Beyond The Gate of Worlds by Robert Silverberg

Author:Robert Silverberg [Silverberg, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0812554442
Publisher: TOR Books
Published: 1990-12-31T21:00:00+00:00

Five: The Meaning of the Symbol

A few moments later Djinghiz realized what he should have known already, and would, had not half his mind still been preoccupied with the mystery of the war that “had already begun”: Ismail actually had no need to speculate in what order his guests would arrive, for he had given orders and—as ever—they were being obeyed.

In the interim, waiting for the door to open, he found himself wondering for the latest of uncountable times what sort of person Ismail was. If he had been forced to sum up his impression in a single sentence, he would have said, “I think of him as an actor.”

For, long as they had known each other, he could never be sure whether he was seeing the real Ismail, or some mask that he was adopting because it suited his current purpose.

Of course, he too had been obliged to play roles often enough, to disguise if not himself, then his origins and his intentions ... especially the latter. But doing so was not at all to his taste. That was why he had been disappointed when Ismail denied him the chance to boast of his achievement; it would have been a compensation. Yet he could not be angry about that. He trusted the older man. Had to. Had always had to—or at least since his teens. And so far he had never been let down.

Ismail compared himself to a spider at the center of its web. That makes the guests tonight his prey, to be sucked dry of information like flies of their vital juices. But where does that leave me? What am I to him?

Am I perhaps the son he could never have?

The insight sparked at the edge of his mind in the same instant as the door opened and a deferential rosebud ushered in the first three of their dinner companions: Feisal, Paluka, and—coming third with ostentatious humility—Ratanayaka, whom Ismail placed at Djinghiz’s left, with Paluka facing him. Feisal he seated at his own left. Djinghiz felt a stir of puzzlement. Given what he knew of Slava’s nature, it was entirely likely that he would overindulge in the wine and become quarrelsome, yet by the way the table was laid it looked as though he would now be seated at Ismail’s right (why in the world?), with Hideki between the two other men. Was this for protection, in case Slava vented his ill temper on him? He was capable of it, Djinghiz felt sure. Therefore it made better sense to put him next to Paluka, who could hold him down with one finger.

Surely Ismail wasn’t intending to seat him between Ratanayaka, an avowed pacifist, and himself, who expressed such contempt for violence ... ?

No. He wasn’t. For here came Hideki, transformed, accompanied by the girl rosebud who had taken him in charge and wearing, save the turban, identical garb. Djinghiz repressed an oath. In this attire it was impossible to mistake the sex of the young Japanese despite his still long hair.

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