them it was believed that the trees contained the departed spirits of their dead, who, when their skins began to harden, planted themselves in the earth and were magically transformed into trees.
'From these differences there arose conflict, and at first the barbarians fell by the thousands to our iron blades, but then there arose opposition. The barbarians learned the use of our swords, and across the land there roared war, a war of extermination, for Farko the Great had decreed that the alien difference between our people and the barbarians made living together in the same land impossible. It was not an easy war, for our soldiers had to carry food, while a barbarian could live off the country and, indeed, take nourishment from the sun itself.
'He was able to go for days with nothing more than water and the rays of the sun, and this made him a formidable opponent.
'The war lasted for the lifetime of Farko the Great, and into the reign of his son, and his son's son, and then there arose a great barbarian leader called Alon, who led small forces that made individual raids on our towns and settlements, never pausing to do battle with an equal or superior force, but slashing and hitting and then disappearing into the forests. Life became painful in this land, and it was decided that an all out effort had to be made. The land would not contain both our people and the barbarians. We mobilized totally, and our great armies swept the length and breadth of the land and, at last, cornered Alon's forces in the forests of the northland, where the snows are deep and the cold bites like an animal. There Alon made a stand, and it was apparent that all his forces, and all his females and young ones, would be exterminated. To avoid this, he fled into the snows, and it was thought that none could survive. Our armies guarded the forests for the winter, with much hardship, and parties went out in the summer to find, far to the north, a land of fire, an impassable land, and there had been seen the moldering, animal-gnawed bones of barbarians, males, females, young ones, all along the way.
'But all of the barbarians did not manage to die with Alon in the land of the fires. Here and there across the land remained small pockets of them, and those who were not killed were forced to work in the mines, or in the clearing of the forests. From these, who were, obviously, made of lesser stuff than those who followed Alon, came the pongs of today.'
'These pongs,' Duwan said, 'do they have those odd differences, too?' The priest nodded. 'This is why we must remember our history. The barbarians called themselves Children of Du, or Children of the Light. They were prideful, and they were dangerous opponents, once they began to adapt to the use of our weapons. We, the priests of Ahtol, are constantly warning that the potential for violence exists now, since we have allowed the growth of the pong population.'
'They seem harmless enough,' Duwan said. 'I have had pongs. I own two now. They know nothing of getting nourishment from the sun, for example, but cover themselves head to foot to avoid its rays.'
'Yes, because they are taught as young ones in the pens that the sun kills, just as they are taught, with vivid lessons—a pong is fed poison and dies rather painfully—that the green, growing things are poison. However, should one desperate pong disregard our teachings, should he discover that he can grow fat eating the green things and drinking of the sun, then, with their numbers—there are more pongs in Arutan than masters—they could become dangerous, especially since our prosperity has made it unattractive to follow the profession of arms.'
'They seem too stupid to figure out these things for themselves,' Duwan said.
'Yes, they are animals,' the priest said. 'But in the pens, at night, there are whispers. There members of a mystical society tell of free Drinkers in the far north. They know so little that they can actually believe that Drinkers could survive the cold and could pass through that land of fire. The myths speak of a master who will come from the north to lead all pongs to freedom. We've peeled a few of the mystics, and their eagerness to talk as their hides are removed a strip at a time tells us all. It's nonsense, but it is a hope for the masses. We waited too late to be able to eradicate this hope. We should have destroyed every pong in Arutan when it first arose, this myth. And our greatest fear, among the priesthood, is that the escaped pongs carried that myth with them and that they have rediscovered their abilities to live off the land.'
'Well,' Duwan said, 'a conspiracy of slaves would give occasion for some exercise of the sword arm.' He laughed. 'I think, priest, that you make too much of the danger.'
The old man shook his head. 'So do they all,' he said, 'and I pray to Ahtol that they are right.'
Duwan, having seen the pongpens, and having seen many of the slaves, doubted that any uprising could ever happen. Perhaps, with a free Drinker army in the field, pongs could be recruited to do labor, to carry supplies, but it would take much to turn any of them, even such as Tambol, into a fighting Drinker. He was a bit discouraged, but full of thought, as he went back to Elnice's quarters to open the door to her bedroom. His blood was already running hot, and his conscience cold, when he opened the door to see Elnice's lovely backside protruding into the air as she squirmed atop a muscular male.
Duwan halted in surprise. He felt a flash of anger, then of relief. He made a sound and, without stopping her graceful, sensuous movements, Elnice looked over her shoulder and gave him a flashing smile.
'I take it, High Mistress,' Duwan said, 'that I am now free to resume my business?'
'As you will,' she said. 'Go. Wander. When your fires are rebuilt sufficiently, come back to me.'
Duwan found Jai and Tambol in the slave quarters. They both looked well fed, and each had new slave clothing. When Duwan had led them out of Elnice's mansion, he halted in a little traveled place.
'Jai, in the pongpens, did you hear talk of a deliverer, a master who would come from the north to free the pongs?'
'Yes, it was whispered. From the earth, some said, as you know.'
