"No, of course not," he said. "Perhaps I should explain the family structure of Amatharians. It will help you in your dealings there."

Norar Remontar spent a great deal of time explaining the family and restating particular points that I had trouble at first understanding. He was aided in his explanations by his two countrymen, who were amused by my lack of cultural knowledge. Here is a simplified version of the lesson. In Amathar, couples married and lived together, much like one would expect of human couples on Earth. There was an old tradition of two or more wives being wed to the same man, but it was seldom practiced in modern times--a holdover from an era when warrior men tended to be outnumbered by women who took care of the home fires. The only real differences that I could see between the Amatharians and my married friends on Earth, was that in Amathar, both the man and the woman kept their original names, and that once they became married, they stayed that way--divorce was unknown in Amathar. The way which these people had children and raised them, was not unlike one would expect, either physiologically or culturally. It was in naming the children where their culture became tricky. The given names of the children were provided solely by the father, without input or consent by the mother. The last name or family name however was inherited, from the mother, so that children had the same last name as their mother, their mother's brothers and sisters, and their maternal grandparents, but a different last name than their father.

Each family was lead by a family elder, almost always the eldest surviving son of the eldest surviving son. The elders of the most prominent families were known as Kur, the closest translation being "nobleman." Family members worked and lived in close proximity. It was common for an extended family to live within a single conclave, and to be surrounded by related families. Among these family groupings, one family elder would occupy a traditional leadership position, and he would be known as Kurar, or "Lord.”

The position of Kurar tended to be passed from father to son, and was only lost to another related family when there was some incident of great dishonor. Families were collected into clans, each clan being made up of many families. The elder of the leading family would take on the title of Kurar Ka, or

"Overlord.”

The Kurar Ka would run the clan and all the clan's business interests like the C.E.O. of a major corporation, though the accumulation of wealth was well down the list of clan priorities, and in fact was a rather tricky idea, as I later learned. Much more important to the Amatharian clan would be the increase in honor associated with members of the clan making new scientific discoveries, defeating enemies of the Amatharian people, or bettering the life of all Amathar. In a way, the clans were in a constant contest to see who could be the most altruistic. It was a fascinating foundation for a culture that struck a cord in my conscience, having been one who, in my youth, was sickened by the selfishness and the avarice found so often in my own land.

Confusing to me though, was the complex web of family relationships. There were several dozen clans, and every family in Amathar belonged to at least one. Most belonged to three or more, with varying degrees of family loyalty depending upon who was related to whom in that clan. But individuals within a family would pick one single clan from which to be a member. I was even more bewildered when it was explained to me that the Amatharians had a different word for every possible family relationship. There was a different word for the paternal grandfather, than there was for the maternal grandfather. There was a different word for uncle when he was the brother of one's father than there was when he was the brother of one's mother, and still a different word for one's uncle when he was your mother's sister's husband. This went on to such an extent, that there was even a specific word which meant fifth cousin twice removed, and that was different from the word for fifth cousin three times removed. All of this made me wonder about Norar Remontar's title--Homianne Kurar Ka, child of the overlord. He had told me himself that he had been working for his uncle's trading group. My friend explained that his paternal grandfather was Kurar Ka of the Sun Clan, the most powerful and respected of the Amatharian clans. Norar Remontar's father would have been the next Kurar Ka, but he had been killed in battle when still a young man. Thus, Norar Remontar had become Homianne Kurar Ka--a kind of heir apparent. He worked, as was the custom, in the clan businesses, one of which was Hissendar Trading group, run by his uncle.

"So, you are related to Bentar Hissendar." I observed.

"Yes," he replied. "We are distantly related, and so is Tular Maximinos."

"It is not that distant," said Bentar Hissendar. "The sister of Norar Remontar's paternal grandmother's maternal grandmother, was married to the brother of my maternal grandmother's paternal grandmother. That is not a distant relation. Now, Tular Maximinos is a distant relation."

"That is not true," put in the subject of their discussion. "My paternal grandmother's paternal grandmother was the sister of Norar Remontar's maternal grandmother's paternal grandfather. And I am related to Bentar Hissendar in three different ways."

I smiled. It felt wonderful for me, an orphan who knew only two parents who had died when I was but a child, to look at these creatures of a civilization where family kinship had been taken to the level of an art form. I sat back and thought of just what it would be like, to live knowing countless thousands of relatives, and hundreds of close kin. I was interrupted in these musings by Bentar Hissendar.

"There is Amathar," he said.

Chapter Twelve: Amathar

I looked through the forward view port and felt my stomach drop away. Since coming to Ecos, I had come to expect things on a grand scale--seemingly endless plains, forests so dark and thick they seemed to block the sun, vast seas and broad rivers, huge flying battleships--but nothing had prepared me for the city of Amathar. Ahead of us was a wall that stretched to the left and right as far as the eye could see. Seemingly held within this wall was a city, straining to be free of its confines. It was a city of tremendously high buildings, tall towers, and massive constructions of bizarre shape and ungodly dimension, painted with a rainbow of pastel colors from red to blue with bits of silver and gold. The city seemingly went on forever into the distance, rising up into the horizon until it became a part of the sky.

"Just how large is Amathar?" I asked.

"The city wall is a circle two thousand five hundred kentads in diameter." That information took several moments to compute, and at least that long to comprehend. According to my admittedly incomplete knowledge of Amatharian measurement, twenty five hundred kentads was the equivalent of two thousand miles. This seemed beyond belief, and I questioned it, but the three Amatharians confirmed my figures. Here was a single city that would, had it been located on my home planet, have almost completely covered North America.

The transport dropped lower as Bentar Hissendar guided in to a landing at a large installation just within the wall of the city. On a large tarmac, surrounded by several buildings, sat a dozen transports just like the one in which we were flying. When our craft came to a stop on the ground, a crew of Amatharian men and women ran out onto the field to service the vehicle. They were wearing bodysuits very much like those the knights wore, though these were light blue rather than black, and they were worn without the tabard over them. Bentar Hissendar turned and spoke to one of them.

"Send word to the Kurar Ka that we have returned with his grandson." He turned to Norar Remontar.

"It is best to send word before you go showing up at the door of your home. Give everyone a chance to realize you are alive."

Norar Remontar replied, but I was too busy looking around to pay much attention to their conversation. The wall over which we had passed to come to this airfield was about two hundred feet tall, and was constructed or at least covered by a copper-colored metal. It looked to be thick enough for a truck to drive over. If fact, as I stared at it, some sort of vehicle running slowly along the top of the wall, passed by. The way it sat on the top, hugging the sides, reminded me of the monorail at Disneyland, though this vehicle was a single unit rather than a train, and had no windows, so therefore did not appear to be a passenger craft.

"That is the automated sentry," said Norar Remontar, breaking into my observations. "Come, you have much to see."

Malagor and I joined the prodigal son of Amathar, as he walked across the tarmac to one of the buildings at its edge. Inside, we were greeted by more Amatharians wearing bodysuits in a variety of colors. I asked Norar Remontar about the difference in clothing, and he informed me that different occupations within the city had traditional colors associated with them. Among those colors were black for soldier, light blue for mechanic, white for food preparers or servers, grey for doctors, and red for record keepers. The tabard was essentially an Amatharian uniform, worn by none but soldiers. I was still thinking about this system of color coding, when the familiar black suit with white tabard appeared before me. A young woman, dressed in that very garb, stood with arms folded beside a desk just inside the terminal building. Her tabard bore the same crest that Norar Remontar's did--a flaming sun with wings. When I looked up into her beautiful flawless face, for a moment I was in shock. She was my princess, rather she was Norar Remontar’s sister. But the impression lasted only a moment. This young woman had much shorter hair, a slightly smaller nose, darker skin, and larger, rounder eyes, which made her look much less serious. Admittedly the only time I had seen the Princess was during the height of battle. When the female knight saw Norar Remontar, she smiled broadly and reached out to grasp his hand.

"Word of your return precedes you, kinsman, though not by much," she said, in a melodic but surprisingly strong voice. "I have just heard the good news, and here you are."

"You are as beautiful as ever, Vena Remontar," replied my friend. He then turned to Malagor and me.

"This is Remiant Vena Remontar, my cousin." He used the word for mother's sister's daughter.

"I am soon to be related to you in other ways as well," the young woman said. "I have agreed to let Tular Maximinos announce our intention to marry."

"I am glad to hear it," replied Norar Remontar, "though I happen to know you both well enough to know that he is not nearly good enough for you. And I say this only half in jest." Gazing upon the young woman, I had to agree with the prince, at least as far as the external was concerned, for the lady was exceedingly beautiful, so like her cousin, Noriandara Remontar. As I thought this, I began to feel a sadness deep inside my chest, and I once again felt the longing for the woman that I had seen only once in my life. I felt anger, frustration, and pain working its way up from my insides, clawing into my throat, until I was suddenly brought back to the present by my introduction to Vena Remontar, and Malagor's as well. The lady gave us the appropriate acknowledgment for her social inferiors--a polite nod of the head.

"We shall go directly to my house," said Norar Remontar. "I hope that you and your betrothed come along later, for I have a service for you to perform."

The female knight looked intrigued.

"Indeed, kinsman," she replied. "I shall make a point of it." Bentar Hissendar appeared at our sides.

"Tular Maximinos and I have some work to complete here at the airfield," he said to Norar Remontar.

"Your family should receive the word that you are safe well before your arrival. Why don't you go home and see them."

"I intend to do just that," he replied, and started toward an exit at the opposite end of the building, indicating with a brief gesture that Malagor and I should accompany him. I turned to look back at the female knight, but she had already resumed her post, guarding the terminal. We walked out the front door of the terminal building, and found ourselves in a broad avenue. Lining the sides were buildings, large and small, painted in a variety of quiet pastel colors. In front of the buildings were large planters full of lovely flowers, and some with potted trees. There were no ground vehicles running in the street. In fact, there was no place for any such vehicles to run. Instead of a straight pavement like one would find on an earthly city street, there was a winding path made of something like cobblestone, making its way around small ponds, fountains, and life-sized statues. We walked down the avenue for about a mile, encountering very few people. Those Amatharians that we did see were hurrying along on their own business. Most glanced at us with polite curiosity. A few nodded to us in casual greeting. We reached the end of the avenue, which opened into a broad intersection. The street running perpendicular to ours was wider and busier. Though it was lined with fountains, statues, and flower beds, the cobblestone path had been replaced by a pair of moving walkways, one going in each direction. We turned right and stepped onto the walkway, which was going about five miles per hour.

Once on the beltway, we continued to walk. I thought of the escalators on my home world, and looked around to make comparisons. No one on the Amatharian street stood on the belt and let themselves be carried. Every citizen I could see used the moving beltway to supplement the power of his own legs. We continued along until we came to another intersection. The walkway ended in a small plaza, and continued with another belt on the other side. The cross street this time was an even larger thoroughfare. Instead of a single moving walkway going in each direction, this street had two, the outer going at the same speed that the single beltway had moved, and the inner one going about twice as fast. A passenger would be able to go from a standstill to the outer belt, and then step from the outer belt to the inner, effectively tripling his walking speed.

"Are either of you hungry?" asked Norar Remontar.

"Yes," replied Malagor, just before I was able to reply in the affirmative. The small meal we had eaten at the site of our rescue had long since been used up.

