© 1987 J. B. Chevallier

                               POACHER

I. Earth


	The Inuit hunter was returning home.  He had a dead seal 
strapped to his back.  He trudged through the snow, peering through his 
plastic eyeguards.  His parka barely kept out the bitter cold which 
surrounded him.
	He was almost against the large, shapeless mass before he saw it
through  the snow.  Cautiously, he approached it, his prey still on his 
back, and prodded it with his rifle.  A hard surface.  He walked around 
the base, prodding gingerly as he went.  It seemed to be the same all 
around.  Whatever it was, it had no teeth, no claws, no bits of treacherous 
wire or fiber hanging to snare the unwary.  He came closer and reached 
out to tap it with his mitted hand.
	Inside the irregular, pock-marked object, a Tallawit hunter 
watched the movements of a blurred form in a pool of yellow liquid.  
Among the energy producing 'pockets' on his spaceship's skin were 
detectors which could transmit images of the exterior to the ship's crew.  
In an atmosphere similar to Talal's, these detectors would have 
transmitted precise information to the image bowl, which would in turn 
have sent controlled microflows of ehau into the yellow liquid, forming a 
clear three-dimensional image.  In Earth's atmosphere, these detectors 
gave images of varying quality which at their best were never very clear.  
And the constant Arctic snow was no help.
	But all the hunter needed to know was that the being outside was 
alone, and now touching the ship.  He picked up a lump of copper-
colored matter whose shape approximated that of the ship.  Two of his 
hands gripped the mass at the point which corresponded to the human's 
position against the ship, and dug into it.
	The human hunter felt the unfamiliar sensation of vertigo as the 
hard walls of the ship became ductile and opened to either side of him.  
He fell forward and, before he could recover his balance, the wall 
rejoined behind him, pushing him in.

	The Tallawit ship was made in several membranes, each of 
which held decreasing amounts of the artificial atmosphere which 
mimicked that of Talal.  That closest to the ship's skin still held whatever 
atmosphere it had last encountered on a host planet.  The human, now 
rigid with terror, was still in this one.  Then the membrane began to 
expand towards the outer shell, reducing the available space.  As he was 
resisting the pressure of the membrane, it suddenly gave way, projecting 
him inside.  Here the atmosphere already was much more like that of 
Talal - an atmosphere which was instantaneously fatal to human beings.
	But which, fortunately, did no damage to their lovely pelts.
	With the help of ehau-powered cords, the hunter now brought in 
his kill, who in life would have stood a head higher than himself, and far 
outweighed him.  But Tallawit hunters never had the opportunity to face 
their prey directly.  The story of Daniel Boone fighting a grizzly much 
larger than himself would have awed them more by the hunter's stupidity 
than by any example of courage.  It would never have occurred to a 
Tallawit to confront a larger opponent with anything but cunning.
	The creature attached to his victim's back held little interest for 
the hunter.  Its shape was too alien to easily make a good coat, and, more 
importantly, its hide was much too hard and thick when compared to that 
of a human.  So fine, so light, so similar in form to the Tallawits (whose 
frail upper arms fit comfortably into those of the human's skin.)  And 
warm enough for the weather of Talal, without being suffocating.  All in 
all, superior merchandise.
	Through the middle of the cabin, there was a moving rack, much 
like that used by dry cleaners to hang coats and suits.  On a cord hanging 
from this, the hunter attached the body and pulled it up.  Using another set 
of compressible controls, he then guided the body over a small circular pit 
in the middle of the cabin.  The human's clothes were of little interest to 
him, anymore than  elephant skin would interest a human hunting furs.  
With an ehau knife, he cut them and the underlying garments carefully 
away.  Finally, he had uncovered the bare human form.
	For an instant, he contemplated the sight.  A fortune, stretched 
out across hard bones and still warm organs and bones.  This was a key 
moment.  One slip, and the hide's value was halved.  Measuring with an 
expert eye, he placed the knife on the forehead.
	In a single downward gesture, he began to skin his prey.

	From his smooth silver disc, whirling hundreds of meters 
overhead, a large blue-skinned being, much like an upright hippopotamus 
with tentacles for fingers, watched the operation, irritated.  Who was this 
interloper?  Didn't a being sophisticated enough to travel space know 
better than to hunt on an Imperial preserve?
	Still watching his monitor, Warden Bolla of the Second Sub-
Imperial Guard contacted his superior for instructions.
	Earth was not of great importance to the Quasarial Empire.  
Hunting there was made more interesting  by the inhabitants' advanced 
abilities in some of the lesser sciences, such as astronomy and physics.  
Since Imperial tradition required that the Empire's presence go unnoticed 
by any but overtly subjugated races, the Imperial vessels were required to 
exercise some ingenuity in remaining undetected.  Indeed, they had not 
always been successful, and every report of a flying saucer on Earth had 
been matched by a prolonged (and very unpleasant) execution of the 
offending Imperial officer.  But no prey existed on the planet which had 
not been encountered elsewhere, give or take an evolutionary quirk.  And 
only lesser members of the Court found their way to this outlying 
preserve.
	Nonetheless, the principle remained: only authorized Imperial 
ships might hunt on Imperial preserves.  To transgress this principle was, 
however slightly, to question the Imperial authority.  And the penalty for 
that was clear - destruction of the offender's home population.
	Warden Bolla peered down at the Tallawit, whose movements 
inside his ship were easily visible to Imperial technology.  This was not 
the first reported sighting of this unsophisticated race, which had yet 
managed to voyage from outside the Empire to one of its less important 
planets, and to return at will.  Advisers to the Imperial Council were 
analyzing the images sent by the warden in order to deduce the ship's 
origin.  If necessary, a tracer ship could be sent to follow it home.  But 
the effort seemed excessive, for such a minor people.  When the home 
planet was deduced, it could be de-populated at will from afar.
	For now, he was to watch the Tallawit's movements, while 
awaiting further word from his superiors.

	Having skinned and gutted the human, and - in a more 
perfunctory manner - the seal, the Tallawit secured them on the rack, near 
one wall, and lifted off, in search of further quarry.

	The Imperial Council faced a crisis.
	Bowgon, of the Mid-Left, asserted that the perfume of a Helium-
Lily was more precisely suited to the entry of the Council Fathers (who 
were held in the highest esteem, despite their purely symbolic role in 
government.)  Bowbat, of the Mid-Center, politely and extensively 
praised his colleague's preferred scent (which all knew he found vulgar 
and inappropriate) before more modestly presenting the merits of that of 
the Xenon-Wort (which he was in fact known to favor with an almost 
homicidal fanaticism.)  Bownet, of the Sub-Rear, held his peace, thus 
creating an almost unbearable anxiety on the part of the others present, 
since it was unthinkable that he would accept any scent but that of the 
Argon-Blossom.  Yet through the whole ornate debate - with its ritual and 
entirely hypocritical compliments, and falsely off-handed expressions of 
preference - he had uttered not one word.
	For this finesse, he was much admired, and secretly favored to 
win what was recognized by all to be a crucial and potentially 
catastrophic struggle.
	While this muted and venomous battle raged within the Imperial 
Chamber, First General Bomfa of the Supreme Imperial Forces trembled 
in an antechamber.  An entire solar system was in revolt (as, indeed, he 
had warned it would be, well in advance of the event.)  He needed the 
Council's approval before destroying all planets in that system and any of 
those neighboring it.  Such an action was entirely routine and sure to be 
approved.  Failure to take action could, on the other hand, lead to further 
rebellion elsewhere and, potentially, to the breakup of the Empire.
	Yet he dared not act without the Council's express approval, and 
there was no question of interrupting the current debate to get it.  Faced 
with this dilemma, the General began to think seriously and in great detail 
of the preferred method for his ritual suicide.
	While he was doing so, a messenger arrived from the Second 
Sub-Imperial Guard.  The general looked up, shocked.  How would such 
a minor entity dare to send an agent even as far as the home galaxy, much 
less to the Council's antechamber?  Then he noticed the triple inoculation 
marks on the agent's neck, indicating that he had been marked with the 
microorganisms which were the seal of one of the Imperial Families.  
Each family had its own combination of these, which invariably included 
organisms which would go undetected in a normal scan.  Only select 
family members would know which to look for, and what tests would 
detect them.
	In the present case, the messenger had been inoculated with the 
seal of the House of Bownet.  This was the house which had been given 
the Earth and its solar system as a preserve, and which must imperatively 
be made aware of the intrusion upon its domains.
	The general watched with disinterest as the agent entered the 
Door of Bownet, where he would be tested and undoubtedly give 
entrance to that Councilor's balcony.  Then he returned to his own 
thoughts, comparing the merits of micro-implosions and progressive 
desiccation.
	The Tallawit hunter had now landed his ship in the Vermont 
mountains.  Day was coming on, and he watched the image bowl 
impatiently for the first signs of human activity.
	A few miles away, Tulip Smith was getting up for her morning 
stroll and meditation.  The other members of her commune were still 
asleep, having returned late the previous night from an anti-nuclear 
demonstration in New Hampshire.  Tulip was an early riser, and needed 
little sleep.  So she tip-toed carefully past the sleeping bags on the floor, 
and headed out into the dawn.
	She decided to go up through the woods behind the house, to a 
clearing she knew which looked out on the valley.  A very powerful 
place.  Intense.  Great for cleansing herself of the bad energies that 
ingered from the site of the nuclear power plant
.	As she came out of the woods, an hour later, she was surprised 
to see an enormous boulder of an awkward shape, sitting in the middle of 
the clearing.  Approaching it, she saw that what appeared to be bumps 
were in fact pocket-like openings on its surface.  Curiouser and 
curiouser....
	It occurred to her that there might have recently been a mini-
avalanche from higher on the mountain.  However, looking beyond the 
object to the woods above the clearing, she saw no broken trees or other 
marks of the descent of such a large rock.
	There was another possibility.  At present, Tulip lived a clean 
and healthy life, and ate only the most wholesome vegetarian foods.  
There was a time, however, when she had ingested a great number of 
chemicals, and she had never doubted that some of these lingered still in 
her system.  Could she be hallucinating?  Certainly, there was a time 
when she had seen much more unlikely things which were not, in fact, 
there.
	To verify the evidence of her eyes, she moved forward, and 
prepared to touch the ship.
	From far above, Warden Bolla watched in disgust.  He had 
received his instructions , and none too soon.  The risk these trepassers 
took of alerting the dominant local culture was not to be believed.  What 
if others in the nearby dwelling had followed the female below?  What if 
she had only seen the vessel and returned to alert better-equipped 
authorities?:
	It was certainly time to put an end to this.
	The Tallawit hunter already had two hands on his control device, 
and was watching the approaching human with the same single-minded 
intensity as a week-end sportsman sighting a flight of ducks from his 
blind.  Tulip, for her part, was reaching out with one hand when she saw a 
shadow cover the whole clearing.  Even as she bent her head back to look 
up, she slumped to the ground, stunned by a beam from the Imperial ship, 
whose gleaming disk now covered the whole clearing as it gripped the 
Tallawit ship with invisible claws of energy, then lifted it swiftly away 
from Earth.
	The warden double-checked his instruments to be sure no 
humans or human devices were aroused in the immediate vicinity.  
Despite his meticulous regard for proper security, he had to admit that the 
intruder's broad approach to stealth was adequate in the current situation.  
The commune was well-isolated from its nearest neighbors.  Fly-overs 
were rare.  He had been lucky.  Even the human female had not seen his 
ship, and so he had not had to complicate matters by killing or carrying 
her off.  Imperial sport was one thing;  causing unnecessary disturbances 
was quite another.
	And it was not by doing sloppy work that he had earned the post 
of Warden, he thought with some satisfaction.

