“I am sure that was her intention. It would not have been mine, at the moment.”
“You must be very strong. Are you?” Her eyes were lovely. She put down her cup and, bending her knees, put her feet up on the sofa.
“I was thinking of Erik Hokart,” he said quietly, “and all the trouble there will be if he is not found.”
“It concerns you, doesn’t it?”
“Very much.” He looked across at her. “And it should concern you.” He waved a hand about. “All this is very nice, an easy, comfortable way of living. It would be a pity if you lost it.”
She was silent, and angry, he thought. Yet when she looked up, her eyes were innocent. “I do not expect to lose it, Mr. Raglan, now or ever. I have friends, very important friends who will not wish for me to be disturbed.”
“And when their reputations are at stake? When they are suddenly exposed to investigation because of their relationship with a very beautiful young woman?”
“Our relationships, as you call it, have been—”
“I know they have, Eden. I know it very well. I believe you, but who else will? You must have read the newspapers enough to know that a man’s political life hangs by a very delicate thread. Scandal can be destructive, and few wish to risk scandal.”
He sat back in his chair, but alert for any sound. Was anyone listening? Or would they await her signal? He doubted she would permit listening, yet what if someone had the power to overrule her wishes?
“Eden, we had better talk, and seriously. I want Erik Hokart back safely. I believe you have the power to bring him back. If you do not have that power, you must do all you can to convince, those who do that Hokart must be freed, at once.”
She rubbed out her cigarette and poured coffee from the pot. She looked at him, then looked quickly away. She was worried, that much was obvious.
“I do not see why—” she began.
“Stop it, Eden. You do know why. The night after my arrival from back east a man broke into my condo at Tamarron and carried off a book. It was not the book he thought it was. The last time I was here, with Gallagher, I saw that book here, on your table.”
He put down his cup. “You have learned a great deal about how we live over here, but you have not learned enough. Nor do the men who come to help know enough, and they have blundered. For your own welfare, Eden, I suggest you intercede and get Erik back here.”
“I cannot.” Her eyes were bleak. “I have no power. I am told what must be done. I am not asked.”
“You cannot speak to The Hand?”
Startled, she said, “You know? About him?”
“I know, and I know about the Varanel. But do you know about the dissidents? The people who escaped to the mountains with He Who Had Magic?”
“That’s nonsense! It is a legend!”
“I know otherwise. You know only so much as The Hand wishes you to know, the Hand and the Lords of Shibalba.”
She stared at him. “How do you know so much? Nobody—”
“If you do not help me, Eden, I shall go over there and bring him back.”
She laughed, but it was contemptuous laughter. “You? Do not be foolish! In minutes they would have you! You would not know where to go, what to do! Within minutes you would be a prisoner, and when they had what they wished from you, you would be dead!”
“Suppose you helped me?”
“I? You are insane!” Yet she looked quickly, nervously around, as if she feared someone might be listening.
He lowered his voice. “Think about it, but think fast, because if he is not returned here within forty-eight hours, I am going over, and when I go, I won’t be making it easy for anybody.”
He got up. “You are my only chance to do this quietly, peacefully. You’ve got forty-eight hours, and not a minute more. I want Erik Hokart back here and in good shape, or I go get him.”
“You? Alone?”
“I’d better do it that way. The next thing they may be sending the Delta Squad or the Marines.” He was just talking now, but she could not know that, or how important Erik might be. For that matter, Raglan didn’t know, himself.
“They will kill you now.”
“They can try. But you know that daybook? That record you tried to get back from me? It is in a safe place, far from here, and if anything happens to me, it goes right to the top. I can’t take the chance of letting something like this exist without their knowing.”
“They will believe you? They will think you’re crazy!”
“Perhaps. A few years ago they would have been sure of it, but too much has happened. We have put a man on the moon—”
“So you say. We do not believe it.”
He shrugged. “Nevertheless, it is true, and our people are prepared to accept what would have been impossible a few years ago. The average man knows at least something about black holes, and our science fiction stories and films have introduced a lot of speculation and some understanding. And even your people used to study the stars.”
She looked up at him. “Why do you say that? What do you know of our people? We cannot see stars. The heavens are misty. We do not see the moon or the sun.”
“No sun?”
“Oh, it is there! But it is behind clouds or something—I do not know.”
“There is no speculation?”
“Of course not. Why should there be? Our work is enough, and our families. Such speculation is idle, wasteful. We know everything we need to know.”
“You believe that? After living here?” He paused, then very casually, he asked, “What of your history? Are there no records?”
“Why keep records? Oh, I believe there were, but they no longer exist. Besides, who would need them? Who needs to know what is past?”
“You have artisans? Men who work with wood and metals?”
“Of course.”
“How do they know what to do when they take up a bit of wood or iron?”
“They know what to do. They learn from their fathers.”
“That is history, Eden. The skills men acquire are a part of history. If they did not pass on their knowledge, their history, each workman would have to learn everything all over again. That is why we have history in books, so that we can profit from the experience of those who have gone before.”
“And yet you make the same errors again and again!”
“Too true. The records are there but too few are willing to learn. For example there’s a lot of talk now about using cocaine. It was quite a big thing before the turn of the century, then almost died out in the time of World War One, but now it is back, all the lessons learned in those earlier years forgotten. The people of the drug culture act as if they have made an original discovery, and instead are sending their lives down the same drain as others did years ago.”
He was silent, then held out his cup for more coffee. She evidently knew nothing of the Hall of Archives, and probably very few did. Was that Hall in the Forbidden area? Was that how he could gain entry?
If she did not know of the Archives, how many did? Tazzoc had implied that he was left alone. No inquiries came; nobody used his records. If he had visitors at all, they were infrequent.
“You must help me, Eden, and help your people in so doing. If we can get Erik Hokart back, your world will be left to go on as it has. If not, I shall have to come after him.”
She laughed bitterly. “You would be killed! You would have no chance!”
“If I go,” he said quietly, “I will go armed and prepared for trouble. Even if they kill me, what I will do will change everything. If nothing else it will start people thinking, wondering, and once someone begins to think, there is no end to it. If one asks questions, one will want answers.”
“We have weapons, too.”
Of course they did, and he knew nothing about them. What of those the Varanel carried?
He needed to know so much more! So very much! He tasted his coffee, put down the cup. “You have lived among us,” he said bluntly. “Do you wish to go back?”
“Do you think your world so superior, then?” She spoke with contempt. “Do you think I cannot leave it?”
“You can, of course, but do you want to? Our way of life is different, but you seem to find it not uncomfortable.” He looked around, taking in the pleasant, casually easy living room. “I do not know your life. Is it better than this?”