A Far Sunset

SIXTEEN

‘It is very strange,’ said Shah Shan, speaking excellent English, ‘this friendship that exists between us. We are men of two worlds, Paul. It is strange that Oruri should guide you across the great darkness of space to shed some light in the darkness of my mind.’ He laughed. ‘One is tempted to look for a pattern.’

‘Shah Shan, you have a great talent for learning,’ said Paul Marlowe. ‘In two hundred days—four Bayani months—you have learned to speak my language better than many people in my own world who have studied it for years.’

‘That is because I wish to see into your thoughts.’

‘On Earth, we should undoubtedly call you a genius.’

Shah Shan laughed. ‘I do not think so. From what you have told me, your planet has many who are more gifted than I.’

‘By our reckoning,’ said Paul, ‘you are nineteen years old— still a boy. Yet you rule a kingdom wisely, and you have assimilated more information in a few months than our most talented young men can assimilate in as many years.’

Shah Shan shrugged. ‘Please, Paul, humour me a little. For me the old ways of thinking die hard. Enka Ne rules Baya Nor. Shah Shan is merely his shadow, a simple waterman.’

Paul laughed. ‘Ritual schizophrenia.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’m sorry. I meant that in a sense you have two excellent minds, both able to perfectly control the same body.’

‘Oruri speaks for Enka Ne,’ retorted Shah Shan. Then he grinned. ‘But Shah Shan is insignificant enough to speak for himself.’

‘Paul,’ said Mylai Tui in English with an atrocious accent, ‘will you dronk some mare kappa spreet?’

‘Ask our guest first, love.’

‘I am sorry. Shah Shan, police you will dronk?’

Shah Shan held out his calabash. ‘Police I will dronk,’ he said gravely.

The three of them were taking their ease on the verandah of Poul’s little house. It had been a hot day, but though the evening was still warm, the clouded skies had rolled away to reveal a fine, far dusting of stars. Overhead the nine small moons of Altair Five flew raggedly westward like bright migrating birds.

Paul Marlowe looked at the moons and the stars without seeing either. He was thinking of the last few months, of the time since Shah Shan had begun to come to him regularly to learn English. He knew that it was difficult for Enka Ne to make time for Shah Shan, and he had been puzzled as to why the boy should devote so much precious energy and concentration to learning a language that he could only ever hope to speak with one person.

learning a language as upon learning all he could of the world that existed on the other side of the sky. Instinctively, the boy knew that the Bayani language was inadequate, that its simple collection of nouns and verbs and qualifying words could only provide a horribly distorted picture of the world that had once belonged to Paul Marlowe.

So Shah Shan, with the typical fanaticism of genius, had applied himself not only to a new language but to the attitudes and philosophy of the one man who spoke that language. He had used Paul like an encyclopaedia; and in four Bayani months he had mastered not only the language but much of the knowledge of the man who spoke it.

‘You know, of course,’ said Shah Shan, ‘that in twenty-three days Enka Ne will return to the bosom of Oruri?’

Paul sighed. ‘Yes, I know. But—is it necessary?’

‘So it has always been. The god-king reigns for a year. Then Oruri sees fit to renew the form.’

‘But is it necessary?’

Shah Shan regarded him calmly. And in the eyes of the boy there seemed to Paul Marlowe to be a wisdom that passed beyond the realm of understanding.

‘It is necessary,’ said Shah Shan sofdy. ‘The face of a civilization cannot be changed in a single lifetime, Paul. You should know that. If Enka Ne did not offer himself gladly and with great joy, Baya Nor would disintegrate. Factions would arise. Most probably the end would be civil war … No. Enlightenment must come closely, peacefully. You, the instrument of chaos, are also the instrument of progress. You must plant the seed and hope that others will reap the harvest.’

‘Shah Shan, you are the first man to bring tears to my eyes.’

‘Let us hope that I am also the last. I know nothing of the new god-king. He has been found already, and is being instructed. But I know nothing of him. It may be that he will be more—what is the word I want?’

‘Orthodox?’ suggested Paul.

‘Yes, more orthodox. Perhaps he will insist on tradition. You will have to be careful.’ Shah Shan laughed. ‘Remember what happened when you introduced us to the wheel?’

‘Three men died,’ said Paul. ‘But now your citizens are able to use carts, wheelbarrows, rickshaws.’

Shah Shan took a deep draught of the kappa spirit. ‘No, Paul, your arithmetic is wrong. I have not told you this before, but Enka Ne was forced to execute one hundred and seventeen priests—mostly of the blind order—in order to preserve your life and to permit the building of carts. It was a high price, was it not?’

Paul Marlowe looked at him, appalled.