On one corner of the intersection plaza, was a small restaurant. It looked like a cafe one would find in New York or Paris. There were about ten tables, each with chairs, set up in a partitioned area on the corner, at an entrance to the building behind, from which several servers carried plates of food to seated patrons. The Amatharian knight led the way, and the three of us sat at a table near the edge of the restaurant. Moments later a boy, whom on Earth I would have thought to be about fourteen, arrived to set a metal cup of iced water in front of each of us. He bowed low to Norar Remontar, and then waited expectantly.

"Bring the daily special for all of us," directed Norar Remontar. The boy nodded, and then asked. "Sun clan?"

"Of course."

"The value of our food will be reported back to the Sun Clan by the Air Clan, who owns this market," explained Norar Remontar.

"What type of currency do Amatharians use for trading goods and services?" I wondered.

"The rur is the measure of productivity and value," he replied, "though this is used only for transfer of value from one clan to another, or when trading goods with other cultures. We do not need currency among individuals, though I understand that there are other peoples of Ecos who use it. Our clan provides everything that we need.

"Don't you need to value each individual's contribution to the clan?"

"Each contributes to the best of his ability. To do otherwise would bring disgrace upon himself, his family, and his clan. The young man serving our food does so to the best of his ability, because to do so honors all. I fulfill my duties to the best of my ability. Because I am a knight, and he is a food server, my contributions are more highly regarded, and I have a more important place in my clan than he in his. Of course, he is still young."

The server brought our dinner and we occupied ourselves eating. The main course was a large piece of meat, a light brown in color and similar to pork in flavor. It had been grilled over open fire. Beside the meat were three vegetables--the first of which looked like peanuts, but had the consistency and flavor of yams, the second looking and tasting just like carrots, and the third looking and feeling like a giant prune, but possessing the unfortunate taste of a beet. Each vegetable was cooked in its own set of spices and seasoning, and each was delicious, except for the prune-beet thing.

While we were eating, I looked around at the other diners. The little restaurant seemed to be about half full. A young Amatharian couple sat across from us looking into each other's eyes. Both were wearing the black bodysuit-tabard combination of a warrior, though neither sported the crest of knighthood. There was a group of four men in green bodysuits, which indicated they were farmers. Finally, there was an older Amatharian man wearing a long robe of gold with a small crest above the heart, depicting a cloud with a sword through it. Across from him was a being unlike I had ever seen. It stood beside the table, rather than sitting in a chair. It had to because it had four legs, and was built rather like a deer or a goat. From its shoulders sprouted an extra set of limbs, with which it manipulated its food, and its face looked like the head of an iguana painted deep blue. The coloring faded slightly down its neck and its body to a light blue on its legs.

"What kind of thing is that?" I wondered.

"That is a Preemor," said Malagor testily. "I suppose you would refer to me as a "thing."

"That is the leader of the Bestamor Trading Group," Norar Remontar informed us. "I gather that he is concluding a trade agreement with the Preemor."

"It's just that I didn't expect to see any non-Amatharians within the city."

"I would imagine that at any one time," said the knight, "there are between one and two million non-Amatharians, as you term them."

Just as we were finishing our food, the young server brought out three stoneware mugs filled with a dark ruby liquid.

"This is mirrah," explained Norar Remontar. "It is the traditional drink of warriors, a blend of fermented juices."

I sipped the concoction carefully. It was sweet and thick, and reminded me of a mixture of apple juice, prune juice, and honey. For a moment I wondered that the traditional drink of warriors would be so tame, and then I felt the kick. Suddenly my heart raced, my head pounded, and I had a great desire to run a long distance very fast. Looking into the cup, I confirmed that I had drunk only the top half inch of the liquid. I imagined that if I had downed the cup at once, I would have quite happily taken on an entire Zoasian battleship on my own.

"Perhaps we should have tasted this before dinner," suggested Malagor.

"If we had," explained the knight, "you would never have enjoyed the meal." We stood up, and following the Amatharian's example, thanked our server, then continued on our way. We did not take the larger of the two roadways, but continued on our original course for another two blocks. Here we entered a large building, and took an escalator down to a level below the surface of the street. Here we found what could only be described as a subway station. It was not quite like the subway stations I had seen on earth. There were no turnstiles, ticket windows, sleeping vagrants, or discarded trash. There were no wandering policemen, though there was a single Amatharian knight standing near the edge of the waiting platform. The entire place resembled more the lobby of an expensive hotel, than a transport hub. Everything was lit brightly by artificial light. We waited only a very short time, at least from my perspective, before the subway ran into the station. The train, if one may refer to it as such, had no engine that I could see--just six cars, one behind the other. Each car was cylindrical in shape, with two oval openings. When the procession had come to a complete halt, the doors opened, and we, along with four or five others who had been waiting entered. Norar Remontar, Malagor, and I had a car all to ourselves.

Just as the station was atypical of what I would expect of public transportation, so too was the train car. It was furnished more like a living room, or a comfortable den, than a public transportation system. There was a piece of furniture very much like a sofa, a small table in front of it, and a several very comfortable chairs. The sofa and chairs were covered with material that was patterned after animal skins, though it appeared to be man-made. Most surprising of all, there was a large bookcase against the back wall, filled with books. I stepped over to the small library once the subway had started into motion, and pulled one of the books from its place.

The book was very much like the book of Amath’s teachings which Norar Remontar had previously shown me. It was a bound volume with a spine, and it had a cover made of leather. The pages were made of a material something like plastic. They were thin and they could bend like paper, but they had a strength far beyond any paper product. The entire book was written in Amatharian, which of course I was unable to read, but the lines and letters seemed to be laid out in a familiar fashion. As I had noticed, the characters resembling simple line drawings of stylized animals and other almost familiar images. After staring at it for a moment, I almost thought that I could see tiny predators ready to pounce upon their prey.

"Is this a private transport car?" I asked, replacing the book.

"This shuttle train belongs to the air clan," Norar Remontar replied, "though they make it available to anyone who needs transportation."

"I am surprised that it doesn't become damaged, or that the books and other furnishing aren't stolen," I said, noticing several small art objects atop the table, and hanging on the walls.

"Why would some one take something that wasn't his?" the Amatharian wondered. "Of course there is a great deal of wear because of the number of people who travel on the train. That is why we must all take extra care, to see that this property of others is not needlessly damaged." I looked, but couldn't find any more wear and tear than one would find in the average living room. Just about that time, the shuttle train came to a stop. It had been a nice quiet ride, though the sensation of movement had constantly reminded us that we were not in a private home, despite the look of the interior. The doors slid open and the three of us stepped out. This train station was very similar to the one which we had left, though decorated in a different color scheme. Like the other, there were no ticket windows, no advertising posters, no street musicians, and no pan-handlers. We went up another escalator and stepped out once again into the warm Ecosian sun. The street we now stood in was like the one we had traveled before, with one exception--people. Huge throngs of Amatharians were making their way up and down the street, walking, either along side of, or on the three moving walkways going in each direction. The street was filled with the colors of Amatharian clothing, as I looked around to identify doctors, record keepers, biologists, food servers, archaeologists, and the ever present soldiers. Once more, Norar Remontar led the way, as we moved up the busy avenue. We moved quite slowly because of the abundance of foot traffic, and this afforded me an opportunity to closely examine the architecture. This section of the city was dominated by very large buildings, large enough to be considered skyscrapers, if one were so inclined to those types of names. Some were over one hundred stories tall, though many were considerably shorter as well. Most were quite broad, completely filling a city block. Just like the edge of the city, structures here were painted in a variety of pastel colors, and were trimmed with silver colored metal. Though truly unearthly in design, all possessed a simple beauty that I always thought lacking in modern buildings on Earth. While the sides were generally flat and unadorned, the corners usually featured an intricate design. And ledges were common every few stories.

After a walk of some quarter mile from the shuttle train station, we turned and stepped through the large entryway of a massive structure, which completely engulfed a city block and rose to more than sixty stories. Once inside, we found the same type of lobby common to expensive hotels and luxury apartments on my home world. There was no doorman, or clerk, nor even a check-in desk--just plush appointments and a large pair of escalators leading up and down. We made our way upwards in the customary Amatharian fashion, by walking on the escalator, to the second floor, where another escalator led upwards yet again. I knew that Amatharians had used elevators, since I had asked Norar Remontar about them after our experience below the mountains of the Orlons, so I was surprised not to find one in this building. I later learned that almost every building in Amathar possessed extensive escalators, but very few had elevators. Amatharians did not care for them it seems, and preferred to use them only when absolutely necessary, such as when large cargo needed to be moved from floor to floor. This time, the three of us walked up forty five flights of escalators to reach our destination.

"This is my home," said Norar Remontar, when we had at last arrived at the desired floor. The hallways on this floor, like each floor we had visited on the way up, were spacious, and filled with small tables, and art objects, much like I would have expected in the hallway of a private residence, though it was clear from the doors lining the wall, that this was more akin to an apartment building. It was then that I noticed that there were no carpets on the floor, and I realized that I had not seen wall to wall carpeting anywhere in Amathar. Here and there was an occasional throw rug, designed to look like an animal skin in shape and texture.

The closest door was evidently Norar Remontar's home, since that was the one he chose to enter. I was expecting a "2B" or considering the number of floors we had transcended, perhaps "4502B", but there were in fact no numbers, nor any other characters or markings. The Amatharian knight slid the door open, for it slid from side to side rather than swinging on a hinge, and we stepped inside. His apartment proved to be a large and beautifully decorated home, with a central room that was two stories high. Several doors led into other rooms on the lower level, while a stone stairway led up to a balcony that stood against the wall just above the front door. Great shelves of books lined the walls of the upper level, and the wall across from the front entrance was one great two story window which looked out onto a magnificent courtyard. From this vantage point, I could see that the building was built like a huge hollow square, in the center of which was the courtyard which deserved the name forest more than it did that of park.

"I have a guest room through there," said Norar Remontar, pointing at a doorway just to our right. "We should get some rest before we do anything else."

As soon as these words left his lips, a great weariness overcame me, and I realized that we had gone a very, very long time without sleep. Malagor and I exited the main room through the designated portal, and found a large bed chamber. There were two beds, designed in what I later learned was typical Amatharian fashion--sunken into the floor, rather than standing above it on legs. They were covered with cushions and blankets, which like the rugs I had seen, were patterned in shape and style to resemble animal skins, though they were in fact man-made. Just beyond the beds, which occupied the center of the floor, was a large wash basin standing upon a stone pedestal. And against the wall was a kind of dresser, with open cubby holes rather than drawers.

I pealed off my leather clothes, slashed some water over my face, chest, and shoulders, and dived into the closest bed. I neither noticed nor cared whether Malagor followed suit, because I was asleep before my body came to rest upon the firm mattress.

Chapter Thirteen: Lessons

I opened my eyes to find myself looking at the ceiling. For a moment I though that I was back in my bedroom at home, on Earth, and that all of my adventures in Ecos were just a fantastic dream. Then Malagor leaned over to look into my face.

"I have slept, gotten up, explored the city, eaten, and slept again. You are just now waking."

"How very nice for you," I replied.

