Star of Gypsies

  "So you did. We picked your signs up eventually. It still took three years for Chorian to find you. But we were at it constantly all those years."

  "As were various lords of the Imperium," I said. "Julien de Gramont was sent after me by Periandros. And of course Chorian was working not only for you but for Sunteil. Well, I expected to be found a little sooner than I was. And I never dreamed that Shandor, of all people, would make a grab for the throne."

  "But he did," said Damiano.

  "And it serves you right," Valerian said. He is never gentle with me. "You created a vacuum and that son of a bitch moved right into it. Does it get us any closer to Romany Star to have Shandor as our king?"

  "Shandor is not the king," said Bibi Savina suddenly, in a voice that seemed to come from another solar system.

  Everyone turned toward the phuri dai.

  "The election was not an election. The abdication was not an abdication. Yakoub is still the king."

  "Of course he is!" Chorian shouted, and instantly looked shamefaced at having dared to speak.

  "And the other king on the throne on Galgala?" Biznaga said. "What is he, a figment?"

  "Some figment!" Valerian boomed. "He saw his moment and he reached out and grabbed. And now we're stuck with him. Unless you want to set off a civil war, Rom against Rom. While the Gaje sit back and laugh at us."

  "That must not happen," Thivt said.

  "Are we supposed to accept Shandor as king, then?" Damiano asked.

  They all began to talk at once. Then Polarca's dry sharp voice came cutting through the babble:

  "Bibi Savina is right," he said. "We can simply ignore Shandor. Yakoub's abdication didn't mean a thing. There was never any such custom as abdication among us in the first place. A king is king until he dies, or until the krisatora depose him. I haven't heard anything about an act of deposition. And even if there was, we can claim that it was done under duress, and is therefore invalid. Yakoub is our king."

  Biznaga shook his head violently. "But Shandor holds the seat of government. Shandor is recognized by the Imperium as the head of the Rom people. What legal means do we have of displacing him now?"

  They started to babble again. This time I held up my hand for silence.

  "I have a plan," I said. "I brought this whole mess down upon us all by myself when I chose to leave the throne. And now I intend to clean it up. All by myself."

  "How?" Valerian demanded.

  "By going to Galgala. Alone, without any sort of escort. In person, not a doppelganger. And walking all by myself into the king's house of power and telling my son Shandor that he has to get his ass out of the place inside of five minutes, or else."

  "That's your plan?" Valerian asked, looking amazed.

  "That is my plan, yes."

  "Go to Galgala?" Jacinto said. "Go before Shandor alone and give him an ultimatum?"

  "Yes," I said. "Absolutely."

  I saw them looking at each other again. Gaping, staring. General disbelief. Their faces saying that they knew now beyond any doubt that I had lost my mind.

  "And what happens then?" Valerian wanted to know. "He smiles politely and says, Of course, daddy, right away, daddy, and clears out? Is that what you expect, Yakoub?"

  "It won't be that simple."

  "I think it'll be very simple," Valerian said. "You'll make your speech, and when he recovers from his amazement he'll take you and toss you in a dungeon nine miles deep. Or do something even worse."

  "To his own father?" Ammagante asked.

  "This is Shandor we're talking about. He's an animal, he's a wild beast. You remember what he did that time on Djebel Abdullah, when the stardrive failed and the food ran out? This is a civilized man? This is a son to be trusted? Authorizing the use of the bodies of his own passengers for food, for God's sake?"

  "Valerian-"

  "No," he said angrily. "You want me to pretend it never happened? This Shandor is our king! This is the man whose sense of tradition, whose mercy, whose benevolence, you plan to appeal to! How do you think those passengers got to be dead in the first place? And what do you think he'll do to you, Yakoub, if you put yourself within reach of him?"

  "He will not harm me," I said.

  "Madness. Absolute madness."

  "He may try to imprison me, yes. I don't believe he would dare to harm me. Not even Shandor would do that. But if he does imprison me he'll forfeit whatever support he may have among our people. I can wait out a little time in a dungeon. At my age you learn to play the waiting game."