	Inside the Tallawit ship, the hunter was frantically running all 
four of his hands over the various control devices which lay loose in front 
of him.  But none suggested a solution.  The Tallawits had been fortunate 
in several regards.  One was that they had discovered Earth after a very 
brief period of exploration.  The other was that they had not yet 
encountered another space-going culture.  And so they had, not 
unreasonably, thought they were alone in their ability to visit other 
planets.  Since even their hunting was based on trapping and not direct 
attack, their ships had never been significantly armed.
	Even now, the hunter did not greatly concern himself with his 
own physical danger.  He was far more upset at the possibility of losing 
the great wealth represented by his cargo.  It was obvious that this was the 
object of the current attack.  If he could not escape this apparently all-
powerful grip, he must find a way to hide his skins.
	How little he knew.

	The warden's superior had merely informed him that the alien 
poacher was to be captured and held for transport to the home galaxy.  He 
had seen no point in letting the warden in on a secret which humiliated the 
Empire.  Primitive as this race appeared, their ships were unlike any 
known in the extensive Imperial annals, and it had not been possible to 
extrapolate from the ship's form what mode of propulsion it used.  
Without this knowledge, there was no way to deduce the distance and 
possible trajectories from its home system to that of Earth.
	One group of Imperial scientists would have to examine the ship 
closely, and see if it contained any form of chart or map.  At the same 
time, still others would have to examine the alien's metabolism, while 
others attempted to learn his language (be it verbal, gestural or secretory.)  
When this was done, they could then proceed to the interrogation.
	That at least was something.  The Imperial Forces always loved 
a good interrogation.
	Theoretically, there was no hurry.  If other intruders arrived from 
the same race, they could be readily captured before further depredations 
were committed.  In fact, a few more prisoners might even be useful at 
this point.
	But the humors of the powerful were not to be ignored.  This 
was the preserve of the House of Bowlah, and Imperial Councillor 
Bowlah was a melancholy lord, one of the moodiest members of the 
Empire's ruling body.  Much would depend on his reaction to this event.




II. The Home Planet

	The room, roughly elliptical in shape, appeared empty, except 
for the great blue body suspended at its center, wearing the mercury 
bracelets of Imperial rank.
	A human being in that room would have felt a deep and rather 
montonous rumbling, relaxing enough, but without apparent variety.  
Another member of the blue-skinned race which had founded the Empire 
would have distinguished a variety of tones among the rumblings, but 
would have found them neither stimulating nor satisfying.  To Councilor 
Bowlah, however, as to any other member of the ancient families which 
had been bred to rule - and to cultivate the aesthetic superiority which 
gave them the acknowledged right to do so - this music was perfection.  
A subtle shifting of three-dimensional harmonies; an expression of precise 
and unimagined mathematical truths; a searing tension between acute 
highs, bone-melting lows and the stretching of horizontal pitches, a 
tension which was resolved at the very moment it became unbearable.
	Councilor Bowlah was indeed moody, even at the best of times, 
and the prolongation of the current debate had done nothing for his 
equilibrium.  The sealed messenger's discreetly delivered news had 
allowed him one of the only imaginable pretexts for leaving deliberations 
where every participant was scrupulously considered for what he did not 
say as much as what he did.  But the unknown nature of this poacher did 
nothing for his serenity.  In an empire as extensive and as ancient as that 
which his family had long helped to rule, the unknown was a true rarity.  
And rarity was both stimulating, and disturbing.

	Councilor Bownet, impassive in his balcony, balefully 
considered the departure of his colleague.  He, like the rest of the 
Council, had observed the arrival of the inoculated messenger in Bowlah's 
balcony.  There were numerous other modes of communication available 
to a race that ruled countless galaxies, but none other was permitted to 
individual Council members during deliberations.  In itself, the use of a 
ritual messenger implied that an affair directly concerning the family's 
prestige had arisen.  This was the most private of concerns and - even if 
spies in the Imperial Services would soon inform their diverse masters of 
the details - it was fitting that the matter be communicated suitably to the 
family concerned.
	Nonetheless, Bowlah's departure was unfortunate from Bownet's 
point of view.  His desires in the current debate were known, known so 
clearly that it would have bordered on crudity for him to have expressed 
them directly.  Instead, he counted on the common knowledge, plus his 
own carefully cultivated reputation for ruthlessness, to sway those of the 
council whose position was not so linked with their family's history or 
their known proclivities as to make it difficult for them to adopt any other.
	Bowlah was one of these.  His passion for music was as well 
known as his limitations in othe fields.  In fact, so often had his aesthetics 
in other matters been put in doubt, it surprised some that the House of 
Bowlah retained its favored seating in the Council.
	That was a matter which for some time Bowlah had thought to 
change.  The current disappointment only stiffened his resolve.
	Picking up a small, live, reptilian slug, he bit into it slowly, 
savoring the taste, and thoughts of Bowlah's downfall.
	Bahskt considered the Tallawit ship.  Most scientists, he knew, 
would consider it ugly - imbalanced and unrefined.  So might he, had he 
not long ago begun a collection of anti-aesthetic objects (all by definition 
from non-Imperial cultures.)  Its very rejection of any known measure of 
beauty or intelligent function fascinated and attracted him.  The fact that it 
had baffled and frustrated his more conventional fellow scientists only 
added to his secret fondness for this alien monstrosity.
	But it was dawning on him that his perverse fondness for its 
grotesque shape was due in part to something else - a sense of familiarity.  
Those pockets, the very irregularity of it.  Somewhere he had seen 
something similar - in his collection?
	He touched the dull pink metal of his collar at a specific spot.  A 
series of sensors around the hall which held the ship instantaneously 
transmitted a full image of the ship to the collar's cells.
	Impatient with excitement, Bahskt left the hall and returned to 
his quarters.

