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The Day of Their Return by Poul Anderson. Part four

He realized: That’s orthodox modern attitude, of course. Maybe reflectin’ sour grapes, or weariness of decadent society. No use denyin’, what we’ve explored is one atom off outer skin of one dustmote galaxy. …

Aloud, he breathed, “Now Jaan claims Elders are about to return? And mind of theirs is already inside him?”

“Crudely put,” Yakow said. “You must talk to him yourself, at length.” He paused. “I told you, the Companions do not thus far officially accept his claims. Nor do we reject them. We do acknowledge that, overnight, somehow a humble shoemaker gained certain powers, certain knowledge. ‘Remarkable’ is an altogether worthless word for whatever has happened.”

“Who is he?” Ivar dared ask. “I’ve heard nothin’ more than rumors, hints, guesses.”

Yakow spoke now as a pragmatic leader. “When he first arose from obscurity, and ever more people began accepting his preachments: we officers of the Arena saw what explosive potential was here, and sought to hold the story quiet until we could at least evaluate it and its consequences. Jaan himself has been most cooperative with us. We could not altogether prevent word from spreading beyond our land. But thus far, the outside planet knows only vaguely of a new cult in this poor corner.”

It may not know any more than that, Ivar thought; however, it’s sure ready to believe more. Could be I’ve got news for you, Commander. “Who is he, really?”

“The scion of a common family, though once well-to-do as prosperity goes in Orcus. His father, Gileb, was a trader who owned several land vehicles and claimed descent from the founder of the Companions. His mother, Nomi, has a genealogy still more venerable, back to the first humans on Aeneas.”

“What happened?”

“You may recall, some sixteen years ago this region suffered a period of turmoil. A prolonged sandstorm brought crop failure and the loss of caravans; then quarreling over what was left caused old family feuds to erupt anew. They shook the very Companions. For a time we were ineffective.”

Ivar nodded. He had been searching his memory for news stories, and come upon accounts of how this man had won to rule over the order, restored its discipline and morale, and gone on to rescue his entire society from chaos. But that had been the work of years.

“His possessions looted by enemies who sought his blood, Gileb fled with his wife and their infant son,” Yakow went on in a level tone. “They trekked across the Antonine, barely surviving, to a small nord settlement in the fertile part of it. There they found poverty-stricken refuge.

“When Gileb died, Nomi returned home with her by then half-dozen children, to this by then pacified country. Jaan had learned the shoemaker’s trade, and his mother was—is—a skillful weaver. Between them, they supported the family. There was never enough left over for Jaan to consider marrying.

“Finally he had his revelation … made his discovery … whatever it was.”

“Can you tell me?” Ivar asked low.

The gaze upon him hardened. “That can be talked of later,” said Yakow. “For now, methinks best we consider what part you might play, Firstling, in the liberation of Aeneas from the Empire—maybe of mankind from humanness.”

XVII

In headcloth, robe, and sandals, skin stained brown and hair black, Ivar would pass a casual glance. His features, build, and blue eyes were not typical; but though the Orcans had long been endogamous, not every gene of their originally mixed heritage was gone, and occasional throwbacks appeared; to a degree, the prophet himself was one. More serious anomalies included his dialect of Anglic, his ignorance of the native language, his imperfect imitation of manners, gait, a thousand subtleties.

Yet surely no Terran, boredly watching the playback from a spy device, would notice those differences. Many Orcans would likewise fail to do so, or would shrug off what they did see. After all, there were local and individual variations within the region; besides, this young man might well be back from several years’ service among nords who had influenced him.

Those who looked closely and carefully were the least likely to mention a word of what they saw. For the stranger walked in company with the shoemaker.

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