The Left Hand Of Darkness (Hainish Cycle #4) - Ursula K. Le Guin Page 0,9
explanations were preposterous. I did not, in that moment, believe them myself.
‘I believe you,’ said the stranger, the alien alone with me, and so strong had my access of self-alienation been that I looked up at him bewildered. ‘I’m afraid that Argaven also believes you. But he does not trust you. In part because he no longer trusts me. I have made mistakes, been careless. I cannot ask for your trust any longer, either, having put you in jeopardy. I forgot what a king is, forgot that the king in his own eyes is Karhide, forgot what patriotism is and that he is, of necessity, the perfect patriot. Let me ask you this, Mr. Ai: do you know, by your own experience, what patriotism is?’
‘No,’ I said, shaken by the force of that intense personality suddenly turning itself wholly upon me. ‘I don’t think I do. If by patriotism you don’t mean the love of one’s homeland, for that I do know.’
‘No, I don’t mean love, when I say patriotism. I mean fear. The fear of the other. And its expressions are political, not poetical: hate, rivalry, aggression. It grows in us, that fear. It grows in us year by year. We’ve followed our road too far. And you, who come from a world that outgrew nations centuries ago, who hardly know what I’m talking about, who show us the new road—’ He broke off. After a while he went on, in control again, cool and polite: ‘It’s because of fear that I refuse to urge your cause with the king, now. But not fear for myself, Mr. Ai. I’m not acting patriotically. There are, after all, other nations on Gethen.’
I had no idea what he was driving at, but was sure that he did not mean what he seemed to mean. Of all the dark, obstructive, enigmatic souls I had met in this bleak city, his was the darkest. I would not play his labyrinthine game. I made no reply. After a while he went on, rather cautiously, ‘If I’ve understood you, your Ekumen is devoted essentially to the general interest of mankind. Now, for instance, the Orgota have experience in subordinating local interests to a general interest, while Karhide has almost none. And the Commensals of Orgoreyn are mostly sane men, if unintelligent, while the king of Karhide is not only insane but rather stupid.’
It was clear that Estraven had no loyalties at all. I said in faint disgust, ‘It must be difficult to serve him, if that’s the case.’
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever served the king,’ said the king’s prime minister. ‘Or ever intended to. I’m not anyone’s servant. A man must cast his own shadow …’
The gongs in Remny Tower were striking Sixth Hour, midnight, and I took them as my excuse to go. As I was putting on my coat in the hallway he said, ‘I’ve lost my chance for the present, for I suppose you’ll be leaving Erhenrang—’ why did he suppose so? – ‘but I trust a day will come when I can ask you questions again. There’s so much I want to know. About your mind-speech, in particular; you’d scarcely begun to try to explain it to me.’
His curiosity seemed perfectly genuine. He had the effrontery of the powerful. His promises to help me had seemed genuine, too. I said yes, of course, whenever he liked, and that was the evening’s end. He showed me out through the garden, where snow lay thin in the light of Gethen’s big, dull, rufous moon. I shivered as we went out, for it was well below freezing, and he said with polite surprise, ‘You’re cold?’ To him of course it was a mild spring night.
I was tired and downcast. I said, ‘I’ve been cold ever since I came to this world.’
‘What do you call it, this world, in your language?’
‘Gethen.’
‘You gave it no name of your own?’
‘Yes, the First Investigators did. They called it Winter.’
We had stopped in the gateway of the walled garden. Outside, the Palace grounds and roofs loomed in a dark snowy jumble lit here and there at various heights by the faint gold slits of windows. Standing under the narrow arch I glanced up, wondering if that keystone too was mortared with bone and blood. Estraven took leave of me and turned away; he was never fulsome in his greetings and farewells. I went off through the silent courts and alleys of the Palace, my boots crunching on the thin moonlit