I sat up, and then climbed out of bed, noticing a distinct disadvantage to the Amatharian beds. Yet I felt so refreshed that my gravity enhanced muscles sent me bounding up onto the floor. I started toward the wash basin, but noticed the doorway just to the left. Passing through it, I found the bathroom. It was a huge room. The bath tub was a small pool, designed to look like a thermal spa, with water constantly flowing from a waterfall into the pool, and then out at the other end. The room also had the other features that one might expect, and they were similarly fashioned to resemble natural features. I hopped up into the bath and floated in the hot water. The little pool was large enough for me to swim around in, and when I stood up, the water still reached the middle of my chest. Beside the inlet waterfall was a small shelf with a variety of brushes and cleaning agents. I found something that seemed close to shampoo and washed myself from head to toe. I hopped out just long enough to retrieve my knife from beside the bed, then hopped back in and relaxed in the water as I shaved my ragged beard. When I exited the bath a second time, I felt presentable enough for polite Amatharian society. Malagor was waiting for me with some new clothes--a black Amatharian body suit, a plain white tabard, and a pair of boots.

"At Norar Remontar's direction, I got these from the clothier on the first floor,” he said. "I had to have my own clothing specially ordered."

I was interested to see how the bodysuit was put on. I found that it had an open waist in the back. Still it took me several moments to discover how to get my lower portion in, and still be able to insert my upper half. Fortunately the material used by the Amatharians was extremely flexible. Once I had it on, it seemed not so much to stretch to fit, as to shrink to fit. It covered every inch of my body in a cool embrace. It was extremely comfortable. The tabard which I put on over it was, as one would expect, slightly encumbering, though no more so than a light jacket or sweater. It reached just below my knees in front and in back, but was open on the sides. Finally I put on the boots, and found them to be the most comfortable footwear that I have ever tried on. All that remained was for me to strap on the weapons belt beneath my tabard. Malagor had also seen to it that I had the appropriate sheaths for my swords. I looked like an Amatharian that had somehow been deprived of his beautiful blue skin.

"Where is Norar Remontar?" I asked.

"He left to see members of his family," replied Malagor.

Just then an ethereal voice spoke seemingly out of nowhere. "Nicohl Messonar is waiting at the door." The two of us looked around the room expectantly for a moment, and then at each other.

"Must be a kind of doorbell," I offered. Malagor shrugged.

I walked out of the bedroom, followed by my alien friend, and opened the front door. Outside, stood an Amatharian woman. She looked to be in her early fifties, and possessed a more mature form of the beauty that was apparently common to all Amatharian women. Her silky black hair cut straight across her forehead, and reaching the middle of her back, was touched with grey, but her dark blue skin remained flawless. She wore a white tabard with a crest--a flaming sun supported by a pedestal-indicating that she was a knight. But instead of the black bodysuit of a soldier, hers was light lavender. She carried no swords, just a satchel slung over one shoulder.

Stepping confidently into the apartment, the woman looked me over, coldly, for a moment before speaking.

"I am Nicohl Messonar," she said.

"So I understand," I replied. "Nicole is a common name among my people."

"The name is Nicohl."

"Nicohl."

"Yes, and my name is Nicohl Messonar." She arched an eyebrow. "It is impolite not to use both names. That is only for husbands and wives, sharing an intimate moment."

"Well, that's certainly good to know," I said, looking sidelong at Malagor.

"There are a great many things you will need to know, if you are to continue to live among us," she continued. "That is why Norar Remontar requested my help in tutoring you." She reached into her bag and removed a square touch pad, and handed it to me. Across the front of the device, were displayed a collection of the Amatharian letters, many of which I remembered seeing in the book on the shuttle train.

"Do your people have a written language?" asked Nicohl Messonar.

"Of course."

"Do they use a phonetic writing, or a pictographic one?"

"It is a phonetic system of writing," I explained, "though we have some anomalous words that maintain forms from long ago."

Looking at Nicohl Messonar, I was reminded of the word "tough", which sounds nothing like the way it is spelled.

"Good," she said. "That also precisely describes Amatharian writing. In your hand, you have a display of our alphabet. There are thirty six letters. Press that one with your finger." She indicated the figure that looked like a predatory animal. Almost all of the Amatharian letters resembled something recognizable. I have heard that the letter "A" is based upon the shape of a cow's head, though I have never been able to see it myself. Here were animals, and clouds, and mountains, and a sun, all clearly recognizable for what they were. I pressed the letter.

"Buh." The touchpad made the sound of a letter "B" in English.

"You will memorize the sounds of the alphabet and decipher these simple texts," the teacher handed me several plastic pages of Amatharian writing. "Have it completed by the time I return. I will be back in 10

city-cycles."

"City-cycles?"

I was then reminded that, in spite of Norar Remontar's assurances that there was no such thing as a uniform length of time, that the Amatharians did have a measure of time. Nicohl Messonar explained the system in more detail. Long ago they had discovered an electro-magnetic pulse that reverberated through Ecos. Later they had determined that it was a result of the artificial gravity in this created world. The Amatharians had digital time pieces throughout the city--there was even one in Norar Remontar's main room--which were all tied together and maintained a uniform measure of time. They used this time measurement for allotting work details and making appointments. However, once outside the city it meant little to them. The real difference between city-cycles and hours on Earth, were in how they were perceived by the people. If all the clocks of Earth were to go blank, hundreds of scientists would work weeks or even months, to find the correct time down to a fraction of a second. In Amathar, if the city-cycle were to fail, someone would take their best guess as to how much time had passed, and start it up again. As near as I have been able to pin-point it, the city-cycle is somewhere between two and four hours long. The Amatharians don't even believe that it is a regular interval, though I suspect that it is. So, after promising to, or rather threatening to return in ten city-cycles, Nicohl Messonar left. I was somewhat put off by her attitude, but then I recalled that upon first meeting, Norar Remontar had been somewhat stern, and in the interim we had become good friends. In any case, I threw myself into an examination of the Amatharian alphabet.

Since I already knew the spoken language fairly well, the sounds produced by the letters were familiar. They were the same sounds found in English, though they were represented differently. For instance, the sound of the letter "N" as it would be used in "north" was represented by one letter, while the sound of the letter "N" as it would be used in "song" had a different letter. I was so engrossed in my little toy, that I didn't notice that Malagor had left until he returned bearing a large meal for both of us. By that time, I was beginning to master the letters of the alphabet and their sounds.

Malagor had procured food from a Sun Clan restaurant on a lower level of the building. These meals were centered around large flat cakes, which I thought at first looked like a pancake. Biting into it though, I found that it was a mixture of grated vegetables in batter, with a cheese-like filling. Beside the cakes were two small pieces of meat that looked as though they might have come from a small fowl, though they did not taste like chicken. They were more akin to lobster in flavor. Once we had eaten, Malagor took off again, no doubt to explore more of the city. I was planning my own explorations, but I wanted to be ready when my new teacher returned. There might be a test. I used my touch pad to help me decipher the messages on the assigned pages. They seemed to be children's stories--in fact they were nursery rhymes, though they don't rhyme when translated to English. The first was about a little boy and girl who wished to be swordsmen. The second was about a boy who went on a quest for a flower to please his mother.

I finished reading these little stories and realized that I was tired again. Looking at the city-cycle dial, and noting that I had over six cycles before my appointment, I popped back into the bedroom for a nap. I had been asleep long enough to satisfy my need, and was almost ready to wake up, when that same ethereal voice sounded again in the room.

"Vena Remontar is waiting at the door," it said.

I still had my Amatharian clothing on, but took a moment to smooth down my hair, and otherwise make myself presentable before going back to the main room and opening the door for the lovely young knight. She was still clothed in the uniform of her occupation, and she was even more beautiful than I recalled. Her hair was cut shorter than most women I had observed about the city--just above shoulder length. This, and her large expressive eyes, gave her a friendly appearance. She looked me in the eye for a moment before entering, easy enough since she was almost my height.

"You look much better now that you have cut that hair off of your face," she said.

"Thank you, I think," I replied. "I am afraid Norar Remontar is not here to see you."

"I have already seen him in the company offices. It is you I am here to see." She walked in and sat down. "Norar Remontar has asked me to see that you learn of our city and our culture. He has an idea that you can become an Amatharian."

"Do you think I can become an Amatharian?"

"I'm going to withhold that judgment for now," she said. "There is a history of aliens becoming Amatharians, though they are few, and you almost look Amatharian."

"Thank you."

"With that in mind," she continued. "I have brought you this cream." She handed me a small square box. I opened it and looked inside. It was filled with a pale yellow cream, which smelled of flowers.

"This is used by the Holy Order to maintain their traditional bald heads. You may use it on your face. One application will inhibit hair growth for a long time."

"Among my own people, facial hair is often considered a sign of virility," I informed her.

"Without the hair on your face, you have a certain unique charm," she said, with what I thought was a slight smirk. "With that hair on your face however, no Amatharian woman would find you acceptable." That was all it took for me. I went right in to the bathroom, and used the depilatory cream to remove the stubble that had already begun to return to my beard and mustache. When I walked back into the main room to show Vena Remontar my cleaned up image, she reached out and touched my face with her palm. Her palm was cool and smooth, though hardened by calluses.

"Much better," she said, her eyes dancing. "I can already think of several young women who would be interested in meeting you."

"I can't waste time socializing," I replied. "I have to help Norar Remontar rescue his sister from the Zoasians."

"I am aware of that. For good or ill however, it is going to be some time before a fleet large enough to attack a Zoasian city can be assembled. The dispatches have been sent to rendezvous our ships, and the Sun Clan’s newest battleship will soon be out of the shipyard, but until preparations are made, you and I will both have to make good use of the interim. Now I wish to take you out to see the important sites of Amathar."

"I have a meeting with Nicohl Messonar at 01023 city-cycles," I said.

"Well you certainly don't want to miss that appointment," the young woman smiled. "Nicohl Messonar taught me to read, and I can tell you from experience, that if you keep her waiting, she can make your life very difficult."

"I can readily believe that."

"I will meet you here one city-cycle after your meeting with her," and with that she left. It was still some time before my tutor was expected, so I climbed up the staircase and read some of the titles of the many books which lined the walls there. There seemed to be a great many biographies. Most seemed to be entitled simply "The life of..." with the appropriate name inserted. One of the thicker volumes was "The Life of Kennis Berrontar". I pulled the book from the shelf and sat down in a comfortable chair to peruse it.

I flipped through the book, reading the chapter titles, for I didn’t wasn’t proficient enough to engage much more of the text. Towards the center, I found a picture of a handsome Amatharian knight. It was the first photograph that I had seen since my arrival in Ecos, and it had an interesting three dimensional quality. When I turned the book slightly, I could look around the man and the structures in the picture. As I continued to look, the picture suddenly began to move. The knight turned to the left, and met another man who stepped onto the screen to speak with him. There was no sound, so it was impossible to hear what the two were saying. I looked at the page across from the video image, to read some of the text there. It mentioned something about Kennis Berrontar planning the construction of a building. I continued flipping on through the book.

Kennis Berrontar turned out to be a fascinating man. He was an architect and a writer, having apparently produced several plays and overseen the construction of buildings and public works. Of course, in the way of all Amatharians, he was also an accomplished soldier. He was a hero of several dozen campaigns. Then he planned and commissioned an expedition to explore an unknown portion of Ecos. He led the expedition as it left Amathar, and was never seen again.

I was so engrossed in the biography, that I was unaware of the passage of time, which is so often the case in Ecos, until the automated door voice spoke again.

"Nicohl Messonar is waiting at the door."

