The Bones of Zora

II - THE CITADEL

Travel-stained, Reith and his companion rode into Mishé, a big sprawling city surrounded by a buff-gray wall. At the gateway, decorated with the heads of felons, stood a pair of men-at-arms in spired helmets and chain mail. Having examined the Earthmen's papers, they waved the travelers through.

"Where do we stay?" asked Marot.

"We'll stop at an inn I know to clean up. Later, I may be able to wangle us a berth in the Citadel."

Reith led the way to the inn, identified by the skull of a Krishnan beast above the doorway. Two hours later, bathed at the public bathhouse, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes, the Terrans ascended the sloping pavement to the Citadel. An impressive example of pre-gunpowder fortification, this mesalike acropolis crowned the city. The sides of the hill supporting it had been dug away to a nearly vertical slope and revetted with massive masonry.

Once inside the Citadel, Reith and Marot found themselves among huge, gray, graceless, rough-stone buildings. Here the Guardians—the Garma Qararuma, the knightly caste of Mikardand—lived well and pursued their duties. The gay hues of the knights' tunics and trews contrasted with the drab grays and browns of the commoners' garb. Numbers of these lesser folk went about their jobs in the Citadel, cleaning the streets and performing other humble tasks. They were clad in loose, short jackets, the women in skirts, the men in a triangular nether garment worn like an oversized diaper.

Women of the knightly caste went freely through the streets in bright, calf-length dresses, cut away in front below their blue-green nipples. One such lady, so clad but incongruously wearing a hat of obvious Terran inspiration, approached the travelers. She was pretty even by Terran standards, despite her flattish Krishnan features, her skin with its faint sheen of olive-green, and the pair of feathery antennae, which sprouted from the inner corners of her true eyebrows, over which they lay when in repose. In Mikardandou she said:

"Hail, fair sir! Are you not Master Reit', from Novorecife?"

"Yes," said Reith. "And you are the Lady—ah—Gashigi?"

"Aye; how good of you! And the other Ertsu?"

"The learned Doctor Marot." Reith switched to English. "Professor, this is the Lady Gashigi, an old friend."

"Enchanté, Madame!" said Marot, bowing low and kissing Gashigi's hand. She seemed a little startled but not at all displeased.

"He hath fair Terran manners," she said. "Doth he speak our tongue?"

"He is studying it," said Reith.

Gashigi proffered a cigar case to Reith, who said: "No, thank you. I don't smoke, remember?"

Gashigi offered the case to Marot, who accepted a cigar. The lady next produced a small device like a barrelless flintlock pistol. When she pulled the trigger, a hammer sent a shower of sparks into a recess filled with tinder. A flame blazed up, with which she lighted Marot's cigar and hers. Then she shook out the last embers, took a tinderbox from her reticule, and recharged the fire-lighter with tinder.

"Hey!" said Reith. "May I see that device, please?" He examined the lighter. "I haven't seen one of these before."

"One of our commoners invented it," said she. "He was elevated to the Knights of Qarar as a reward."

Reith handed back the lighter. "As pretty as ever, I see. Where did you get that hat?"

"This?" she smiled. "A milliner in town. Hath it a Terran look?"

"Yes. That's why I asked."

"Know you not that Terran fashions are now the rage? It makes the Grand Master furious. He issues sumptuary decrees, forbidding them to us Garmiya, saying 'tis a brazen insult to our ancient ways. But he shall learn with what success he can decree what a woman shall and shan't wear! We have no fewer rights than the female commoners, who wear whatsoever they list!"

"How have you been, Lady Gashigi?"

"I am now head of the savings section of the banking department, so I can vouchsafe sound advice in matters monetary. But interest in finance is not that wherefor I remember you, Fergus!" (She pronounced it "far-goose.") "Ah, how vividly I recall our one glorious night! Were't not for a certain difficulty, I'd invite you and your companion again to monstrate Ertso virility. Even so, belike a rendezvous could be arranged in the lower city."

"What's this difficulty?" asked Reith suspiciously.

