The Stones of Nomuru

VIII – THE BULLDOZER

Salazar, Kara, and Baasu, the Feënzurin native whom Gariko had sent along as helper and guide, jogged briskly along the road to Shongaro. Salazar had left the letter from the Empress to Miyage with a flunky at the palace at Biitso, without waiting to confront the hostile High Chief himself. When Baasu got used to his Terran charges, he became quite voluble:

"Honorable Sarasara, I am pleased to accompany you and your female. It is a welcome change from my usual duties."

"What is your regular line of work?" asked Salazar.

"I am a tax collector."

"Persons in your occupation are never popular, are they?"

"You are more than right, honorable sir! The office is important, indeed necessary if a nation is to function in a civilized manner. Yet no matter how honest and competent he be, the poor tax collector is despised, feared, and relegated to a low caste."

"It is the same with us Terrans," murmured Salazar sympathetically.

"The trouble," continued the Kook, "is that everybody demands a free handout from the government; but nobody wants to pay his share when the tax collector comes around!"

"That, too, sounds familiar," said the archaeologist.

They jogged into Shongaro. Chief Sambyaku was not at home, but questions discovered him in the marketplace, checking merchants' weights. At the sight of the Terrans, Sambyaku said: "Hail, honorable Sarasara! Hail, honorable Sheffira! Is all well with you?"

Salazar replied: "Thanks to the Universal Law, all is well. Is all well with you?"

After the formal greetings were properly concluded, Sambyaku said: "I must complete what I am doing; then we shall talk. Please wait in the shade."

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night shall stay ..." muttered Salazar in English. "If you find a Kook painting his house and tell him a gang of nomad raiders will appear any minute, he'll say: 'I must finish what I am doing; then I shall flee.' " Kara giggled.

A mere half-hour sufficed to complete the chiefs inspection of weights. Sambyaku said: "Let us walk thither, where few will overhear."

They strolled down the side street where Baasu stood holding the jutens. Sambyaku came right to the point "Sarasara, granting the concession to Bergen was not my doing. High Chief Miyage overruled me, and under our customs I was compelled to accede."

"I thank Your Honor for your gracious explanation," said Salazar. "What is the present state of Bergen's project?"

"The tractor that Bergen had made to order in Biitso passed through Shongaro this afternoon. The Terrans had attached a huge blade, like a plowshare turned sideways, to the front. I compelled them to remove from the wheels of the vehicle the cleats, which would have severely damaged our streets. The High Chief had sent with the Terrans an escort of musketeers, and for a while an open conflict between his soldiers and mine appeared imminent; but, thank the Universal Law, the Terrans decided that it were better to accede to my demands than to risk a battle."

"I thank Your Honor for this news," said Salazar. "I don't wish a conflict at Nomuru; but under these circumstances anything may happen."

"I understand, honorable Sarasara. I cannot help you with armed force; but neither am I obliged to join Miyage's troop against you. Be in good health!"

"And may Your Honor enjoy good health!"

"May your clan flourish!"

The travelers jogged on. Next day, as the sun sank low, they neared Nomuru, where the road to Salazar's camp skirted the northern end of the site. On a slight rise, Salazar halted his mount and drew out a small brass telescope.

"Kookish work," he explained to Kara. "I lost my good binoculars on Bergen's hunt, haven't had time to buy another, and found this quaint object in a drawer."

He put the telescope to an eye and said: "The tractor's on the edge of the site, with a couple of Terrans working on it and four or five Kooks standing around. I think the Terrans are bolting the cleats back on the wheels."

"Should we ride past?" asked Kara.

Salazar glanced toward the sun, just disappearing behind the scattered vegetation to westward. "The machine's forty or fifty meters from the road. I think we're safe, but just in case ..."

Salazar pulled his rifle from the saddle boot, checked the magazine, and rode on, saying: "Move briskly and confidentiy, and don't talk."

The northern end of the site was dotted with little conical piles of dirt, like oversized anthills, each one flagged by a tag attached to a small stake. As they passed the tractor, one Kook unslung his musket; otherwise the group merely glanced stolidly at the riders. When they were out of earshot, Salazar said:

"Whew! Maybe they weren't sure who we were in the twilight. Let's hope Uwangi cooks us a decent meal!"

Over dinner, Galina explained: "Mr. Pokrovskii tipped us off that Bergen's men were nearby. He warned us to keep out of sight. We have been washing and boxing specimens and going out from time to time to see if they had come. A couple of hours ago, the tractor appeared with the Terrans riding it and the Kooks marching beside it."

"Are they camping at the site?" asked Salazar.

Frappot and Kurita spoke in unison. "No. Mr. Pokrovskii said they had arranged to stay in Neruu."

"You three had better stand watches through the night, with my rifle handy. Kara and I would spell you if we weren't dead tired."

