Chapter 2: Rakkeed, Stalin, and the Rev. Keeluk

Von Schlichten, in a fresh uniform, sat at the end of the table in Sidney Harrington’s office; Harrington and Eric Blount, the Lieutenant-Governor, faced each other across it, over the three-foot disc of an Ulleran chess-board. Harrington had the white, or center, position. Blount, sandy-haired and considerably younger, was playing black, and his pieces were closing in relentlessly from the outer rim.

“Well, then what?” Harrington asked.

Von Schlichten dropped ash from his cigarette into the tray that served all three of them.

“Nothing much,” he replied. “Keeluk bugged out as soon as he saw my car let down. We picked up a few of his ragtag-and-bobtail, and they’re being questioned now, but I doubt if they’ll tell us anything we don’t know already. The dog had been kept in a lean-to back of the house; it had been removed, probably as soon as Keeluk called in his goon-gang. At least one of the rabbits had been kept on the premises, too, some time ago. No trace of the goat.”

He watched Blount move one of his pieces and nodded approvingly. “The riot’s been put down,” he continued, “but we’re keeping two companies of Kragans in the city, and about a dozen airjeeps patrolling the section from Eightieth down to Sixty-fourth, and from the waterfront back to Eighth Avenue. There is also the equivalent of a regiment of King Jaikark’s infantry--spearmen, crossbowmen, and a few riflemen--and two of those outsize cavalry companies of his, helping hold the lid down. They’re making mass arrests, indiscriminately. More slaves for Jaikark’s court favorite, of course.”

“Or else Gurgurk wants them to use for patronage,” Blount added. “He’s been building quite a political organization, lately. Getting ready to shove Jaikark off the throne, I’d say.”

Harrington pushed one of his pieces out along a radial line toward the rim. Blount promptly took a pawn, which, under Ulleran rules, entitled him to a second move. He shifted another piece, a sort of combination knight and bishop, to threaten the piece Harrington had moved.

“Oh, Gurgurk wouldn’t dare try anything like that,” the Governor-General said. “He knows we wouldn’t let him get away with it. We have too much of an investment in King Jaikark.”

“Then why’s Gurgurk been supporting this damned Rakkeed?” Blount wanted to know, hastily interposing a piece. “Gurgurk can follow one of two lines of policy. He can undertake to heave Jaikark off the throne and seize power, or he has to support Jaikark on the throne. We’re subsidizing Jaikark. Rakkeed has been preaching this crusade against the Terrans, and against Jaikark, whom we control. Gurgurk has been subsidizing Rakkeed...”

“You haven’t any proof of that,” Harrington protested.

“My Intelligence Section has,” von Schlichten put in. “We can give sums of money, and dates, and the names of the intermediaries through whom they were paid to Rakkeed. Eric is absolutely correct in making that statement.”

“Personally, I think Gurgurk’s plan is something like this: Rakkeed will stir up anti-Terran sentiment here in Konkrook, and direct it against our puppet, Jaikark, as well as against us,” Blount said. “When the outbreak comes, Jaikark will be killed, and then Gurgurk will step in, seize the Palace, and use the Royal army to put down the revolt that he’s incited in the first place. That will put him in the position of the friend of the Company, and most of his dupes will be rounded up and sold as slaves, and King Gurgurk’ll pocket the proceeds. The only question is, will Rakkeed let himself be used that way? I think Rakkeed’s bigger than Gurgurk ever can be. And more of a threat to the Company. Everywhere we turn, Rakkeed’s at the bottom of whatever happens to be wrong. This business, for instance; Keeluk’s one of Rakkeed’s followers.”

“Eric, you have Rakkeed on the brain!” Harrington exclaimed impatiently, then moved the threatened piece counterclockwise on the circle where he had placed it. “He’s just a barbarian caravan-driver.”

Eric Blount moved the piece that had taken Harrington’s pawn.

“Your king’s in danger,” he warned. “And Hitler was just a paper-hanger.”

“Rakkeed has no following, except among the rabble.” Harrington puffed furiously at his pipe, trying to figure the best protection for his king.

“You just think he hasn’t,” Blount retorted. “Here in Konkrook, he’s always entertained by one or another of the big ship-owning nobles. They probably deprecate his table-manners, but they just love his politics. And the same thing at Keegark, and at the Free Cities along the Eastern Shore.”

“The last time Rakkeed was in Konkrook, he was the guest of the Keegarkan Ambassador,” von Schlichten stated. “Intelligence got that from a spy we’d planted among the embassy servants.”

“You sure this spy wasn’t just romancing?” Harrington asked. “You get so confounded many wild stories about Rakkeed. Three days after he was reported here at Konkrook, he was reported at Skilk, five thousand miles away, said to be having an audience with King Firkked.”

“No mystery to that,” von Schlichten said. “He travels on our ships, in disguise, coolie-class, on the geek-deck.”

“Be a good idea if he could be caught at it, some time,” Blount said, making another move. “One of the lower-deck loading ports could be left unlocked, by carelessness, and he could blunder overboard at about five thousand feet.” He watched Harrington make a deceptively pointless-looking move. “Sid, this damn dog business worries me.”

“Worries me, too. I’m fond of that mutt, and God only knows what sort of stuff he’s been getting to eat. And I hate to think of why those geeks stole him, too.”

“Well, at risk of seeming heartless, I’m not so much worried for Stalin as I am about why Keeluk was hiding him, and why he was willing to murder the only two Terrans in Konkrook who trust him, to prevent our finding out that he had him.”

“A Mr. Keeluk, a clergyman,” von Schlichten quoted. He chain-lit another cigarette and stubbed out the old one. “Maybe the Rev. Keeluk wanted Stalin for sacramental purposes.”

Blount looked up sharply. “Ritual killing?” he asked. “Or sympathetic magic?”

Von Schlichten shrugged. “Take your choice. Maybe Rakkeed wanted the dog, to kill before a congregation of his followers, killing us by proxy, or in effigy. Or maybe they think we worship Stalin, and getting control of him would give them power over us. I wish we knew a little more about Ulleran psychology.”

That wasn’t the first time he’d made that wish. Even if sex weren’t the paramount psychological factor the ancient Freudians believed, it was an extremely important one, and on Uller most of the fundamental terms of Terran psychology were meaningless. At the same time, the average Ulleran probably had complexes and neuroses that would have had Freud talking to himself, and they certainly indulged in practices that would have even stood Krafft-Ebing’s hair on end.