Rogue Queen Read online

  ROGUE QUEEN

  L. SPRAGUE DE CAMP

  Phoenix Pick

  An Imprint of Arc Manor

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  Rogue Queen copyright © 1951 by L. Sprague de Camp. All rights reserved. This book may not be copied or reproduced, in whole or in part, by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise without written permission from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual persons, events or localities is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and publisher.

  Tarikian, TARK Classic Fiction, Arc Manor, Arc Manor Classic Reprints, Phoenix Pick, Phoenix Science Fiction Classics, Phoenix Rider, Manor Thrift, The Stellar Guild and logos associated with those imprints are trademarks or registered trademarks of Arc Manor, LLC, Rockville, Maryland. All other trademarks and trademarked names are properties of their respective owners.

  This book is presented as is, without any warranties (implied or otherwise) as to the accuracy of the production, text or translation.

  Digital Edition

  ISBN (Digital Edition): 978-1-61242-072-1

  ISBN (Paper Edition): 978-1-61242-071-4

  Published by Phoenix Pick

  an imprint of Arc Manor

  P. O. Box 10339

  Rockville, MD 20849-0339

  www.ArcManor.com

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  To Willy Ley

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  AUTHOR’S NOTE: While the reader may pronounce the Ormazdian words in this story as he pleases, I offer the following suggestions: i, e, a, o, and u as in “police,” “let,” “calm,” “more,” and “rule,” respectively; y when followed by a vowel as in “yet,” when followed by r as in “myrtle,” and otherwise as in “cyst.” Vowels (other than y) have the same values in combination as singly; hence, Gliid is “glee-eed”; Yaedh “yah-edh.” Dh represents the th in “the”; Ih the voiceless l (Welsh ll); rh the voiceless r (Welsh rh); kh the velar fricative (German ch). As the last three sounds do not occur in English, they may be rendered as ordinary l, r, and k. Viagens (a Portuguese word) rhymes approximately with “Leah paints,” with the g as in “beige.” A glossary of Ormazdian words and names is appended to the book, but is not necessary to the understanding of the story. The quotation by Bloch in Chapter IX is from “The Oracles” from Last Poems by A. E. Housman. Copyright, 1922, 1950. Used by permission of Henry Holt and Company, Inc.

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  I. The Community

  The messenger rose from her chariot seat and sharply cracked her whip. The ueg, its big hands gripping the shafts, craned its long neck around, grunted its indignation, and slightly speeded up the slap-slap of its big flat feet. Many-jointed creeping things scuttled across the wet sand of the beach and slipped with small splashes into the Scarlet Sea.

  As soon as the rhythm of the ueg’s two feet showed signs of slowing, Rhodh of Elham cracked her whip again. This ueg was an old bluffer, adept at appealing to its driver’s sympathy. But with the hills behind them and only a half-hour’s drive ahead, Rhodh (who was not given to squandering sentiment on dumb beasts anyway) had no sympathy to spare. For the news she bore was more important to the Community than the life of an ueg, or even of a worker like herself.

  The chariot lurched and canted as the ueg cut in from the beach where the road took up again to cross the base of Khinad Point. Rhodh hardly glanced at the ruined towers of Khinam thrusting jaggedly up from the jagged rocks, though one of her fellow workers, Iroedh, had tried to interest her in the ancient artifacts to be found in the ruins. Such interest was all very well for drones, who had nothing better to do with their time between assignations than to make silly rhythmic noises, or even for Iroedh, who was a queer creature anyway.

  But she, Rhodh, could never feel any fascination for the pastimes of her remote ancestors. No creatures with the bestial customs of her forebears, like those described in the Lay of Idhios, could produce anything worth the interest of a dutiful worker. Besides, her destiny lay higher than the collection of useless knowledge. Someday she’d sit on the Council and do something about round dances and other forms of time wastage. General Rhodh? Foreign Officer Rhodh? With her efficiency rating and moral superiority, there was nothing she could not do.

  Rhodh cracked her whip again, this time against the ueg’s leathery hide. The animal squawked and leaned forward in a run. This news must go to the highest officer at Elham; if the Council could not grasp the situation, then to the queen herself.

  The sun was low in the hazy sky when Rhodh drew up at the outer wall of the Community. The guards, knowing Rhodh, let her through without formal identification. She drove on toward the cluster of interconnected domes that rose from the middle of the intramural park.

  In front of the entrance she called “Branio!” to the ueg, hitched the beast, and walked stiffly up to the portal. Two workers stood guard on either side of the door, their freshly polished brazen cuirasses, studded kilts, greaves, and crested helmets blazing in the low sun. Their spears stood straight and their faces showed nothing but corpselike calm.

  Rhodh knew them. The one on the left was young Tydh, a sound regulation-minded worker; the other was the woolly-minded antiquarian Iroedh.

  A few minutes before, these guards had been standing at ease while Tydh chattered and Iroedh ate a ripe vremoel and half listened, half daydreamed.

  “…and you’d think any fool would know better than to change queens with the war cry of the Arsuuni practically ringing in our ears. I know Intar’s rate of laving is down, but so what? It’s high enough for the purposes of the Community, but when the Council get an idea in their heads…”

  Between bites Iroedh said: “We don’t know that queens will be changed.”

