The Blind Spot

  XXXIX

  WHO IS THE JARADOS?

  It was all over. Chick opened his eyes to see the Jan throwing open theplate on the side of the compartment. Neither the soldier nor the Rhamdaseemed to have noted Chick's daze. As for the Jan, his blue eyes weredancing with dare-devilry.

  "That's what I call living!" he grinned. "They can keep on looking forthe June Bug all night!"

  Chick looked out. They were inside the great room from which they hadstarted; the trip was over; the plunge had been made in safety. Chicktook a long breath, and held out a hand.

  "A man after my own heart, Jan Lucar. I foresee that we may have greatsport with the Senestro."

  "Aye, my lord," cheerfully. "The presumptuous usurper! I only wish Icould kill him, instead of you."

  "You are not the only one," commented the Rhamda. "Half of the Rhamdaswould cheerfully act as the chosen one's proxy."

  And so ended the events of Chick Watson's first day beyond the BlindSpot, his first day on the Thomahlia; that is, disregarding the previousmonths of unconsciousness. He had good reason to pass a sleepless nightin legitimate worry for the outcome of it all; but instead he slept thesound sleep of exhaustion, awakening the next morning much refreshed.

  He reminded himself, first of all, that today was the one immediatelypreceding that of his test--the Day of the Prophet. He had only a littlemore than twenty-four hours to prepare. What was the best and wisestproceeding?

  He called for the Geos. He told him what data he wanted. The Rhamda saidthat he could find everything in a library in that building, and insidea half-hour he returned with a pile of manuscripts.

  Left to himself, Chick found that he now had data relating to all thesciences, to religion, to education and political history and the law.The chronology of the Thomahlians, Chick found, dates back no less thanfifteen thousand years. An abiding civilisation of that antiquity, itneed not be said, presented somewhat different aspects from what isknown on the earth.

  It seemed that the Jarados had come miraculously. That is, he had comeout of the unknown, through a channel which he himself later termed theSpot of Life.

  He had taught a religion of enlightenment, embracing intelligence,love, virtue, and the higher ethics such as are inherent in all greatphilosophies. But he did not call himself a religionist. That was thequeer point. He said that he had come to teach an advanced philosophy oflife; and he expressly stated that his teachings were absolute only to alimited extent.

  "Man must seek and find," was one of his epigrams; "and if he find nomore truths, then he will find lies." Which was merely a negative way ofsaying that some of his philosophy was only provisional.

  But on some points he was adamant. He had arrived at a time when theunthinking, self-glorifying Thomahlians had all but exterminated thelower orders of creation. The Jarados sought to remove the handicapwhich the people had set upon themselves, and gave them, in the placeof kindness which they had forgotten, how to use, a burning desire fora positive knowledge, where before had been only blind faith. Also, hetaught good-fellowship, as a means to this end. He taught beauty, love,and laughter, the three great cleansers of humanity. And yet, through itall--

  The Jarados was a mystic.

  He studied life after a manner of his own. He was a stickler for gettingdown to the very heart of things, for prodding around among causes untilhe found the cause itself. And thus he learned the secret of the occult.

  For so he taught. And presently the Jarados was recognized as anauthority on what the Thomahlia called "the next world." Only he showedthat death, instead of being an ushering into a void, was merely atranslation onto another plane of life, a higher plane and a moreglorious one. In short, a thing to be desired and attained, not to beavoided.

  This put the Spot of Life on an entirely different basis. No longerwas it a fearsome thing. The Jarados elevated death to the plane ofmotherhood--something to glory in. And Chick gathered that his famousprophecy--which he had yet to read, where it hung on the wall of thetemple--gave every detail of the Jarados' profound convictions andteachings regarding the mystery of the next life.

  And now comes a curious thing. As Chick read these details, he becamemore and more conscious of--what shall it be called?--the presence ofsomeone or something beside him, above and all about him, watching hisevery movement. He could not get away from the feeling, although it wasbroad daylight, and he was seemingly quite alone in the room. Chick wasnot frightened; but he could have sworn that a very real personality wasenveloping his own as he read.

  Every word, somehow, reminded him of the miraculous sequence of factsas he knew them; the unerring accuracy with which he, quite unthinkinglyand almost without volition, had solved problem after problem, althoughthe chances were totally against him. He became more and more convincedthat he himself had practically no control over his affairs; that hewas in the hands of an irresistible Fate; and that--he could not helpit--his good angel was none other than the prophet who, almost ninetycenturies ago, had lived and taught upon the Thomahlia, and in the endhad returned to the unknown.

  But how could such a thing be? Watson did not even know where he was!Small wonder that, again and again, he felt the need of assurance. Heasked for the Jan Lucar.

  "In the first place," began Chick without preamble, "you accept me, JanLucar; do you not?"

  "Absolutely, my lord."

