Magogar greeted Ostby with a smile, but there was no friendliness in it. He was a man who made no friends. The people about him were divided into two classes: those who served or obeyed him, and those who opposed him. The latter did not survive long.
"Step out onto the sun balcony with me," the Imperator said, with the easy assurance of a man accustomed to obedience. He strolled to the railing of the balcony and leaned against it, looking out over the water of the city's harbor. The balcony extended out over the water, which came directly up to a small walk bordering the palace.
"I have given your case very deep thought," the Imperator said, "and I will be perfectly frank with you. Whether I accept you or dispose of you will be directly determined by what I decide within the immediate future. There is no point in my asking your views because your range of choices is very small, and entirely incidental to my decision. You can willingly accept whatever I decide for you—if I let you live—or you can oppose me. The latter, of course, would be tantamount to asking for death. Do you have anything to say before we continue?"
"Not knowing what you have to offer leaves me with no possibility of making a choice," Ostby said carefully.
It was immediately evident, however, that he had made a wrong choice of words. The Imperator's arrogant brows rose and he frowned. "I never offer anything," he said, spacing each word with a hard emphasis, "except the choice of accepting my decisions."
When Ostby made no reply, Magogar seated himself and remained in deep introspection.
"Let me tell you a story," he said finally. "At first it may sound like idle boasting, but I can readily demonstrate to you that I am the living proof of its authenticity."
The Imperator paused while he tilted back his chair and stared at the ceiling. "In the early years of man's existence," he said, "he possessed two physical survival characteristics. First, he could run. As he was one of the weakest of the animals he found that most expeditious. And because the instinct to run grew to occupy a prominent place in his emotional makeup, it enabled him to survive.
"The other survival factor was to fight. The fighters died an earlier death than did those that ran, and they had fewer progeny. But those fighters that lived ruled the tribes.
"During each generation these separate instincts developed and became more virile. The numbers of the fleers propagated and soon the mass of the human race consisted of their descendants. The fighters, however, ruled the tribes, as was logical. They were the doers, and became the leaders.