This Star Shall Abide (17 page)

No, he realized. He was still himself. He was still sure that they could not force him to recant. If it were that simple—if they could do it merely by sticking a needle into somebody’s arm—they would not bother with all the preliminaries.

The Technicians brought him food: good food, though he had little appetite for it. Then he was taken back to the large room to confront the same three Scholars. Again, he remained standing. He was no longer tired, he found, and his mind was absolutely clear. To his astonishment, his spirits were high. So far he had triumphed over these inquisitors; they weren’t nearly so powerful as they pretended to be.

“We are satisfied that you have not lied to us,” he was told. “It is impossible for anyone to lie while under the drug. A person can keep back information if he’s determined to, but if you’d been concealing any we’d wanted from you, we would have known.”

Relief lifted Noren’s spirits still further. His worst fear had been that he might have been made either to betray those who had helped him escape or to say something he did not believe; but if he’d done so, they would surely boast of their success.

“We have learned a great deal about you,” Stefred said. “We’ve learned, for instance, that you really want the knowledge we have here in the City. You long desperately for it.”

“I’ve never denied that,” Noren agreed. “Knowledge is the right of everyone; it should be available to all. Of course I want it.”

“You want it not only because it’s been kept from you, but for itself.”

“Yes, I do.”

Stefred eyed him thoughtfully. “Like everything else, knowledge has its price,” he said. “Would you be willing to pay the price, Noren?”

On the verge of assent, Noren felt a vague sense of alarm. He’d already demonstrated that he was willing to pay with his life; what more could they ask? “That would depend on what it was,” he said cautiously.

“In this case, it involves an ordeal that you would find quite difficult.”

“No ordeal would be too difficult if it led to the truth you’re hiding,” declared Noren, with a sudden, irrational hope that they might actually decide to enlighten him.

“If you recant voluntarily,” Stefred announced, “you will be given access to more knowledge than you can absorb in a lifetime.”

Noren recoiled, stunned first by disappointment and then by his own stupidity in not having spotted the trap. That they could obtain recantations by bribery when threats had failed hadn’t occurred to him, yet it was all too logical.

“Think before you answer,” Stefred went on. “I know you’re tempted. I know you well enough to be sure that it’s a more painful temptation than the first offer you were made. Think: is your pride in your ability to hold out worth more to you than knowledge?”

Noren’s head swam. Put that way, his determination to hold out seemed arrogant foolishness, a contradiction of everything he had said about what he was seeking. Yet there was a flaw; there had to be. That was not the way it should be put.

He raised his eyes. “Knowledge is worthless apart from truth. It’s the truth I really value, but if I recanted, I’d be lying. Truth belongs to everybody; to recant would be to accept your right to keep it from the other villagers.”

“That’s your final word?”

“Yes.”

Stefred did not seem disappointed; as a matter of fact he looked quite pleased. It was probable, Noren thought dejectedly, that they’d known all along that the bribe would be refused. If they’d analyzed his mind as well as they said they had, they must have known. They must also have known that the memory of this lost chance would keep on hurting right up to the end.

“Perhaps you’re better off,” said the other man. “Knowledge can be frightening, after all; sometimes people are better off without knowing everything. Sometimes they’re aware of that underneath.”

It was a skilled twist of the knife; Noren caught his angry reply just in time, realizing that to defend himself against the implicit accusation would be beneath his dignity. “Perhaps,” he agreed, “especially since I have no reason to think you’d have kept your word in any case. Where do we go from here?”

“You know, I suppose, that we’ve hardly begun.”

“I know,” Noren replied grimly. They would not raise the subject of killing him yet, he felt, not while he was strong enough to laugh at them.

“Whatever you may think to the contrary,” Stefred stated, “you are going to be compelled to recant. Your recantation will be wholly sincere and will be obtained by a means that you’ll be powerless to resist. I shall not describe the procedure in advance; I’ll merely say that it’s beyond your present comprehension and that I judge you to be more vulnerable to it than average. You have until tomorrow morning to think that over.”