	The Tallawit hunter had been taken from his ship in a container 
resembling a transparent egg.  The Imperial investigators had no difficulty 
breathing the Talalian atmosphere within the ship, but probes had shown 
that the fragile body of the Tallawit might be crushed in their heavier 
atmosphere, and so it had been decided to isolate him in the Empire's 
equivalent of a goldfish bowl.
	Far from offering a fight, the hunter had stayed absolutely 
immobile the moment the helmeted troops of the Empire had forced their 
way into his ship.  Scandalized by the incision they had begun in its side 
after his failure to respond, he had opened the ship's skin and allowed 
them entry, membrane by membrane.  Whatever courage greed had given 
him dissipated at the sight of his captors, who towered over him in their 
deceptively primitive suits, whose heavy and menacing exterior disguised 
an extremely sophisticated system of defensive and analytical tools.
	It was soon apparent that the former were unnecessary.  The 
latter, on the other hand, went quickly to work, deciphering key elements 
of the ship's interior.  In this they were helped by what information had 
been gathered from the exterior, and anlyzed in light of the Empire's 
extensive archives.  They already knew that the collection of objects 
sitting on a ledge on one side was in fact the ship's control panel, and 
were now able to manipulate its key elements after a brief inspection.  
The image bowl resembled several primitive methods of generating 
holographic images.  It could probably also serve as a navigation tool, but 
it was not yet clear how the appropriate information was generated.  Since 
the ship's mode of locomotion also remained a mystery to them, they 
were still no closer to knowing where the ship had come from, or how to 
get there.

	A pair of keening, high-pitched sounds filled the hallway.  
Straining to hear it, Councillor Bowlah impatiently acknowledged the 
complex rhythms which each of the scientists stamped out with his left 
foot as the Imperial Councillor arrived.  Had any of them failed to 
execute this movement in its most precise detail, they would have 
inobtrusively, but irrevocably, quit this company for fates unknown.  Its 
successful performance, however, was ignored by the Councilor, who 
listened intently to the sounds transmitted from the Tallawit's container.
	The Tallawit's courage - and rage - had returned, once it became 
apparent that his captors meant him no immediate harm.  Feeling further 
protected by his transparent shell, the Tallawit was now railing against the 
injustice and outrage of this interference with his honest efforts at 
commerce.  The sound which so fascinated Bowlah was his irate speech.
	The 'egg' was meant for a variety of domestic companions and 
had been designed to give maximum enjoyment to a pet owner, while 
recreating a suitable atmosphere for whatever exotic creature was held 
within.  It had readily been programmed to reproduce the imitation of 
Talal's environment which existed within the ship, and presently was 
transmitting with perfect fidelity the stereo sounds which made up the 
Tallawit's mode of expression.
	The Tallawits possessed two sound-producing organs which they 
had long ago learned to manipulate simultaneously.  They could produce 
approximate equivalents of our consonants and vowels with each of these, 
but had never felt any need to do so.  Meaning was expressed by the 
intervals between the two organs' emissions.
	It was this sound which so intently captivated Councilor Bowlah 
now.  He did not know what it meant, or even that it was speech.  To 
him, it was only music, and he loved nothing so much as music.
	Tallawit speech existed in two modes.  One was used only for 
speaking across distances, and was considered extremely limited, 
although it used a range of sounds far larger than that permitted by human 
speech.  At close quarters, meaning was expressed by the intervals 
between two simultaneous sounds, these produced by membranes in each 
shoulder.  The Tallawits, long-habituated to this mode of speech, had no 
more trouble distinguishing nuance expressed in this mode than an 
inhabitant of China would the radical difference of meaning expressed by 
one syllable spoken on either of two different tones.
	Bowlah, always alert to new aural stimulation, was entranced.  
For the time being, he forgot the intrusion on his family's domains, the 
tedious debate in the Council chambers, and the nervous milling of his 
lessors about him.  Here was a new sensation, a new overtone to 
existence.  Here was an instant.
	All else was pale, and faded unnoticed into the background.

	The Council's debate had ended.  A coalition of the younger 
families had decided that Hydrogen-Mint would be used, its very verve 
and vivacity a foil to the fragility of the Fathers.  This solution horrified a 
number of the Council members, but those who most objected had been 
unable to agree among themselves.  So Hydrogen-Mint it was.
	Exiting in the ornate, apparently random patterns which etiquette 
required, all sought to avoid contact with Bownet.  His rage.was almost 
palpable, made all the more terrible by the need to disguise it in a series 
of witty, admiring remarks to the victors.  Even the youngest and brashest 
of these briefly regretted the outcome, sensing the fury which underlay 
each bit of banter from this powerful Lord.
	Torn between glee and terror, few noticed the mummy of the 
General in the antechamber.  The moment had passed when he could have 
nipped that distant uprising in the bud, and the General had chosen self-
dessication as the honorable solution.
	Bahkst sat in the middle of a thousand worlds.  Each lasted but 
an instant, in a succession of environments created about him where he 
sat.  Even the acute senses of an Imperial Councilor would have been 
incapable of sorting out the uncountable sensations which flashed by him, 
as he replayed years of research back on his emanator.  But he was a 
scientist, both trained and bred to take in complex information quickly.  
He knew little of the exquisite pleasure which each Councilor might have 
felt at numerous details speeding past him now.  But he could rapidly 
extract their sense, and associate them with others which came before and 
after.
	What he was looking for was obscure.  A minor explorer had 
quickly recorded a cluster of objects which he had taken for asteroids.  
He had found their movement curious, but had not lingered to look into it 
more.  The system's weak sun was visible in the background of his 
recording, and had discouraged him from further exploration.  Both 
elements and life forms likely to bring him fame were more often found in 
less dreary regions.  He had made a cursory pass through this one, and 
continued.
	With a plethora of such exploration, scientists of his time and 
after had not bothered further with this curious 'snapshot'.  If Bahkst had 
noticed it, it was only because of his peculiar sense of aesthetics.  These 
objects were particularly unharmonious, and so had caught his eye.  It 
took him little time to realize that their motion was as lacking in 
uniformity as their shapes.  Asteroids, with momentum alone to move 
them, would have shared a common motion.  But these moved at different 
rates, and in different directions.  By closer examination and a process 
resembling spectral analysis, he had detected emissions of energy at 
certain of the openings on the objects.  A correlation between these 
emissions and the objects' movements had suggested a form of space 
travel.  He had found the discovery intriguing, but of no material use, and 
had returned to preoccupations more likely to increase his prestige.
	Now he looked at them with intense interest, for the opposite 
reason.  Each of these, dissimilar in its way, unmistakably resembled the 
ship which sat in the Imperial laboratory.  In the distance, he saw a planet 
which he correctly assumed to be the vessel's home.  Talal.  A planet 
which neither the Imperial Fleet, nor his fellow scientists, could find.  A 
planet presently of personal interest to an Imperial Councilor.
	Locating it could bring him great prestige indeed....

	Returning to the Imperial Quarters, Bowlah was ecstatic.  A new 
song!  Fresh melody!  A sound outside those he had heard and had 
collected from all about the Empire, a sound unlike any the Imperial 
Workshops had synthesized, a sound neither ancient or new, a sound that 
was other... A new sound, and a beautiful one at that, for he who in all his 
love of music, had slowly grown tired of all the Empire could offer.  Oh, 
how many more worlds held such surprises, how many other treasures lay 
beyond the boundaries of Imperial rule?
	The arduous expeditions and combats of his ancestors, the riches 
they had conquered or created, the ancient heredity of power and prestige 
which forgotten forebears had forged, cynically and ruthlessly, with 
unrelenting attention - none of these had ever held his interest, even 
(especially) on the many occasions he had recalled them to others in 
exalted tones.  They were distant, violent, frightening to his contemplative 
nature, and unthinkable as models.  But, for the first time in his centuries 
of existence, he envied them their explorations, imagined himself in that 
terrifying region outside the Empire, seeking other sounds as exquisite as 
his new discovery.
	His reverie was cut short by a disagreeable sight.  The Lord 
Bownet was approaching him, apparently by chance, on the way to his 
own chambers.  Bownet put him ill at ease at the best of times.  But he 
especially did not want to meet him at this moment.  He had heard about 
the outcome of th Council debate, and could only too vividly visualize its 
effect on his colleague.  He also knew it would have been expedient for 
him to take the other's part, and that both knew he would have done so.  
That he had not been there to vote was not his doing, and no reasonable 
being would have held him responsible for his absence.  But could 
Bownet be considered a reasonable being?
	He was only moderately relieved at the courteous greeting 
Bownet proferred him, turning his back to him briefly in a sign of trust.  
He did the same in return.  It would have been unthinkably rude for either 
to do otherwise, when meeting alone, an insulting sign of suspicion.  But 
Bownet did it with other signs of good humor, which a well-bred courtier 
would add to show true courtesy beneath the formality of the gesture.
	The greeting performed, Bownet expressed his pleasure at the 
outcome of the debate and admiration of the winning side's finesse in 
insisting on a choice which some were slow to appreciate, but which, 
finally, must be considered inspired.  This speech, too, was expected.  It 
had, after all, been the decision of the entire Council, and lack of 
enthusiasm would have reflected on the collective Imperial wisdom, 
indeed on the Bow himself.
	Lulled by the comforting familiarity of the forms, Bowlah was 
shocked by the next phrase which Bownet uttered:	
	"Lord Bowlah, time is too quick at the Empire's heart. Let us 
slow it together, with a game of Ah."
	In the inner sanctums of the Empire, there was nothing so vulgar 
- or direct - as a challenge to a duel.  And the invitation to play a game 
reserved to the highest classes was not in itself equivalent to such a 
challenge.  But it was the closest thing that this particular culture 
possessed to 'calling out' an opponent, and the fact that no specific insult 
had been offered was irrelevant.  Indeed, there were some who proposed 
the activity in a lively - if dangerous - sense of fun.  Bowlah could readily 
imagine Bownet playing the game in this spirit.
	He could less readily imagine doing so himself.
	His answer, however, could not be in doubt.  With the proper 
signs of delight, he thanked his colleague for an excellent idea, so 
welcome in such tedious times, and proposed they meet late in the 
following morning.

