The Blue Tower | Page 3

foreigners."
Ludovick smiled and set his nearly full glass down on a plinth. "You
could hardly call the Belphins foreigners; they've been on Earth longer
than even the oldest of us."
"You seem to be pretty chummy with 'em," the uncle said, looking
narrow-eyed at Ludovick.
"No more so than any other loyal citizen," Ludovick replied.
The uncle sat up and wrapped his arms around his thick bare legs. He
was a powerful, hairy brute of a creature who had not taken advantage
of the numerous cosmetic techniques offered by the benevolent
Belphins. "Don't you think it's funny they can breathe our air so
easily?"
"Why shouldn't they?" Ludovick bit into an apple that Corisande
handed him from one of the dishes of fruit and other delicacies strewn
about the courtyard. "It's excellent air," he continued through a full
mouth, "especially now that it's all purified. I understand that in the old
days----"
"Yes," the uncle said, "but don't you think it's a coincidence they
breathe exactly the same kind of air we do, considering they claim to
come from another solar system?"
"No coincidence at all," said Ludovick shortly, no longer able to

pretend he didn't know what the other was getting at. He had heard the
ugly rumor before. Of course sacrilege was not illegal, but it was in bad
taste. "Only one combination of elements spawns intelligent life."
"They say," the uncle continued, impervious to Ludovick's unconcealed
dislike for the subject, "that there's really only one Belphin, who lives
in the Blue Tower--in a tank or something, because he can't breathe our
atmosphere--and that the others are a sort of robot he sends out to do
his work for him."
"Nonsense!" Ludovick was goaded to irritation at last. "How could a
robot have that delicate play of expression, that subtle economy of
movement?"
Corisande and the uncle exchanged glances. "But they are absolutely
blank," the uncle began hesitantly. "Perhaps, with your rich poetic
imagination...."
"See?" old Osmond remarked with satisfaction. "The kid's
brain-washed. I told you so."
* * * * *
"Even if The Belphin is a single entity," Ludovick went on, "that
doesn't necessarily make him less benevolent----"
He was again interrupted by the grandfather. "I won't listen to any more
of this twaddle. Benevolent, bah! He or she or it or them is or are just
plain exploiting us! Taking our mineral resources away--I've seen 'em
loading ore on the spaceships--and----"
"--and exchanging it for other resources from the stars," Ludovick said
tightly, "without which we could not have the perfectly balanced
society we have today. Without which we would be, technologically,
back in the dark ages from which they rescued us."
"It's not the stuff they bring in from outside that runs this technology,"
the uncle said. "It's some power they've got that we can't seem to figure

out. Though Lord knows we've tried," he added musingly.
"Of course they have their own source of power," Ludovick informed
them, smiling to himself, for his old Belphin teacher had taken great
care to instill a sense of humor into him. "A Belphin was explaining
that to me only today."
Twenty heads swiveled toward him. He felt uncomfortable, for he was
a modest young man and did not like to be the cynosure of all eyes.
"Tell us, dear boy," the uncle said, grabbing Ludovick's glass from the
plinth and filling it, "what exactly did he say?"
"He said the Belphins rule through the power of love."
The glass crashed to the tesserae as the uncle uttered a very unworthy
word.
"And I suppose it was love that killed Mieczyslaw and George when
they tried to storm the Blue Tower----" old Osmond began, then halted
at the looks he was getting from everybody.
Ludovick could no longer pretend his neighbors were a group of
eccentrics whom he himself was eccentric enough to regard as
charming.
"So!" He stood up and wrapped his mantle about him. "I knew you
were against the government, and, of course, you have a legal right to
disagree with its policies, but I didn't think you were actual--actual--"
he dredged a word up out of his schooldays--"anarchists."
[Illustration]
He turned to the girl, who was looking thoughtful as she stroked the
glittering jewel that always hung at her neck. "Corisande, how can you
stay with these--" he found another word--"these subversives?"
She smiled sadly. "Don't forget: they're my family, Ludovick, and I
owe them dutiful respect, no matter how pig-headed they are." She

pressed his hand. "But don't give up hope."
That rang a bell inside his brain. "I won't," he vowed, giving her hand a
return squeeze. "I promise I won't."
* * * * *
Outside the Flockhart villa, he paused, struggling with his inner self. It
was an unworthy thing to