Loto nodded. "I will. We have here on the island three social classes. How they developed throughout the centuries you will have to imagine for yourself. Ancient, almost prehistoric Egypt was no more than a quarter as far into the past of our time-world as we are now ahead of it. Considered in that light, the changes have been rather less radical than you would anticipate. "The lowest class--you would call them peons in our old Latin America--are now termed the Bas. They include more than nine-tenths of all the inhabitants of the island. Most of them are ignorant, uneducated; yet they include, also, many intelligent, learned individuals. "It is the lowest class which is now plunged into almost intolerable conditions. They are the workers. Through generations of working in the sun, their skin has become a reddish brown. The higher class--the nobility--are the Arans. As the governing class, the Arans live for the most part in idleness and luxury, while the Bas are held down to almost universal poverty. "You haven't seen the Arans yet. We will be in their chief city shortly. You will find them white-skinned, their women especially, for they shield themselves carefully from the sun. They are cultured, yet without great learning. Can you appreciate that condition? They're the ones who really show the decadence of this time-world." "Is there a third class?" Rogers prompted. "Yes. The Scientists--to me the most interesting of all. You will appreciate that in long past ages, science was supreme. In war it was everything. The Anglese came to this island and grew apathetic, but the Scientists, in some measure, clung to their learning. Gradually, their attitude must have changed to secrecy. They became a sect, holding knowledge for its own sake, keeping it among themselves. "The real power lay with them, and they knew it. But curiously enough, their science seemed all-sufficient. As a body, they never desired governing power; no individual rose among them with a yearning for conquest--except Toroh. "Foreign wars came. The Scientists offered their help, and when the wars were over, retired with their knowledge to themselves. The sect, as you will find it today, is on the downgrade. It has dwindled to a thousand or two individuals who are scattered throughout the island. They call themselves the League--I should say, a word that means about that. They have their own officers; a council of a hundred in Anglese City, and a lifetime president, Fahn, Azeela's father. "Thus, you understand, the League of Scientists really controls everything. But its members are content with the prestige their position gives them. The government itself has for centuries fostered this secrecy of all that pertains to science. In times of war, the Arans are helpless, and leave it all to the League. In times of peace they forget the possibility of war and go back to ruling the Bas in their own fashion." Loto glanced out one of the windows. "Look down there."