	The Tallawit was fatigued.  His prolonged expressions of 
outrage seemed to go unnoticed, and, like all Tallawits, he had little 
capacity for prolonged effort.  Besides, his 'egg' had been shifted several 
times, and it was never clear if he was addressing the same audience from 
one location to another.  He sat in the base of his enclosure, faint with 
resignation, and suddenly ravenous with hunger.
	In his fury, he had not missed his ship's feeder, where he 
habitually took small nibbles all through his waking hours.  Now, in his 
calm, he felt despair at its absence, and a knawing need for food.
	At the same moment, he became aware of the surface where he 
was seated.  Scratching at an irregularity in its surface, he was surprised 
to see it come open.  Leaning towards this new opening between his feet, 
he sensed a familiar quality.  It was nothing he could identify, yet, with 
no thought, he decided it was food.
	Which it was.  What was known of his metabolism had been 
programmed into the egg and now, feeling his need, it had produced a 
suitable nourishment. The Tallawit ate it contentedly, oblivious both to the 
fact that it was not his accustomed grain, and that it was, actually, much 
better.  It was food.  Good enough.
	Busily enjoying this welcome boon, he paid no notice to his 
further travels.  When his last group of escorts left him in a large, softly lit 
room, he did not even look up.

	Bowlah was lost in thought.  What to think?  Bownet was 
unpredictable at best, and it was possible that his invitation was truly 
spontaneous, a restless lord's attempt to distract himself.  The only other 
hypothesis was that Bownet was seeking satisfaction for some deep slight, 
something beyond Bowlah's departure from the Council debate.  But, how 
could he, Bowlah, always so careful not to offend, have provoked another 
so far?
	At the same time, he was aware that his own ferocious ancestors 
had held vicious vendettas for reasons which were now as 
incomprehensible.  The same mercilessness which was now reserved for 
subject systems had then applied between the Empire's highest nobles.  
These battles were fought, not over games of Ah, but across whole 
planets, into each other's homes, within the very chambers of government.  
Only the iron rule of the first Bows had put an end to this, and reduced all 
confrontation among the Empire's rulers to games and debates.  Violence 
then was directed outward, a carefully wielded tool used by the Bow and 
his councilors to expand the Empire beyond its home system and into 
neighboring galaxies.
	Briefly, in his youth, Bowlah had dreamed of those earlier days, 
and regretted his protected existence.  But these regrets had not lasted.  In 
fact, being protected suited him very well.  Protected not only against the 
fierce combat of his forefathers, but also against the fine, sharp wires and 
dark, heavy thrusts of Imperial intrigue.  He was from a family old 
enough and established enough that he had no need to manouver for better 
position, and could often avoid taking sides in the maneuvers of others.  
When obliged to do so, he was careful to choose the stronger side.  Until 
now this had worked well.  But if Bownet's suggestion was not a friendly 
one, it would seem that something was amiss.  What?
	Troubled by these thoughts, he waited for his apartment to 
recognize him, then entered.  Immediately, his mood improved.  He 
remembered now that he had ordered the Tallawit brought to his quarters.  
The transparent egg was sitting in the middle of his reception room, and 
the thin-boned alien was seated in its base, half-asleep after his greedy 
feasting.  Bowlah was disappointed to find the new arrival silent, but felt 
pleasure nonetheless at the alien's presence.	 The Tallawit, after being 
watched for some moments, looked up.  He recognized the one who had 
been the center of so much attention in the large hall.  Now well-fed and 
rested, he felt his courage return and rose to express his feelings in a 
lengthy tirade.
	Bowlah listened, delighted.  Exquisite.  Forgetting all else, he 
lay back and let this new music soothe him.

	Bahkst contemplated the irregular movement of the Tallawit 
vessels.  The emissions of energy he had noticed at odd points on each 
vessel were sufficient - barely - to position the ships differently relative to 
the others.  But he saw no way they could project a vessel across great 
distances.  They obviously were used to position the vessels for use of the 
major propulsive force, whatever that was.
	He examined the overall configuration of the ships as a group.  
Although each moved a small distance, as if seeking an exact position, all 
lined up in an involuted curve, as if following an invisible guideline.  The 
configuration reminded him of something - it took him only a moment to 
think what.
	Coldly logical now, a scientist completely in focus, beyond the 
distractions of excitement or ambition, he reviewed other records in 
search of a similar line-up of ships.  When he found it, it only confirmed 
an image already clear in his mind.
	In the earlier days of the Empire, seeking faster means of travel - 
and therefore of conquest -, the Bow had sent scientists with each invasion 
party, scientists especially trained in means of propulsion, and taught to 
detect the unexpected.  Many obscure means of travel had been examined 
and some were still in use by different families (whose methods of 
transportation were often as individual as their private codes.)  Ultimately, 
captive scientists working in the Empire's own laboratories had conceived 
the method which was currently used by the Imperial ships.
	Among these archives, one method was recorded which showed 
an amusing approach, judged both inappropriate to the Imperial race's 
make-up and undignified in conception.  The race which had developed it 
was one of many which reacted to - and with - wavelengths and energy 
forms unknown not only to the Empire, but to any other discovered race.  
They found 'currents' in space which they were able to use or avoid by 
judicious navigation.  By 'stretching' these currents, they were able to 
create a counter-force which shot their ships like stones from a slingshot 
in the opposite direction.
	Now Bahkst remembered the term - 'space elastics'.  They 
bounced off space itself.  An intriguing technique, but no more 
extraordinary than numerous others which the wide-ranging Empire had 
uncovered.  Even now, it only interested Bahkst as a key to re-tracing the 
present ship's route.
	This he now knew he could do.  He was ready to see the 
Councillor Bowlah.

	Bownet slowly drained the yellow blood of a feathered snake-
like creature.  Very briefly, he considered the small planet he had traded 
against a basket of this rarity.  It was not their cost alone which kept him 
from consuming the basket's contents quickly.  These were the last 
known, and, when he had finished devouring his, the race would be 
extinct.
	His thoughts came back in focus.  He reviewed a mental list of 
those who had voted against him.  Those who had done so for reasons of 
family, he left out.  For them to have done otherwise would have been 
unthinkable.  Several of the others had been, or could be, of use in other 
key projects.  He noted these defections, but ruled out any action - for 
now.
	All those remaining would feel his displeasure.  They were to 
sense his hand at work, but would never be certain of its presence.  The 
consequences for each would be severe, but not irrevocable.  A mere 
reminder that a slight to Councilor Bownet did not go unnoticed.  That 
message sent, all would recover in reputation or fortune - or wherever 
else Bownet chose to strike - what they had lost.
	All except one.
	The one who had always felt safest.  The one who had earned 
nothing of what he had.  The one whose acute sensitivity to music could 
not compensate for a host of other subtle vulgarities in taste.  The one 
who Bownet most bitterly felt did not deserve his Imperial privilege.  The 
pampered, protected Councilor Bowlah.

	Bowlah at this moment was already suffering sufficiently, in his 
own opinion.  He had given orders for an immediate solution to the 
mystery of his visitor's origin.  Anything less would have shocked his 
subordinates, showing an unforgivable lack of interest in his family's 
affairs.  And, in fact, he was interested.  Any planet which produced such 
music was certainly worth searching out.  But at the moment, Bahkst's 
request for an audience had been made, he had been completely under the 
spell fo this very music.  Any intrusion would have been unwelcome.
	As the scientist began to speak, Bowlah's regret at leaving the 
Tallawit gave way to outright misgiving at the ordeal before him.  A 
member of the Empire's highest class, he was assumed to be superior in 
every faculty.  The scientist was now giving him a detailed, technical 
explanation of the use of space elastics, secure in his conviction that such 
a high lord would have a lively curiosity about new discoveries, 
especially those directly affecting his domains.  As thrilled at the 
opportunity of addressing an intellectual equal as he was smug at having 
out-done his colleagues, Bahkst savored the moment, explaining not only 
space elastics, but several other obscure methods of space travel, and why 
none were currently used by the Empire.  A little surprised by Bowlah's 
failure to interrupt him with questions, Bahkst nonetheless went on at 
length, confident that this success had advanced his career radically.
	Bowlah had reached a point of almost physical agony when the 
scientist finally terminated his presentation with a triumphant gesture, 
indicating Talal's position in a minor galaxy.  At this, his interest revived.  
A planet .  A whole planet, twittering with this music.  As the offended 
lord, it was his privilege to destroy it, or to declare it of Imperial Use.  Of 
course, he would do the latter.  His family's prestige could only be 
enhanced by adding such a treasure to the Empire!
	With a show of thoughtfulness, he accepted the respects of those 
present and headed back to his quarters.  He was anxious to return to the 
Tallawit's music.  But, above all, he wanted to distance himself from the 
tiresome scientist.

