"What is all this?" Bradley asked. He heard but ignored Stratton's frantic call sounding from the transmitter in his ear.
"You said we would be cured," the King said. "We are not cured. Now you tell us you want the gold back. My people have traded with the Reliance in good faith for hundreds of years. Now you trade my people for gold and then order that we give the gold back to you."
"Listen to me
. . .
The Reliance has indeed dealt in bad faith with you. I don't agree with what the Reliance is doing and neither do these people with me. That is why – at risk of our very lives – we have come here to tell you that the gold the Reliance has given you is tainted. It is the gold that is making you sick. If you will only think about it, you will know that what I am telling you is true."
The King laughed, and the priests joined in. Then he stopped laughing and spoke angrily. "You think that since we do not have the technology of your people that we are stupid and simple minded. We are not stupid. We know what you are doing. You are trying to trick us so that you have everything and we have nothing. We will no longer make trade with the Reliance."
"Good, you shouldn't," Bradley said. "Only listen to me. If you do not take the gold off your bodies and bury it in a deep hole far from your people, then you will die. You will all die."
The King laughed again. "I cannot die; I am a god. My soul will simply be moved into the body of the Chosen One."
The man Bradley assumed was the head priest shook with apparent excitement, then bent down and whispered excited words into the King/God's ear. The King's face at first looked amazed and then if it was possible more angry than before. He arose shakily from his throne and walked around Bradley and Jackson, looking them over.
"So," he said at length. "This is the game that you play. You bring some illness here to afflict me, and then you kidnap the Chosen One so that when I die my soul will have nowhere to go. Your own evil shall be your undoing. Guards! Take their weapons and throw them into the dungeon." He stopped and glared into Bradley's face. "When your Captain returns my son, then I shall return you two."
"We do not have your son," Bradley assured him. "Our Captain will not bargain with you; it isn't our custom."
Jackson looked at him as the guards started to take their weapons, but Bradley shook his head. They couldn't fight their way out of here. Not right now. Even if they could Stratton had just informed him that she was leaving with the ship, so there was nowhere to run. Jackson let go of his weapon reluctantly and the guards started to lead them away.
Bradley baulked, turned back to the King and tried once more, "We don't have your son!" The guards began to drag them out. "It's the gold which is going to kill you. Think about it! When did you get sick? Damn it, we are trying to help you! You don't understand the ways of our people, or you would know that by doing this we put ourselves at great risk. Why not remove the gold from yourselves and see if you don't get better? See if I'm telling the truth or not. What could be the harm in that?"
"I will hear no more of your lies! Take them away!" the King screamed, waving his stumps dismissively.
The King sat on his throne with his head perched on one of his stumps thoughtfully.
"What are you thinking?" the high priest asked Taheed.
"What if
. . .
What if he's telling the truth, and it is the gold metal which is making us sick?" Taheed asked.
"How could metal make a man sick? Has the gold metal of your office that you have worn since taking over from your father ever made you ill?"
"No, but
. . .
"
"Did not the gods speak through us saying that it is wholly good and right that we should trade our warriors for gold and cloth? This illness is something brought by the Reliance so they may now take back what is rightfully ours. The illness will pass, the gods have said so
. . .
"
"Do you really think that they are responsible for Taleed's disappearance?" Taheed asked.
"I do not know. I cannot be certain. I will ask the gods when I return to the Temple tonight."
"While you are at it, ask where he is," Taheed commanded.
"I will ask, but you know that such questions often have answers which are not easily read, for the gods answer in mysterious ways
. . .
I will leave now, and return to the Temple. I shall talk to the gods and perhaps have answers for you shortly."
"Ziphed, my brother," Taheed called out to the priest's departing form.
The high priest turned to look at the King. "Yes, My Lord?"
"Why is it that I cannot talk to the gods? Would it not be more expedient that way? Wouldn't it be better if I asked the gods questions and they answered me directly?"
"You do not have the gift – few Kings have. It is a gift more suitably given to the brothers of the King, to the priests. It is our calling. When we hear the voices in our heads we know that the gods have chosen us to speak with them and to tell those who cannot hear them what is their will." Ziphed bowed and then left.
Taheed did not feel satisfied with Ziphed's answer. He got up and started to pace in front of the window. The fact that he felt well enough to do this proved – at least to him – that the alien's medicine was helping.
"How can I be sure of what the gods say if they do not say them to me?" Taheed asked. "One day he tells me that my disease is caused by the gods because they're angry that Taleed has run off. Now he tells me that the disease is caused by the actions of the Reliance, and that my son has not run off, but has been taken. The man in the dungeon says he no longer works for the Reliance. He gives us medicine that – while it does not cure, certainly has made us feel better. He says the gold makes us ill." He noticed then that Yashi was nodding and grunting excitedly. Yashi held out his arms for the King to see, and the King noticed for the first time that Yashi was not sick. "Yashi
. . .
You do not have the sickness!"
Yashi nodded more excitedly, and pointed to the chains on the King's neck and then to his own bare neck
"Are you saying
. . .
Is that what you have been trying to say all along? Do
you
think it is the gold?" Taheed asked.
The mute nodded his head vigorously.
Taheed took the mass of gold chains from his neck and looked at them. He didn't feel any different, still
. . .