I was so anxious not to keep my teacher waiting, that I fairly flew down the stairs and flung open the front door. There she stood in all her intimidating glory. She looked me up and down for a moment before entering.

"Have you completed your lessons?" she asked. I quickly recited "The Little Swordsmen", and "Boy's Devotion".

"Very nice," she said. "I see you have a book under your arm. Have you been reading?"

"I have been trying," I replied. "This book is quite interesting. It is a biography of Kennis Berrontar. He seems to have been a fascinating fellow."

"He certainly was," she replied. "He was also my father." I didn't know what to say to this, but as I stood there not saying anything; it occurred to me that Nicohl Messonar seemed just like the daughter of a great man. She probably grew up under his watchful eye-his darling--and became everything she could be just to please him. It seems that fathers and daughters are often so alike. It is a shame that on Earth, fathers tend to push their daughter away as soon as they reach puberty, or perhaps it is the daughters who push. Sons on the other hand, spend so much of their time trying to compete with, and then out-do their fathers, that the relationship is often lost. Not that I have any real insight into such matters, having neither a mother nor a father, nor sons or daughters for that matter. When I returned my gaze to the woman's face, I saw that she was looking at me with a half smile. She took hold of my arm, and guided me to the sofa, where we talked about Amathar and learning and family and books.

"Keep reading the books here at Norar Remontar's home," she instructed, just before leaving. "I will bring you some suitable literature when I return. I will meet you here every thirty city-cycles to check your progress."

Chapter Fourteen: City of the Amatharians

I had literally just closed the door after Nicohl Messonar had left, when the disembodied voice announced that Vena Remontar had arrived. I am sure that the two must have passed in the hall, though I was not fortunate enough to witness it.

"Are you ready?" asked Vena Remontar. "Wear your swords." I strapped my weapons belt on below my tabard and carefully sheathed my swords in their new holders. In spite of the fact that the swords were uncounted years older than the sheaths, they fit perfectly. We started out the door, and down the hallway. It was the first time I had been out of Norar Remontar's apartment since I had arrived, and it felt good.

"We need to stop here first," said Vena Remontar, as we stepped off the escalator onto the fifth floor. The lower floors had much higher ceilings and seemed more spacious than those of the upper floors. Here were located restaurants, shops, and other facilities used by the people in the building. We entered through a large doorway to find a large gymnasium. There were two young girls; I would have thought them about ten years of age, practicing their swordsmanship in a haphazard manner, at the far end of the room. As they noticed us, they stopped to stare at me and giggle.

"I wish to see if the title of swordsman that Norar Remontar laid upon you is warranted," the female knight said.

She drew her long sword and I followed suit. We nodded respectfully to one another. Then with a skill and speed born of battle, Vena Remontar charged at me, bringing her blade down directly toward my face. I raised my own to block the stroke, and just as quickly she swung two more blows. The only thing I could do was take the offensive, so as I blocked the third blow, I swung my weapon on around in a great arc toward her side. The woman was off balance from her attack, so the only way she could block the arc of weapon, was to turn her back on me, and swing her blade outward to meet mine. I expected that this would offer me a chance to attack her back, but it didn’t. As soon as she had done so, she tucked and rolled forward, spinning as she rose to face me. This was a brilliant maneuver and would have put several yards between us, but I wasn't ready to let up. Using my gravity-enhanced strength, I jumped forward, almost landing on top of her. Vena Remontar thrust quickly several times. I blocked those attacks and countered.

"Not bad, thus far," she said.

"Thank you."

As I said this, I swung down. I knew that were we really engaged in battle, her sword would have glowed with power, and sliced through the mundane metal of my own, but for now, the soul was asleep, and we were on equal terms. Actually, I had an advantage of superior strength. She blocked my swing, but was unprepared for the added power, and it knocked her from her feet. Without hesitation, she swung toward my knees. I jumped up, and the blade passed harmlessly below me. The young knight rolled to her feet.

I could see by the half smile on her lips that she was enjoying herself. With a flick of her left wrist so quick that I almost didn’t see it, she whipped her short sword from its sheath and grasped it like a dagger. I chopped down with my blade in an attempt to catch her off balance, but she wasn’t off balance. She blocked my blow with the shorter blade and began to attack with the longer. Then she attacked with both swords, forcing me to defend, and I am sure, hoping to wear me down. Unable to attack for the moment, I began to leap quickly to either side, and then to the back, forcing her to chase me. I knew that it was I who would be able to wear her down first, and after several dozen parries, I could see in her eyes that she was coming to the same realization.

Here was the advantage I needed. I rained a series of blows at her head, and then swung with power at her side. Like she had before, Vena Remontar spun around with her back to me and swung her sword, tip down, outward to meet mine. I expected to have a quick shot at her exposed back and left side, but even as she blocked my attack, she driven her short sword, in her left hand, straight back under her arm, and into my stomach.

"Umph!" I grunted in surprise. I expected that I had been cut through, but the tip of her sword merely pricked my skin.

Vena Remontar wiped the tiny drop of blood from her sword tip onto her tabard, and then sheathed her sword. With the drawing of first blood, the contest was over.

"I'm satisfied," she said. "I thought that perhaps Norar Remontar was being overly generous. But you are quite skilled."

"Still, you defeated me," I said, still holding a hand over my wound.

"It could have gone either way."

The two young girls were now staring at us in rapt fascination, though whether it was me or Vena Remontar who held their attention, I was at first unsure. My companion stepped over to a box mounted on the wall, removed something from it, and returned. She pushed aside my tabard, pressed her fingers through the small slice in my bodysuit, and applied a small adhesive bandage to the cut in my skin.

"I think you will live," she pronounced.

"I know I will live," I replied. "The question is whether I will enjoy it or not." The two girls had edged close enough to speak to us. "Remiant Vena Remontar?" asked the taller of the two. "Is he an Amatharian or an alien?"

"You are rude, child," said the knight. "Direct your questions to the swordsman." The girl bowed stiffly to me. "Please forgive me sir,” she said, "but neither this ignorant girl, nor her friend, has ever seen a man like you."

"No harm," I replied. "What is your name?"

"Neela Esponar. And this is Nona Montendro."

"I am an alien," I said. "I have just arrived in Amathar. I'm staying with Norar Remontar."

"He is my fourth cousin," said Neela Esponar, excitedly.

"Perhaps you can come by and help me with my reading lessons," I suggested, as Vena Remontar began to lead me out of the gymnasium.

"We will," they both giggled.

"They find your pale color fascinating," said the knight.

"Do you?"

She moved her face very close to mine. I hadn’t noticed that her eyes were so large. "It is cute," she said, "in an ugly sort way."

We walked out into the bright Ecosian day. The street was filled with people going about their business, either on the walkways, or beside them. Vena Remontar and I turned to the right and strolled along the flower lined cobblestone beside the moving sidewalks. It was warm, but a light breeze whipped across my face and tickled the leaves on the potted trees.

"My betrothed has related some of your adventures with Norar Remontar," she said. "It must have been quite exciting to battle the Pell in the forest, or the Kartags deep underground."

"It was frightening," I replied.

"I have seen only one action against the Zoasians."

"And yet you are a knight."

"I felt the pull of my soul at a very young age," she explained. "When an Amatharian reaches a certain level of skill, his soul calls out to him, and compels him to come to the Garden of Souls. Some go only to find they are mistaken, and their desire to become remiant made them think they heard their soul, when it was not really calling. Then they either die in the garden, or they return without a soul, and are disgraced.

"When I heard my soul call, many thought it was my youth calling, that I was making a mistake, but I proved them wrong."

We reached the shuttle train station--the same one at which Malagor, Norar Remontar, and I had made our arrival. Descending once again on the escalator, we found the lobby of station much busier than it was on my last visit. I once again marveled at the lack of discarded waste and graffiti. We had barely stepped off the automated staircase, when the train pulled in. The door slid open and the two of us, along with about a dozen others stepped into the car.

Just like the shuttle train in which I had previously ridden, this car was decorated and furnished as if it were some one's den, rather than a mode of public transportation. The car shifted into motion, and the passengers took their seats. There were a variety of people--of different ages, and different occupations, but all were well-groomed, attractive, and polite.

"There seem to be a lot of people out and about," I remarked.

"The shuttle train is always busiest near the fifth city-cycle," Vena Remontar explained. "That is when most Amatharians make appointments, or go to and from their duties."

"I was wondering about work schedules," I said. "Who decides when work is to start and finish."

"Duties are determined by the leaders of the companies, whom you must remember in Amathar, are usually also relatives. In truth, most Amatharian duties are purely supervisory. In our society we have machines to guard our walls, machines to grow our food, machines to clean our homes, machines to keep our records, and machines to build and repair our other machines."

"You sound as if you don't entirely approve," I said.

"Don't get me wrong," she replied. "I am very pleased with the functioning of our society. Because our people have more free time, we have a great abundance of art and science, but I am glad to have Amath's teachings. He said “let no machine live in the guise of a man". I have heard of people far away in Ecos, who build machines that resemble them. That is a vile thing. Also, I personally have no affinity for machines. That is why I am a warrior. It is one of the few jobs that we still do with our own hands."

"Among my own people, there is a desire to dehumanize war," I related. "They have built aircraft that can be controlled by long distance. They build weapons that can destroy cities thousands of miles away, while the soldier firing it is safe at home."

"Disgusting!" she spat. "If you cannot taste your enemies’ blood, how can you know the glory of bravery? If you cannot look into his eye, how can you know the horror of death? I can see that you have lived a deprived life among a perverted people. I will try to help you." By this time the shuttle train had reached its destination, and we debarked. Here again was another station, very much like the others, with the exception of size. This shuttle station was huge--it made Grande Central Station seem tiny. Once we had taken the escalator up from the platform, we stood at the edge of a huge room, many stories high. In this station dozens of shuttle train lines converged, as did other forms of transportation. Thousands of people with black hair and blue faces bustled here and there. Amid them, perhaps fifteen or sixteen aliens, me included, were easy to pick out.

"We will need to come back here, but I wished to stop and have something to eat," Vena Remontar said.

"Not a bad idea at all," I thought aloud.

I was led out of the great station by my beautiful companion. Outside was the city street plaza that I had come to expect, with its moving walkways, and its decorative pools, trees, flower beds, and statues. On the other side of the street was a great park. I could see buildings on the far side, but they seemed to be a mile or more away. It reminded me of my one trip to Central Park. Here however, there was no discarded trash, no beggar asking for money, no drug dealer selling controlled substances to children, and I suddenly realized, no one walking a dog.

"Do Amatharians keep pets?" I asked.

"Other races keep pets," responded Vena Remontar. "The Preemor have a small animal that lives in their fur to help keep them clean, and the Gloonor have an animal that chews their food for them. But apart from the micro-organisms that cover every living thing, and animals we keep to eat, we Amatharians do not need pets. I'm surprised you asked. Our physiology seems so similar."

"Not just animals," I tried to explain. "Pets. Animals that are kept for companionship." She looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "Don't you have other people to keep you company?"

"Well, yes. But many of my people like to keep animals in their home. Older people for instance, tend to live longer, healthier lives, when they have a pet to care for."

"The children don't mind sharing the old people with an animal?"

"Often the children are with their peers. And many times the older people live in a special home for the aged."

Now Vena Remontar opened her mouth in shock. Her deep blue skin had actually attained a lighter hue.