	The brief Imperial night arrived.  Bownet, nibbling on fistfuls of 
red worms, plotted, serene as a painter sketching still lives.  Bahkst was 
restless, re-playing the audience in his mind, sure he had made an 
impression, yet vaguely sensing something out of joint.  Bowlah stared 
moodily at the egg, where the Tallawit hunter was - silently - ignoring 
him.




III. The Game of Ah

	The next day, agitation was felt in the Imperial halls.  A game of 
Ah was in principle a private affair, a simple entertainment between two 
friends.  An audience was not invited, and any overt appearance of 
interest was avoided.  For the same reasons, no official word was given of 
the game.  Nonetheless, word always spread.
	Not only did the lords involved themselves make it known 
(though Bowlah had neglected to do this), but their retainers were sure to 
inform others that one or more of them was to assist their master in an 
upcoming game.  Though subtle in their way, the retainers were bound by 
nothing like their lord's concerns of rank and strategy.  They would not 
miss the chance to talk of what was bound to be an event.
	Meanwhile, Bowlah reluctantly allowed the Tallawit to be 
returned to the scientists.  His 'song' had been analyzed, and it would soon 
be possible to question him.  Bowlah was relieved that Bahkst's discovery 
would make it unnecessary to do too thorough an interrogation.  Had the 
alien's home planet not already been located, the dignity of the Empire 
would have required that any means be used to find it.  Several of these 
means would certainly have cured his guest of any desire to sing.
	As it was, scientists were already reviewing charts of the minor 
galaxy in which Talal was located, and the ship's functions had been 
identified in light of Bahkst's research.  The alien's answers would serve 
to confirm what they had already deduced, and to shed light on his use of 
human skins (which, like many oddities in the Empire, had briefly been 
prized, but were generally considered without value.)  His race, culture, 
history, degree of evolution would be briefly recorded.  However, if the 
scientists had not seen these before, they had seen something like them 
and, lacking the Councillor's refined aesthetic sense, they were not 
interested in the musical properties of a bi-polar language.
	What did interest them was the Councillor Bowlah's decision as 
concerning the offending planet.  The planet itself having now been found, 
this was all that really mattered at present.

	The game of Ah required a certain preparation, involving as it 
did the coordinated services of several specialized retainers.  Each of 
these had a skill in one of the arts which was assumed to reflect the 
highest state of their Lord's own taste.  It was not unknown for a 
Councilor to possess artistic abilities of his own, but a pronounced skill in 
more than one would have inspired suspicions in his peers.  It was 
understood that each lord was above all a connoisseur, and that actual 
expression was an affair for specialists.  The lord's skill was in the choice 
and training of his retinue, which was considered his 'instrument' and 
viewed, ultimately, as a measure of his aesthetic prowess.  Which was 
tacitly equated with his ability to govern.
	A select part of this retinue was used in the game of Ah.
	In preparation, those chosen had been doing a form of group 
meditation since the previous evening.  Now they began to exercise their 
complimentary talents in the meeting space of each lord's chambers.  
	Ethereal perfumes were mixed with heavy, almost foul odors.  A 
pair of large crystals emitted shifting bands of color, which reflected off 
the facets of one to appear transformed in tone and texture, reflected 
towards the other.  Trembling, high-pitched sound collapsed upon 
themselves to become low, harsh rumbles, then spread outwards to 
modulate onto the edge of visible light.  An Imperial boxer worked with 
his apprentice, beginning with taunting approaches, followed by blows 
which - had they landed - would have progressively crippled their object.  
In real combat, all but one of these would have been halted at a 
microscopic distance from the opponent's skin.  A dancer rehearsed 
variations on what once had been sexual movements, among the 
Councilor's ancient ancestors.
	These apparently random activities were each done with 
attention to those neighboring, seeking just the space in the ensemble 
which would allow their part to be perceived, yet not domineering.  In the 
actual game, they would perform separately and together, and, above all, 
in synchrony with  the opposing Lord's players.  Some might not, in the 
end, be used at all.  But each would be ready.
	Bowlah and Bownet were also preparing.  Bowlah sat with 
several advisors, reviewing classic strategies from past games and setting 
the goals for his play, which only he and they would know.  He was 
expected to add to the literature by his own variations on previous 
strategies, but now lingered over the beauty of moves previously made.  
His advisors looked suitably respectful at the mention of these great 
moments in the game, but tactfully tried to lead him to define his own 
signature gambit.  It was not shameful to win by the old techniques, but it 
brought great honor to successfully use a new one.
	Bownet sat with his one closest advisor, Beh-eh, an ageing 
servant whose ancestors had been ruling members of the only galactic 
government to seriously rival the Empire.  Its rulers had all been executed 
following its defeat by the Empire, but the Council had - exceptionally - 
spared their descendants, implicitly saluting the mettle of their opponents.  
Beh-eh, though long separated from others of his own cream-skinned 
race. nursed a life-long hatred of his family's conquerors.  But Bownet, so 
ruthless with others, had  won him over with a mixture of deference, 
understanding and - only occasionally - brutality.  Beh-eh was now 
devoted to him, dimly feeling that Bownet was himself a menace to many 
of those on the Council he so deeply despised.
	Their conversation was filled with references to the same classic 
strategies which so charmed Bowlah, but here these served as reference 
points, as squares and triangles from which Bownet and his advisor 
devised faces and houses.  Their admiration for these renowned gambits 
was sincere, but glancing.  They were seeking a solution for the present.  
That it might join those which they and their opponents admired was a 
pleasant but frivolous thought which did not long distract them.
	Bownet's goals were already fixed.  Some of these he expressed 
to Beh-eh, who approved, while adding ideas of his own.  Bownet was 
pleased - unknowingly, Beh-eh hit on some others Bownet had not shared 
with even this trusted advisor.  But there were still others.

	The Imperial Gaming Hall was a large space whose floor was 
sunken and raised at different points, scattering mini-amphitheaters and 
raised mounds across its otherwise level surface.  At any moment when 
the Council was not in session, different Councillors and their retinues 
would be spread in greater or less density about this space, playing or 
observing any of the myriad games which had been conceived or adopted 
by the Empire since the first Bows.  Each family had its own game, and 
intimacy between families could largely be measured by the degree to 
which one Councilor knew or was invited to the play the game of another.
	Many of these games were essentially relaxing diversions, 
though none were without some intent or implication.  Skill at games, the 
wordless intercourse they allowed, the frequent beauty of the objects or 
elements they required; all of these were prized in themselves, and part of 
the fabric of the Councilors' social life.  But in a society where they 
allowed the only serious personal confrontation acceptable between 
unrelated opponents, they were not rarely something more.  The history of 
the Empire recounted as many games played in this hall as it did battles in 
distant galaxies.  The latter often had had less consequence than the 
former.
	Bownet and Bowlah had now left their advisors, and were 
meditating in their private chambers.  Their advisors now gave the 
appropriate orders, and their respective retinues left for the Gaming Hall.
	Although a game of Ah required more individual players than 
many other games, and was more likely to excite the general interest, the 
space chosen to play it was neither central nor excessively large.  Other, 
uneventful games were already being played in similar depressions across 
the room.  The largest space, a great mound just off the center, was 
presently the site of a particularly frivolous robot-hunting contest between 
several of the same younger Councilors who had prevailed in the recent 
debate.  Not only did this fail to excite the general interest, but most of the 
older Lords were scandalized by the unrefined simplicity of the new fad.
	The two opposing groups began to set up what objects they 
would need.  Each group first set up the invisible cushions and the 
mercury banners which marked the Councillors' places.  Low tables were 
set up to transmit each Lord's refreshement.  The two groups then 
compared equipment, demonstrated any novelties, and proceeded to 
practice as one, 'tuning' their two groups to interact.
	Soon after, a herald discreetly announced the Lords' departure - 
together - from the Imperial Quarters.  Their retainers each placed 
themselves before their own Lord's seat, respectfully waiting.