"If the priests say one thing one day and something else the next, then there is a chance that man is telling the truth. Who is to say that your council is not equal to that of the priests? If I am a god – and I must believe that I am – then my own judgment should be as good as any priest's – or better. Yashi, take these chains and all other Reliance gold from the throne room and bury it in the palace garden. Then go into the city to Jarish the Jeweler who weaves reeds into fine chains. Buy from him enough of the gold-colored reed chains to take the place of the real gold ones. In this way the priests will never know that I did not heed their council. If I should get well while the priests remain ill, then the gold is poison and I will deal with the Reliance accordingly. "I begin to believe, Yashi, that I have been very poorly advised. If you and the man in the dungeons are correct, then I must think seriously what I should do – about many things. Perhaps I will tell the priests, and perhaps I will not. It depends mostly on what they tell me concerning what the gods have told them about my son."
Bradley paced back and forth behind the bars of the cell in what had no doubt been the old ship's brig. He and Jackson were not alone. Several of the cells were occupied including the one on their right. On a planet where metal was scarce you would have thought this ship would have been torn down long ago and used to make tools. As Stratton had suggested some of the original occupants of this ship must have lived and obviously they had set themselves up as gods to the simple natives that lived here. The survivors and the natives made this place into some holy cathedral, thus keeping it from being cannibalized to make picks and shovels.
Stratton was suddenly talking to him again.
"Bradley, if you guys are alive, you'd better come back. We're not risking our asses to rescue cadavers, over."
The transmission was fuzzy; no doubt because of the thickness of the hull on this antique, but still audible. He just hoped his reply could get out.
He looked around to make sure none of the other prisoners were watching him and raised the wrist-com to his mouth, punching the button.
"Stratton, this is Bradley, we have been incarcerated in the old ship's brig. Repeat. We have been incarcerated. Can you read?"
"Barely," came back the reply.
He smiled at Jackson and held thumbs up. Jackson let out a relieved sigh and sat down for the first time since they had been put in the cell.
"Incarcerated is better than dead," Stratton continued. "Get back to me with the particulars – where the brig is located, how well guarded, etc., and we'll see what we can do about getting you out of there."
"I'll see what I can find out. Don't try anything crazy. No sense in all of us winding up in here or worse. Over."
"Not much chance of that; I'm no hero. I at least want to wait till dark. There are a lot of them, so the only way we're going to get you out of there is by using our heads, not with force or bravado. Over," Stratton said
"Keep transmissions to a minimum. Remember the natives aren't our only problem. If the Reliance finds out what we've been doing they'll be on us like stink on a turd. Every time we use the transmitter we risk detection. Over," Bradley replied.
"With the pulses it's doubtful that planet to planet communications would be picked up by the station, but just in case change your channel to 00 opt 9. What the hell happened in there anyway? Over," Stratton asked.
"I will change my setting when we close transmission. Good thinking. They thought we were trying to trick them out of their gold. Suffice it to say that it just doesn't pay to try to be a nice guy. Over and out." He lowered his wrist and moved to sit beside Jackson.
"Well?" Jackson asked.
"We need to find out as much as we can and then radio Stratton. Realistically I don't know what they can do. There are only two of them and about a gazillion of these bastards running around," Bradley said.
Jackson nodded.
"Yes, but none of them are the King's guards," the native guy in the next cell said in Reliance.
Bradley and Jackson both jumped, and then turned around to stare at the man. He was dressed as many of the other natives were in a simple cloth loin-cloth and sleeveless shirt made of rough brown fabric. His face shone with a friendly smile that was almost too big for his face.
"What do you mean?" Bradley asked him.
"The King's guards are highly trained fighters, and they know the palace well. But the King's guards all gone looking for the Chosen One, who has run away for these many times," he said in his broken Reliance.
Bradley found that he had to play back what the man had said in his mind to understand what he was actually saying.
"Run away?" Bradley asked.
"Oh, yes, he does it all the time," the native said and then fell silent.
"Why?" Bradley asked
The man looked at him silently and smiled.
"Why does he run away?" Bradley asked slowly, thinking that perhaps the man hadn't understood his question.
"You going to break out?" the man asked.
Bradley thought for only a second about lying to the fellow and then said, "Why do you ask?"
"I thought you would be smart men," he laughed. "I'm in here; I want out. You get me out with you; I tell you what I know and help us all get out."
"If we're breaking out, and you help us by telling us what we need to know, then we would help you get out as well," Bradley promised.
He smiled and nodded, then started talking. "Rumor has it that the Chosen One is very unhappy. That he doesn't want to be the King or a god. He has his own spirit and wants to keep it that way. For this reason he and his servant run away all the time. But this time he has been gone longer than ever before, much longer. So the King has sent away all of his personal guards to go out in search of the Chosen One and his companion. The men who fill the Temple now are not the King's guard. They are simple fighters from the town, chosen by the priests to fill in while the palace retinue is away. Since wars are not allowed in the holy city, these men have never even seen an actual battle. What's more, they get lost easily in the palace. This is why they are running around like crazy people. They are lost. If your friends on the outside were to dress like us, they could sneak in undetected, and we could all be out of here before they even missed us.
"Only one problem with that," Bradley said with a smile. "We are a different color than you are. Our friends are too, and one of them is a woman." Bradley noticed that the native's Reliance was getting better. Either that, or his ear was becoming accustomed to his speech, because he was much easier to understand.