"You see, Khabur waxed passing wroth. Since you're an off-worlder, he cannot challenge you to battle. Instead, he swears that, if ever he meet you, he'll cut off your nose, your ears, and the other projecting parts of your body."

"Thanks for the warning," said Reith. "Much as I should like to renew so well-remembered an acquaintance, we must go to the Treasurer's Office forthwith and then move on. If we pass through Mishé on our return journey—we shall see. For now, fare you well! Come, Aristide."

"What was that all about?" asked Marot.

Reith translated Gashigi's remarks, adding: "The knightly caste here practices a kind of communism, with property collectively owned. Moreover, they apply the principle to sex. Noble men and women couple with whomever they like. Eggs are hatched in a crèche and brought up by commoner nannies, so nobody knows who's related to whom. These females have the nearest thing to sexual equality on Krishna."

"It sounds," said Marot, "like Plato's Republic put to practice."

"I suppose so. They have informal 'relationships,' but it's bad form to take on a new partner before dismissing his or her predecessor. When that happens, the males fight duels, while the females slip daggers into their rivals' ribs or poison into their soup."

"Like our Terran Renaissance," said Marot. "Such arrangements have been tried on Earth with only indifferent success. On both planets, I suspect, many develop proprietary feelings towards their loved ones. They expect strict fidelity from them but demand complete freedom of action for themselves. So conflict is inevitable; and I take it you are involved in such?"

Reith nodded glumly. "Alicia had left a few moons before, and I was—well, you know what it's like. Gashigi assured me this Khabur blug wouldn't mind, since they were about to break up anyway. But things don't seem to have worked out that way."

"My friend—" Marot hesitated. "I would not dream of criticizing your conduct; but I should be happier if you did not take the lady down on her offer."

"I think you mean, take her up; though it makes a kind of sense the other way, too. Have you no curiosity? She included you."

"Absolutely not! I am not amorously adventurous. My one aim is to return to Novo with my fossils intact. Then, nous verrons."

"I was only kidding. Something tells me we'll be better off in the lower city during our stay in Mishé. Khabur's only a so-so fencer, but he's strong as a shaihan."

Reith led Marot to the Treasury Building, where presently they were ushered into the office of the Treasurer of the Order of Qarar. Sir Kubanan proved a rarity, a fat Krishnan, who looked a little like a beardless Santa Claus. A large, golden, dragonlike emblem on the front of his crimson coat identified his lofty rank.

"Ah, Master Reit'!" said Kubanan in Mikardandou, waving his pungent cigar. "We have awaited your arrival with a score of Terran travelers, come hither to see our sights and buy our goods. Instead you appear with but one. Or are the others elsewhere at the moment?"

"No, good my lord," said Reith. "For now, I am guide to the learned Doctor Marot alone."

Kubanan puffed. "And what, may I ask, is the learned doctor a learned doctor of?"

"He studies forms of life that once roamed your world but no longer exist."

Kubanan's olfactory antennae drew together. "If they no longer exist, how then can he study them?"

Reith cleared his throat. "Doctor Marot digs up the bones of these long-vanished beasts."

"Interesting, albeit it strikes me not as a profitable business. We have some such bones in our little museum, if our visitor care to scrutinize them."

Reith translated for Marot. "A museum?" said Marot, becoming animated. "Mais, c'est la civilisation, donc! Pray tell Sir Kubanan that I shall be delighted."

Reith did, adding: "Tell me, did another Terran pass through Mishé a few days ago, bound for Chilihagh?"

"Methinks there was a report of such an one, buying supplies. Since he seemed harmless, we hindered him not. What canst tell me of this wight?"

"He is a scientist of the same kind as Doctor Marot. Had he others with him?"

"I wot not. Wherefore your interest in this—was his name Fost?"

"Foltz, my lord. My client and Foltz are colleagues and, in a sense, rivals."

"Well, I trust you to see that any conflict betwixt them shall be carried on beyond the bourne of the Republic."

"Sir," said Reith, "any combat between Foltz and Marot would be fought, not with swords or crossbows, but with the publication of learned essays, wherein each would accuse the other of inaccuracy and misuse of evidence."