	Two tiny gleaming spheres hovered in a small oval room.  
Vibrating, each gave off a high-pitched sound.  The differences between 
the sound each made meant: "What is your name?"
	Perched before them, the Tallawit was confused.  Confused, 
first, because he could not locate the creature who was addressing him.  
Sound reproduction on Talal involved much larger devices.  He did not 
associate the barely perceptible movements of these peculiar objects with 
the voice which was addressing him.
	Confused, too, because he had never heard his language spoken 
with an accent.  He had only conversed - in any language - with other 
Tallawits.  Had the Phonemator more perfectly reproduced the voice of 
one of his kind, he might have been more troubled still.
	As it was, a rapid synthesis had been produced from incomplete 
elements.  Elements which this very interview would serve to complete.
	Finally, the notion of a name confused him.  Names existed for 
inanimate things, or for beings other than Tallawits.  But a Tallawit was 
identified by his pitch.  If another wished to draw his attention, he would 
pitch the appropriate elements in his speech to the personal pitch of the 
one he was addressing.  He would identify himself to another in a similar 
way.  But now an invisible being was asking him to identify himself by a 
label, with a noun, as if he was a creature of meaningless race, or a thing.
	Could it be that these beings thought off him as an it, as 
something to be treated as (he shuddered at the thought) a Tallawit might 
treat a creature that could be identified by another's sound?
	Outraged, he began another tirade, furnishing the Phonemator 
with a host of new vocabulary and concepts.  Smoothly, it stored and 
analyzed them, coldly consuming both his fear and his fury.

	Each group of retainers stamped their left feet in the required 
greeting as Bowlah and Bownet took their places in the seats prepared for 
them.  Refreshment appeared before each Lord.
	Bownet spoke: "Forgive me, Lord Bowlah, for making you 
neglect the many worlds your family serves for the Bow.  Only my pitiful 
boredom inspires such frivolity."
	In the same formal vein, Bowlah replied: "The Empire knows, 
Lord Bownet, the efforts you make for the  Bow.  It honors me that you 
help to fill my own empty hours."
	At this, both turned in the general direction of the Imperial 
Sanctum and rumbled hommage to its occupant.
	The few Councilors who were already making a casual show of 
drifting by joined in paying their respects to the Bow.  Then they 
continued on, as if equally interested in neighboring games.
	Bownet leaned forward with an air of curiosity.  "I am 
chagrined, Excellency.  It seems a dancer serves your family, well worth 
two planets.  Yet I have never seen this one."
	Bowlah gave the required signs of pleasure, and indicated to the 
dancer in his retinue to go forward.  "I send my dancer, Lord Bownet, in 
search of your music."
	And so the first round began.
	The object of Ah was simple.  To each performance or creation 
proferred by one side, the other would respond with a suitable harmony.  
The more closely this matched, the more closely it came to leaving 
nothing to add, the more perfect the victory.  The ultimate aim, in the final 
round, was to attain Zero Harmony, a harmony so perfect that sound 
resolved into silence, color resolved into a blank, movement became still.
	This was the aesthetic object of Ah, and the means by which 
victory was obtained.  But Ah was also of interest for an incidental effect.
	Each gesture, each color, each sound, which began a round, had 
its origin in one of that Lord's domains.  If the harmony was total, that 
territory was now the property of his opponent.  Further, if the harmony 
itself had its origin in another of the same Lord's domains, everything 
between the two territories was now the property of his opponent.
	An Imperial Game Master served as judge in these contests, as in 
many others which took place in the Gaming Hall.  Much more than a 
referee, this official held a coveted position which required exquisite 
aesthetic judgement as well as encyclopedic knowledge of games played 
throughout the Empire.  Scrupulous fairness and incorruptibility were also 
required.  The prospect of some particularly unpleasant punishments 
helped to discourage any temptations towards weakness.
	As Bowlah's dancer began the oddly mechanical movements of a 
sophisticated dance from one of his minor moons, one musician in 
Bownet's retinue rose, making movements with his two 'hands' (tentacle 
clusters.)  These had a beauty of their own, but which yet was not their 
purpose.  Progressively, sound was heard, made only by the air caught 
between his rapid gestures.  Pitch and percussion became apparent, yet 
never quite flowered into sound.
	The passing Councilors stood in admiration.  The overall effect 
was primitive, yet refined - like a jazz drummer playing African rhythms 
for a modern dance.  Bowlah and Bownet shared the general pleasure, 
even as each considered his next move.
	Bowlah, too was a little anxious.  The musician had chosen a 
little-known style, first heard by Bowlah's ancestors when they had 
subjugated a small but prized planet.  The moon where the dancer had 
learned his movements was half a system away from this planet.  If the 
Game Master found the match perfect, he would lose a favorite, if minor, 
fief.
	But the Game Master was demanding.  The beauty of the 
musician's opening movements, though restrained, had distracted ever so 
slightly from the dance itself.  An excellent, but flawed, play.
	Bownet watched, impassive, but satisfied.  The start was as 
planned.

	Complimenting his opponent's servant, Bowlah asked that the 
musician start the next round.  This was not entirely a strategic impulse - 
he had honestly enjoyed the first, masterful performance.  Bownet showed 
polite pleasure at the flattering request, and gestured imperceptibly for 
another song.  This time, the musician picked up a clear globe with an 
opening on each side.  Bowlah recognized a typical instrument from a 
large planet recently conquered by Bownet's troups.  Reaching into each 
side, he stood with the round palm of each hand facing the other.
	A throbbing, sucking noise suddenly started, rapidly uncoiling 
into a piercing crescendo, as the two hands in the globe moved through 
unseen lines of force.  Suddenly, the sound became light, a single ethereal 
thread hanging above the ghost of its own ascent.  Those watching were 
transfixed, the more so when two of Bowlah's musicians rose to sing 
multiple harmonies to it, moving in an intricate polyphony suggesting 
many more voices.  These were instantly recognized as the motifs of a 
long-dead race whose artifacts had been found on an outer planet of the 
same system where the globe had been created.  The voice of the singers 
and the pulsing pitches of the globe switched in perfect coordination, one 
side leaping high as the other dropped to a low, pumping bass, all 
speeding together to suddenly stop and stretch in a single, unified sound.  
	Unrelenting, these shifting sounds progressed until suddenly, as 
all hurried to a last crescendo, they stopped - leaving a silence where their 
forward movement rushed on, as expectations in their audience.
	As the silence itself ended, the Game Master gravely crossed his 
wrists.  The harmony was perfect.  Bowlah had won the first spoils - 
Bownet's newly conquered planet, and its surrounding system.
	Bowlah was flushed with pleasure.  So soon!  He was beginning 
to enjoy this game.
	In the background, reluctantly, Councilors who had been there 
from the start continued on.  They could decently come by later, but any 
appearance of exclusive interest would be improper.  Nothing could 
suggest that this was anything more than a friendly diversion between 
colleagues.
	Bowlah now selected a different artist to start the next round.  
Stepping forward, this new combatant held out a ball of metallic matter 
which shimmered between a silver and a copper sheen.  Bownet 
recognized a rare clay-like substance found only on a moon in one of the 
House of Bowlah's older possessions.  Jewelry made of this matter had 
briefly been popular in the Empire.
	With exact, simple gestures, Bowlah's servant began to divide 
the ball around its axis, without separating the resultant sections.  A 
precise, complex geometry became apparent - as if a pineapple's surface 
had been re-designed with a variety of interlockeing forms.  Holding the 
result up to be admired, he began to pull at one section, very slowly.  Bit 
by bit, this became a long, fine thread with, at one end, the triangular 
section from which he had started.  This he now placed on the ground.  
The thread, though malleable, was surprisingly rigid, and held up the rest 
of the ball like a lamp on a stand.  From this base, he then began to pull 
out further threads, one by one, slowly, at first, then with a rapid, assured 
efficiency.
	The result of these movements was a complex, star-like 
formation with a variety of forms, gleaming and shifting from copper to 
silver, held out on fine, curving threads.  He began to stretch certain of 
these forms laterally, creating new threads which soon formed a lattice 
work between the stems of the first.
	At this point, one of Bownet's artists stood up and, as the first 
continued to work, held out a small leaden cone.  From the tip of this 
object, a thin golden beam shot to the heart of the new sculpture, 
reappearing along the axis of one outward thread.  With an imperceptible 
gesture, the artist then modified the angle of the beam, and several new 
ones appeared, joining the center to several points on the outside.  With 
another movement, beams coming from the center were reflected 
sideways, creating a golden web between the silver-copper shimmerings.
	Both artists continued to work, until an object half-light, half-
metallic clay sat like a living thing between the opposing sides.
	Bowlah, fascinated by this tour-de-force, hardly noticed the 
Game Master's judgement, awarding everything between the moon which 
had furnished the clay and that where the light-cone had originally been 
used as a mining tool to Bowlah.
	Bowlah's 'cook' was one of the most reknowned in the Empire.  
'Food engineer' might be a better term, since much of what Bownet ate 
was not only raw, but often still alive.  Normally, this individual's 
function involved selection of appropriate meals for each circumstance, 
and presentation of complementary elements intended to be eaten 
separately.  However, cooking, in the form of a kind of chemistry, did 
exist in the Empire, and the ability to transform basic elements to produce 
unexpected flavors was admired.
	Bownet owned a series of gaseous clouds which furnished raw 
elements for certain minor industries, as well as exotic growths such as 
the Helium-Lily.  The observing Councilors now leaned closer as they 
saw three 'held' samples of different gases from these clouds appear 
between the opposite sides.  Each of these - pale lavender, bright orange 
and blue-black - held its shape without expanding or diffusing, though no 
physical container was used.
	The cook, using two very long, fire-colored tweezers, now took 
two of these and brought them together over a small crystal cauldron.  As 
they met, a pulsing, iron-colored light appeared between them, then as 
quickly faded, as the two gases fused into a light beige liquid which half-
filled the receptacle.  Without breaking the third, he brought it to the 
cauldron, then tipped it into the liquid.  The entire mass became solid, and 
sank to the bottom, turning a vivid green.  Then bubbles started to break 
the beige surface of the liquid, as the green mass at the bottom began to 
disintegrate into small, crescent-shaped pieces.
	The cook carefully ladled the result out into four stone-like 
bowls, and gestured for a helper to carry the first bowl to Lord Bownet.  
The Councilor having tasted it before all present, he let it be served first to 
Lord Bowlah - who slowly savored the rare and fabulously expensive 
Three-Gas Soup before showing approval with a twirl of his 
finger/tentacles -, and then to the Game Master, who sampled it 
impassively and returned the bowl.  A signal that Bowlah's servant could 
continue the round.
	Gravely, Bowlah's cook took the fourth bowl, and tasted its 
contents.  He stopped, contemplating the nuances of its flavor.  Then he 
drank again, more deeply.  Again.  And again.  Until the bowl was 
emptied.
	Looking at his opponent, he crossed his arms.  The soup was 
perfect.  The only appropriate complement was his own appreciation, 
which he had now given.
	Pleased, the Game Master signalled his approval, while granting 
no victory.  Bowlah, relieved, twirled his tentacles slowly.  His retainer's 
reaction had been in perfect harmony with his own.
	Bownet, though prepared for this result, allowed himself a 
moment of pure satisfaction.  He prided himself on his cook, and the 
success of his servant's soup was a pleasure apart from any victory.