  “Intar cannot refuse the challenge…Or do you think she will kill Princess Estir? Not likely; she’s fat and wheezy, while Estir moves like a noag on the hunt and handles a spear like a soldier of Tvaarm. Of course there are those who say Intar’s lucky. But for the conflict with the Arsuuni we need, not a lively young queen who can leap her own height and best an old one in the Royal Duel, but an old and crafty one who—”

  Iroedh sighted Rhodh, finished her vremoel in one big bite, threw the pit into the shrubbery, and said: “Attention! A chariot’s coming.”

  Tydh snapped upright but continued to talk. “That’s Rhodh, who went to Thidhem on that project to plant a colony in Gliid. She’s always rushing about on some mission or other; they say she’ll make the Council yet. She was to get a quit-claim from Queen Maiur on the valley—”

  “Belay the talk.”

  “But she’s one of our own—”

  “I said belay it.”

  As junior, Tydh perforce shut up while the chariot drew near and stopped. Iroedh watched Rhodh stamp up the steps in an umbrella hat, laced boots, and a traveling cloak of long-stapel suroel which because of the warmth was thrown back over both shoulders. Her only other item of wear was a sheath knife hanging from a light baldric. Her spear she had left in its boot in the chariot.

  Iroedh watched her approach with mixed feelings. Once she had liked Rhodh, thinking she shared her own enthusiasm for the lost arts of antiquity. However, they had both been very young at the time, and later Rhodh’s interest in Iroedh’s hobbies had faded into the grim devotion to duty of the ideal Avtiny worker. For a while Iroedh had almost hated Rhodh in her disappointment, but then this feeling too had subsided into a vague regret for the loss of early promise.

  Rhodh exclaim
ed in a voice high with tension: “Sisters, who is the highest officer of the Council at Elham now? I must see her at once!”

  “Great Eunmar!” said Tydh. “What on Niond is the matter, Rhodh? Has another Community declared war upon us?”

  “Never mind. Quick, who is she?”

  “I’ll check the list,” said Iroedh. “The general is of course with the scouting force on the frontier of Tvaarm. The commissary officer has gone to Thidhem for the eight-day. The upbringing officer is sick. The foreign officer is with the general; the royal officer’s at the queen’s laying…By Gwyyr, not one officer of the Council is available!”

  “That is impossible! The law requires at least one to be on duty at all times.”

  “The upbringing officer was supposed to be, but was taken with cramps. Meanwhile—”

  “Then I must see the queen!”

  “What?” cried Iroedh and Tydh together.

  “Queen Intar of Elham, herself, at once!”

  “Are you mad?” said Iroedh. “She’s laying!”

  “That cannot be helped. This news is more important than one egg more or less.”

  “Impossible, unless Queen Omvyr’s soldiers have already attacked.”

  “This is even more momentous than that. At least we know all about the Arsuuni.”

  Tydh looked at Iroedh, who as senior would have the final say. “We dare not, Iroedh. The regulations are explicit. We should be punished.”

  Iroedh said: “Tell us your story, Rhodh, and I will judge.”

  Rhodh fanned herself with her wide-brimmed hat. “Stupid, stupid…But I suppose I must. Hmp. When the representative of Queen Maiur of Thidhem and I went to Gliid to rough out the bounds of the proposed colony, we arrived just as a—what would you call it?—an airship or sky ship alighted, bringing beings from the stars who call themselves men.”

  Iroedh and Tydh exchanged glances of puzzlement shading into consternation. The latter said:

  “Impossible, Rhodh dear! It’s been proved that the stars must be too hot to support life. Or is this a new version of one of those old legends Iroedh collects, about the gods’ coming to earth?”

  “I assure you,” snapped Rhodh, “that I saw the creatures myself and talked to them. And nobody has ever accused me of lying. It seems that many stars are circled by worlds like ours, and many of these worlds support life. There is even a sort of interstellar government called the Interplanetary Council. These men are among the most advanced of the civilized species on these other worlds (or at least advanced in the natural sciences) and have sent their sky ship to discover us, as we might send a galley to look over an island in the remote regions of the Scarlet Sea.”

  As Rhodh paused for breath, Tydh said: “It’s just as the Oracle of Ledhwid said:

  “When the stars fall down and the waters rise

  Then flowers of bronze shall grow on the dome;

  And a drone shall be deemed uncommonly wise

  When he seeks a new home.”

  Rhodh said: “I suppose you mean that when the sky ship comes all our drones will turn rogue. We’ll see to that!”

  “But what do these men look like? Are they many-legged like a dhwyg or all jelly like a huusg?”

  “They are really quite human-looking, with certain differences.”

  “Such as?” said Tydh.

  “Oh, they’re a little shorter than we are, with skins of yellow and brown instead of red like ours; they have five digits on each hand and foot instead of four; their ears are large and wrinkled around the edge; their eyes have round pupils instead of slit pupils like ours; they have hair all over the tops of their heads instead of a single strip running from the scalp down the back as with us; and—well, that gives you an idea. What is more important is that they have no caste of workers!”

