the faulty inflections, though he told Kolodin nothing of this.