	The game continued.  Arts unknown on Earth were performed, 
exhibited, created, even, in one case, implied, with no overt result.  Each 
had its roots in one of the Empire's uncountable possessions, and always 
used a product, a tool, or a technique from one of those ruled by the Lord 
initiating the round.  Each was matched by the opposing Lord, either with 
a complementary effect in the same medium, or with a different medium 
or art, which illuminated another aspect of the first.
	As the game continued, increasing numbers of players expanded 
its complexity.  A form of comedy which had become one of the Empire's 
more refined arts was performed by Bownet's team with the help of the 
most vulgar of puppets from a despised moon of a mediocre planet, while 
an almost painful blend of perfumes was released from small pods.  
Bowlah's retainers responded with a series of laughs which were a minor 
art on one of Bownet's possessions, while matching each perfume with an 
emission of color.  A form of emotional keyboard - outlawed except in 
such games - was used by Bowlah's artist to directly 'play' the opposing 
Lords and the Game Master, while 'waters' (that is, different liquid 
combinations of gases) were served to them, matching their modulated 
moods, and a History-Sculptor told shifting versions of famous events, 
tuned to their feeling of the moment.  Bownet's team responded with a 
selection of astronomies, tuned down to molecular views, while a Necro-
Painter portrayed different versions of Death.
	Bowlah was surprised to find that, though he had lost some of 
his less glamorous possessions, he had won more rounds than Bownet, 
and had substantially increased his own holdings.  He was feeling an 
increasing sense of well-being, and, had circumstances allowed, would 
have exulted aloud over his victories.
	But, despite the unimagined and unrepeatable harmonies which 
had so far been experienced, and which had brought frequent, if not 
unbroken, victories on one side or another, no complement had made all 
further effort unnecessary.  No sensation, sound, sight, or idea had 
negated all other.  Punctual perfection had been achieved, but nothing that 
allowed no further interaction by either Lord.
	No one had yet accomplished Zero Harmony.

	One of Bowlah's most precious possessions was a twin pair of 
solar systems whose planets had figured in a number of the Empire's 
noblest stories.  Before one of his ancestor's had defeated the previous 
owner (in a sport resembling arm wrestling), several of the most 
illustrious families in the Empire - all presently on the Council - had 
successively owned these systems, which often figured in their individual 
folklore.  It was his family's rule of a few systems like these which 
merited it its place on the Council.
	Normally, Bowlah would have hesitated to risk such a jewel in 
any game.  But its art froms were so particular that he could not imagine 
Bowlah's team matching them.  And his victories had been heady.  He 
could no longer seriously visualize defeat.
	"Dimension-sculpting" was the most unusual art form these 
systems had produced.  Its reults were illusory, but intriguing.  Images 
were produced in two dimensions, then expanded into three, four or more.  
The images themselves could be banal, or striking.  Whatever beauty was 
created derived from the interplay of the dimensions themselves.
	The same artist who had sculpted the metal/clay element now 
stepped forward, and began to gesture in space.  Soon, viewers on all 
sides saw the same, flat picture of a crooked hill, with harsh patches of 
vegetation across its dusty surface.  This was the site of one of the 
defeated cities which had once ruled these system's of Bowlah's.  Then, as 
they watched, spectators became aware of palaces, and milling, alien 
nobility.  This image did not replace but co-existed with the first.  It was 
the same place, seen before its destruction and burial under arid dust.  
Another image became apparent moments later - lush, multi-colored 
leaves, covering the awkward contours of the hill.  This was the growth 
which would give new life to the deserted mound which had covered the 
refined city.
	These images did not seem separate, but were all aspects of one, 
as if depth had been added in Time.  These were soon joined by others, 
showing the city triumphant, the city as a neglected minor outpost, the 
ruined hill as a hive, covering rampant, hidden activity.  These and other 
alternate images added the dimension of Possibility, of alternate fates and 
alternate origins.  Again, the spectators did not perceive these as super-
imposed.  They were dimensions, new angles on the same object.
	As these images multiplied, some in Bowlah's team began to 
play music from other of his possessions, suiting the styles and melodies 
to the different images.  These too interlocked as a whole, yet were so 
varied that the plaintive, low hum that matched the first desolate scene 
was not even considered musical to the race who had developped the 
joyous, multi-toned music which accompanied the view of the city in its 
heyday.  These last were ancient subjects of Bowlah's ancestors, living at 
the edge of his domains.
	Another artist worked simultaneously with these, engaged in an 
activity know throughout the Empire, but only perfected to an art form on 
the planet whose acquisition had first merited Bowlah's family their place 
on the Council.  The whole climate within the area where the two Lords 
were competing was subtly transformed as the images evolved.  The air 
became dry and heated with the first image.  With the appearance of the 
city's ancient glory, a cluttered, fragrant quality was added, without 
overwhelming the underlying stark aridity.  The appearance of rich 
vegetation was matched by a modulation in this quality which made it 
ambivalent - it remained the atmosphere of a great populated city, yet felt 
as appropriate to the colorful, wordless exuberance of plant life.
	As the scenes gained volume, no longer flat images but solid 
presences, Bowlah basked in the totality of the effect.  What could 
Bownet hope to add?
	Bownet absorbed the precisely tuned, multiple levels of 
sensation, not without admiration.  He had not thought Bowlah capable of 
such refinements.  He knew it would be a long time before another 
spectacle of this sort would present itself.  For an instant, he enjoyed it 
freely, with no thought of competition.  Then, with a few barely 
perceptible flickers of his finger/tentacles, he ordered some key changes 
in his team's strategy, and waited attentively for the next move.
	Without getting up, his perfumist rapidly activated a tiny cluster 
of colored clouds.  Yellow, red, purple, orange and green, these now 
hovered in loose formation before him.  As he touched different 
combinations of them, the climactic variations created by Bowlah's artist 
were matched by exquisite perfumes, each of which seemed part of the 
very quality of air.  The spectators did not smell a new scent - they felt a 
new depth in their initial sensation.
	At the same time, another artist of Bownet's entourage rose, and 
began projecting images in between those created in the Dimension 
Sculpture.  Each was a complement to an existing aspect of the sculpture.  
The desolate mound was illuminated by shifting lights which gave it a 
vibrant, full surface.  The teeming city of palaces and nobility was given a 
God, a serene and humbling presence.  The unbridled vegetation found 
animal life and asymmetrical architecture interspersed among its plants, 
bringing discipline and culture to the primitive forest.
	At this point, the passing Councilors had virtually ceased any 
pretext of casual interest, or of milling carelessly about.  A game of Ah 
rarely reached this intensity or complexity.  The domains involved were 
rarely so important - usually there was a tacit agreement not to put either 
Lord's key possessions at risk.  Aesthetically, nothing like this present 
round had been seen in recent history, in or out of a game.  Bowlah's 
construction had awed all present.  None had expected Bownet to find a 
response.
	Now, all were reminded how dangerous it was to underestimate 
the Councilor Bownet.
	Bowlah watched, astounded.  For another artist to follow the 
multi-dimensional variations of his own was in itself a tour-de-force.  But 
his astonishment was partly shock - Bownet's artist had used a form of 
sensual telepathy to create the new images.  Bowlah looked down at the 
servant's feet.where a small fountain silently spilled a green-ish liquid into 
a basin.  This was was a device from one of his own domains, one of the 
most important.
	Suddenly, he realized that he no longer heard his own musicians.  
Then, he listened more intently, and realized they were still performing, 
but every sound they made - no matter how disparate, no matter how alien 
- was encountering its opposite, always from the same source:: one multi-
timbral voice which Bownet's singer was producing with the help of a 
Unibrator - an instrument found only in the one great property of Bowlah's 
which remained.
	Without perceiving it, he entered a form of ecstacy, forgetting all 
the individual elements which now met in sight, in scent, in sound, feeling 
only the Moment.  A moment of everything and nothing.  Where each 
thing was its opposite.  Where white was the folds of the rainbow.  Where 
silence was made up of a scale.  Where the Present was its own Future 
and Past, and all that it might have been.  Where each Moment was Not, 
because Everything Was.
	Where Harmony had no meaning, because no division existed.  
Where there was no exception and no disturbance.  Only a Complete 
Encounter...
	Zero Harmony.
	He remained in this state for an instant.  For Eternity.  Nothing 
else mattered; nothing else was.
	Then he returned, and woke to the loss of his worlds.