"A tedious sort of combat," mused Kubanan. "One could hardly charge admission to witness it. Now that I bethink me, I recall another fact anent Master Feist. He came disguised as a human being, with dyed hair, false antennae, and in civilized raiment, as did all you Ertsuma until a few years ago. This seemed prudent, since Chilihagh is a wildish place, unused to Terrans. Would you, too, adopt this masquerade?"

"We meant to," said Reith, "but lost half our baggage to the Koloftuma. Does anyone here sell such cosmetics?"

"Nay, unless you could send to Majbur."

"Then we must trust our bare Terran faces. By the way, do you know anything about another Ertsu, Esteban Surkov, who also was bound for Chilihagh and has not been heard from?"

"Nought beyond the fact that he passed through Mishé some moons past. Your Comandante hath written the Grand Master to inquire, but we could add nought to what I have told you. And now, good my sirs ..."

"Let us see this museum before returning to our inn," said Marot.

"We'd better get the hell out of the Citadel. We don't want to run into Khabur," replied Reith.

"Oh, Fergus, I beg you! This to me is important."

Reith gave his companion a hard look. "Will you back me up with your sword?"

Marot hesitated. "Yes, even that. I know the elementary movements."

The museum occupied another boxlike building. Reith cast a nervous glance around to assure himself that no jealous Knight of Qarar lurked nearby.

Inside, they found a collection of curios: the helmet of some long-fallen king; a model of a Majburo war galley; a badly-stuffed pudamef from the boreal regions. This predator, like its tropical cousin the shan, resembled a ten-meter, six-legged, long-necked lizard, with a fanged crocodilian head. Unlike the shan, the pudamef was covered with thick white fur. Marot said:

"Were I stranded here, I should apply for the post of curator in this museum. Nothing is in logical order, and the labels are mostly missing or illegible."

At last they found the fossil to which Kubanan had alluded. It consisted of several limb bones and a meter-long, chocolate-brown skull. Marot crooned with delight as he examined it with a pocket magnifying glass.

"I think this is one of the Ocnotheridae," he said, "but a new genus. It is a plant-eating hexapod from a recent horizon. I wonder if the Order of Qarar would sell this fossil, to take back to Novorecife?"

"They're terrible people to do business with," said Reith. "Under their communistic setup, you have to work through endless interlocking committees to get a decision."

"How old is this system here?"

"I'm not sure, but at least several centuries."

"They appear to make it work not badly."

"Sure, because they ride on the backs of the commoners, who do all the real work. The knights just supervise and skim off the profits. The pretext is that the knights shouldn't stoop to vulgar toil, because they stand ready to fight for the Republic."

"It sounds like the ancien régime in my country."

"Aristide, suppose you could buy these fossils, how would you get them back to Terra? The freight charges would be astronomical, in the figurative as well as the literal sense."

"Oh, I would not attempt to ship the whole thing. Back in Novo, I have a lovely little computer. This makes a record of each piece of fossil so accurately that, when I return to Earth, the computer can reproduce the fossil in a synthetic material to an accuracy of ten microns."

"But suppose we find a half-ton fossil of some monster in Chilihagh? How would you get that back to Novo?"

"If it is too heavy for the local wagons, we get a carpenter to build us a sled and have it hauled by those—what do you call those things like six-legged buffaloes?"

"Shaihans."

"But truly, we are unlikely to encounter such a problem. The organisms I seek are near the point of division between major groups. Such creatures are usually small, like mice and lizards."

"How do you ever find the fossil of such a little critter?"

"Practice, my friend. With experience, the searching eye seizes upon a fossil fragment no larger than the joint of your finger."

Marot made a fist and aimed the large ring on his middle finger at the fossil, slowly moving his hand. Reith knew that the gem on the ring was actually the lens of a Hayashi ring camera, and that Marot was running off a strip of miniaturized film.

"You disappoint me," said Reith. "I thought we'd find a skeleton the size of a Terran dinosaur and have to move ten tons of petrified bone."

"Ah, no! Such discoveries are rare. Besides, a complete skeleton is something one can expect only a few times in one's life. Now, what things must we buy in the city?"

