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The Keeper
by
“That’s not the work of any Galactic art-period,” Dranigo declared. “That thing goes back to the Pre-Interstellar Era.” And for a while he talked excitedly to Salvadro.
“Tell me, Keeper,” Salvadro said at length, “how much do you know about the Crown? Where did it come from; who made it; who were the first Keepers?”
He shook his head. “I only know what my father told me, when I was a boy. Now I am an old man, and some things I have forgotten. But my father was Runch, Raud’s son, who was the son of Yorn, the son of Raud, the son of Runch.” He went back six more generations, then faltered and stopped. “Beyond that, the names have been lost. But I do know that for a long time the Crown was in a city to the north of here, and before that it was brought across the sea from another country, and the name of that country was Brinn.”
Dranigo frowned, as though he had never heard the name before. “Brinn.” Salvadro’s eyes widened. “Brinn, Dranigo! Do you think that might be Britain?”
Dranigo straightened, staring, “It might be! Britain was a great nation, once; the last nation to join the Terran Federation, in the Third Century Pre-Interstellar. And they had a king, and a crown with a great diamond….”
“The story of where it was made,” Rand offered, “or who made it, has been lost. I suppose the first people brought it to this world when they came in starships.”
“It’s more wonderful than that, Keeper,” Salvadro said. “It was made on this world, before the first starship was built. This world is Terra, the Mother-World; didn’t you know that, Keeper? This is the world where Man was born.”
He hadn’t known that. Of course, there had to be a world like that, but a great world in the middle of everything, like Dremna. Not this old, forgotten world.
“It’s true, Keeper,” Dranigo told him. He hesitated slightly, then cleared his throat. “Keeper, you’re young no longer, and some day you must die, as your father and his father did. Who will care for the Crown then?”
Who, indeed? His woman had died long ago, and she had given him no sons, and the daughters she had given him had gone their own ways with men of their own choosing and he didn’t know what had become of any of them. And the village people–they would start picking the Crown apart to sell the jewels, one by one, before the ashes of his pyre stopped smoking.
“Let us have it, Keeper,” Salvadro said. “We will take it to Dremna, where armed men will guard it day and night, and it will be a trust upon the Government of the Empire forever.”
He recoiled in horror. “Man! You don’t know what you’re saying!” he cried. “This is the Crown, and I am the Keeper; I cannot part with it as long as there is life in me.”
“And when there is not, what? Will it be laid on your pyre, so that it may end with you?” Dranigo asked.
“Do you think we’d throw it away as soon as we got tired looking at it?” Salvadro exclaimed. “To show you how we’ll value this, we’ll give you … how much is a thousand imperials in trade-tokens, Dranigo?”
“I’d guess about twenty thousand.”
“We’ll give you twenty thousand Government trade-tokens,” Salvadro said. “If it costs us that much, you’ll believe that we’ll take care of it, won’t you?”
Raud rose stiffly. “It is a wrong thing,” he said, “to enter a man’s house and eat at his table, and then insult him.”
Dranigo rose also, and Salvadro with him. “We had no mind to insult you, Keeper, or offer you a bribe to betray your trust. We only offer to help you fulfill it, so that the Crown will be safe after all of us are dead. Well, we won’t talk any more about it, now. We’re going in Yorn Nazvik’s ship, tomorrow; he’s trading in the country to the west, but before he returns to the Warm Seas, he’ll stop at Long Valley Town, and we’ll fly over to see you. In the meantime, think about this; ask yourself if you would not be doing a better thing for the Crown by selling it to us.”