	Centuries later, when the House of Bowlah had completed its 
decline, a Warden, the last to carry the family name, was still to curse this 
game, and the worthless ancestor who had lost it.  The glorious legends 
and deeds which Bowlah had heard and treasured would still be told by 
his descendants, but the story which would obsess them all, the tale to 
which they would always return, would be the Shameful Game of Ah.
	Bowlah would have leisure to imagine his descendants' disgust, 
to visualize their decline in time.  But the Empire did not allow too rapid 
a descent to its highest rulers, and he himself would only suffer by 
humiliation.  Bownet's achievement had, incidentally, restored to him his 
previous losses - Zero Harmony was as total a victory territorially as it 
was aesthetically.  But, more to the point, he had conquered all four of 
Bowlah's major possessions, and everything of Bowlah's between.  These 
properties were the key to Bowlah's seat on the Council.  Without them, 
he remained a Lord of some importance, with properties that assured 
wealth to him and his immediate descendants.  But he had lost the seat on 
the Council that his ancestors had fought so hard to earn, and that his 
family had held so long.
	Bownet, also momentarily entranced by his retainers' 
accomplishment, watched with cold satisfaction as the Game Master and 
the retainers on both sides turned to him, tapping thier left feet in homage.
	His mind was already on his next attack.





IV. Conclusions

	The Tallawit sat in his egg, bored.  He missed his new friend.
	The Phonemator had so well adapted its output to its subject that 
the hunter had finally had the impression of talking to a distant cousin, a 
cousin raised in some barbaric place where ehau had not yet been 
discovered, where the fundamentals of space elastics were dimly 
understood, where spaceships had smooth, even shells, where names were 
used for intelligent beings.  A place where the value of human skins was 
not appreciated (the Phonemator had questioned him at length about 
these.)
	His long solo voyage had left the huinter hungry for company 
and, his initial caution overcome, he had settled comfortably into his chat 
with the Phonemator, happily answering the most simplitic questions 
about his home planet.  The Empire's interrogators now knew as much as 
any one Tallawit could ever tell them about Talal and its inhabitants, and 
considerably more than they really cared to.  Midway through the 
sessions, they had left the Phonemator to function automatically, 
questioning its subject and recording the answers on its own.
	The machine itself had signalled for an end when its analysis of 
the continuing conversations showed that the information was now 
redundant.  As it happened, this was just before Lord Bownet came to 
inform himself of the current crisis in his new domain.


	Bahkst was once again explaining space elastics and the 
discovery of Talal to an Imperial Councilor.  For an obscure scientist to 
have such an opportunity twice in so short a spell of time was unheard of.  
However, chastened by Bowlah's lack of response, he began by 
simplifying and shortening his recital of these topics.  It was Bownet who 
interrupted him early in his presentation, and requested more information.
	"Sci Bahkst, are these 'space elastics' so different from other 
primitive propulsion methods?"
	Whereupon Bahkst reiterated the same mini-history of alternative 
means of space travel which had so martyrized Bowlah.
	Bownet listened carefully, studying the speaker as intently as the 
speech.  Ambitious, obviously, and a little eccentric.  But, beyond the 
high intelligence to be expected of any scientist, Bownet detected 
originality, the ability to take an unexpected tact.  The scientist could be 
useful.  He noted the fact and heard Bahkst out, asking other questions as 
the discourse continued.
	At the end, he too had to restrain his impatience.  But he knew 
almost everything he needed to make a decision - the Tallawit's purpose 
on Earth, Talal's location, the nature and nuances of Tallawit culture.  He 
had examined the Tallawit through the walls of the egg, intrigued by the 
creature's fine bones, transparent skin and pale green bodily fluids.
	Only one more question remained.  He gave orders for the egg 
to delivered to his quarters and prepared to leave.
	The Tallawit, taking him for the other blue creature with 
mercury bracelets, began a new tirade as the Councilor moved away.  
Curious, Bownet listened.  The sound was not without beauty, he 
recognized.  Bowlah's discernment in musical matters was, after all, 
universally recognized.  However, Bownet thought, to a less satiated ear, 
some of Bowlah's preferences were a little... avant-garde.

	The privileges of a Councilor's rank would not all be stripped 
from Bowlah with his lost domains, but would fall away slowly, like 
drying leaves.  His disgrace, though obvious to his colleagues, must not 
be too apparent to the innumerable aides, servants, experts and others who 
waited daily upon the Empire's rulers.  To them, and other still lesser 
entities of their acquaintance, the Councilors appeared and must continue 
to appear invincible.
	The most sacred prerogative of the Councilors was also the least 
used, but one which, Bowlah knew, would be one of the first to be 
suppressed.  The Councilors ruled over an Empire - which, in reality, they 
ruled directly.  But they did this only by virtue of their role as aides to the 
Emperor - to the Bow.  They alone had access to the Bow, whose 
subjects had not seen him or his ancestors since the distant origins of the 
Empire.
	Bowlah now arrived for his last visit to the Bow.

	A long. slanting shaft, barely wider than Bowlah's blue 
shoulders. led down to the Bow's chamber.  At the shaft's entrance, two 
lightly armed guards had acknowledged his rank with a ritual stamp of 
their left feet, then allowed him to proceed.  The shaft itself would verify 
his identity and his rights.
	After a lengthy descent, the passage ended at a parabolic 
opening.  Standing before it, Bowlah performed a perfunctory homage 
with his left foot, and gazed upon the Bow.
	In the middle of a small, hemispherical room, red-gold tubes 
came from various shimmering gaseous cylinders, on and about the rim of 
an elliptical metal palette, and attached themselves to a blue body, only 
slightly larger than that of a human baby.  The face of this being was like 
a distorted, shrunken version of Bowlah's own.  The eyes were closed, but 
both these and the shrivelled mouth could be made to open by controls at 
either side of the entrance.
	This was the Bow.  The Eternal.  The Immortal.  The last 
descendant of the great founder of an empire.  Long before his generation, 
the Imperial line had degenerated into inbred idiots, incapable of decision, 
and finally of thought.  Or of breeding.  For several generations, the 
Council had artificially bred a new Bow, as the previous one aged.  
Finally, it seemed pointless to let him age.  Immortality was possible, 
though not -generally - desirable, given its cost to the body.  But it did not 
matter in what state the Bow endured.  All that mattered was that there be 
a Bow.  And so the last Bow, lived on, fed by the red-gold cables, 
shrivelling in his small bed.
	Now Bow looked at his Lord, who wouold outlive him, and 
probably his descendants.  And never know that he had existed, or that he 
and others like him had ruled in the Bow's name.
	His line, too, had grown weaker, losing its strength until it came 
to him.  His eyes had been open, but he had not even noticed.  How many 
other descendants of the first Bow's companions would see their lives 
shrivel, but linger on unawares, until Bownet or others of his breed woke 
them to their condition?
	Bowlah had come with a purpose, planning to rip out the cables 
which fed the Bow.  This would have meant, inevitably, his own 
destruction. a clean end both to his ruined life and to the charade of the 
Bow's continued existence.
	But now, courage failed him, and he turned to go, to live out his 
failure, to father the descendants who would curse his name.

	Bownet, now, had made his decision.  Talal would, for a while 
at least, continue to exist.  Tallawit hunters would continue to visit the 
Earth, with no overt interference from the Empire.  Many would even be 
allowed to return, their ships laden with fresh cargos of human skins.
	Each Lord had his priorities, and the Tallawits' raids on a minor 
domain mattered little to Bownet.  They even simplified things, since his 
own hunters would have no need to travel to a distant and trivial planet.  
The Tallawits would come of their own accord to the Empire.  Which 
was fine with Bownet.  For he had made a thrilling discovery:
	Tallawits tasted delicious.