"Mainly a tent and a set of cooking utensils. I also want one of those lighters, like Gashigi's. There's the answer to Strachan. The technological blockade will in time become obsolete, because the Krishnans are just as inventive as we are. Now that they've heard of the wonders of Terran technology, they won't rest until they've made most of the same discoveries independently.

"We'll also buy Krishnan clothes to make us less conspicuous. Let's not push our luck; let's get away right now!"

Neither the cooking utensils, which they bought ready-made, nor the tent, which they ordered from a tentmaker who promised it in three days, presented difficulties. At a clothier's, Marot grumbled as he held up one of the large triangles of heavy cloth, which formed the common male nether garment of the region. "I am no longer an infant, in need of a diaper. My natural functions are under excellent control. Is there no alternative?"

"Yes, there are these kilts. You can buy either the straight skirt kind or divided. The latter are the nearest thing they have to real pants here; they're better for riding. Ken Strachan wore a kilt like this one when he was courting Kristina. He marched back and forth beneath her window playing his bagpipes."

"I am not surprised that she chose the other suitor," said Marot.

The divided kilt was a pair of voluminous trousers, coming to just above the knee, low in the crotch and multiply-pleated.

"Looks good on you," said Reith, belting on his own selection, like Marot's a sober dark blue. "When we get farther south, we'll find them wearing oblongs of gauze or nothing at all."

They collected their three ay as from the stable at which they were boarded and took them out into the country for exercise. Returning from their ride, they paused at the livestock market outside the city walls. Reith ordered their three animals washed and rubbed down while he shopped for a fourth aya to replace the lost one. Having dismounted and handed his reins to a groom, he said to Marot:

"I'm not an old aya-trader, but I know a good beast from a bad one. I've dealt with these yucks. They'll think: aha, here come the rich, stupid Terrans! Now we can make a killing!" He turned to the stablemaster and switched from English to Mikardandou, explaining that he wanted to buy an aya. "It will be mainly used as a pack animal, so no fancy hunter or racer is needed. On the other hand, we want one that can be ridden, in case something befall one of our present beasts."

"Methinks we have just what ye need," said the boss. Making a trumpet of his hands, he shouted: "Pustá! Hither, pray!"

Soon a Krishnan groom appeared at a run, leading an aya by the bridle. As the animal trotted past, Reith said to Marot: "If they had crows on Krishna, we'd call that critter crow-bait. When ayas get swaybacked, they do it twice: once forward of the middle legs and once aft." To the stablemaster he said: "How much demand you for this beast?"

"For a gallant Terran like yourself, I'll make a special price of three hundred karda."

"Ha!" said Reith. "For that sorry bag of bones, thirty were too much. At three, I could at least slay the animal and sell its hide at a profit."

"Sir, ye are offensive! If ye be not lief to do business with us, take your custom elsewhere."

"Very well. Come along, Aristide."

"Are you really going to walk out?" murmured the paleontologist.

"Hush! You'll see."

As they neared the gate of the corral, the stablemaster caught up with them. "Depart not so hastily, gentlemen! With a modicum of patience, belike we can find a beast to fit both your crotch and your purse, eh? Come back, I do pray."

Reith let himself be cajoled into returning. More ayas were paraded, more prices bandied. At last Reith cast a receptive eye on a medium-sized roan. "Let us have another look at that one," he said.

As he approached the aya, the animal rolled its eyes, pricked its ears, snorted, and reared its fore-pair of legs off the ground. Reith tried to speak soothingly to it. But the more he tried, the more frantic became the aya's behavior, until he had to jump back lest he be hooked by a horn.

The stablemaster said: "Belike he's unused to the Terran stench—pardon, sir, I meant the distinctive Terran odor. 'Twill pass with usage."

Marot had wandered up behind Reith and, as Reith retreated, strode nearer the frantic animal. The aya became calmer and settled down on all six legs, although it still rolled a wary eye. In broken Mikardandou, Marot said:

"If you put saddle on, I will ride try."

"Hey!" said Reith. "You may get yourself killed!"

