In the later days of Imperium, when even the barbarian lands at the edges of civilization had become overgrown, florid and decadent with the soft comforts of an unwarlike culture, many old traditions in those places fell into disrepair, or were adapted in strange ways to this latest of Fate's turnings. In particular, one old and cheery king was very well pleased with himself for how he had adapted and changed the barbarian custom of his father — the trial of criminals by forcing them to choose between two doors in a great arena, and be either forcibly wed or forcibly devoured, finding there either a tiger or a beautiful lady. No such custom could be tolerated in these latter days; the people of his kingdom no longer ached for blood, and there would have been some public scandal if an actual mauling of an unarmed, naked prisoner were to occur in the great amphitheater on the day of judgment — citizens feared for the corruption of their children by such gory spectacles, such one-sided massacre.
At the same time, since the days of the king's father, religion and philosophy had moved in leaps and bounds through this barbarian kingdom, so that there was almost no one left in the whole land who could divine a sense of justice in the old king's random sentences. Fate was no longer immanent in the people's lives, no more a living player, with their fine Imperial doctors and the abundant harvests that came again and again, year after summery year. These more cultivated people demanded something like real justice — some challenge that would take the measure of the accused, rewarding him for good and noble character.
And yet the king could not give up on spectacle, or on the outer trappings of his father's famous trials. So at last, after consultation with the great sages of his court, he devised a very clever method of trial that would henceforth be used — eminently fair, and yet just as spectacular as his father's game with fate. It was a challenge which played games with a far higher force...
I should know. For on passing through that kingdom on my way to an appointment in Tlön, I was waylaid by bandits, and, when I sought the assistance of some of the king's guards, a terrible accident occurred: they mistook me for a wanted traitor to the crown, and, pulling me from my horse, they dragged me to a dark and foul dungeon to await my trial.
So I can tell you how this kingdom does its justice. On that night, the King's Grand Inquisitor came to my cell, and, lighting a waxy yellow candle so he could see my face, he told me what awaited me in the morning, and what he was to do.
"Tomorrow you will be set in the king's great amphitheater, and, just as in olden times, you will have two doors before you. Our method, in these gentle days, however, is a little different." Here he gave me a thin-lipped smile. "Behind the first door, there will be a fine net and a golden spear. If you take these presents, they are gifts from the king to you. They may be of use to you in the arena, or you may sell them when you ride away from here. That is all that will ever lie behind the first door. A gift. And once you take our gift, the second door will be opened for you."
"And what will lie behind the second door?" I asked.
He smiled even wider, revealing broken, blackened teeth. "That all depends. You see, our generous king wants to reward good sport, and he wants to ensure that the common people who come to see this trial are not made to watch a bloodbath. So in choosing what to put behind the second door... he leaves it up to me. If I think you are the type who will accept our gift and open that first door, then, knowing you'll be armed, I can safely place behind the second door a savage tiger. Then our people will get to watch a fight, a fair fight. You will struggle and bleed. Perhaps you will triumph; perhaps you won't. If you triumph you will merely go to prison; if you lose, then, obviously, the judgment is the tiger's: you will die.
“But you can see at once the trouble with this method: I told you that we want our citizens to see a fair fight, not a massacre. So we don't want to set the tiger against an unarmed coward. Thus, If I deduce tonight that you will leave the first door closed, giving up our net and golden spear, then behind the second door you will find instead the king's daughter — dressed in her finest peacock-feather gown and ready to escort you in honor to the city's gate. If she is behind that second door, you will go free, no matter which you choose. But I will only put her there if I think you wouldn't take the spear and net — so as to spare our audience."
I scratched my chin, rolling these facts over in my mind, while the flickering candle threw dark shadows on the wall. I was proud of my wisdom, and I would not let myself be bested by this mad court.
"So if you decide tonight you think I'll take the second door, ignoring the first door with its spear and net, then you will set me free in honor?"
He smiled. "That's right."
"Then I will simply choose the second door. I'll tell you that right away, now. How could I do otherwise? This is a game for fools!" I said.
The Grand Inquisitor smiled wider. "Ah, but what if you are lying? What if you enter that ring and, secure in knowing that you've fooled the old Inquisitor, you take the first door, and leave with not just an acquittal but a golden spear? That would be disaster. So it is not just a question of common sense and foolishness. I have to divine here a sense of what lies deeper. That is why they use the Inquisitor, old boy. I am here to examine your soul."
I swallowed. This kingdom, rich in learning and theology, was known to have a very canny Inquisition. This Grand Inquisitor was said to play games with prisoners — he would visit them in the night, and tell them that the guards would be called away and the prison door unbarred, if he truly believed that they would make no effort to escape. And in some cases he would leave the door unbarred — when he did, the prisoner never bolted. When he kept it barred, the prisoner never failed to rattle at its hinges. This game was similar, and I had heard that in the trials, too, the Grand Inquisitor would guess his prisoners' actions — and he was never wrong. Almost never.
Of course I could've used a golden spear. I was already delayed by days from my appointment in Tlön, and if I could pay for passage with a rod of gold I might still reach its great library before the roads froze over. But if I faced that tiger... even with a spear, my odds were terrible. And if I somehow triumphed, I would take my golden spear to a prison cell. O, disaster!
I talked with the Grand Inquisitor all night. He asked me of my faith and my family, and I spoke to him of my home and of my journey to the library of Tlön. He looked at the lines on my palms, and he prayed for wisdom. In the morning, he left me, to go prepare the amphitheater. And then, not long after, I was taken there.
They set me in the pit, and I stood barefoot on the cool sand. Sure of my wisdom, I knew the choice I had to make.
Two doors faced me, reader. The first one held a net and a golden spear. And the second... well, reader, which do you think was behind that second door?
The lady, or the tiger?