"You segregate your ancestors?!" she practically gasped. "And the children let this happen?"

"Uh...I guess so. Amatharian children spend a great deal of time with older people?"

"Of course. Our children wish to be grown up. They are always asking to be treated as adults. How better to learn how to be an adult, than to observe the most adult people that they know. I have heard stories of what we were like before Amath came, but I never realized just what a horrible life we would have without his teaching."

"I guess I never really thought about this before either," I said, "having had neither a family, nor a pet."

"What do you mean, you had no family?"

"My parents died when I was a child."

"You lived with your grandparents? ...or your uncle?"

"No, I lived in a home for children."

"You mean strangers took you in as their son?"

"No," I elaborated. "There were adults there, but it was their job to care for us, it wasn't their home."

"You truly were deprived." She pursed her perfect lips and frowned. "Amatharians don't realize how lucky they are, to have their families, to have the wisdom of their ancestors, to not have to share their homes with animals."

We crossed the plaza and stepped into the carefully sculptured landscape of the park. There were walkways going here and there, around copses of trees, small fountains, and playgrounds where dozens of blue-skinned children jumped on large air-filled mattresses, dangled from high swings, and raced around obstacle courses. Just inside the park was an outdoor restaurant. Twenty tables with chairs were arranged in a rough circle under several large shade trees. I was wondering where the kitchen might be, when I saw a food server clad in white emerging from below ground by escalator. All of the tables in the restaurant were full of patrons, but when we approached, several groups of people stood up saying, "Take our table, Knight." Vena Remontar nodded politely to all of them, and we sat down at the closest of the proffered tables. The previous diners had just finished their food, and the table was quickly cleared and cleaned by the restaurant worker, a young man with very dark blue skin apparently both busboy and food server, who then waited for our order.

"What is the special?" asked the knight.

"Rackamir fish."

The young warrior wrinkled her nose in a way that made her particularly cute.

"No, we don't want that," she said. "We have been playing." She used an Amatharian slang expression, which means playing when referring to children, but which has a more dangerous connotation, when referring to warriors.

"We have ruorman," offered the server.

"Perfect," she pronounced, as the waiter hurried away with the order.

"This is a very nice park," I said, looking around.

"Yes. I used to come here to play when I was a child. It was designed by Kennis Berrontar and is, I think, the loveliest of the Sun Clan's parks.

"Are all of the Sun Clan's properties on this side of Amathar?"

"No. Amathar is a great patchwork of the Clans. It was all laid out and designated in the Time of Amath, when the whole city was the size of this park." Vena Remontar explained. "In fact, it is that old portion of the city to which I wish to take you. The greatest monuments are there." Our food arrived quickly enough. The main course appeared to be a breast of fowl about the size of a turkey breast, covered with a glaze, and lying upon a pile of vegetables. Upon tasting the meat, my mouth took flame. It was spicy to a degree that would shame any proud jalapeno. The power to bring tears to one's eyes was in the glaze, and so it dripped down from the fowl onto the vegetables so that there was no bite which provided respite from the fire. Of course, water was provided, and I drank several glasses. At last we finished eating, and left. It wasn't necessary to tell the waiter we were from the Sun Clan, as this was a Sun Clan establishment.

We made our way back to the station. This time instead of going down to the shuttle train level, we took stairs to the upper level where a different type of train waited. This train looked very much like the bullet trains used in Japan and Europe, though this one, like the subway, had no discernable engine. All of the cars were similar. There was quite a group of people waiting for the doors to open, but we were ushered to the front, as allowances were made for Vena Remontar's rank.

"I don't see any other knights nearby," I commented. "I somehow thought that they were more common. It seems that every Amatharian I know has a crest on his chest."

"Only one in ten thousand Amatharians achieve remiant stature," she replied. "So there are less than a million of us."

The doors of the train slid open, and we entered, followed by several dozen others. The interior of this train was more conventional in design, with rows of seats rather than the homey atmosphere of the subway, though the seats were large and comfortable and spaced at a decent distance from one another. Most of the wall space was taken by the large windows, toward which the occupants were slightly turned. As soon as the train got under way, I understood the attraction. The train rode some thirty feet above ground on a raised rail, and the view of the city below was excellent. Our train passed to the left of the park and ran toward the center of Amathar. I figured our speed to be near one hundred miles per hour, though the Amatharians around me didn't believe time to be a constant, therefore invalidating that estimation. The Amatharians had no words in their language for velocity, since they had no words for measurement of time. Of course Amatharians made distinctions between the speeds of different things. If, for instance, a new fighter aircraft was developed which was faster than the old model, they would refer to it as such, using a word which translates to "better at going". I found the view out the window mesmerizing. Amathar was a beautiful city. Every single building was a work of art, carefully designed and skillfully constructed. I later learned that this was necessitated by Amatharian tradition. All buildings were designed and constructed to last forever. Demolition was almost unknown, only occurring if the building in question was falling down of its own accord, which they almost never did. The Amatharians spent much more effort and labor in maintaining older structures than they did in designing and building newer ones. Of course they did the same thing with everything else they used; appliances, clothing, and furniture were all repaired, when in my culture of origin, they would have been thrown away.

These marvelous buildings came in all shapes and sizes, and in most cases, I could easily determine their function. There were large apartment buildings and small family residences. There were food distribution sites which bore quite a resemblance to supermarkets, though in Amathar, no one paid for their food. There were sports stadiums, though they only offered free, amateur events--there were no professional sports. There were offices and warehouses and processing centers. And there were many libraries. On one level, Amathar was very familiar. On another level, Amathar was quite strange. While there were distribution sites which looked like clothing stores, appliance stores, and grocery stores, there was no competition between them, and they were evenly spaced apart. There were no movie theaters or radio stations or television stations. This last fact was due primarily to a curious feature of Amatharian society. Amatharians loved the written word. Every Amatharian spends much of his free time writing --letters, poetry, or books. It was rare for an adult not to have at least one book published. Libraries were everywhere. On the other hand, they seemed to despise the recorded or transmitted voice. They did not have radio or television--either for mass communication of direct communication between individuals. When a flyer or a battleship left port, there was no word from that ship until it returned. There were no telephones in Amathar of any kind. I think that the very idea gave them the willies. The only communication to intrude into their home was mail, which was sent to every home in a pneumatic tube, the capsules of which were programmed with a tiny computer to find the correct destination from among the tens of millions of homes interconnected. Even artificial voices like the door announcer or my letter-learning pad, were used sparingly.

There were also no courthouses, jails, or police departments. Crime was all but unknown in Amathar. No Amatharian would think of committing vandalism, and there was no reason for theft since there was little want. Amatharians were incredibly polite and respectful, and seldom had disagreements. If however a situation arose in which a crime was committed by an Amatharian, it was such a disgrace that it dishonored not only the individual, but his family and his clan. In those situations, the head of one's family became judge, jury, and quite probably executioner. There was nothing worse than dishonoring one's family in Amathar. Nothing.

Chapter Fifteen: The Garden of Souls

The sky train sped above the seemingly endless city. Several times it stopped at stations, but we remained aboard. I continued to watch in fascination, the buildings passing by. Abruptly the color, style, and size of the structures changed. We were now crossing a region of huge, dark buildings, many of which were larger than the giant warehouses and sports stadiums which I had seen before. These were far less ornate and far more utilitarian than the other buildings as well.

"This is one of the industrial regions. It is a circle one hundred kentads (about fifty miles) in diameter containing nothing but factories and warehouses. This is where the majority of our manufactured goods come from--this or one of the nine other regions just like it."

I acknowledged Vena Remontar's commentary, and then turned away from the window. Several food servers in the traditional white bodysuits were delivering tall glasses of ice water and trays of small appetizer cakes. The young knight, and I as her companion, were served first.

"There certainly seems to be a great deal of respect and privilege associated with being a knight," I observed.

"That is very true," Vena Remontar replied, with a slight smile, "but it is more than that in my case. The Remontar family name is well known, as are all who carry that name. In addition, my cousins are the heirs of the Sun Overlord. Norar Remontar and his sister are beloved of the entire city." We busied ourselves eating the delicious cakes, which were filled with a ground meat and a variety of vegetables. In certain parts of the land of my birth, they might have been called pasties, though they were seasoned unlike anything found on Earth. The water was delicious. It seemed that water was the beverage of choice among the Amatharians, and they went to great lengths to see that any water found within the city was not only crystal clear and healthful, but tasty as well. With the exception of mirrah, and a few other fermented drinks, water was all that was available to drink in most city places. We had just finished eating when the sky train made one more stop in the industrial center. After it began on its way again, we crossed out of the region of factories and complexes and began crossing a vast open cultivated land. I watched out the window as we continued on, and the buildings of the city grew distant behind us. Roaming the ground like huge grazing animals, were monstrous machines, planting, thinning, and harvesting a tremendous variety of vegetables and fruits.

"Have we left the city?" I asked.

"This is one of the five cultivation areas within the city," explained the knight. "Each is a circle two hundred fifty kentads (about two hundred miles) in diameter. Four are in operation growing our food, while a fifth lies fallow."

As we cruised along, our conversation did not lag. I had a thousand, no ten thousand questions for this lovely young woman from a very alien culture. She explained much about the hopes and aspirations of the Amatharian people, the day to day functioning of the clans and family businesses, and the many obligations and requirements. Even though I know that I learned much during the course of that lengthy ride, it is hard to remember the exact order of the conversation now.

We passed the far edge of the cultivation area and once again entered into the urban mass. This portion of the city was obviously of far greater age than the majority of the buildings I had seen until now, though these old edifices maintained the same style and ornamentation as the newer ones. I had come to think of Amathar as one would think of a city one Earth, a great urban realm, but this city was on an entirely different scale. Within the walls of the Amatharians' home were not only vast areas of cultivated fields, but mountains, lakes, and rivers as well. This older portion of the city, though still urban, was built upon a low mountain range.

The train stopped at a station upon a platform high in the air, and this time we stood up and stepped off the sky train. Vena Remontar led me down a great escalator so steep that it seemed I was walking straight down. Once at the bottom I looked around at a plaza some two miles across. Great statues of stone, some as high as forty feet were interspersed with surging fountains, tall green hedge rows, and monstrous tile pictures. Two sides of the plaza were lined with large buildings resembling hotels. The third side faced a large park or wilderness area. Facing the fourth side was a fantastic stepped pyramid, more than a mile wide and more than two thousand feet high.

"That is the Temple of Amath," my blue-skinned companion said. "At the other end is the Garden of Souls."

"Wow," I said. "Of course I could very well be delirious. I feel like I haven't slept in a... well, in a long time."

"It was a long train ride," she agreed. "We will rest before we see the sites." The beautiful knight led me to one of the large buildings on the plaza, and we walked inside. At a large desk was an Amatharian in a great brown robe. He had a shaved head which gave him a slightly sinister though still handsome look. He was the first man I had seen here who did not have a head of straight black hair.

"Greetings Remiant Vena Remontar," said the man.

"Greetings Templar. We wish a room."

"Come with me."