"But, as you see, he tolerates me much more than you. I do not think it is the smell, but your red hair; unlike Terran ungulates, these beasts have the color vision. One of us must prove him ridable; if I am killed, your fee is on deposit at Novo."

"But—but—" sputtered Reith, unable to think of a cogent argument. He had become fond of Aristide Marot and was upset at the thought of losing the amiable scientist.

In a few minutes, the aya was brought back saddled. Marot took a firm grip on the saddle, got a foot in the nigh stirrup, and swung aboard. The aya stood quietly the while, its head and ears drooping. Then the corral gate opened and two Mikardanduma, who had been out hacking, rode their ayas in.

As a groom prepared to close the gate, Marot's aya raised its head. Almost unseating its rider, it started with a bound and raced towards the still-ajar gate. The groom had barely time to look around when the beast was upon him. He sprang aside, but the aya's shoulder sent him rolling as the animal thundered through the opening, Marot clutching the saddle.

Shouts of "Stop them!" arose. The runaway aya disappeared in a cloud of dust before the first pursuer could set out.

Reith's three ayas had been led away for their wash. Of the two hackers who had just brought their animals in, one had dismounted from his fat spotted gray. Reith made a running leap and vaulted into the vacated saddle. The hacker still held the reins.

"Give me those reins!" yelled Reith.

"Give them not!" shouted a trader. "These filthy foreigners would rob us!"

Stable hands and aya-owners began streaming out the gate as their beasts were saddled. Reith leaned forward, got a hand on the reins, and wrenched them out of the grasp of the bewildered hacker. He turned the gray and headed out the gate with the rest. As he neared the main road, a pair of knights in jingling mail galloped past, waving swords and shouting: "Stop thief!"

Reith had a vision of his companion, mistaken for a miscreant, being carved into gobbets before anyone could explain. He spurred his aya. But the gray was a placid beast, which merely stepped up its canter a little and soon dropped back to a rocking-horse gait. Other pursuers raced past.

After several minutes, this onrush slowed as a tableau blocked the road ahead. When Reith maneuvered his aya through the throng, he found Marot sitting amid a low, spreading bush, which he had smashed in his fall. A trickle of blood ran down his face. The two knights, dismounted, stood above him with naked blades. Others of the posse—grooms, traders, hackers, and chance passers-by—stood about, mounted or afoot, gabbling and gesticulating, indulging the Krishnan proclivity for oratory to the full.

Marot looked up. "I have essayed to explain," he said, "but between their, excitement and my poor command of the language ... "

Raising his voice, Reith told the Krishnans that Marot had merely been the victim of a runaway. Another rider appeared, leading the truant roan.

"I caught it beyond yon hill," said he. The crowd murmured approval.

"These Terrans seem honest folk," said the stablemaster. "Let us return to the market."

"Are you hurt, Aristide?" asked Reith.

"A little bruised, that is all. When I saw that I could not guide this sacred beast, I looked for the softest spot to fall into."

"Why couldn't you stop it? Lose your reins?"

"No. I could have halted it, I am sure; but when it heard a thunder of hooves behind it, the creature ran faster than ever, regardless of how I pulled and sawed. How to get back to Mishé? I do not wish to try that devil aya again."

"The brute looks good, but he must be crazy. I'll have you boosted up behind me."

Reith asked the spectators for a hand, and a pair of brawny peasants lifted Marot into place. When they returned to the market, Reith asked the stablemaster:

"How much do you want for this nag we've been riding? She seems to suit us."

"Two hundred and fifty, sir."

"Don't be ridiculous! I'll give seventy-five ..."

An hour later, the price was set at a hundred and thirty.

Wearing new Krishnan garments, the two set out on the five-day journey to Jeshang. The early part of the ride passed uneventfully save for a rainstorm. They rode through the gently-rolling farmlands of southern Mikardand, along the fine road maintained by the Knights. Traffic was heavy. At the first inn, Marot asked:

"What lies before us?"

"In three days we should cross into Chilihagh, ruled by a dasht, Kharob bad-Kavir. He's quasi-independent both of Mikardand and of Balhib, and he keeps this independence by playing each off against the other. Each has some vague claim to sovranty over the dashtate. But Mikardand had been too preoccupied by internal struggles to press its claim, while King Kir of Balhib thinks he's a flowerpot; so nobody takes him seriously."

