And had not Norhala called the Disk—Ruler?
What were the responsibilities of these twain to the mass of the organism of which they were such important units? What were the laws they administered, the laws they must obey?
Something certainly of that mysterious law which Maeterlinck has called the spirit of the Hive—and something infinitely greater, like that which governs the swarming sun bees of Hercules' clustered orbs.
Had there evolved within the Keeper of the Cones—guardian and engineer as it seemed to have been—ambition?
Had there risen within it a determination to wrest power from the Disk, to take its place as Ruler?
How else explain that conflict I had sensed when the Emperor had plucked Drake and me from the Keeper's grip that night following the orgy of the feeding?
How else explain that duel in the shattered Hall of the Cones whose end had been the signal for the final cataclysm?
How else explain the alinement of the cubes behind the Keeper against the globes and pyramids remaining loyal to the will of the Disk?
We discussed this, Ventnor and I.
“This world,” he mused, “is a place of struggle. Air and sea and land and all things that dwell within and on them must battle for life. Earth not Mars is the planet of war. I have a theory”—he hesitated—“that the magnetic currents which are the nerve force of this globe of ours were what fed the Metal Things.