Free Gordon R. Dickson by Wolfling

there—and the women. Are they all like you?” the Emperor said, returning the focus of his eyes to Jim.
    “Each one of us is different, Oran,” said Jim.
    The Emperor laughed.
    “Of course!” he said. “And no doubt, being healthy wild men, you prize the difference, instead of trying to fit yourselves all into one common mold. Like we superior beings, we Highborn of the Throne World!” His humor calmed slightly. “How did we happen to find your world, after having lost it so many centuries—or thousands of years—ago?”
    “The Empire didn’t find us,” said Jim. “We found an outlying world of the Empire.”
    There was a second’s silence in the room, broken by a sudden half-snort, half-bray of laughter from the youngster Lorava.
    “He’s lying!” Lorava sputtered. “They found us? If they could find us, how did they ever get lost in the first place?”
    “Quiet!” snapped Vhotan at Lorava. He turned back to Jim. His face and the face of the Emperor were serious. “Are you telling us that your people, after forgetting about the Empire, and the falling back into complete savagery, turned around and developed civilization all over again—including a means of space travel?”
    “Yes,” said Jim economically.
    Vhotan stared hard into Jim’s eyes for a long second, and then turned to the Emperor.
    “It might be worth checking, Nephew,” he said.
    “Worth checking. Yes …” murmured the Emperor. But his thoughts seemed to have wandered. He was no longer gazing at Jim, but off across the room at nothing in particular; and a look of gentle melancholy had taken possession of his face. Vhotan glanced at him and then got to his feet. The older Highborn stepped over to Jim, tapped him on the shoulder with a long forefinger, and beckoned for him to rise.
    Jim got to his feet. Behind the still-seated, still abstractedly gazing Emperor, Lorava also rose to his feet. Vhotan led them both quietly to a far end of the room, then turned to Lorava.
    “I’ll call you back later, Lorava,” he said brusquely.
    Lorava nodded and disappeared. Vhotan turned back to Jim.
    “We’ve had an application from Slothiel to sponsor you for adoption,” Vhotan said quickly. “Also, you were brought here by the Princess Afuan; and I understand you had some contact with Galyan. Are all of those things correct?”
    “They are,” said Jim.
    “I see… .” Vhotan stood for a second, his eyes hooded thoughtfully. Then his gaze sharpened once more upon Jim. “Did any of those three suggest that you come here just now?”
    “No,” answered Jim. He smiled slightly at the tall, wide-shouldered old man towering massively over him. “Coming here was my own idea—in response to the Emperor’s invitation. I only mentioned it to two other people. Slothiel and Ro.”
    “Ro?” Vhotan frowned. “Oh, that little girl, the throwback in Afuan’s household. You’re sure she didn’t suggest your coming here?”
    “Perfectly sure. She tried to stop me,” said Jim. “And as for Slothiel—when I told him I was coming, he laughed.”
    “Laughed?” Vhotan echoed the word, then grunted. “Look at my eyes, Wolfling!”
    Jim fastened his own gaze on the two lemon-yellow eyes under the slightly yellowish tufts of eyebrows. As he gazed, the eyes seemed to increase in brilliance and swim before him in the old man’s face, until they threatened to merge.
    “How many eyes do I have?” he heard Vhotan’s voice rumbling.
    Two eyes swam together, like two yellowish-green suns, burning before him. They tried to become one. Jim felt a pressure upon him like that of the hypnotic influence Afuan had tried to bring to bear on him before the bullfight. He stiffened internally, and the eyes separated.
    “Two,” he said.
    “You’re wrong, Wolfling,” said Vhotan. “I have one eye. One eye only!”
    “No,” said Jim. The two eyes remained separate. “I see two.”
    Vhotan grunted again. Abruptly his gaze ceased burning down upon Jim, and the