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Reif and the three Earthlings were bent over a military map depicting the area. Barry Watson traced with his finger. "There are only two major passes into this valley. We have this one, they dominate that." Plekhanov was scowling, out of his element and knowing it. "How many men has Mynor been able to get together?" Watson avoided looking into the older man's face.
He had no intention of precipitating a situation in which he would discover such powers to his sorrow. He said carefully, "You have indicated that you intend major changes in the lives of the People." "Of all Texcocans," Plekhanov said, "you Tulans are merely the beginning." Mynor, the aged priest, leaned forward. "But why? We do not want these changes whatever they may be.
"You were going to kill these?" The Khan said reasonably, "They are not of the People. They are prisoners taken in battle." Mynor said, "Their lives please the gods." "There are no gods, as you probably know," Plekhanov said flatly. "You will no longer sacrifice prisoners." A hush fell on the Texcocans. Joe Chessman let his hand drop to his weapon.
Mynor said with dignity, "I am sixty-four." Plekhanov said churlishly, "And I am two hundred and thirty-three." He called to Stevens, "I think you're our youngest. How old are you?" Stevens grinned, "Hundred and thirteen, next month." Mynor opened his mouth, closed it again. No man but would prolong his youth. Of a sudden he felt old, old. Plekhanov turned back to Taller.
Take us to a building where we can talk without these crowds staring at us. There is much to be done." Taller said, "This is Mynor, Chief Priest of the People." The priest bowed his head, then said, "The People are used to ceremony on outstanding occasions. We have arranged for suitable sacrifices to the gods. At their completion, we will proclaim a festival. And then "
He indicated the hieroglyphics on the chamber's walls. "How long does it take to learn such writing?" Mynor, the priest, said, "This is a mystery known only to the priesthood. One spends ten years in preparation to be a scribe." "We'll teach you a new method which will have every citizen of the State reading and writing within a year." The Tulans gaped at him.
The Khan led the way, Plekhanov and Chessman followed side by side and the other Earthlings, their weapons unostentatiously ready, were immediately behind. Mynor the priest, Taller's son and the other Tulan officials brought up the rear. In what was evidently the reception hall of Taller's official residence, the newcomers were made as comfortable as fur padded low stools provided.
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