  "But this is crazy, Yakoub!" Valerian said. "Why not send a doppelganger, at least?"

  "You think that would fool him? The first thing he'd do is test me to see if I'm real."

  "And when he finds out that you are-"

  "I mean to risk it."

  "And if he does kill you? Can we do without you?"

  "He won't. But if he does, I become a martyr. A symbol. The instrument of his overthrow."

  "And who will be king, then?"

  "Do you think I'm the only man who can be King of the Rom?" I shouted. "Jesu Cretchuno, am I immortal? Some day you'll need another king. If that day is sooner instead of later, what of it? Shandor has to be cast down. No matter what the cost. I made it possible for him to seize the throne-by the Devil, I made it possible for him to be alive-and I will be the one to pull him down from the place he has grabbed. I will do it by going to Galgala. Alone."

  "This is very rash," Jacinto murmured.

  "If it will avoid a war between Rom and Rom-" Thivt said.

  "No. I'm with Valerian," said Polarca. "We can't afford to lose you, Yakoub. There's got to be some less risky way of pushing Shandor aside. Proclaim the abdication null and void, ditto the election of Shandor, set up a legitimate government here on Xamur, remind Rom everywhere of their loyalty to Yakoub-"

  "No," I said. "I don't intend to recognize Shandor's usurpation even to the extent of establishing a rival government. Our capital is on Galgala. I will go to Galgala."

  "God help us all," muttered Valerian.

  Then they all began yelling again at once, and in no time the meeting was reduced to absolute hysteria. I tried to quiet them down and couldn't do it. When a king can't get the attention of his own advisers there's real trouble in the commonwealth. I watched them rant and scream for a while and I did a little ranting and screaming myself and none of it was any use. So I just walked away from them. I went around to the far side of the crater and climbed up a couple of circles and sat with my back to them, listening to the screeching and bellowing of my best and my brightest.

  After a long while I heard the sounds of someone climbing up behind me. I didn't look around. I was pretty sure who it was, because even with my back turned I sensed the strangeness of him.

  Thivt.

  I waited, saying nothing. Feeling his alien spirit getting closer and closer to me.

  We have never satisfactorily settled, you know, the question of whether there are other intelligent races in the galaxy. Certainly there must have been some, once-the ancient fortress on Megalo Kastro is just one of a number of indications of that. But there aren't any living alien cultures to be found. The only intelligent species we know about are ourselves and the Gaje, the two basically identical human races that evolved on different worlds thousands of light-years apart. As our ever-widening expansion carries us outward into the galaxy we have come across any number of interesting and complex creatures, but none that have the traits we think of as intelligence. You might want to count such things as the living sea of Megalo Kastro as an intelligent life-form, but that isn't intelligence as we understand it.

  (The presence of two separate but identical human races is a different but related puzzle. A lot of heavy thinkers among the Rom say that it's statistically unlikely and probably biologically impossible for any species to have evolved independently in virtually the same form on two different worlds. They suspect that Rom and Gaje must have had a common ancestor on some other world entir
ely, far away. That we are all the descendants of colonists who were left behind in prehistoric times. As for the differences that do exist between the two races-the Rom ability to ghost, say, and the related ability to propel starships into leap mode-those are explained away as mutations that crept into our branch of humankind during our thousands of years of separate existence on Romany Star. These are Rom speculations, remember. There aren't any Gaje speculations on these topics. The Gaje, of course, don't have any inkling of our alien ancestry. If they did, they probably would have lynched us all long ago, back on Earth in the years of persecution. It was tough enough for them to handle our wandering ways and our disdain for their laws. Knowing that we were spooks from some other planet would certainly have set off some kind of giant pogrom, a holy crusade against the evil witch-things from the stars. Maybe it still could.)

  Thivt, at any rate-Thivt, I am convinced, is something else. Neither Rom nor Gaje, I think. But I doubt that I will ever know the truth; for Thivt is my friend and my cousin, and courtesy forbids me to ask him to tell me whether or not he is human.