After an early breakfast, Salazar and his people crept into a patch of heavy foliage to watch the site. For an hour the tractor stood alone and silent. Then Bergen's men and the Kookish soldiers straggled in.

One Terran lit a fire in the firebox and shoveled in coal. Soon a plume of black smoke issued from the stack. Like a monster breathing, the machine began to emit puffs of pearly vapor with a rhythmic hiss. One Terran climbed into the driver's seat and worked levers. The bulldozer blade dipped and rose.

A Terran shouted, thicker puffs of vapor curled skyward from the tractor's stack, and the machine began to move. As it clattered across the site at the pace of a leisurely walk, Salazar whispered: "Where are those pitfalls?"

"It seems to be heading right between two of the open pits," breathed Frappot "It should soon encounter —Ah! Ah! There it goes!" Frappot's voice had risen.

"Hush up, idiot!" snarled Salazar. The archaeologist kept his eyes on the tractor, which abruptly pitched forward so that the front end, bulldozer blade and all, disappeared, leaving only the after end and the huge rear wheels exposed.

The Terrans surrounding the machine set up a yell; but their voices were drowned by a roar as a cloud of vapor boiled up from the pit into which the tractor had fallen. Salazar glimpsed two Terrans dragging out the driver before the group was hidden by the cloud.

"By God, we won that one!" whispered Salazar. "Their boiler must have burst"

The party on the site clustered at a safe distance from the steaming tractor. Presently they all set out along the road to Neruu, two Kooks carrying the inert form of the driver between them.

"Must have scalded the poor devil," said Salazar.

"Is he dead, do you think?" asked Kara.

"Can't tell yet. Now they're out of sight, let's see the machine."

Holding his rifle ready, Salazar led his people out.

The two unsprung pitfalls had been decorated with clumps of pseudo-grass to look like natural ground.

"They won't get that out in a hurry," said Salazar. "Split a welded seam, just as I thought. Take weeks to repair that boiler."

"Monsieur Bergen, will he give up his project now?" asked Frappot.

"Not likely! If he can't get his bulldozer going again, he'll do the same thing with teams of kyuumeis and draglines; or if need be by Kooks with shovels and wheelbarrows. After all, that's how Qin Shi Huang-di built the Great Wall of China."

"What shall we do next, while Bergen's people are away?" asked Galina.

"Start sieving those little piles from the deep pits and bagging the finds. Keep the rifle handy at all times. When Bergen's gang shows up again, beat it back to the camp and stand watches. Kara and I must go back to Henderson."

Baasu spoke up in Feënzuo: "Honorable sir, I must return to Machura. Could you please pay me now?"

On the road to Henderson, Kara Sheffield rode her bicycle while Salazar jogged along on his juten, leading the beast that Kara had ridden. She said: "Keith, I was just getting used to the motion of that animal. I may get one for myself, if you'll teach it the trick of holding my ankles. It must be something like riding a Terran horse. Have you ever done that?"

"Quite a lot, years ago," said Salazar. "Sometimes I've wished for horses on Kukulcan. These critters are smarter, though."

After a pause, she asked: "How much of what I've seen may I put into my story?"

"Nothing about the gun deal! Some people in Henderson, if they knew, would throw me in jail and lose the key. Okay to say we told the Empress about Kampai and his Choshas." Alter a moment of silence, he looked sharply at her. "You realize, Kara, that I'm trusting you entirely. You could ruin a lot of things, including me; and I never asked you for an oath of secrecy."

With a small smile of satisfaction, she said: "Don't worry. Even if you weren't my—weren't who you are—I always protect my journalistic sources."

A little embarrassed, Salazar returned to the previous subject. "You could also mention the wreck of Bergen's tractor, without revealing my part in the event. Hey, Kara, slow down a bit. I'm looking for the path into di Pasquale's farm."

"We're stopping there?"

"Just long enough to make arrangements with Vittorio. When the train of kyuumeis arrives, they'll need a place to wait until they come to the museum for the big heist."

"Why must they wait?" she asked.

"Because Skanda Patel's a night owl. Sometimes he doesn't even go home but stretches out on his couch in the office. So I've got to think up a sure way to get him out of the Museum before the caravan comes to town. Here we are!"

Salazar and Kara turned in at the side road leading to di Pasquale's farm. In a nearby field, the farmer looked up from the task in which he and two Kook laborers were engaged. He called:

"Hey, Keith! You want to dig up my crops to look for some damned piece of brick or stone?"

"Not this time, Vittorio," said Salazar. "Can we go back to your house for some talk? It's business."

An hour later, di Pasquale, Salazar, and Kara emerged, looking pleased. The caravan would occupy a field that had not yet been plowed. Salazar said:

"Vittorio, may I board my jutens with you? I don't know of any place in Henderson I could stable them."