The bald man came out from behind the desk, and led the two of us up several flights of stairs to a room. I found myself for the first time in the Amatharian equivalent of a hotel, and in many ways, it was very like many hotels I had stayed in--the bedroom was about the size one would expect, though the bathroom was proportionately much larger. The real differences were subtle. One did not pay for the room. There we no numbers on the door. There was no checkout time. There were no locks on the doors. The room featured two large beds of the Amatharian style--embedded into the floor. I removed my weapons, boots, and tabard and placed them beside one of the beds, then lay down and stretched out. Vena Remontar did the same on the other bed. I believe that at that point in time, my body still had not adjusted to the eternal day, and I was not sleeping as much as I should have. When my head hit the pillow though, I was ready. Within only a few minutes, I had fallen asleep. I awoke slowly, my mind gently drifting back to reality. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was alone in the room, though a moment later I saw Vena Remontar through the door, bathing in the bathroom. The bath was large enough to be considered a small swimming pool. She called out and invited me to bathe with her. One of the reasons that the baths were so large, though by no means the only reason, was that Amatharians often bathed together.

I stepped into the bathroom and self-consciously began to undress. I have never really been shy by nature, but that doesn’t mean that I am in the habit of undressing in front of someone I hardly known, especially in broad daylight, which was all one had in Ecos. Vena Remontar was busy washing herself and seemed to take very little notice of me. I quickly pulled off my jumpsuit and climbed over the edge of the tub. That is when I noticed that she was staring at me.

“You are frighteningly pale,” she said.

I quickly lowered myself into the warm water and could not help noticing that she was not frighteningly pale. Her dark blue shoulders poked out above the water and perfectly matched the dark but smooth skin of her face. I turned and busied myself soaping my face and arms and trying not to think of a frighteningly beautiful and frighteningly naked vision just a foot away, when I felt Vena Remontar’s hands on my shoulder. She was soaping my back for me. When she had finished, I submerged to rinse off.

“I am done,” she said, climbing out of the tub.

I could not help but notice the grace with which she did so, and the soft but muscular form which she presented on the way to her towel. She was really very...very... pleasant. She left the room to get dressed and I soaked for a little while before getting out myself. Once I had done so, and gotten dressed, the two of us made our way downstairs, stopping briefly at the desk, and then out the front door.

"That bald man seemed to know you well," I observed, remembering the day before.

"He is of the Holy Order," she explained. "It is his business to know everyone. This whole area is organized and run by the Holy Order from the Temple of Amath. They use the cream on their heads that I gave you for your face. It is traditional."

We walked across the great expanse of the plaza toward the open end. A huge, ornately decorated, stone gate led the way into what lay beyond. From where I stood, it seemed that precious little lay beyond. It was a hilly scrub land, with stunted trees and large bushes. I could see no animal life. Vena Remontar and I reached the edge of the plaza, and stood watching, as a young Amatharian man stepped through the gate. A group of Holy Order Templars took note of his passage on small note pads.

"This is the Garden of Souls," said Vena Remontar. "When a swordsman has become skilled, he feels drawn into the garden. There he must go, and remain until his soul finds him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

I nodded absentmindedly.

"Let's get something to eat." The knight started toward a nearby restaurant, not looking back to see that I followed.

I did not follow. I could not. From the moment we had stopped in front of the great gate, I had felt my muscles tighten and my stomach churn. It was as if my whole body was attempting to push me forward, through the gate. I tried to resist, but my own legs it seemed, were against me. For several moments I fought the compulsion--I pushed back against myself. I wondered what could be drawing me toward the rugged landscape beyond, and then I remembered the story of the souls. What if my own soul were calling be from beyond the border of the garden. But how could this be. I was a stranger here, an alien in fact. How could I have a soul awaiting me here, in the middle of this strange city of Amathar. One last time, I attempted to push myself away from the gate, but I couldn’t. I was drawn with a force that I could not understand, toward what could only be my soul, luring me to my destiny. What did it want?

More specifically, what did it want with me?

I crossed the border into the garden, seeing in the corner of my eye that the templars took careful note of my passage. Suddenly I heard Vena Remontar's frantic voice calling from behind me.

"Alexander Ashton! Alexander Ashton! You don't understand!” she cried. “You don't know! Once you cross into the Garden, you cannot come out again! To come out without your knighthood, is the greatest disgrace!"

I waved to acknowledge her. I could see a kind of fear in her face, even at this distance. I have often jumped into something without thinking, and I resigned myself to the fact that this was probably just such an occasion, though it didn’t quite seem fair that I should bear all the burden, drawn as I was without my consent. I was compelled beyond my ability to refuse. I saw that Vena Remontar stepped over to speak with the group of templars, no doubt to plead that I was only an ignorant savage. I didn't watch to see the outcome, but turned and made my way into the wilderness.

I had walked a mile or more, when I turned to look back. The gate was no longer visible, lying beyond a small hill that I had crossed without really thinking about it. In fact, I could no longer see the city in any direction, though I knew that it lay all around me. I didn't know how large the Garden of Souls was, but there was a small mountain rising up ahead of me, so I headed toward it. I know it must have been a number of miles, but it seemed that I crossed the distance and climbed up the mountain, in no time at all. When I reached the summit I looked down into a small valley surrounding a blue pool. It was not the most beautiful valley that I had ever seen, but is seemed a nice place to await my soul. I was unsure as to just what I was really waiting for. I knew that the Amatharians met their souls here, but just what was a soul? I could only think of the soul as a mystical force, as in the Judeo-Christian sense of the word, but I knew that the Amatharian soul was different. For one thing, not everyone had one. For another, I knew there was some physical manifestation. There was a force of some kind which made the remiant's sword glow and cut through anything. I had seen it myself.

I sat down on the ground, below a small tree, beside the blue pool. Try as I might, I just couldn’t feel fearful about what I had done. Any sane person would, I suppose. I had stepped into a life or death situation without any thought at all. If I came out without a soul I would be disgraced and would be forced to leave the only friends that I knew in this world. If I didn’t come out at all, I would die where I sat. Still, I wasn’t sad or afraid or unhappy. I was fine. At least that’s how I remember it. A slight breeze picked up, and blew low clouds in to block out the sun. I leaned on my right hand, and felt something smooth beneath my palm. Looking down to see what it was, I saw a partially buried skull grinning back at me. I slowly looked around, and for the first time noticed that the ground around the little pool was littered with bones, some with decomposing flesh still hanging upon them. Here were the remains of those who failed to find their souls. I suddenly felt my stomach sink and my loins tighten. Here was the fear that had failed to manifest itself up until this point. I should say two fears, for there were two distinct emotions, and I didn’t know which was causing me the most anxiety--the fear that I would die here, or the fear that I would prove unworthy and drag myself from the garden in disgrace. These thoughts were still occupying my mind when I noticed a small flame directly in front of me. Something on the ground had caught fire. The fire was the size one would expect from a freshly filled cigarette lighter or five or six wood matches lit together, though I couldn't quite tell what was on fire. Nothing seemed to be consumed by the blaze. Then the little fire hopped toward me, leaving nothing scorched in its wake, and stopped within arms reach. At the same time, I felt a tickling sensation on the surface of my scalp. I had the impression of thinking a thought, or smelling a smell, or reading a word which I could not quite identify.

"You are my soul," I said, a feeling of awe coming over me.

The little flame burned and I continued to have the tickling sensation in my head, which continued until it became an itching and then an aching.

"What do I do now?" I asked, though I didn’t know to whom I had directed the question. As if in answer, a vague thought penetrated my brain. "Open your sword." I drew my long sword and carefully unwrapped the hilt, and opened the small compartment there. The soul hopped into the compartment and for a fraction of a second, my sword blade glowed the way that I had seen Norar Remontar's glow so many times. Then just as quickly, the sword faded, and the little soul fire shrank to a faint flicker.

"Close the sword." It came as almost a complete thought.

I closed and wrapped the hilt, sheathed the blade, and started back toward the great plaza. It took me far longer to get out than it had to get in, because I got lost. One cannot overestimate the importance of astronomical observation in guiding one's course. Unfortunately in Ecos, there was only one astronomical object, and it always stayed right above us. Finally, I found my bearings and reached the great gate at the entrance to the garden.

Standing at the entrance, looking quite unhappy, was Vena Remontar. As soon a she saw me passing through the structure, she began shouting and trying to push me back.

"You can't give up so soon!" she shouted. "Go back. You cannot accept failure so quickly."

"But I didn't fail," I tried to explain.

"Give me your weapon," said one of the templars, stepping forward. I drew my sword to hand it to him. The way he lunged toward the sword though, made me realize that his was not a friendly act. Before I could move to defend myself the new soul in my sword sprang to life in a fantastically bright blaze of blue white. The man jumped back, eyes wide. His companions began to mutter to themselves and scribble furiously on their little note pads. The first fellow I must say recovered himself well. After making sure his hand was intact, he bowed low to me.

"Forgive me, Remiant Alexander Ashton," he said.

"How did you know my name?" I asked, nodding back.

"It is the business of the Holy Order to know who enters and leaves the Garden of Souls. You are requested to visit the High Templar at your convenience."

"I cannot believe it," Vena Remontar gave me a hug. "That is the fastest presentation that I have ever heard of. You barely entered the garden, and you are already back with your soul." She hugged me again.

"I am sure that it seemed a much shorter time to you than it did to anyone else," I asserted.

"Come knight," she laughed. "Let's get something to eat." This she led me to the restaurant, and this time I followed. We sat and talked, though I recall nothing of what we said, and I don't remember what we ate either. There was a lot going through my mind. Here I was, a stranger in a strange land, and surrounded by millions of people from an alien culture, trapped in a strange world, and in love with a woman I had never met. Now I was somehow attached to a tiny energy creature that had as yet unknown powers.

Chapter Sixteen: The Temple of Amath

After we had eaten, we walked across the great plaza to the stepped pyramid which was the Temple of Amath. Vena Remontar told me that an invitation from the High Templar was something to be acted upon promptly. The great structure was most impressive. It was more than a mile wide, and was over two thousand feet tall. It looked as though it had been built by a giant boy playing with his blocks, placing successively smaller blocks one atop another until he had built a pyramid of steps. Each of the steps was over one hundred feet tall, and there were twenty one of them. The entire surface was carved in intricate designs, so finely detailed that not a single inch of blank wall could be found on the outside. Running up the front of the temple was a set of broad steps which led to the tenth level, where there was a large, dark entrance.

My friend and I walked up the many steps to the doorway. Waiting here was a small crowd of templars, each with his bald head. Some were writing in their pads, others were about other business. It may seem odd that the templars were engaged in so much writing, until one considers the extent to which Amatharians in general were fond of the written word. Amatharians had no telephone, but wrote letters every day, even to friends they were likely to see often. To a certain extent, the spoken language of these people was divorced from the written, and the written form allowed them much more freedom of expression.

One of the shaven fellows took charge, or had been left in charge, and guided us from the open greeting area, into a large chamber. It was much like one would expect a very large church or cathedral to look like, not that I'm an expert, but it had no rows of pews or any other seating. The walls were colorfully decorated and large bright banners hung from the ceiling. Of course huge numbers of templars buzzed here and there, taking notes, examining the scenes depicted on the walls, and staring at the shrine in the center of the hall.

The shrine took my breath away. Not because it was big, though it was that. Not because it was carefully inlaid with precious stones and highly polished gold and silver, though it was. It quite knocked the breath from my lungs because the symbol on the great shrine was an A. I don't mean it was an Amatharian A. It was an honest to god, Greco-Roman, American English, Times font type A!

"That's an A!" I shouted.

