SAKNARTH

                        By MILLARD VERNE GORDON

     (Author of "The Planet of Illusion," "Revolving World," etc.)

             The Master Astrologer was willing to give his
            life--if only the torch of what little learning
                existed in the land could be passed on.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                Science Fiction Quarterly Spring 1942.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


"The lights upon the Morning Star." How well he remembered that phrase.
Twenty years it must have been since Kwarit had whispered it to him, at
the great trial where they had accused Kwarit of heeding the signals of
the Evil One.

As he had been led away, he had managed to whisper to young Saknarth,
then a mere neophyte, the strange phrase that had lingered, echoing
and reechoing through the young student's mind all these years. From
neophyte to the Master Astrologer of the Imperial Observatory. It would
be more than forty years by the third planet's hurried pace. Did the
lights still glow upon the Morning Star?

Saknarth glanced over at the chronometer. It would be a half hour
before the Morning Star rose. There was work to be done; he must
prepare the day's horoscope. He laughed to himself. What fools priests
and rulers must be to believe that the stars foretold the future.
What an upset if they learned how it all originated in the minds of
astrologers--no more the guesswork based upon a knowledge of the past.
Well, so far, thought Saknarth, my forecasts have been more or less
true.

Seating himself at a little desk in the shaded glow of an oil lamp,
he proceeded to write his prophecies, taking care to befog them with
astrological formulae and mystic bosh.

A half hour passed. Already a dim light glowed deep in the eastern
horizon. Now from low in the sky a blue star gleamed, a steady glowing
mote of light heralding the dawn. The Morning Star.

Saknarth pushed back his stool from the desk and stood up. He glanced
through the open panel at the planet. Then over to the largest
telescope in the observatory, a twenty inch reflector. He applied his
single round eye to the eyepiece and gazed at great Kurnal, largest of
the inner planets.

A crescent of brilliant light, the major part of it dark. It was
nearing its closest, Saknarth thought. The sun was behind it and the
night side was presented to Mars. The thin crescent glowed brightly. He
could see dimly dark shading of landmasses in that area, but the rest
was dark, unlit.

Saknarth reflected. Here it was that Kwarit had seen his lights, in the
dark of the Earth. But then he was using a bigger instrument; he was
using the great fifty inch reflector, largest ever made. That had been
removed. The priests had said that it was accursed of the Devil and
they had taken it and placed it in the Hall of Evil Things. None were
permitted to look through it. Saknarth swore softly to himself. Oh for
a glimpse through it, for a single glance--

The day was nearly over. Saknarth had delivered his horoscope to the
Emperor and had served his moments at the court; now he was wending
his way homeward through the narrow streets of Lucas Phoenicus. He saw
before him a great building, the Imperial Museum. Suddenly a thought
struck him; he would like to see Kwarit's telescope.

Accordingly he entered the vast institute. Through the long passages he
went, past the exhibits of stuffed beasts and catalogued plants, and
the many rooms of ancient empires and lost peoples. Through all these
he went into the wing where lay the Hall of Evil Things. This was well
guarded he thought. Two helmeted and cuirassed soldiers stood before
the entrance. Their single eyes gleamed suspiciously at all passers
by, their stumpy horns capped by dangerous looking steel spikes, their
hands resting upon huge maces at their sides. They halted Saknarth as
he sought to enter, but he showed them his credentials as a member of
the Imperial Court and was permitted to pass. Down the hall he strode,
past cases of forbidden books, evil robes, devil haunted, and mummeries
of all kinds to the very end where, behind an iron railing, stood the
telescope.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Master Astrologer leaned on the railing and stared at it. The huge
mirror, kept in condition by the attendants, gleamed brilliantly. The
great instrument at the end of the hall near the window, the Eastern
sky visible. The sun rose in sight of that window, and the Morning
Star. From where the telescope stood, it should be possible to train
it on the planet.

The Master Astrologer became excited; he glanced around hurriedly
for fear someone might have witnessed. Then carefully he took in all
details of the lay of the room, turned and walked out.

It was dark. A chill wind from the deserts swept through the deserted
streets of the Martian capital. A period of deepest silence when even
the eternal thumping of the canal pumps died down to a dull distant
hum. In the dim stretches of the hour before dawn the city was at its
quietest. On the street corners a few sleepy guards leaned against
walls and closed their single great eyes in rest for a moment.

Down a side street in the darkest shadows slipped a figure. Dark
cloaked, treading upon cushioned toes, it crept from building to
building, keeping as much as possible in the recesses of arches of the
little carved balconies Martian buildings are wont to have. Finally
the figure came to a halt in a doorway. It stood for a moment looking
around to make sure of the place and then producing a long thin
instrument, picked the lock and rolled aside the door.

Saknarth stepped softly inside the dark hallway, rolled the door shut.
He listened a moment, then assured by silence tip-toed forward up
the incline that he knew lay to one side of the hall. Up he climbed.
Reaching a floor, he turned quickly and groped for the next incline,
reached it and ascended again. Soon he came to where there were no more
floors, and pushing aside a trap door, stepped out on the roof.

It was not so dark up here. The dim lights of the two tiny moons added
to the lights of the myriad stars to cast a misty white glow upon
objects.