  He stood behind me, giving off waves of strangeness. He let his hand rest lightly on my arm. I felt warmth coming from him, tenderness, sympathy. That is the most alien thing about him: the way he can touch your mind, the way he can make a sort of communion.

  "Yakoub," he said.

  "Listen to them, Thivt. Screeching like chickens in the barnyard."

  "They will be quiet soon."

  "They're all against my plan, aren't they?"

  "Is that important to you?"

  "If they think I've gone crazy it is. I'll need their support if things don't go well for me on Galgala, and I doubt that things will. How can I ask them to come in there and risk their lives for me, if they think I've deliberately put my neck in danger against all their advice?"

  "They will do whatever you ask of them, Yakoub."

  "I don't know about that." I was wavering. In the face of such concerted opposition I was starting to think I should abandon my idea. Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it was imposing an unnecessary risk not only on me but on everyone. "They aren't fools," I said. "If they think I shouldn't go, then perhaps-"

  Thivt's fingers continued to press lightly against my arm. I felt love flowing from him to me, concern, support.

  "Follow your own judgment, Yakoub. It never leads you astray. If you think that what must be done is for you to go to Shandor, then you must go to Shandor. You are the king. You will prevail."

  I turned toward him.

  "You think so, Thivt?"

  His dark solemn eyes were close to mine. At this moment he seemed more mysterious than ever to me. I wondered what lay behind that bland serene brow, what sort of brain, what alien corrugations and furrows. He was sending comfort to me. He was sending strength. Whatever he might be, offshoot of whatever unknown species that had taken on human form, he was my friend. He was my cousin.

  "I think so, yes," he said. And said it in Romany.

  "All right. So be it."

  I walked back around the crater to the others. They had fallen silent by this time, and they were all staring at me.

  "You aren't going to do it, are you?" Polarca said.

  "My mind is made up."

  "Put it to the phuri dai, at least!" Valerian cried. "For God's sake, Yakoub, let her decide!"

  "The phuri dai!" Polarca chimed in. "The phuri dai."

  Once again they turned to Bibi Savina, crowding around her. They were still all against me, all but Thivt. They really did think I had lost my mind.

  "All right," I said, beginning to feel fury rising. "Let's listen to the phuri dai. Tell us, Bibi Savina. What should I do?"

  There was an eerie light in Bibi Savina's eyes and her withered and shrunken body seemed to blaze with an inner flame. For a moment she appeared to stand straight again, and from her there emanated a kind of beauty that far outshone that of the magnificent Syluise.

  "You must go to Galgala, Yakoub," she said in a strange voice like that of one who is in a trance. An oracle's voice. "Stand before Shandor and tell him he is not king. It is the only way. It is what you must do."

  FIVE

  Into the Mouth of the Lion

  What had this prophet done? What did he tell us, above all to do? He told us to deny all consolations-gods, fatherlands, moralities, truths-and, remaining apart and companionless, using nothing but our own strength, to begin to fashion a world which would not shame our hearts. Which is the most dangerous way? That is the one I want! Where is the abyss? That is where I am headed. What is the most valiant joy? To assume complete responsibility!

  -Kazantzakis

  1.

  DESPITE BIBI SAVINA'S DECREE THERE WAS STILL plenty of uproar. By twos and threes they came to me and worked at changing my mind. Think of the risks, they said. Think of the danger. Think of the loss to our people if Shandor harms you, Yakoub. Think of this, think of that. You are indispensable, they told me. How can you simply hand yourself over to Shandor like this?

  He is my son, I said. He will do me no harm.

  Polarca told me flat out that I was crazy. I had never seen him so exasperated. He ranted, he stormed, he threatened to resign his office. I pointed out that he had no office to resign from, just now. He wasn't amused. He started ghosting around almost uncontrollably, leaping back across space and time in an altogether hysterical way. He was in a frenzy. I thought he would begin frothing at the mouth.

  The person of the king is sacrosanct, I insisted. Even Shandor will recognize that, when I come to him on Galgala.