The entire population of the hall turned and looked at us.

"That's an A," I said.

"Show some respect, knight," growled Vena Remontar. "Keep your voice down."

"That's an A," I whispered.

"You are correct, knight." A voice came from behind us.

We turned to see an older Amatharian man dressed in the brown robes of the templars, and wearing a large silver medallion with the letter A on it. Vena Remontar bowed low and I followed suit.

"I am Kurar Ka Remiant Oldon Domintus," said the man, identifying himself as an overlord. "I am the High Templar."

"It is an honor to meet you, I'm sure," I said. "That is an A?"

"Yes, you are quite correct. That is an A."

"Well. How did it get here?"

"Before we answer any of your questions," the Overlord said, "you have a great many things to do for us."

Oldon Domintus turned and led the two of us across the great hall to a doorway opposite that through which we had come. Beyond the chamber was a great long corridor. This hallway was lined with pictures painted in the bright colors: pictures of Amatharian knights engaged in battles, pictures of templars performing rituals in the great plaza, pictures of great buildings being constructed in Amathar. The High Templar maintained the image of a man showing friends around his home.

"Has Vena Remontar told you about our temple?"

"I'm afraid she has not yet had time."

"This temple was built three hundred generations ago. Construction was begun under the direction of Amath himself. He envisioned a monument to his people where they could look for guidance. It was built here beside the Garden of Souls, so that those feeling the draw of their souls could reflect.

"You felt no need to reflect before entering the garden?" he asked me.

"I've always been a pretty spontaneous fellow," I replied.

"So it seems."

We finally arrived at our destination, which was a small room just off the far end of the corridor. The walls of the room were covered with warm comfortable colors, but the lack of pictures seemed odd, having been surrounded by them in the other temple rooms. One large chair sat at one end of the room facing six chairs at the other end.

"We wish you to undergo examination," said the High Templar.

"Oh?"

"It will not be painful."

"And what if I refuse?" I asked.

"No one is forced to undergo examination," he replied. "Of course, you should remember that yours is a unique position in our society. You are now a remiant, but you are an alien. You have no family to maintain your position in our culture."

"He has friends," said Vena Remontar, a frown forming on her face.

"Your loyalty does you credit," said Oldon Domintus, "but you should know that no harm will come to him.

"There is much we must learn from you," he said turning to me. "About where you come from. About who you are."

"I will be fine," I assured Vena Remontar. "Go back to the rest house, and I will join you when I'm finished."

"He will indeed," said the High Templar.

Vena Remontar stood where she was for a moment, staring into the eyes of the High Templar. Any other man might have melted under such a scrutiny, but Oldon Domintus stared calmly back. At last, she turned on her heel and left, though the frown remained on her face. She was a very good friend to be so concerned about me. Once she had gone, the High Templar directed me to sit in the solitary chair. Six templars entered and were introduced by Oldon Domintus, though I can't remember any of their names now. They sat down, and I sat down, and the High Templar left the room.

"What is your name?" asked the first questioner.

"Alexander Ashton."

"Where are you from?" asked the second questioner, before I was able to take a breath after answering the first question.

"The United States of America, Planet Earth."

"How did you come to Ecos?" This time the question came before I had finished answering.

"What did you do there?"

"Who controlled the army?"

"How many people lived there?"

"How are the children named?"

"Do they use a medium of exchange?"

"What dangerous animals live there?"

"Does everyone in Earth carry a sword?"

The questions came fast and furious. They gave me no chance to stop and think about anything I said. The questions were initially about my life on Earth, what Earth was like, and what society and organization on Earth was like, but then they led off into my adventures in Ecos, my thoughts and impressions of Amathar, and the friends I had met here. Finally one of the templars asked the last question.

"Who do you love?"

"What?" I asked.

"Who do you love?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"It is a question we wish answered."

"Well, I don't intend to answer it," I stood up. "In fact I don't intend to answer any more questions at all."

As if by magic, the High Templar re-entered the room, and dismissed the questioners with a wave of his hand. I felt as if I had undergone some sort of torture, so weak and tired and sweaty was I. By this time I had quite forgotten any questions that I might have had for them. All I wanted to do was go back to the rest house and fall into a deep sleep. My last sleep on the comfortable bed there seemed as though it had occurred a month ago.

"You may go for now, Remiant Alexander Ashton," said the Temple Overlord. "We shall call upon you again."

"Wonderful," I replied wearily.

"Have you given any thought to your crest?"

"My what?"

"As a knight of Amathar, you must wear a crest upon your tabard to identify you," he said. "Since you have no family, there is no crest for you to inherit, so you will have to choose one of your own."

"To tell you the truth," I said rather testily, "with all your people asking me questions, I have had little time to think of anything at all."

"I am sure that is true," he replied thoughtfully, and not at all insulted. "What letter in your home language begins your name?"

"That one." I pointed to the great A on the altar, for we had now entered the cathedral-like hall once again. "That is the first letter in both my first and last names."

"You may incorporate this symbol into your crest," he offered. "I know that you will never become one of the templars, but I believe that you will find you have a special relationship with the Temple of Amath."

"I will consider it," I said as we reached the massive entryway to the pyramid.

"Go with honor."

"Thank you," I replied.

To be quite honest, at that moment I was none too pleased with the Temple of Amath. They had been interrogating me for what seemed an inordinate amount of time. But, I reasoned, as I made my way down the seemingly endless stairway, at least they had let me go in peace. I was willing to forgive a great deal because I found the Amatharians so likable. They were polite. They were friendly. They were honest. And they were all quite handsome. Some like Vena Remontar were incredibly beautiful ...and like Noriandara Remontar too.

I walked across the plaza to the rest house, then stopped at the desk to confirm that Vena Remontar and I were still occupying the same room, since I was not sure of the procedures of the situation, and walked up the stairs to the appropriate hallway and the appropriate door. I dragged myself into the room and dropped down upon the bed. I was asleep in immeasurable Ecosian seconds.

"Wake up," Vena Remontar gently shook me awake. I looked into her beautiful face, and for a moment dreamed what it would be like to be awakened by her cousin, Noriandara Remontar.

"Do I have to wake up?" I asked sleepily.

"Yes, you do. We must take the sky train back to our district." I nodded and slowly got up. I felt quite rested, but my stomach was growling.

"It sounds like a good thing that I brought you some food to break your sleep fast," said my lovely companion.

"Just as long as it isn't ruorman," I said.

She smiled and handed me a tray full of the small cakes which we had been served on the sky train. "I noticed that you enjoyed these."

"That was very considerate."

I got up and bathed, got dressed, and we checked out of the rest house. We walked to the sky train station and took the escalator up to the platform. The station was very busy, and even with the preferential treatment that was accorded to Vena Remontar, we still had to wait for the second train. It looked inside very much like the sky train we had taken here, with plush reclining chairs--in fact, it may have been the same train for all I know. It began speeding away from the station platform, and I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes, and reflecting upon the recent events. The long trip was quiet and uneventful. I didn't feel like talking and so spent my time just looking out the window. Vena Remontar seemed to be of a similar mind. I had found her up until then, to be relatively loquacious. Between the two of us, we spoke less than forty words the entire way back to Norar Remontar's district. Every once in a while, I would catch her looking at me, but when I looked at her, she just smiled and turned away. Finally, I just went to sleep in my seat, and passed the last part of the trip that way.

At last, we reached the great transport center, and then walked to the shuttle train line we needed. We were the only two people in the subway car, so I turned to look at the city-cycle dial. It read 01067.

"Oh no," I said aloud.

"What is the matter?" asked Vena Remontar.

"I was supposed to meet with Nicohl Messonar at 01053. I've missed the appointment by almost fifteen cycles!"

"I would hate to be in your place," replied my companion.

"You are," I said. "I am going to tell her it is your fault. I am new to the city and you dragged me off see the sites."

"I don't think she will excuse you," the female knight said.

"Somehow I think you are right."

We got off the shuttle train at our stop and stepped out of the station onto the street. Immediately something didn't seem right. The city was dark. The warmth of the ever-present sun no longer beat down on the top of my head. I looked up to see one of the great Amatharian battleships moving slowly above us. It dwarfed the huge skyscrapers of the city, and dominated the sky--more than a mile long and nearly half a mile wide. On its belly were large openings for retrieving aircraft and taking on cargo, and it was painted dark navy blue, with silver insignia and trim.

Chapter Seventeen: Plans

Looking up frequently at the flying marvel above us, Vena Remontar and I made our way back to the home of her cousin. The great battleship was not alone in the sky. Beyond it I could just make out two similar ships hovering above the city. I hoped that they were part of the fleet that Norar Remontar was preparing for his sister's rescue. Vena Remontar stopped at the entrance of the building, and said her goodbye.

"Thank you for everything," I said.

"It was my pleasure, knight," she replied. "We will meet again soon." I made my way up the forty-five flights of escalators to Norar Remontar's apartment. No sooner had I entered, than my Amatharian friend appeared from another room.

"You are finally here," he observed.

"Yes."

"You are to come with me,"

"What now?" I asked.

"My grandfather wants to see you."

I nodded in understanding, and followed the tall Amatharian out the door and up three more flights of escalators. We entered a large entryway and waited outside a large navy blue door. This was a type of waiting area that one might find outside any large office. Had I been in New York or Los Angeles, I would have expected a secretary or a receptionist at a desk, but in Amathar they don’t have receptionists and a secretary’s job is a bit different than on Earth—more like a librarian. Visitors to an Amatharian office observe strict rules of etiquette, just as they would when visiting an Amatharian home. And those Amatharians who work in an office, are pleased to receive visitors themselves. The door was opened and we were admitted to the room. Inside we found a magnificent hall, the center point of which was a great long table of carved wood, lined on either side by forty heavy wooden chairs. One entire wall of the room was glass, and looked over the courtyard that was the most impressive feature of the building. The other wall was lined with banners, each carrying the crest of a knight of the Sun Clan.

Four Amatharians waited for us within the room. The man who opened the door was the tallest man that I had yet met, something over seven and a half feet. Just looking at him frightened me. I could imagine how an enemy facing him felt. He was middle-aged, with streaks of grey shooting through his straight black hair. His hawkish nose and a large scar across one cheek, gave him the look of a predator. He was clad in the garments of a knight, though his tabard was fringed with gold trim; his crest was an eye with a flaming sun as its pupil. He was Reyno Hissendar, Norar Remontar's uncle, and the chief of the Hissendar Trading Group.

The second fellow was equally impressive, though not because of height. He was a formidably muscular man with a piercing gaze and a tightly set jaw. His tabard was fringed with gold, and his crest showed a flaming sun within a circle. His bodysuit wasn't black though, it was tan. I had seen Knights in other colors, Nicohl Messonar for instance, wearing the colors of a teacher. Tan was the traditional color of archaeologists. He was Vandan Lorrinos, a highly respected member of the Sun Clan, and a fleet commander.

The third person in the room was a woman. She was a breathtakingly beautiful older version of Vena Remontar, or for that matter, of the Princess. She was just over six feet tall, with long straight black hair framing her beautiful dark blue face. She had the same stern look about her that I had found in Nicohl Messonar, and the same ability to seemingly look into a person's heart. She stared at me with what I thought was a look of more than simple appraisal. She was the mother of Vena Remontar and the aunt of Norar Remontar, and her name was Mindana Remontar. She wore a bodysuit and tabard, but without the crest, indicating she was not a knight. Her bodysuit was dark blue, marking her profession as biologist.