  Iroedh spoke: “Then who built and manned this sky ship?”

  “Their drones and queens. The ship’s company consists mainly of drones, with two or three queens. When I asked where their workers were it took them a while to understand the question, and then the one who learned our language assured me they had none—all were functional males and females.”

  “What!” cried Iroedh.

  “And you call them civilized?” said Tydh. “When they reproduce like animals?”

  “I do not care to argue the point,” said Rhodh. “I am trying to convince you that this arrival has enormous possibilities for good or evil to the Community, and it therefore behooves you to take me to the queen at once!”

  Tydh said: “If you’ll wait an hour, the queen will have laid and the royal officer will have certified the egg and placed it in the incubator—”

  “No,” said Iroedh, “I agree that the matter requires immediate attention. We will go to the queen—”

  “But the regulations!” wailed Tydh. “We shall be punished—”

  “I’ll take responsibility,” said Iroedh. “You stay here, Tydh.”

  Iroedh led the way through the corridors to the central dome. Outside the anteroom to the queen’s chambers stood extra guards, for Princess Estir was practically of age and there must be no risk of a chance encounter before the formal fight for succession. In the anteroom sat a massive drone with a cheerful air. As Iroedh clanked across he said:

  “Hello, beautiful!”

  “Hail, Antis,” said Iroedh. “You’re on tonight?”

  Antis grinned. “Right. She’d have me out of turn if she dared. And tomorrow, if I can—you know. How about it?”

  “I have to work. Scrubbing.”

  “Sad; all work and no play will make Iroedh a dull girl, don’t you think? Let me know when you get a day off.”

  Iroedh became aware that Rhodh was staring sternly at her. Just then the inner door opened and Iroedh told the worker who opened it:

  “Guard Iroedh to see the queen, with Messenger Rhodh.”

  “She’s laying this very minute! I cannot—”

  “This is an emergency. The minute the egg is laid, inform me. I take responsibility.”

  The worker ducked back into the inner chambers and presently returned, saying: “It’s been laid, and she’ll see you. But she says your news had better be important.”

  Queen Intar’s lounge chair overflowed with her sagging bulk. A worker operated on the queen’s huge mammae with a breast pump. The egg lay in the sandbox, where the royal officer was marking code symbols upon it in crayon.

  “Well?” snapped the queen. “Don’t tell me you broke in upon my laying period just to inform me that old Maiur won’t give up her nonexistent claims on Gliid! I’ve had workers whipped for less.”

  Iroedh said: “Many eggs, Queen. I take responsibility for this interruption. Pray let Rhodh speak.”

  Rhodh repeated her story with further details. Queen Intar leaned forward when she described the men’s sexual organization, and asked:

  “Could these self-styled functional males be mere male neuters, a caste of male workers corresponding to our neuter females?”

  “No; at least they said such was not the case. We could not very well demand proof.”

  “Then does this discrepancy in numbers mean that their males much outnumber the females?”

  “Again, no. In numbers they are about equal, but as the female is smaller and viviparous they seldom go in for anything so strenuous as exploration.”

  “A fine lot of females! Are they mammals like us, or do they feed their young on this and that?”

  “They are mammals; the functional females had fully developed glands—though not so fine as yours, Queen.”

  Trust Rhodh, Iroedh thought, always to work in some little bootlicking compliment to her superiors. The queen asked:

  “How are they fertilized?”

  “I was not able to examine their organs, but—”

  “I don’t mean that; I mean what social code governs the act? Do they go about it catch-as-catch-can, like the beasts?”

  “On the contrary, they are governed by an elaborate code. Dur
ing their long journey from their star, not one of all those males—”

  “What star is that?”

  “We cannot see it from here, but they pointed to the constellation Huusg. They call it Sol or Sun and their planet Terra or Yrth, depending upon the language.”

  “What are their intentions?” asked the queen.

  “They say they wish merely to study our planet and to try to trace part of an earlier expedition which disappeared on Niond. At least they say it did.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Do you believe their peaceful protestations?”

  Rhodh shrugged. “One cannot, without proof, believe the statements of beings not merely from another Community or of another race, but of another world. They may be truthful and harmless; Ledhwid only knows. Personally I am always suspicious of people who profess to be motivated by a passion for knowledge for its own sake, regardless of its utility.”

  She shot a sharp look at Iroedh as she said this. Queen Intar persisted in her questions:

  “What did they think of us?”

  “At first they seemed a little afraid of us, as indeed we were of them. After they learned we had no weapons but spears they became friendly enough, and appeared quite as amused by our account of our ways and achievements as we were astonished by them. This interpreter, called Blos or Blok, told me our caste system reminded him of a small flying creature called a bii, domesticated on his home world for its sweet secretions.”

  “I trust you didn’t give them information that would be useful to an enemy!”

  “No, no, I was careful….”

  At length the queen said: “I can certainly see those possibilities for good and evil. The omens have been hinting at some portentous development. If we could somehow use them against the Arsuuni…If, for instance, we could capture one and hold him as a hostage to compel the others—”

  “Queen, I have tried to make clear that their powers are so far beyond ours that any violence would be sheer madness.”