"Cos does not even know we exist," I said.
"The Ubara knows," he said, "and Seremides, and the Polemarkos."
"I think you are mad," I said.
"This time," he said, "I think my Kaissa is more subtle than yours."
"I should like to think so," I said.
"What of the new art center?" he said.
"What of it?" I asked.
"That is the same thing," he said.
I laughed.
"No," he said. "I am serious! That is the same thing, but for the intellectuals, the scribes, the high castes!"
"And will they bring back the marbles from Cos for the art center?" I asked. "I am serious, Tarl," he said.
"Perhaps you are right," I said. "I hope so."
"I tell you things are changing in Ar now," he said. "They are becoming different."
"Perhaps," I said.
"The Initiates do not seem as welcome in the streets now," he said. "Men avoid them. Even some women avoid them. Some even demand they remain in their temples where they belong, away from honest, healthy folk."
"Interesting," I said.
"Now they often ring their bells and swing their censers to deserted streets," said Marcus. "In vain they chant their litanies to indifferent walls."
"I am sure it is not so bad as all that," I said.
"Are you so fond of the unproductive, parasitic caste?" he asked.
"I do not think much about them," I said.
"Surely you regret the minds they have stunted and spoiled," he said.
"If there are any such, of course," I said.
"They prey on credulity, they exploit fear, they purvey superstition," he said. "It is their way of making a living," I said.
Marcus grunted angrily.
"And doubtless many of them, or at least the simpler ones, do not even understand what they are doing. Thus it is hard to blame them, unless, say, for stupidity, or a failure to undertake inquiries or, if undertaking them, a failure to pursue them in an objective manner."
Again Marcus made an angry noise. He was one of those fellows who had not yet wearied of denouncing hypocrisy and fraud. He did not yet see the roll which such things served in the complex tapestry of life. What is some folks required lies, as the price of mental security? Should they be nonetheless denied their comforts, robbed of their illusions? Is their happiness worth less than that of others? Is it not better to tell them, if they are capable of no more, that the illusions are reality, that the lies are truth? If many desired such things, and cried out for them, is it any wonder that fellows would be found, perhaps even from noble motives, to sell them such wares, keeping the truth to themselves, as their burden and secret? I pondered the mater. I knew, as Marcus did not, of many civilizations which were unnatural, which had taken wrong paths, which were founded on myths and lies. Perhaps that is why Marcus disproved so sternly of the Initiates. To him, they seemed anomalous in the world he knew, pointless, dangerous and pathological. In the end few things are real, perhaps the weight and glitter of gold, the movement and nature of weapons, a slave at one's feet, and, too, perhaps in spite of all, if we will have it so, defiant, honor, responsibility, courage, discipline, such things, such baubles, such treasures. "Do you believe in Priest-Kings?" asked Marcus.
"Certainly," I said.
"I do not," he said.
"As you will," I said.
"But how are we to explain the Weapons Laws, the Flame Death?" he asked. "That would seem to be your problem, not mine," I said, "as I accept their existence."
"Something exists," he said, "but they are not Priest-Kings."
"That is an interesting thought," I said.
"It is only that they possess the power of Priest-Kings!" he said.
"That is a second interesting thought," I said. "But if they possess the power of Priest-Kings, why not call them Priest-Kings?"
"Do you think they would mind, if I did not?" he asked, somewhat apprehensively. "Probably not," I said. Indeed, provided men kept their laws the Priest-Kings were content to let them do much what they wished. The major concerns of Priest-Kings with men, it seemed, was to have as little to do with them as possible. That had always seemed to me understandable.
"But what is the relation of the Initiates to the Priest-Kings, if there are such?" he asked.
"One which is rather remote, I suspect," I said, "if it exists at all."
"You do not think the Priest-Kings are on intimate terms with the Initiates, do you?"
"Would you wish to be on intimate terms with an Initiate?" I asked.
"Certainly not," he said.
"There you are," I said.
"Look at that fellow," said Marcus, indicating a baker striding by. The fellow fixed a fearless gaze upon us.
"He is only one man," I said.
"There is something different in Ar these days," he said.
"He is only one man," I said.
"Who walks proudly," said Marcus.
"He will not walk so proudly if he is beaten by a Cosian patrol," I said. "In any event," said Marcus, " the power of the Initiates is certainly less now than before in the city."
"At least for the time," I said.
"For the time?" he asked.
"If men should become again confused, and fearful, and lose confidence in themselves, if they should again begin to whine, and to beg for authority and reassurance," I said, "the white robes will again appear in the streets."
"Initiates are not needed for such a purpose," he said.
"True," I said. It could be a caste, the state, a leader, many things.
"The Initiates might have provided a core of resistance to Cos," he said. "Cos saw to it, with offerings, and hetacombs, and such, that they would not do so."
"So they preached their passivity, their resignation?"
"Of course," I said. "But to reduce their offerings, threaten their coffers, imperil their power, and it will not be long before they locate their patriotism."
"Cos is very clever," said Marcus.
"Clearly," I said.
"I hate Initiates," he said.
"I had gathered that," I admitted.
"I despise them," he said.
"Perhaps it is merely that you find yourself reluctant to rejoice in dishonesty, and to celebrate blatant fraud and hypocrisy," I said.
"Do you think it could be so easily explained?" he asked.
"Possibly," I said.
"I do have my limitations," he said.
"We all do," I said.
"And yet," he said, "the world is very mysterious."
"True," I said.
"What is its nature?" he asked.
"I am sure I do not know," I said.
He suddenly struck his fist into the palm of his hand. It must of stung. A fellow turned about, looking at him, and then continued on his way. "But it is here I am," he exclaimed, looking about himself, at the street, the avenue, the buildings, the trees, the fountains, the sky. "And it is here I will live!"
"That seems to me wise," I said.
"I have enjoyed this conversation, Tarl," he said. "It has meant a great deal to me."
"I haven't understood it in the least," I said.
"Some folks are so shallow," he said.
"But perhaps you are right, I said. "Perhaps, things are different in Ar."
"Certainly!" he said, observing her.
"Hold, female!" said I.
The slave stopped, apprehensively.
"And surely she is not the first such you have seen of late," he said.
"No," I said. "Do not kneel," I told her. I wished the better to consider her legs.
Marcus and I walked about her.
"Consider the brevity of her tunic," he said, "its cleavage, its sleevelessness, the slashes at the hem of her skirt.
"Yes," I said.
The girl blushed crimson.
"This is a sign," he said, "that the virility of the men of Ar is reviving."
"Yes," I said.
"And surely you have not failed to notice that in the last few days many slaves, many, indeed, are scantier garmented than before," he said.