The astrologer tip-toed silently across the roof onto an adjoining
one. On he progressed to come finally to the great wall of a building
looming up above. Set in this wall was a large window about fifteen
feet above his head.

Saknarth groped under his cloak, drew out a long thin rope. To the end
of this he fastened a small, strong double hook making an effective
grappling iron.

He stepped back, whirled it around his head and tossed it upwards.
It struck the wall just below the sill, bounded back. He waited and
listened; no one had heard. Again he tossed the rope; and this time the
hook caught in the carved decorations of the window sill.

Saknarth pulled; the rope held. He whispered a short prayer and
grasping high on the rope raised his feet off the ground. Immediately
he swung inward to touch the wall with his feet. Then, slowly and
laboriously, climbed up the rope.

Reaching the sill, Saknarth threw a leg over and lay quiet for a
moment. Still safe. He drew out his lock-picking instrument and easily
opened the window enough to permit him to creep through and drop
silently on the other side.

The long hall was dark and quiet. No one had heard him. He looked up.
There next to him loomed the great telescope.

       *       *       *       *       *

Saknarth stepped over the railing and perched himself on the observer's
seat. He polished the eyepiece fondly, grasped the hand wheels. Turning
these, he swung the heavy instrument downwards, down till it faced the
open window and the coming dawn.

There, low in the heavens hung the Morning Star. It glowed brightly
and seemed to beckon and encourage him on. He set the readings on the
clockwork adjustment, applied his eye to the lens.

A brilliant crescent shining with the blue green radiance of the third
planet. Much larger than ever the Master Astrologer had seen it. He
stared eagerly at the now sharply outlined land masses visible, noting
the green color of some and wondering if it could be the green of
vegetation.

He drew his gaze from the bright crescent to stare at the dark portion.
It was not truly dark. A dim grey light seemed to show up vague
suggestions of continents and seas, the reflected light of Kurnal's
huge moon, he thought. But the lights: he must look for the lights.

Long he stared and suddenly he saw them. A tiny dot of white light
glowing in the center of the dark disc. Now several others caught his
view; his heart thumped wildly. The lights were there; Kwarit had
spoken truthfully. He stared avidly at them. Cities, he thought: could
they be cities? He dismissed the thought as soon as it had come as
being foolish. There were many. He tried to count them. Most were in
the Northern half, yet there were one or two in the southern zone, too.
Many on top and a few below. A strange sense of having seen that design
before entered his mind. The arrangement was peculiar; he studied it
closely.

The Sign of Dallon! He recognized it. The ideograph of Dallon the
prophet was exactly like that. The Sign of Dallon on the face of
Kurnal. The prophecy. He remembered it from his student days.

Dallon, one of the ancient founders of the priesthood, had declared;
"Man shall be humble and bow down to the gods; he shall revere those
who are their priests and prophets; he shall not deem to impose upon
their domains and shall support and obey them. This shall be until the
Sign of Dallon shall appear on the face of the Morning Star. Then will
Man rise above the gods. And that time is Never."

The time had come; the priesthood should no longer enslave mankind.
Now was learning and enlightenment to come to the people to give
them conquest over fear and misery. And he, Saknarth, must tell the
multitudes.

He continued thus, in his reveries, his lone eye glued to the great
instrument, his mind seething with a multitude of thoughts.

       *       *       *       *       *

A step sounded in the darkness. A hand was laid roughly upon his
shoulder. He was jerked away from the eyepiece to face the two guards
that had been patrolling the halls of the Museum. Saknarth opened his
mouth. "I have seen on Kurnal--" he began, but a soldier clapped his
hand over the astrologer's mouth and said gruffly, "Silence. Let not
your mouth tell of the blasphemies seen through this instrument of the
Devil." They gagged Saknarth and bound his hands and led him out of the
hall, turned him over to imprisonment.

His trial was short and speedy. During the entire proceedings he
remained gagged and bound so as to be unable to utter the blasphemies
he might have seen. The priests passed quick judgment upon him for had
he not been caught peering through the accursed instrument? There was
naught for such but execution.

The guards led him out of the courtroom that morning and took him to
a cell overlooking the place of execution. Here for the first time he
was ungagged and unbound. The door rolled shut upon him and the locks
clicked.

Saknarth gazed out of the barred window. The street was many feet
below. He could not possibly shout down to the passers-by what he had
learned. He looked wildly around him.

On a little table was parchment and crayon. He grasped these and
quickly drew a series of ideographs. He wrote furiously for he had not
much time.

He wrote about the lights and the Sign. He exhorted the reader to carry
it to the astrologers and the men of learning. He declared the time had
come to rise and strike for freedom.

Rising, Saknarth went over to the window, waiting. There were many
going through the street below, but he waited for the best. There! A
young man passing now. Upon his arm was the circle insignia of the
Society of the One God. An intelligent look was in his eye.

Saknarth grasped the rolled manuscript and hurled it. Straight before
the youth it fell. The young man picked it up, drew aside into a
doorway opposite to read it. Hopefully the prisoner watched the
expression on the youth's face, saw light spring into his eyes, saw a
smile and a determined line spread over his face.

The reader looked up. Straight into Saknarth's eyes he gazed, then
raised his hand in salute and hurried off down the street.

The Master Astrologer sat down upon his stool, waiting for the
executioners. He was ready to die now; he had done his work.