'You know why, Machine! How do I go about it?'
'There is no need.'
'You know there is a need. Death may mean nothing to you, since you're not alive; but if I set foot outside the Game—'
'You have been pardoned your origin,' it said.
'...the police will send me back to—what?'
'There was considerable sentiment encouraging your pardon, once the facts were known. You are now a prominent figure in the galaxy, Alp the Uigur. The Galactic Counsel passed a special resolution by unanimous acclaim. Keep your winnings; you are now a rather wealthy Galactic Citizen.'
Alp was amazed. 'How did they know—?'
'The Game Machine, by permitting your abduction into this framework, assumed a certain responsibility for your welfare. That was the essence of its testimony before the Galactic Council. It must be understood that the purpose of the Machine was not philanthropic; it was merely promoting a more effective, entertaining and educational Game by introducing a genuinely historical figure and providing him with strong motivation to succeed. You were never actually in danger of extradition—'
But Alp was no longer paying attention. A panel had opened, and there stood Koka/Borte, the Galactic girl with strong nomad ancestry. No doubt the Machine had arranged that too, but Alp didn't care. She was not nine as he had met her, or in her fifties as he had left her. She was her real age, which seemed to be about his own, and she was absolutely lovely.
She smiled at him expectantly. Now he could marry her all over again, dispensing with the need to maintain secondary wives. She would take thousands of days to grow old! No Game part could match that luxury!
'And don't broadcast this, Machine!' he said as she came into his grasp.
Author's Note for TOR edition of Steppe
By this time you probably realize that the history related in Steppe is genuine, whether presented in Game-form or cartoon-form. You have just had a fairly comprehensive course in Central Asian history. History fascinates me, but evidently it doesn't interest publishers, so I had to mask it as space opera. Unfortunately I didn't mask it well enough, and publishers realized that there was educational value here, and shied away. I feel that this is a good way to make history interesting to those who normally find it boring, so I really enjoyed the challenge of this project. I generally do have more than one level to my writing, for those who care to fathom it. But relevance and serious content can be hazardous to a fiction-writer's career.
1972 was a good year for writing, but a poor year for sales. I completed five novels—Hard Sell, A Piece of Cake (Triple Detente), Kiai!, Steppe, and Ghost—and sold one, Rings of Ice, which I hadn't yet written. That one was my first sale based on a summary; after that I usually did not write novels until they sold, and as a result my rejects diminished and my income tripled. So this was a significant turning point; every novel I have completed from that time on has been sold. But of the five for 1972, only three have been eventually published, and one of those— Steppe—only in Europe. And thereby hangs a tale.
You see, they didn't want Steppe in Europe, either. But a British hardcover publisher was interested in getting into the SF genre, and so was picking up what it could get from the major names—and some lesser ones, such as Anthony. So it solicited and bought an available Anthony novel in 1975. This was Rings of Ice, published in America the year before. That's right: the novel I sold from summary, after sustaining six successive washouts. (Six? Yes—there was also MerCycle, completed late in 1971.)
Fine for the publisher. But one novel does not a program make. So they (I have never been able to decide whether a publisher is singular or plural) were prevailed upon by my clever British agent to purchase a 'new' Anthony novel—and that was Steppe. They took it in 1975, published it in 1976—and no one else wanted it. But virtue is not necessarily unrewarded. I was pleased with this publisher, so I shunted much stronger material to it: the CLUSTER series. The publisher loved it, published it, and resold it for paperback publication for over ?3000 per volume, which was more than I had been paid by the American publisher. Then they stiffed me on my share, and that ended my relationship with that hardcover outfit.
But when they made the deal for CLUSTER they also required the paperback publisher to take Steppe, thus getting this loser off their hands. I understand it went for a nominal fee of ?100, or under one-thirtieth of the amount commanded by the others. It was published in paperback in 1980, and also appeared in German translation that year. So Steppe was in print, but was not any phenomenal success.
Meanwhile, Tom Doherty of TOR BOOKS read one of the British editions of Steppe and liked it very much, but perceived no American edition. That was a peculiar situation for an American (actually, an American-naturalized former British) writer. Realizing that the volume had either gone out of print in America or (was it possible?) had never been published in America, he set out in pursuit of it. After all, if this interesting novel was actually begging for an American market, he just happened to have a rather persuasive contact with a prospective publisher.
His lonely quest took him along obscure bypaths, where other Anthony novels languished in Small-Press or Out-of-Print, so he bought these (after all, might as well do something while you're in the boondocks) and kept looking. By the time he finally caught up to Steppe, he had bought a total of ten Anthony books. This got my attention. I did some touching-up on one of them, But What of Earth?, that turned Tom Doherty's hair a shade grayer. He hurried to Florida, where we met and conversed, and TOR became a serious market for my newer work. Because my new science fiction goes to one publisher, and my new fantasy to another, and I do not break faith with publishers (or anyone else), this meant my projects in other genres, such as Horror or Historical. As it happens, I have been chafing for some time to get into such other genres, but had been balked by, you guessed it, the indifference of publishers, as the publishing history of Steppe demonstrates. So I am satisfied, and in due course there will be material such as has not been seen before from Anthony. And it seems that it all started with Steppe—the novel that no one but Tom Doherty really wanted.
Now at last Steppe is seeing American print, and you readers will signify your verdict on its merit by buying copies. If the novel sells well, vindicating my judgment in writing it and Mr. Doherty's in publishing it, we shall be pleased, and the likelihood is great that I will proceed to write the sequels I had had in mind at the outset, to cover in similar fashion other segments of human history. (I don't count sequels as 'new'; they are continuations of the original work, and go to the publisher of that work. A prolific writer has to make some fairly fine distinctions at times.) Perhaps Northland, in the period of the Vikings, or Desert, in the time of the Egyptian pyramids, or Sea, as in the