"City folk," said di Pasquale with a touch of rustic superiority, "don't know how to ride the things. They buy steam cars and then find damned few roads that'll take them. I'll put the creatures in the barn with mine and tie them up so they can't fight."

"Fine; I'll pay for their fodder."

Kara said: "Does that mean you have to walk to the city?"

"Yep. Let's go!"

In Henderson their paths diverged. In a street uncluttered with passersby, Kara said: "Good-bye for now. Let me know when you leave for Machura again. I want to go, too."

"Why?" asked Salazar warily. "I shall be in enough trouble when the story of the guns leaks out, not to mention that the trip would risk your pretty neck."

"But I do want to see your project through. Please, Keith!"

"Oh, all right," said Salazar. "I'll pack the pup tent."

They parted, Kara to her newspaper office and Salazar to the Museum, where he reported to Skanda Patel that he had visited Empress Gariko to warn her of the Chosha invasion.

"What is Mr. Bergen doing now?" asked Patel.

"Brought a big tractor out to bulldoze; but yesterday it broke down. Looks as if it would be some time before it's fixed." Salazar sternly suppressed his lips' tendency to twitch into a triumphant smile.

Patel drummed his fingernails on the desk. "I wish I could think of some way to stop him, without breaking the law."

"The Choshas may do that for us," said Salazar.

"But it is rumored that the developer has an agreement with their chief. You had better pack up your equipment and specimens to flee with your people on the minute's notice. It would be bad enough to lose the site; the Museum cannot afford to risk our students as well."

"I've already put my assistants through evacuation drills. Staying late?"

"Yes, indeed. I work best at night, when nobody visits or rings me up."

"Have fun!" said Salazar.

In his own apartment, Salazar activated his poignette: "Cabot, it's my turn to fix dinner."

"Let's eat here," replied Firestone's voice. "I've got the better stove. You can buy the chow and bring it in, if you insist."

Over drinks, Salazar brought his friend up to date. "My present problem," he said, "is to pry Skanda Patel off his arse and out of the building for one little night."

"Which night?" asked Firestone.

"Don't know yet. As soon as possible after Gariko's men and animals arrive, which might be in five or six days; but you can't time these things to the second."

"Especially with our primitive communication systems," said Firestone. "With our small population and limited research and manufacturing facilities, we're centuries behind the home planet. Sometimes I get homesick for good old Terra, even if it's dreadfully overcrowded and overorganized."

"So do I," said Salazar, and continued:

Firestone laughed, then changed the subject. "How are you and Kara making out with this just friends' relationship?"

"She seems to manage all right."

"And you?"

"Just being driven quietly nuts. That leaves unanswered the one more urgent question: How to lure Skanda out of his lair when the time comes?"

"How about a dinner party? If we could get two or three attractive women ... I hear that pretty girls are Skanda's weakness."

"Hm," said Salazar. "I haven't entertained anybody for months. I could ask Kara. Or you could ask her, if you'd prefer. Who else?"

"How about that man-eating student you told me about? You know, the gorgeous redhead."

"Penny Molina? Not a bad idea."

"Then during the evening, you could slither away on some pretext and go to the museum. I could see Kara home, leaving poor Skanda to Penny's mercies."

Salazar pondered. "I don't know. She may not even like my workaholic director. She may be furious when I pull a vanishing act."

"Can you think of a better scheme?"

Salazar sighed. "No."

"Does Patel drink? He's considered somewhat austere."

"I believe he's been known to imbibe a thimbleful of bumbleberry wine. You call Kara and tell her to stand by. I'll take on the job of inviting Penny. We'll set the party for a few nights after the convoy arrives."

"Why not as soon as they get here?" asked Firestone.

"Because, after a twelve-day trek, the animals have to rest and feed for a couple of days. If you push them too hard, they'll lie down and die."

"Why don't you use trucks? Won't the roads take them?"

"A convoy of Kookish steam trucks would be more than conspicuous. Miyage would get suspicious and find a pretext to detain them. If this weren't a secret operation, I'd haul the crates down to the station and ship them by the Kooks' teakettle railroad."

Later that evening in his apartment, Salazar buttoned Penny Molina's number. When her "Hello?" floated out of the poignette, he said: "Hello, Penny; it's your old professor."

"Which one?"

"Keith Salazar." The poignette gave a gasp of pleasure.

"Cabot Firestone—you know, the psychologist—and I are planning a little dinner party at his place, with two or three other people, in about an eight-day or so. We can't set the exact day yet; but when we do, would you like to come?"

"Oh, would I! I'd even break a date with Monty Skopas to—"

"Who's he?"

"My, but you're ignorant about some things, Keith! He's that gorgeous actor on the movie cassettes from Terra."

"All right then, I'll call you back when the date's been set."

