HARM by Brian W. Aldiss Read Free Book Online

“I was having a nightmare.”
    “Have a quiet nightmare next time.” Tunderkin settled himself down for more sleep. Fremant remained awake, feeling chilled to his very core.
    He sat up, clutching his knees. His past was lost to him, his future problematic.
    To assassinate the leader, Astaroth, would not be overwhelmingly difficult. However, when he plunged in the dagger, the other three guards would, without a doubt, set on him. The question he asked himself was: Could he persuade the other guards that killing the All-Powerful was a good thing? They might have no liking for Astaroth, but he provided their livelihood. Two of them, not young Tunderkin, but Imascalte and Cavertal, were married with children.
    He spoke to them in cautious terms. Tunderkin once ventured the remark that Astaroth had mistreated his woman, Aster. The other guards had merely frowned.
    The days went by and he did nothing. When Aster was near, she simply averted her gaze from him. As Fremant got to understand the workings of the Center better, he saw that there were plenty of potential contenders for the leadership, were Astaroth to die: two men in particular, Desnaith and Safelkty, competitors and rivals; Desnaith all outward charm, Safelkty heavy and moody, a promoter of science.
    The question arose in Fremant’s mind: Would the community be any happier under one of these men, supposing Astaroth were dead? And supposing they, too, were killed—there would be others, just as avid for power. Including Habander. And so the Clandestines’ assassination plan began to appear to him too simplistic.
    There was always an inherent threat in all power being in the hands of one man—any man.
    While Fremant did nothing but his duties, while he mulled over these problems, a note was handed to him. It read only, “Strike within ten days, or we strike you. C.”
    The Clandestines were growing impatient. He tried to tell himself that they were not contenders. He was safe while he remained in the Center.
             
    A STIR OF EXCITEMENT ran through the Center one day. First, Astaroth appeared in a night-black cloak, a band of followers behind him, similarly dressed. A military-type band practiced in the courtyard. Fish and a dozen local dacoims were brought in to be baked over glowing embers. A reception was in preparation. Guards were given extra duties.
    Late in the afternoon, a posse of men riding the local variety of horse appeared from the direction of the hills, to be greeted by fanfares. A crowd had gathered, with many women, hooded and veiled, among them. They ran to greet the riders, their pale hands upraised.
    The riders brought with them a wheeled cage. They stopped outside the Center, to be greeted formally by Astaroth, flanked by his guards, including Fremant.
    Astaroth spoke. The crowd fell silent. He praised the returning expedition. The leader of the expedition, a tall, dignified man by the name of Essanits, with white stubble patching his jawline, then bowed to Astaroth. With a nod of permission from the All-Powerful, he addressed the crowd.
    “We are glad to return to Stygia City. We come bringing victory with us. Ours has been a bloody task. I speak for most of my men when I say we carried out our duties with heavy hearts—the task of killing off our enemies, the Dogovers, or Doglovers as we used to know them. We slaughtered them when and where we tracked them down. I have to tell you that not one Dogover now remains alive on the face of Stygia.”
    At this announcement, cheers rang out from the crowd.
    Essanits, with a hint of irony in his voice, continued: “So you can now sleep easy in your beds. For us, in some cases we now have to endure a time of regretting, of penitence, because mass slaughter, even of aliens, is never pleasant. It goes against the God-given human conscience, the commandment to preserve life. While we killed off all the dogs we could find, we have brought back some prisoners—five of the Dogover tribe for