The ultimatum was more unnerving than Noren had imagined it could be. He stood silent, utterly dismayed, while without another word the three Scholars left the room; then, blindly, he followed as the Technicians escorted him back to his own quarters. There he collapsed on the couch, unsure of his ability to endure the hours of delay and thankful that no one was present to observe his lapse of self-control.
More
vulnerable than average? Stefred must have been lying, bluffing; surely he’d not displayed any vulnerability.

But the Scholar’s eyes had not been veiled as for a bluff, and he had spoken with the force of total conviction.

*
 
*
 
*

When morning came, Noren was led through a maze of passageways and finally, after a puzzling wait in a small cubicle within which he felt an odd sense of motion, he found himself thrust through a tall door that, although also solid, had slid aside to admit him. There was light, brilliant daylight streaming through a window; Noren glanced out and drew a quick breath. The glistening towers were no longer above him, but stood directly opposite. He was high above the City walls! He looked down, seeing that they were merely the outer faces of a ring of domed structures. The huge silver circles dazzled him as he gazed across them to the busy markets and the grainfields beyond. This was what Technicians must see when they traveled through the air.

Reluctantly, Noren turned his attention to his surroundings. His guards had withdrawn, and at first he thought himself alone; but as he stepped further into the room, he saw that someone was seated behind a large desk made of some shiny white substance. Because the man was dressed in clothes similar to the ones Noren himself wore, it was a moment before he recognized the Scholar Stefred.

“Sit down, Noren,” Stefred said, indicating a not-uncomfortable looking chair next to his own.

“I’d rather stand,” replied Noren defiantly.

“As you wish. But we’ll be spending a good deal of time together.” Stefred’s voice wasn’t angry; it didn’t even seem stern. Noren stood motionless, nonplused. The room was not the sort of place he had thought he’d be taken to; there was nothing particularly ominous about it. To be sure, he noticed a number of Machines that were incomprehensible to him, but he also noticed inviting shelves of books. One of the books lay open atop a pile of papers, as if hastily set aside. Did Scholars spend the time between ceremonies in rooms like this, unrobed, reading books as he himself might do if he had the chance? Though he’d denied their superiority, he had not pictured them as human in just that way.

Stefred leaned forward. “I believe you’ve been honest with us,” he said. “I believe that when you say truth is more important to you than anything else, you mean it. We are now about to see whether you have what it takes to live up to what you claim.”

Noren was silent. Would he? he thought, fighting for composure. He’d made up his mind that he would, no matter how much whatever they did to him might hurt; but suppose they really had a form of pressure against which he’d be powerless?

“You have courage,” Stefred remarked, almost with warmth. “I shall challenge it; aren’t you curious as to how?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Noren said evenly.

“Really? You’ve heard all sorts of ghastly stories, haven’t you, about the goings on here in the City—things that no one can describe, no one can even imagine?”

“They’re part of the sham. If you believe me, you know you won’t get anywhere by more talk, so you’ve no recourse but to put me to torture. There’s no mystery about that.”

“Does the prospect frighten you?”

“No,” said Noren staunchly, hoping his knees wouldn’t give way.

“That’s the first lie you’ve told,” the Scholar observed. He hesitated, giving Noren an appraising look. “I’ll be frank with you, Noren. If I thought I had a chance of getting your recantation in that way, I could not proceed without trying it; there are some good reasons why we don’t resort to the method I’m about to use with a person who can be made to cooperate through any other means. Fortunately, I already know you well enough to be sure that torture wouldn’t work.”

Astonished, Noren barely suppressed his breath of relief. This was undoubtedly another trap; still the admission restored not only his hopes, but his wavering self-esteem. Perhaps they had no mysterious means of defeating him after all, and he would
not
give in from mere fear of them!

Stefred regarded him soberly. “You’re surprised. You weren’t sure in your own mind, were you? You believed you could stand up under it, but you weren’t absolutely sure.” Keeping his voice level, he continued, “That’s something one seldom knows about oneself, but we Scholars are usually able to tell. You see, we’re interested not only in what people do, but in why they do it; and once we’ve determined why a heretic is holding out, we can judge what sort of persuasion he’s susceptible to. In your case I am certain that physical discomfort, however severe, would have no effect. What I’m going to do is rather more complicated, and as I’ve said, it’s undertaken only as a last resort.”