The final individual in the room was the man for whom I had been summoned--the Overlord of the Sun Clan, Nevin Lorrinos. There was no doubt that he was Norar Remontar's grandfather, for he was tall and handsome, with the same prominent features and the same noble bearing. He wore a great black robe with a golden crest above the heart--crossed swords over a flaming sun, the same crest that Noriandara Remontar had worn. I bowed low to him.

"Greetings knight," he said.

"Yes," said Mindana Remontar. "You have certainly wasted no time integrating yourself into our culture."

"I was drawn to Garden of Souls when I came near," I said. "Of course I still have much to learn about Amathar, but I already know that I want to make a place for myself here." Vandan Lorrinos grunted approvingly.

"That is one of the things I wish to speak to you about," said Nevin Lorrinos. "You are without a family, which is a great handicap for you. But my heir tells me that he thinks you are worthy and a good friend and I trust his judgment. For that reason, I would like to offer you a place in the Sun Clan."

"Thank you," I replied. "I already feel a strong connection, since all of my Amatharian friends are from the Sun Clan."

"Then it is done. The other reason for this meeting," he continued, "is that we are about to make an assault on the Zoasians."

"The fleet is ready?"

"We are awaiting the final squadron. There will be four such squadrons of twelve ships each. Vandan Lorrinos and Reyno Hissendar will each command one squadron, and Norar Remontar will make the third his first command. The fourth squadron, under the command of Ulla Yerrontis will arrive at 01096. We will leave at 01097."

"Are you sure that forty eight ships are enough?" I asked. "I would have thought that the city of Amathar could muster a larger fleet, and from what I could see, the Zoasians will be no easy conquest."

"The Sun Clan has four hundred vessels, and some of the other clans boast equally large fleets," Norar Remontar explained, "but Ecos is a very large place, and the ships are spread far and wide. It is an almost unprecedented event to have forty eight ships in one assault."

"As for the Zoasians," said Nevin Lorrinos. "Mindana Remontar assures us that this force will be sufficient. She is the foremost authority on Zoasians."

I turned to Vena Remontar's mother.

"The Zoasians have a very odd culture," she said. "They are obsessed with the acquiring of territory, as if territory could be possessed. They construct many small cities and place them strategically around this territory, and when they expand their territory, they build additional cities. Their forces tend to be even more dispersed than ours, for they constantly fear that a portion of their land will be invaded."

"The closest Zoasian city to the site of the Princess's abduction is Zonamis, which is one of the two closest Zoasian cities to Amathar. It is nine hundred fifty thousand miles away."

"That is a long way off," I said. "It will take a long time to get there."

"Yes," agreed Norar Remontar, "but since it is so far away, the Zoasian ship may still be en route. Considering the amount of damage it sustained, we may even arrive in Zonamis first."

"This brings us to another important point," said Vandan Lorrinos. "What was a Zoasian battle cruiser doing so close to the city of Amathar?"

"It is no doubt they were up to some mischief," said Nevin Lorrinos. "That is another reason we are only committing four squadrons to the assault on Zonamis. The remainder of our available ships will be sweeping a circumference of one hundred thousand miles, looking for any Zoasian attack. We have sent two battleships to the Mountains of the Orlons to secure the Elder Gods site you found, and we have alerted the other Clans to be prepared to protect the city.”

I left the meeting mentally vowing to use my time in Amathar to best advantage. I went to see Nicohl Messonar to receive my next lesson in Amatharian reading. She was, as I had assumed she would be, moderately disgusted that I had missed the earlier appointment, but she still enthusiastically provided me with tutoring, and several talking pads with my next lessons on them. I told her I would seek her out on my return to the city and continue my lessons. As I was preparing to leave, she pressed her cheek to mine, and bid me farewell.

Returning to Norar Remontar's apartments, I found my Amatharian friend waiting for me. He had assembled a large selection of Amatharian gear.

"What's all this then?" I asked.

"I realized that you needed some equipment for the expedition, since you have nothing of your own," he replied. "Of course, now that you are a member of the Sun Clan, it is the duty of our clothiers and outfitters to see that you have everything you need."

There were a dozen or more black bodysuits in my size, several new pairs of black boots, and a large duffle bag-like piece of luggage which Amatharians use to carry their clothing. Beside that lay a warrior's utility belt with many small compartments which had all been filled with the appropriate equipment. Among the devices designed to go into the belt, were tiny first-aid tool which miraculously knitted together skin, and covered it with a clear protective coating, a hand light very much like the one I had seen Norar Remontar use in the caves of the ancient Orlons, and a camera. I could write an entire volume on the Amatharian camera, if I had either the expertise or the inclination to do so. The device itself was about the size of a business card or the calculators of the same size that are common on both Earth and Amathar. It had a square hole in the corner, which served as the camera's viewfinder, and a small button on the back, which served as the shutter release. Other than those two features, the camera seemingly had no other openings or mechanisms. Amatharians take pictures with their cameras, and then when returning home, insert the camera into a device which produces the final photograph. The camera could hold up to one thousand seven hundred twenty eight photographic images before it had to be inserted into the printing device. Once this was done, the camera was ready to be reused.

Although it was very compact and frankly neat looking, the camera was not the truly amazing part of the photographic process. Rather it was the images themselves. When an Amatharian took a picture, he would snap it just like he was using a still picture camera, and the print which was produced was a flat picture--that picture though was an amazing example of three dimensional representation. Even more amazing than that, was the way that the image turned into a short video clip. When the picture was snapped, not only did the camera record the image that was in front of it, but it recorded the last ten minutes or so before the snap! How this was possible, I have no way of knowing. Perhaps it had something to do with the supposed lack of time in Ecos.

Also included in the utility belt gear were a small tool set and several recharge clips for Amatharian light weapons. Norar Remontar had included a rifle and a pistol version of these beautifully crafted weapons. About the only item of clothing not included within the great heap was a tabard. I asked Norar Remontar about this apparent oversight, but he said that the clothiers were simply awaiting my crest design. I took a sheet of the plastic material Amatharians use for paper from the stack I had been using to practice my spelling, and quickly sketched out an idea for a crest. Norar Remontar looked it over, then placed it inside the mail cartridge, and sent it on its way down the pneumatic tube that was the Amatharian postal system.

"We are expected at the Sun Clan warrior's feast at 01094," the Amatharian knight said, as he left about his own business.

I looked at the city-cycle dial and saw that it currently read 01092. I had a little time to myself, so I went to the bathroom, stripped off my clothing, and soaked in the pool. When I felt thoroughly waterlogged and pruned, I climbed out, dressed in one of the new bodysuits, and sat down to practice my reading skills. This time I chose a book on wildlife in the area of Amathar. I just happened to turn to the page on the stummada. When I had just finished that section, Norar Remontar returned, this time with Malagor in tow.

It seemed as though I had not seen Malagor in months, and his grinning face brought a flood of good feelings to me. Though we had both been staying in the same apartment, his path seemed not to have crossed my own. He had spent most of his time in Amathar site-seeing, but he had taken the time, as had I, to get cleaned up and re-outfitted. He now wore the bodysuit of an Amatharian, though it pushed in his fur, and made him look much smaller than he previously had, and the explosion of furry tufts around his wrists made his hands look gargantuan. His bodysuit was light green denoting a trader, and I thought he must have taken this as a representation of what his life was under the Malagor, for I couldn't imagine him taking up a new profession at this point in time. He also had the blank white tabard of a swordsman, but his crouching shoulders made it hang a bit too high in the back, and a bit too low in the front. Norar Remontar handed me a package. I opened the wrapping to find five brand new white tabards. Each one was carefully fringed with gold all around the edge.

"Why the gold fringe?" I asked.

"You are Kurar. You are a lord," he replied. "You are the head of your family."

"I am the only one in my family."

"Which makes you the head of the family," he continued. "It is not unheard of to be the only one in a family, though this is the only instance I can recall, of some one starting out that way." I put the tabards down on a table, and lifting one from the top of the stack, unfurled it, and then put it on over my head. In the middle of the front and back was my crest in bright gold--a flaming sun embossed with a large letter "A".

"I am proud to say that you are now my kinsman," said Norar Remontar.

"No one could be more proud than I," I replied.

"We could stand around here, puffing our chests out," said Malagor, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, "or we could go get our dinner."

The three of us left the apartment, and headed down the flights of escalators to a great dining hall located on the fourth floor. It was a magnificent hall, filled with large round tables. There seemed to be enough room to seat five thousand. Already throngs of Amatharians in warrior black and white were feasting on great heaping servings of food, and tossing back large beakers of mirrah. They were being served by men and women dressed not just in white, but in a rainbow of colors.

"This is a chance for family and friends to serve the warriors before they go off to battle,” said Norar Remontar. "There are more than a hundred parties just like this going on at the same time." We stepped into the hall, just as an orchestra began to play. The musicians were seated to the far left in a semi-round annex of the room, I supposed for the acoustical qualities. Some were wearing yellow, denoting their devotion to art, but most were wearing other colors. This didn't surprise me, since most Amatharians seemed to be multi-talented, and quite a few could well be called renaissance individuals. The instruments of the orchestra were all unlike anything I had seen on Earth, not that I am an expert in the field. I could make out brass, woodwinds, and strings sections, but there were a couple of sections that I could not identify. The entire assembly made a hauntingly beautiful music that sounded vaguely familiar, though unlike any orchestra I had heard in my home land.

The three of us made our way around the great throngs of diners and servers, to a table at the far end of the room. Already seated were the radiant Vena Remontar, as well as a dozen other knights, swordsmen, and warriors whom I didn't know. We took our seats, and immediately three great platters were placed in front of us. I looked up to see the two young girls, Neela Esponar and Nona Montendro, serving our food. Both smiled at me. When a goblet of mirrah was placed before me, I was shocked to look up into the face of Mindana Remontar.

"Drink, kinsman," she said without smiling, and I got the impression that she seldom smiled.

"Thank you, aunt," I replied, using the term for mother's sister. She cocked an eyebrow, and then moved away with her tray into the crowd.

"I don't think that she likes me," I said.

"She is worried that I will become enamored of you, and break my engagement to Tular Maximinos," said Vena Remontar. "Breaking a vow of betrothal is a disgrace.

"Do not worry," she continued, wrinkling her nose in a smile. "You have no such power over me."

"Where is Tular Maximinos? Where is Bentar Hissendar?" I asked.

"They are both at a party in Reyno Hissendar's building," she replied. We enjoyed great food and fantastic music and what seemed like gallons of mirrah until I thought I could take no more of any of it. At last the music stopped and a single horn blew. That was the signal that the party was over, and it was time to begin boarding the ships. I shook hands with Vena Remontar and the other soldiers at the table, and followed Norar Remontar and Malagor from the room. Just as I was leaving, Nona Montendro grabbed me by the tabard.

"Kinsman?" she asked, giggling.

"Yes?"

"Will you wear this token?" she stepped close, and pinned a small broach above the crest in the front of my tabard.

"Um, sure," I replied.

No sooner had I moved away from her, than I was approached by a woman whom I had never met before. She was quite attractive in the way of all Amatharians, though she was not the raving beauty of Vena Remontar or her cousin the Princess. She smiled at me and batted her eyelashes.

"Er, hello," I said.