  "You conceive me to be out of the spiritual world, and yet flesh andblood like yourself?"

  "Of course," with flat conviction.

  That settled it. Watson decided to find out something he had not hadtime to locate in the library.

  "The Rhamda may have told you, Jan Lucar, that I am here to seek theJarados. Now, I suspect the Senestro. Can you imagine what he has doneto the prophet?"

  "My lord," remonstrated the other, "daring as the Bar might be, he coulddo nothing to the Jarados. He would not dare."

  "Then he is afraid to run counter to the prophecy?"

  "Yes, my lord; that is, its literal interpretation. He is opposed onlyto the broader version as held by such liberals as the Rhamda Avec. TheBars are always warning the people against the false one."

  "And the Senestro is at their head," mused Chick aloud. "This brother ofhis who died--usually there are two such princes and chiefs?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "And the Senestro plans to marry both queens, according to the custom!"

  "My lord"--and the Jan suddenly snapped erect--"the Bar will doexceedingly well if he succeeds in marrying one of them! Certainly heshall never have the Aradna--not while I live and can fight!"

  "Good! How about the Nervina?"

  "He'll do well to find her first!"

  "True enough. What would you say was his code of honour?"

  "My lord, the Senestro actually has no code. He believes in nothing. Heis so constituted, mentally and morally, that he cares for and trusts innone but himself. He is a sceptic pure and simple; he cares nothing forthe Jarados and his teachings. He is an opportunist seeking for power,wicked, lustful, cruel--"

  "But a good sportsman!"

  "In what way, my lord?"

  "Didn't he allow me the choice of combat?"

  The Jan laughed, but his handsome face could not hide his contempt.

  "It is ever so with a champion, my lord. He has never been defeated ina matter of physical prowess. It would be far more to his glory toovercome you in combat of your own selection. It will be spectacular--heknows the value of dramatic climax--and he would kill you in a moment,before a million Thomahlians."

  "It's a nice way to die," said Watson. "You must grant that much."

  "I don't know of any nice way to die, my lord. But it is a good way ofliving--to kill the Bar Senestro. I would that I could have the honour."

  "How does it come that the Rhamdas, superintellectual as they are,can consent to such a contest? Is it not degrading, to their way ofthinking? It smacks of barbarism."

  "They do not look upon it in that light, my lord. Our civilisat
ion haspassed beyond snobbery. Of course there was a time, centuries ago whenwe were taught that any physical contest was brutal. But that was beforewe knew better."

  "You don't believe it now?"

  "By no means, my lord. The most wonderful physical thing in theThomahlia is the human body. We do not hide it. We admire beauty,strength, prowess. The live body is above all art; it is the work of Godhimself; art is but an imitation. And there is nothing so splendid asa physical contest--the lightning correlation of mind and body. It is apicture of life."

  "Do the Rhamdas think this?"

  "Most assuredly. A Rhamda is always first an athlete."

  "Why?"

  "Perfection, my lord. A perfect mind does not always dwell in a perfectbody, but they strive for it as much as possible. The first test of aRhamda is his body. After he passes that he must take the mental test."

  "Mental?"

  "Moral first. The most rigid, perhaps of all; he must be a man abovesuspicion. The honour of a Rhamda must never be questioned. He mustbe upright and absolutely unselfish. He must be broad-minded,human, lovable, and a leader of men. After that, my lord, comes theintellectual test."

  "He must be a learned man?"

  "Not exactly, your lordship. There are many very learned men who couldnot be Rhamdas; and there are many who have had no learning at allwho eventually were admitted. The qualifications are intellectual,not educational; the mind is put to a rigid test. It is examined foralertness, perception, memory, reason, emotion, and control. There is nogreater honour in all the Thomahlia."

  "And they are all athletes?"

  "Every one, my lord. In all the world there is no finer body of men, Imyself would hesitate before entering a match with even the old RhamdaGeos."

  "How about the Rhamda Avec?"

  "Nor he, either; in the gymnasium he was always the superior, just as hetopped all others morally and mentally."

  Did this explain the Avec's physical prowess, on the one hand, and thefact that he would not stoop to take that ring by force, on the other?

  "Just one more thing, Jan Lucar. You have absolutely no fear that I mayfail tomorrow?"

  "Not the slightest, my lord. You cannot fail!"

  "Why not?"

  "I have already said--because you are from the Jarados."

  And Chick, facing the greatest experience of his life, submerged in asea wherein only a few islands of fact were visible, had to be contentwith this: his only friends were those who were firmly convinced ofsomething which, he knew only too well, was a flat fraud! All thisbacking was based upon a misled faith.

  No, not quite. Was there not that strange feeling that the Jaradoshimself was at his back? And had he not found that the prophet hadbeen real? Did he not feel, as positively as he felt anything, that theJarados was still a reality?

  Chick went to bed that night with a light heart.