"She can be released by an injection of a stimulant which I can obtain
for you. She is not dead, but in a condition very near to death, like a
spider stung by a wasp. If she were free, she would soon scour your
earth clean of the Jivros. Our race needs her even more than your own,
yet I must pretend to be her enemy. I must pretend to be your
seductress, and worm from you the knowledge which the Jivros will use to
conquer and enslave your planet and your people. I must play this part,
unnatural to me, of a cruel and heartless ruler, or they will have me
killed by some subtle poison which they will call illness. You see, the
Jivros are our doctors. Much of the wisdom of our race is in their
hands. They are our priests and our administrators. They leave to us
only useless occupations which will not allow us to be dangerous. For
centuries they have been taking over every vital function of our life. I
am allowed to live only so long as I am a willing tool, and foolish
enough to wreak their evil will upon my people. It is a part I cannot
continue to play. Every instinct of my being shrinks from what I am
forced to order done daily, from what I am forced to allow them to do to
human beings."
This was a different kettle of fish than I had expected. This slender,
lovely creature, with her hands wrung together in pain and sorrow for
her brutally maltreated people, this tear-streaked lovely face contorted
with an agony which she had not spoken of to anyone else--this actress
supreme, who for all her life had pretended to approve of the alien
Jivro's sabotage of her own racial stock--was a heart-rending picture,
and her own face told me with its extreme tension that what she said was
a fact. But perhaps this alien from space _could_ act that well? I
preferred to believe her.
"I don't see how you expect me to get a chance to release Cyane of her
crystal coffin? I will have no opportunity."
"I will _make_ an opportunity. I am not yet alone or helpless, much as
the insects would like me to be. This is my only power, that I am the
same blood as the people, and not a Jivro. They know that, and
constantly try to destroy this strength of mine by making me commit
cruelties which I cannot always avoid for fear of such of them as the
old Jivro whom you met at the council. So long as I retain his favor, I
live. When he raises his finger in the death signal, my days will be few
thereafter."
"I think I understand your position. I have heard of puppet rulers
before--woman whom I am delighted to learn has a human heart after all.
I am wholly with you, and want you to feel that you can trust me to the
hilt."
She smiled and dried her eyes. After a moment she leaned forward, and
the glory of her beauty, the near nudity of her utterly graceful body
struck at me as she fixed my eyes with her own, her face now intent with
will to make me completely understand quickly what she knew must be very
obscure to me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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