The Altar at Asconel Read Free Page A

happy there, among the stored-up knowledge of the galaxy.”
    “I can believe that,” Tiorin said with a wry smile. “And it makes me envy you. For myself, I propose to travel, merely. It will take a long time to blot out Asconel in my heart. And you, Vix?”
    They both turned and looked at him. Spartak half expected him to bluster that he would not leave his home-that to be asked to go was tantamount to accusing him of plotting a revolution against Hodat. But though some such outburst apparently trembled on the tip of his tongue, it never emerged.
    “Well, indeed, what is there to keep me?” he began in a high angry voice, as though rebuking himself. “It’s goingto be a quiet dull place under sober Hodat, isn’t it? There’s no more discontent in the north that can’t be snuffed out by a squad of men under a drunken sergeant, and if I pick fights in the street to pass the time the city guard will haul me in and my brother—my own brother—will talk to me like a father! And I’ve had most of the women I ever wanted here, and tasted all the best vintages and hunted the few remaining game-animals so successfully we’re reduced to mere cubs and ancient cripples! Yes, I’ll go, and with good will, to some place where they fancy a fighting man—take service, maybe, with the army of Mercator or go hunting pirates in the Big Dark. Yes, I’ll go.”
    But he looked desperately unhappy as he stared straight ahead of him, not seeing the green foliage of the trees.
    And all the memory of that final meeting was vivid in one single second when Spartak hung on Vix’s answer ten years afterward, there beside the stone gatehouse of his order on Annanworld.
    “Hodat is dead. Murdered,” the redhead stressed. “And a usurper has made himself Warden. And he has brought a foul cult from no one knows where, and his evil priests lord it over the citizens of Asconel!”
    “But—when? How?” Spartak clutched at the other’s arm, a torrent of questions rising in his mind.
    “The news was already stale when it reached me on Batyra Dap. My first thought was to raise forces and liberate the planet, but it costs hard cash to hire an army, and I’ve—not been so lucky as I hoped.” A grim sardonic twist drew up half his mouth; the sword-slash seemed to have paralyzed the other side of his lips. “And anyway, by this time Bucyon—that’s his name, mark it well—has by all reports made a cringing pack of dogs of our once-proud people. I thought you’d have left Annanworld as I left Batyra Dap, hot on the news; instead, I’ve found you here.”
    “You must tell me—” Abruptly aware of where they stood on the hot dry road, Spartak broke off. “No, come inside and take refreshment and tell me there.”
    “They won’t let me in,” Vix grunted.
    “Not you—the weapons you wear. We’re an Order sworn to absolute non-violence; no knife, sword or gun is permittedinside the gate. But you may safely leave your weapons with Brother Ulwyn, and collect them on departure.”
    “Much help you’ll be,” Vix sighed. “To think I came so far, and find you bound by an oath to abjure violence, when that’s what it’ll take to set our home-world free. Still, I’ll come with you and tell the tale, and see if the horrors in it stir some spark of love for Asconel after all this time.”

III
    “A FINE comfortable backwater you picked yourself!” Vix exploded. He was in a padded chair in the anteroom of the refectory; the order to which Spartak had pledged himself had a tradition of hospitality to travelers, and it had only taken a word about Vix’s journey to the chief steward to produce a meal of cold meats, bread and fruit such as the Warden himself on Asconel would have been proud to present. Also there was wine aplenty, though not stronger drink nor any of the Imperial euphorics like ancinard. The rules of the foundation decreed a clear head.
    “Now I begin to see,” the redhead added around the leg of katalabs on which