  Valerian wanted to go to Galgala in my place and end Shandor's usurpation by force. He would gather up his entire pirate fleet and descend on him and march to the house of power and evict him from the throne. Biznaga remarked on the improbability of that, asking if Valerian seriously thought Shandor would let him get within a light-year of Galgala with his ships. At the first sign of his approach, Biznaga suggested, Shandor would simply let the imperial government know that the notorious pirate Valerian was in the vicinity, and an armada of the Imperium would be waiting for him when he arrived.

  Biznaga too urged me not to go: calmly, quietly, in his best diplomatic manner. Jacinto, Ammagante, the same. Damiano was more volatile, and ranted and stormed almost as fiercely as Polarca. There was talk of finding one or two of my other sons, wherever they might be-my children are scattered all over the universe, God knows where-and bringing them to Xamur to plead with me. Or sending them to their brother Shandor as my ambassadors. Small mercy they would have had from him, too. Someone, I forget who (and just as well that I did) suggested appealing to the aged emperor for help in deposing Shandor, the most laughable thing I have ever heard. And so on for several days. The only allies I had were Thivt and Bibi Savina. And possibly Syluise, though she held herself aloof as usual from most of the discussions and it wasn't easy to know where she stood. But I looked into her cool blue eyes and seemed to find support in them. In her remote and unfathomable way she appeared to be telling me to do as I pleased, accept the risks, reap the reward.

  So I simply lied to them. Be calm, I told them, I know what I'm doing. Everything is written in the book of the future, and all will be for the best.

  Somehow that settled them down. I let them think that I had received some sort of privileged information out of the future: an obliging ghost, possibly my own, coming to me and letting me know in the customary oblique ghostly way that my gamble had paid off somewhere down the line, that Shandor indeed had backed off when faced with the live and legitimate King of the Rom, that I would be restored to the throne and we would once more be traveling the path toward Romany Star. And they bought it.

  But the truth is my ghosts were keeping away. Sometimes I saw a little flicker out of the corner of my eye that might have been some ghost hovering near, but I never was sure. That could have bothered me, if I had allowed it to. I told myself that the reason I was getting no ghosts was that I was being tested, my resolve, my co
urage: those who might have ghosted me, even my own self, were making me go through this thing unaided. I was on my own in this thing. Well, that was all right. I would simply proceed into the future at a rate of one second per second, with no hints of what was to come, the same as everyone else. Shandor was a wild man but there was logic to my strategy and I felt that no harm ultimately would come to me. Still and all, it would have been pleasant to get a little visit from some future self of mine, just a quick little reassuring flash, a wink, during those days when I was getting myself ready to walk into the mouth of the lion.

  2.

  SO IT WAS AGREED, IN THE END. YOU CAN'T REALLY argue with a king once he's made up his mind. I would go to Galgala, I would confront Shandor, and then, well, we would all see what happened after that. I made only one concession to my friends' fears. My plan had been to go to Galgala alone, but Damiano talked me into taking Chorian along as an escort. Chorian was, after all, a servant of the Imperium, and Shandor might just think twice about laying violent hands on him, regardless of what he might feel like doing to me.

  I could see a little logic in that. Chorian could come to Galgala with me. But I let it be known that even so I was going to enter into the presence of Shandor alone, unescorted, not cowering behind the shield of the Imperium and some boy still wet with mother's milk. And I dared them to give me any further argument.

  I am, basically, a very cautious man. You don't get to live as long as I have by being reckless. My father drilled the Three Laws and the One Word into me when I was very young, and the fact that I have survived as well as I have for as long as I have ought to be sufficient proof that I was a careful student at least of that much. Those who live by common sense, my father taught me, are righteous in the eyes of God. So they are. I would live no other way. Still and all, there is common sense and common sense, and some kinds of common sense make more sense than others. Time and again I've discovered that the conventional "safe" ways of doing things are often wildly risky. And that what looks impossibly crazy to conventional people is really the only reasonable course to take.