They stared at each other, Noren resolving that he would not be the first to drop his eyes. There was something strange in Stefred’s manner; though the words were cold, Noren sensed none of the calculated coldness he had felt during the inquisition.
Why, he admires me!
he realized suddenly.
This Scholar needs to break me, but underneath he admires me for standing up to him. He acknowledges me as a true opponent
. The thought was heartening; on the strength of it, he managed a forced smile.

Stefred returned it, his own smile looking surprisingly genuine. “You’re wondering what can possibly be worse than the pain to which you’d steeled yourself. Tell me, what makes you think it’s going to be?”

Caught off guard, Noren could only stammer, “Why—why—”

“You haven’t an answer. You’ve got plenty of intelligence. but you haven’t yet learned to make full use of it. You question a great many things that other people accept, but still, inside yourself, you’re holding to premises for which you have no valid grounds. That’s one of the ways in which you’re vulnerable, Noren. I’m not going to treat you like a helpless victim; I shall fight on your own terms: the terms you chose when you stood before us and claimed intellectual equality as your birthright.”

“I claimed the right to knowledge. There’s no equality as long as it’s hidden from me.

“True. You will be armed with what you need. But first, let’s dispose of some of those false premises. Number one: we never said that you were our inferior, or for that matter, that any other villager was. Because many of
them
told you so, you assumed it was our idea. It wasn’t.”

Noren scowled, stricken by confusion. This was scarcely the kind of attack he’d been anticipating. “Number two,” the Scholar went on, “we never threatened you with torture. We never threatened you at all. We merely told you that we could compel you to recant, and you assumed that we had no better weapon than fear. Like many of your other assumptions, that’s wrong. Some of what I do to you will be terrifying, but you won’t be swayed by that; when in the end you recant, you’ll do so of your own free will, because your innate honesty will leave you no choice.”

“No,” Noren insisted, “I’ll never go back on what I believe.”

“That’s a very dogmatic statement, and it’s unworthy of you. If you cling to it, you’ll be going back on the key point in your defense: the assertion that you care more for truth than for comfort.” Rising, Stefred fixed penetrating gray eyes on Noren. “The next few days aren’t going to be comfortable; truth, when it conflicts with your personal opinions, is not easy to confront. Yet you maintained over and over again that you wanted to know the truth. All right. Your wish is hereby granted. My weapon is not like anything you ever expected, Noren. I’m simply going to give you what you asked for.”

Noren shook his head. “You tried to bribe me before; I haven’t changed my mind.”

“This isn’t a bribe. There are no strings attached, and you aren’t being offered a choice. You’ve already passed the point of no return.”

“There must be a catch,” protested Noren skeptically. “As you yourself told me, there’s a price for knowledge.”

“Of course there is,” Stefred agreed. “In the first place, once you’ve become privy to the secrets I’m about to reveal, you will be confined to the City for the rest of your life.”

That, thought Noren, was unlikely to be long. “It would have happened anyway,” he said. “No heretic has ever left the City.”

“Not often, but there’s a small chance when a person’s repentance comes early. For an enlightened heretic, however, there is no release; our secrets must stay within these walls. And there are other consequences. You’re in deeper waters than you realize; before I’m through with you, you’re going to be shown things—unpleasant things—that even the Technicians don’t know.” The Scholar approached Noren, his tone carrying more force, yet at the same time more feeling. “Did you demand truth for its own sake, or merely to prove yourself right? Do you value it enough to take its consequences without protest?”

“I do,” Noren declared, “if you can convince me that what you tell me is really true. I won’t accept empty words.” With chagrin, he saw that he had made a concession by admitting the possibility that Stefred might not lie; yet somehow he couldn’t help feeling that this man was not like most Scholars. In any case, he could scarcely have answered otherwise.