At the border, the Chilihagho soldiers, in chain-mail vests over blue tunics, snapped to attention. One looked over the travelers' papers and said: "I understand this not."

"It might help if you held it right side up," said Reith.

The soldier glowered: "Wait here." He disappeared into a hut and emerged with an officer sporting a silvered cuirass. The two conversed earnestly, in a dialect that Reith had trouble following. The officer studied the Terrans and said:

"Aye, these must be the twain whereof we were warned. Seize them!"

Before either Reith or Marot could act, soldiers grabbed their arms and relieved them of their weapons.

Reith raised his voice: "What is this? We are harmless travelers. ..."

"A brace of Balhibo spies, more like," growled the officer. "Ye think to befool us by having your smelling-antennae amputated and your hides and hair dyed to look like Terrans? How simple ye must deem us!"

"We are as Terran as you are Krishnan!" said Reith. "We have no scars from that amputation. We are well-known at Novorecife. We speak Terran tongues—Portugese, French ..."

"All that can be faked," said the officer. "We have a short way with spies, sent by the mad King Kir to subvert our holy land. Which prefer ye, hanging or beheading?"

"What—what—" stammered Marot. "Are they indeed about to kill us?"

"Shut up!" snapped Reith. "I'm thinking. What external difference between men and Krishnans can't be faked?"

Marot frowned. "Since they are oviparous, like the other Tetrapoda, they have no navels."

"Good! Captain, if you will enter the hut with us, we can demonstrate our Earthly nature to your satisfaction."

"Think not to cozen me with sweet talk! But come on; the regulations give you the right."

In the hut, Reith and Marot bared their bellies. "Behold!" said Reith. "Here's proof of being born alive from Terran females."

The captain peered. "Those little hollows could be made by surgery. Now, would ye liefer be hanged—"

"Curse it, listen!" shouted Reith. "You know, the sexual organs of male Terrans differ from those of males of your kind. Drop your pants, Aristide!"

The captain peered again. "Ugh! what great, repulsive. ... But meseems ye speak sooth. Resume your garments, Ertsuma. Now get ye hence, and the quicker the better!"

They rode off, leaving the captain fuming as if he wished he could find some other charge against them. Marot said:

"We have worried because we lost the means of disguising ourselves as Krishnans; and here we are suspected of being Krishnans disguised as Terrans! I wonder who warned that officer to watch for us? Could it be my esteemed colleague Warren Foltz?"

"Hmm—maybe you've got something. Perhaps Foltz put in a bad word for us with Baron Kharob's flunkeys. No, hold on! If he's ahead of us, how could he know we're following him? He'd left Novo before you arrived and hired me as guide."

"I made a reservation on the Amazonas well in advance, before Foltz left Terra. He could have learned that I should arrive soon after him. From what he knows of my work, he could have guessed that I would seek the fossil beds of Chilihagh."

"Well, you'd better sharpen that sword of yours. This guy seems to be playing for keeps."

"I do not doubt that he hoped to have us killed at the border," said Marot. "Foltz is a man with a cause, one of those who consider all rules suspended when they act on behalf of their cause."

As they wended southward, the travelers saw the everyday costume for both men and women become a simple wraparound kilt, of thin material since this was summer. The upper body was covered, if at all, by a simple oblong of cloth, casually pinned over one shoulder.

Kharob bad-Kavir, Dasht of Chilihagh, proved a cadaverous Krishnan, clad in rusty black. When Reith explained their mission and requested a digging permit, a worried-looking Kharob said:

"Alas, good my sirs, you come too late. Your predecessor, Master Foltus—Follets—the other Terran hath obtained from me, a ten-night past, exclusive permission to excavate what he calls the Zorian beds of this realm. He gave solemn assurance that nought he should uncover would in any wise cast doubt upon the truth of our reformed religion."

"Deign to tell us about this religion, Your Altitude," said Reith. "Word of it has not yet reached Novorecife."

