“Therefore,” he concluded, “I take you to be a man of importance other than a Master. If you knew Olvagga of old, then you are also one of the Firstlings, such as he. Because of the sort of information which you seek, I take you to be one from afar. Were you a man of Mahartha you would know of the Masters, and knowing of the Masters you would know why Olvagga cannot sail.”
“Your knowledge of matters in Mahartha seems greater than my own — oh, newly arrived sailor.”
“I, too, come from a distant place,” acknowledged the captain, smiling faintly, “but in the space of a dozen months I may visit twice as many ports. I hear news—news and gossip and tales from all over—from more than a double dozen ports. I hear of the intrigues of the palace and the affairs of the Temple. I hear the secrets whispered at night to the golden girls beneath the sugar-cane bow of Kama. I hear of the campaigns of the Khshatriya and the dealings of the great merchants in the futures of grains and spices, jewels and silk. I drink with the bards and the astrologers, with the actors and the servants, the coachmen and the tailors. Sometimes, perhaps, I may strike the port where freebooters have haven and learn there the faring of those they hold to ransom. So do not think it strange that I, who come from afar, may know more of Mahartha than you, who may dwell perhaps a week’s faring hence. Occasionally, I may even hear of the doings of the gods.”
“Then you can tell me of the Masters, and why they are to be numbered as enemies?” asked Sam.
“I can tell you something of them,” replied the captain, “since you should not go unwarned. The body merchants are now the Masters of Karma. Their individual names are now kept secret, after the manner of the gods, so that they seem as impersonal as the Great Wheel, which they claim to represent. They are no longer merely body merchants, but are allied with the Temples. These, too, are changed, for your kinsmen of the First who are now gods do commune with them from Heaven. If you are indeed of the First, Sam, your way must lead you either to deification or extinction, when you face these new Masters of Karma.”
“How?” asked Sam.
“Details you must seek elsewhere,” said the other. “I do not know the processes whereby these things are achieved. Ask after Jannaveg the sailmaker on the Street of the Weavers.”
“This is how Jan is now known?”
The other nodded. “And beware the dogs,” he said, “or, for that matter, anything else which is alive and may harbor intelligence.”
“What is your name, captain?” asked Sam.
“In this port, I have no name at all or a false one, and I see no reason for lying to you. Good day, Sam.”
“Good day, captain. Thank you for your words.”
Sam rose and departed the harbor, heading back toward the business district and the streets of the trades.
The sun was a red discus in the heavens, rising to meet the Bridge of the Gods. The prince walked through the awakened city, threading his way among the stalls displaying the skills of the workmen in the small crafts. Hawkers of unguents and powders, perfumes and oils, moved about him. Florists waved their garlands and corsages at the passer-by; and the vintners said nothing, sitting with their wineskins on rows of shaded benches, waiting for their customers to come to them as they always did. The morning smelled of cooking food, musk, flesh, excrement, oils and incense all churned up together and turned loose to wander like an invisible cloud.
Dressed as a beggar himself, it did not seem out of place for him to stop and speak to the hunchback with the begging bowl.
“Greetings, brother,” he stated. “I am far from my quarter on an errand. Can you direct me to the Street of the Weavers?”
The hunchback nodded and shook his bowl suggestively.
He withdrew a small coin from the pouch concealed beneath his tattered garments. He dropped it into the hunchback’s bowl and it quickly vanished.