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"And the way to reach the end of desire is by following the Eightfold Path," I concluded. "Oh, how I
wish I could have done so!"
We returned to the car, passing by the people who had gathered. They were common folk, and I knew
they knew me and were with me. But none spoke. They simply stood and gazed at Smilo with awe. We
resumed our drive. "There," Spirit said. "There in the park."
"The leader of the province lives in a park?" I asked.
"It is his retreat at the height," the driver explained.
"Then drive us there," she said. I am rendering this dialogue approximately; the fact is the driver spoke
only Chinese, and Forta was using her linguistic ability and equipment to communicate, and translating
in snatches for me. Spirit could not have done that; in this sense I was better off with Forta.
"I cannot," the driver protested.
"Why not?"
"There is no road, only a footpath up the mountain."
Indeed it was so. The driver dropped us off at the edge of the park and took his pay and buzzed away.
The park was impressive. At the low fringe it was planted with native trees, but the interior was a
massive mountain slope, covered with snow. Apparently this was a bubble large enough to support as
many as a million people, but only a hundred thousand actually occupied it. The remainder of its
capacity was devoted to this monumental internal park, that cut across many levels and dominated the
interior.
No one came to help us; indeed, the entire city seemed hostile, except for the few common folk we had
encountered at the statue. When I looked back, I saw a crowd gathering, but now the local police were
herding them away. The common man might be with me, but the authorities were not, and the
authorities had the power. We were not in physical danger; the extermination of the nomenklatura of
North Saturn had spread a message throughout the System that the Tyrant was not to be molested. But
these people did not want us here; that was clear enough.
The route was plain: a winding footpath to the summit, where the Panchen's palatial retreat perched.
This was the Potala, taken from the Dalai. He was surely aware of our arrival and approach, but gave no
signal; he preferred to pretend that he knew nothing of the visit of the messenger. He played a dangerous
game; if this were in deference to the antipathy of Tocsin, it would in due course become apparent
where the power ultimately lay.
But now was now, and we had a deadline, and only the Panchen could reverse the veto Laya had cast. If
he did it now, the agreement would take effect, and the Prince and Princess would be freed and
promoted, and more than a billion people would reap the joy thereof today, and tomorrow the Dream
would be realized as mankind commenced its colonization of the stars. If the Panchen did not reverse the
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veto, it would cost the lives of King and Wan, and sow dissension that could torpedo South Saturn's
participation in the Triton Project, and throw the very Dream into doubt. Oh, Tocsin's mischief was
manifest!
However, I knew I retained enough of my ability to read and influence a man to enable me to persuade
the Panchen of the error of his way. Once we reached his house, I would of course speak directly to the
point. He had to recognize that the interest of his people would not be served by the foiling of the
Dream. For one thing, the colonization of the galaxy represented Laya's best opportunity to escape the
dominance of the Middle Kingdom. That was a thing that Laya most wanted to do, for it had always
regarded itself as an independent nation. I knew I could make this clear to him, once I talked to him
personally; it was only his isolation that had set him up for the deceit spread by Tocsin. Tocsin could be
very convincing, when a person lacked access to the facts.
So we wended our way along the path toward the mountain. "This must be the Eightfold Path," I said,
but the humor seemed weak.
Soon another hurdle manifested: It was cold here, and we were not dressed for it. We would never make
it to the top of the mountain afoot without winter clothing. Surely the local authorities had known this,
so had not interfered with our progress.
Spirit tackled the problem in her typical fashion. "We'll get gear," she said, and led the way off the path
toward a park supply building.
I told Smilo to wait outside the building, and he settled down for a catnap by the door. Inside the
building we offered to buy the clothing we required, but the surly proprietor claimed there was none in
our sizes. Snowsuits in a full range of sizes hung on racks along the wall, plainly intended for rental to
the tourists, but he stuck by his statement. It was evident that we would get no help here.
Again, Spirit reacted typically; Forta really understood my sister! Her laser appeared in her hand,
bearing on the proprietor's nose. "Hope, put the money on the counter," she said. "Then select suits for
us."
I did as directed. The proprietor made as if to reach for a holophone, but a laser beam scorched the table
just beside his hand, and he snatched it back. Spirit never bluffed, and never missed her target. The
warning sufficed.
I made the selections, and got dressed; then I held the laser while Spirit dressed. Fully outfitted, we left
the building, after lasering through the holophone's connecting line. By the time the proprietor was able
to alert the hostile authorities, we would be at the Panchen's retreat. Isolation is a sword that cuts both
ways.
Outside, I roused Smilo. But I was beginning to regret bringing him along, not because of any bad
manners on his part, but because he was a warm-weather creature, and old, and this was cold. I decided
that he should be safe enough in the park for a couple of hours. "Smilo, stay," I said, gesturing to the
warmer region behind us. "We'll come back this way."
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