"It hath been the True Faith here for a score of years. 'Tis the worship of Balch, whom we know to be the only God, as proclaimed by the Book of Bákh, given by an angel in person to our High Priestess."

"Where does that leave the other Varasto deities, my lord?"

"There is a debate in the temple whether they be angels, or demons, or even mere figments. Some maintain that they be the creations of crafty priests to cozen the simple, or magnified memories of heroes of yore. Balch hath promised our High Priestess further revelations—so she saith—to clarify these details. To receive this authentic doctrine, she hath gone to her summer retreat in the hills.

"I strive to serve justice and to remain friends with Novorecife. So it grieves me to reject your petition. But I have given my word and seal."

"How could Foltz's work affect your religion, my lord?"

The Dasht explained: "Our High Priestess, the holy Lazdai, would fain have straitly examined Master Foltus to make sure that nought he found could cast doubt upon the manner of Bákh's creation of the world, but that she was away when he passed through here. Ere I extended permission to go digging, she would likewise examine you, were she in residence.

"Be not downcast, good my sirs. Jeshang, albeit smaller than Mishé, hath its share of sights and entertainment. Tarry a few days, I pray, ere returning northward. But promulgate no heretical opinions! Her Holiness hath been energetic in the extirpation of heresy."

"For all Kharob's boosterism," growled Reith, "this looks like the dullest little jerkwater town on Krishna. What now?"

"I am thinking, my friend," said Marot. "Did he not say he had given Foltz exclusive permission to dig in the Zorian beds?"

"He sure did. Please explain what the Zorian beds are."

"Do you know the work of the geologist Yamanuchi?"

"I've heard of him, but that was long before I came to Krishna—at least half a century ago."

"The lapse of time is inevitable, because of the years it took him to come here, to do his work, to return to Terra, and to publish his reports. Alors, Yamanuchi made a preliminary survey of the geological formations of the area west of the Sadabao Sea. He blocked out a rough chronology of these beds and named a series of periods after the places in which he found them exposed. One period he called the Zorian, after a ranch in the watershed of the upper Zora River, which joins the Zigros here at Jeshang."

Reith asked: "Did Yamanuchi collect any fossils?"

"No, although his report said that in the Zora region he saw fossils lying on the surface. He traveled alone, light, and fast. He wore complete Krishnan makeup, as did all Terrans working on Krishna then. Being Japanese, he found it easier to play the native than we big-nosed Westerners ever could. I assume that Foltz has read Yamanuchi's report."

Reith mused: "Paleontology's not my line; but it seems to me you fellows often disagree as to how the geological past should be divided up."

"But yes! Centuries ago, the Americans divided the old Carboniferous into the Pennsylvanian and the Mississippian, but some European geologists still cling to the old nomenclature."

"Well, why couldn't we claim something of the sort with the Krishnan—"

"My friend, you are a genius!" Marot did a little dance step. "Let us go back to that taudis of an inn, so that I can go over my papers!"

In their room, Marot spread sketches and diagrams across the floor. "Here," he said, "is a copy of Yamanuchi's sketch of the Zora beds. The strata of the Zorian period dip to the north and disappear beneath those of a much later period. Here is the Zora River, on some maps called the South Branch of the Zigros.

"Now, if we .divide the Zorian exposure into halves, the lower and older would extend from here to the river—unless the normal sequence has been reversed by an overfold or an overthrust fault. In that case, nous sommes foutus. Anyway, I suspect that critical fossils will be found in the lower Zorian, which from an evolutionary point of view somewhat corresponds to our Devonian. What shall we name our new period, the ci-devant Lower Zorian?"

Reith said: "Why not call it the Kharobian, after the Dasht? Otherwise, even if he lets us in to dig, he might make us wait around for the High Priestess to get back, to put us through a theological wringer."

"Magnificent! Flattery conquers all. Today I shall plan my argument, and we will see the Dasht again tomorrow. By the way," said Marot pensively, "as a youth I saw a cinema with a title similar to that of this ranch to which we are going. It was, I think, 'The Mark of Zora,' about a noble swordsman in California, centuries ago, who went about in disguise, carving his initials on the persons of evildoers."

