be."
The Markovians talked easily of Venor and the rest of the Ids. "We havetried to get him to join us in the city," said Marthasa as the mealbegan, "but he won't hear of it. It seems to give him a sense ofimportance to live out there alone with his retinue and have the otherIds come to him with their problems. He's a kind of arbiter andpatriarch to all of them for many miles around."
While Marthasa talked Cameron tried to bring his awareness of all thevaried facets of the problem together and see it whole, as he nowunderstood it. The Markovians, a vast pirate community, had voluntarilyabandoned freebooting for reasons yet to be discovered. They had turnedtheir backs upon it so forcibly that they hid even the history of theirdepredations. And one of their last acts must have been the capture of alarge colony of Idealists who were forced into servitude. Now the Idscompensated their enslavement by the religious belief that service madethem masters over the ex-pirates, convincing themselves that _they_ hadchanged the Markovians, taming them like wild dogs, saddling them asfierce stallions--
Cameron wondered if he dared, and then dismissed the thought that therecould be any risk. It was too ridiculous!
* * * * *
There was even a half-malicious smile on his lips as he broke intoMarthasa's conversation. "One of the things that made me very curioustoday," he said, "was the general reaction of your people to theIdealist illusion that they have _tamed_ you--as expressed in theiraphorism about how was the wild dog--?"
He never finished. Across the table the faces of the Markovians hadfrozen in sudden bitterness. The shield of friendliness vanished underthe cold glare from their eyes.
Marthasa's lips seemed to curl as he whispered, "So you came like allthe rest! And we wanted so much to believe you were honest. A study! Achance to find material for lies about the Nucleus to spread among allthe Council worlds."
He continued almost sadly, "You will be confined to your quarters untiltransfer authorities can arrange for your return to Earth. And you maybe sure that never again will such a scheme get one of your kind intothe Nucleus again."
But there was no hint of sadness in his wife's face. She glared coldly."I said they should never had been permitted to come!"
Cameron rose in sudden bewildered protest. "I assure you we have nointention--" he began.
And then he stopped. In one moment of incredible clarity while theystood there, eyes locked in bitter stares, he understood. He knew themyth was not a myth. It was cold, unbelievable reality. The Ids _had_tamed the Markovians.
In a moment of fear he wondered if it were anything more than a thinshell that could be shattered by a whisper from a stupid dabbler incultures, who really knew nothing at all about the profession to whichhe pretended.
V
As if upon some secret signal Sal Karone appeared from the serving roomat their left.
"Our visitors are no longer our guests," Marthasa said sharply withaccusing eyes still upon Cameron. "They will remain in their rooms untiltime for deportation.
"I trust it will not be necessary to use force," he said directly toCameron.
"Of course not. But won't you let me explain--won't you even allow anapology for breaking a taboo we did not understand?"
"Is it not taboo among all civilized peoples, including your own, toinvent and spread lies about those who wish you only well?"
It was useless to argue, Cameron saw. He turned, taking Joyce's arm, andallowed Sal Karone to lead them back to their rooms. As they paused atthe doorway the Id spoke without expression on his dark face. "This isnot a good thing, Cameron Wilder. It would have been best for you tohave considered my warning."
He turned and stepped away, locking the door behind him.
Joyce slumped on the bed in dejection. "This is a fine fix we've gotourselves into, being declared _persona non grata_ before we even get agood start! They'll remember _that_ back home when A Study of theMetamorphosis of the Markovian Nucleus is mentioned in professionalcircles!"
"Don't rub it in," Cameron said, half angrily. "How was I to know thatwas such a vicious taboo? It can't be any secret to the Markovians thatthe Ids look upon them as tamed. Why should they get their hackles upbecause _I_ mentioned it?"
"All I know is we're washed up as of now. What do we do when we get backhome?"
Cameron stood with his back to her, looking through the windows to thegarden beyond. "I'm not thinking of that," he said. "Can't you see wehaven't failed? We've almost got it--the thing we came to find. We_knew_ why the Markovians suddenly became good Indians. The Ids actuallydid tame them. We've got to find out how such an apparently impossiblething could be done."
"Do you really believe that's what happened?" asked Joyce.
Cameron nodded. "It's the only thing there is to believe. If it weren'ttrue, Marthasa and his wife would have laughed it off as nonsense.Getting all huffy and talking about deportation for cooking up lies isthe best proof you could ask for that we hit pay dirt. Don't ask me howI think the Ids could do it. _That's_ what I'm going to find out."
"How?"
"I don't know."
But he did have an idea that if he could somehow get word to the old Idchieftain help could be had. He knew he was straining to believe thingshe wanted to believe, yet it seemed as if this were almost the verything Venor had tried to convey the day before but had left unspoken.
There was only one possibility of establishing contact, however, andthat was through Sal Karone. A remote chance indeed, Cameron thought, inview of the relationship between the Markovian and his _sargh_. As alast resort it was worth trying, however.
It looked as if they would not have even this chance as the evening grewdarker. Cameron kept watch through the windows in the hope of signalingSal Karone in case he should appear. They hoped he might come to theroom for a final check of their needs for the night as he usually did.
But he did not appear.
* * * * *
Cameron finally went to bed after Joyce was long asleep. He turnedrestlessly, beating his mind with increasing wonder as to how it couldbe so incredibly true that the Idealists were the actual masters of theNucleus. That they had somehow tamed the murderous, piraticalMarkovians. He couldn't have known this was it!
One thing he could understood, however, was the Markovians reluctance tohave visitors--and their careful watch over them. Marthasa had been morethan a host, he thought. He was a guard as well, trying to keep theTerrans from discovering the unpleasant reality concerning the influenceof the Ids. He had slipped in allowing the visit to Venor.
At dawn there was the sound of their door opening and Cameron whirledfrom his dressing, hopeful it might be Sal Karone. It was Marthasa,however, grim and distant. "I have obtained word that your deportationcan be accomplished today. Premier Jargla has been informed and concurs.The Council has been notified and offers no protestations. You willready yourselves before the evening hour."
He slammed the door behind him. Joyce turned down the covers in theother room and sat up. "I wonder if he isn't even going to feed ustoday?"
Cameron made no answer. He finished dressing hurriedly and kept afrantic watch for any sign of Sal Karone.
At last there was a knock on the door and the Id appeared with breakfaston a cart. Cameron exhaled with relief that it was not one of the other_sarghs_ in the household.
Sal Karone eyed them impassively as he wheeled in and arranged the foodon the table by a window. Cameron watched, estimating his chances.
"Your Chief, Venor, was very kind to us yesterday," he said quietly."Our biggest regret in leaving is that our conversation with him must gounfinished."
Sal Karone paused. "Were there things you had yet to say to him?" heasked.
"No--there were things Venor wanted to tell us. You heard him. He wantedus to come back. It is completely impossible for us to see him againbefore we go?"
Sal Karone straightened and set the utensils on the table. "No, it isnot impossible. I have been instructed to b
ring you back to the villageif it should be your request."
Cameron felt a surge of eager excitement within him. "When? Ourdeportation is scheduled for today. How can we get there? How can weavoid Marthasa and the Markovians?"
"Stand very quietly," said Sal Karone, that sense of power and commandin his voice and bearing as Cameron had seen it once before aboard thespaceship. "Now," he said. "Close your eyes."
There was a sudden wrenching twist as if two solid surfaces had slammedthem from front and back, and a third force had thrust them sideways.
They opened their eyes in the wooden house of Venor, in the village ofthe Idealists.
* * * * *
"We