Reith laughed. "That was 'The Mark of Zoro,' not 'Zora.' 'Zorro' is Spanish for 'fox.,' You must have seen the thirtieth remake of that old movie. I saw it, too, back in my school-teaching days."

Marot mused: "As a child I once phantasized about that kind of buckle-swashing. But you would make a better Zorro than I."

Reith shrugged. "Not me! I've been forced into a couple of sword fights on Krishna, and I've managed to avoid being killed. I much prefer to avoid all shedding of blood, especially my own."

When Marot, in halting but adequate Mikardandou, had made his presentation, Dasht Kharob gave the Krishnan equivalent of a smile. "I am gratified by the proposal of you gentlemen from afar," he said. "To have my name preserved in your learned books as that of a whole bygone era! But stay! The True Faith of Bákh avers that Bákh created the universe in three days. Yet you imply that these rocks were formed over many centuries, or ever human history began. How reconcile you this divergence?"

Marot: "My lord, if Bákh be omnipotent, then cannot he make each day as long as he pleases? Equal to hundreds, thousands, or even millions of years?"

Kharob frowned. "I am no theologian. Were Her Holiness here, she would doubtless have somewhat to say on the subject; but I find this talk of millions of years a thing to fuddle the brain. By the way, Bákh is here preferably alluded to as 'it,' being sexless."

"I beg Your Altitude's pardon," said Marot. "I will try to remember."

"Now then," said the Dasht, "I take it you wish a permit, like unto that of Master Foltus, giving you the exclusive right to dig in the Kharobian beds of Chilihagh?"

"Yes, my lord," said Reith and Marot together.

"Very well, Master Rau!" The Dasht spoke to his secretary. "Prepare a permit of the sort described. Gentlemen, if you call upon the morrow, your permit will await you. And now—"

"My lord!" said Reith.

"Aye?"

"Have you heard anything of another Terran, named Surkov, who may have passed through Jeshang before Foltz? A writer by trade?"

"Yea, I recall the wight," said Kharob. "He was bound for the same lieu whither you and your companion are headed. But his motive differed. He spake of how, on Terra, there was once a race called kaoboz, or perhaps kaboiz, who lived by rearing and selling beasts like unto shaihans. Although the true kaoboz no longer rode their plains, herding their kaoz when not slaying one another in feuds, they left behind a rich folklore. Surkov wished to find a place on this world where such a culture still existed, so we sent him to Zora. Beyond that, I know nought."

The next day, Reith and Marot picked up their permit, stamped with the seal of the Dashtate. Kharob said: "Understand, gentlemen, this merely extends my permission. I cannot command the local landowners to let you trespass on their demesnes. You must make your own arrangements with them."

"Who owns the land around Kubyab?" asked Reith.

"The owner of the largest ranch, Zora, is Sainian bad-Jeb. Knowing you have my favor, I think not that he'll make dif-

Acuities. For the others, you can inquire at the tax office or in Kubyab."

Leaving the palace, Reith and Marot decided to wait till they got to Kubyab, the village nearest the fossiliferous beds, before hiring any help. "This Dasht," said Reith, "seems a well-meaning sort but under the thumb of his High Priestess. It was smart of you, about those millions of years equal to a day."

"Thank you, my old one. I was brought up a Catholic, so I can still split a theological hair or two. I do not doubt that this High Priestess has heard of the progress that the Terran religions, especially the Christians and Muslims, are making on Krishna. So she decided to—how do you say—take a leaf from their tree?"

"Take a leaf from their book."

"Ah, yes. So she whipped up her own monotheistic theology and a sacred book full of recondite doctrine. Thus she has elevated Bákh from a mere Krishnan Jupiter or Odin to Sole God. The next step may be the wars of religion. I do not care to be caught in one of those."

"But say," said Reith, "won't Foltz raise holy hell when he learns you've broken his monopoly by a verbal sleight-of-hand?"

Marot shrugged. "Doubtless he will. But I hope by then to have finished my digging and be enroute to Novo with my fossils. So let us get an early start tomorrow!"