"Oh, thank you, Keith! Thank you! I'm so happy—"

"Good-night, my dear," said Salazar firmly, since the outpouring of gratitude might go on indefinitely.

His conscience nagged him a little. He was taking advantage of Penny's childish enthusiasm to enlist her on his dark scheme under false pretenses. But, he sternly told himself, the salvation of the dig justified such small deceptions.

Days passed. Salazar spent his time working at the Museum, keeping in touch with his assistants by poignette. Galina reported:

"They came back today, with a gang of Kooks and a dozen kyuumeis. They hitched the animals to the tractor and tried to haul it out; but no matter how they beat the beasts, the machine remained in the hole. The kyuumeis' hooves tore up the surface layer in that part."

Salazar said: "Has Bergen been out there yet?"

"No; at least we haven't seen him."

"When he comes, which could be tomorrow, he might organize a raid to wipe out the lot of you. He'll guess that pitfall wasn't put there for archaeological research. So we'd better bug out. Tell Ito to go to Neruu this evening, avoiding Terrans, and hire Kooks and animals to carry our stuff back to Henderson. Leave the labeled bags of specimens in the bush. We'll recover them later. You and Marcel start dismantling everything else, with Kono's and Uwangi's help. I want all of you out by sunrise."

"You mean work all night?" squeaked Galina.

"Yep. Get going. It's your lives you're saving."

"What shall we do with Kono and Uwangi?"

"Bring 'em back to the Museum; their contract covers packing and moving. And don't forget my rifle, my bike, and the ice maker!"

The following afternoon, the fugitives materialized, followed by a score of Kooks bearing bundles and leading laden kudzais. For the rest of the day and far into the night, Salazar, Patel, and all the other museum personnel they could catch were drafted for the task of unloading, unpacking and storing.

Returning late and exhausted to his apartment, Salazar found a note pressed into the jamb of his door. He bent to pick up the paper, almost collapsed with fatigue, but managed to recover both note and balance and insert his key in the lock. In the lighted room he scanned the paper. It read:

"Let's get together some time. Diane."

Angrily, Salazar crumpled the note the better to hurl it into the waste basket. Contact with his second ex-wife was all he needed to complicate his life to the screaming point!

Then prudence reasserted itself. The note contained an address and a poignette number, both of which might some time prove useful. He smoothed out the paper, scribbled "No answer" across the face, and filed it in his current letter file under M for Diane's maiden surname of Morrow.

A few days later, Salazar called Firestone on his poignette. "Cabot? Keith here. They've arrived, and I'm going out to see them."

"Want to borrow my car?"

"Thanks, but I'd rather use my bike."

Salazar returned to town late in the evening. He parked his bicycle in the rack outside Firestone's apartment and went in, saying with ill-concealed excitement: "Vittorio insisted on my baring a fang with him. The caravan leader thinks the animals need three full days to gather their strength."

"Does that mean you'll bring them in the evening of the third day, counting tomorrow as the first?"

"Yep. If you'll call Kara, I'll take care of Skanda and Penny—though maybe not quite the way they expect."

On the appointed evening, Salazar rang the doorbell of Firestone's apartment with Penny Molina on his arm. When the door swung open, he glanced around. "I see we're the last. Penny, this is Kara Sheffield, and this is our host, Cabot Firestone. Skanda Patel I believe you know. This, people, is my prize all-A student, Penny Molina."

Salazar's sharp ears caught a sudden intake of breath—Kara's, he suspected. Penny Molina was not a girl to be dismissed with a casual glance. Reddish-gold hair cascaded down her back. Taller, younger, and more voluptuously formed than Kara, she made the attractive journalist look almost drab by comparison.

In acknowledging introductions, Penny seemed to bubble with scarcely suppressed excitement and good humor, now and then breaking into a little giggle. She expects, Salazar thought sardonically, that after the party I'll take her home and screw the spots off her.

Firestone gave Salazar a raised eyebrow that said: You turned down advances from this? Patel simply goggled, while Kara's expression remained sphinxlike.

While Firestone busied himself with drinks, Patel came out of his daze. "Miss—all—Molina, as I understand it, 'Penny' is a shortened form of a longer name. It is a nickname. Please tell me: What is it the nickname for? Penelope?"

"Worse!" cried Penny, laughing. "It's Penthesileia, also out of Greek mythology. How'd you like to be stuck with a label like that?"

"I was," said Patel. "My misguided parents inflicted 'Skandaguptakrishnalal' upon my innocent infant head. For practical reasons, I have abridged it. Your excellent health, my dear Mistress Penny!"

He hoisted his glass of bumbleberry wine and sipped. Thereafter, the party went swimmingly. Firestone's cooking was in fine form. Penny, thought Salazar, would make a better impression if her laugh were not quite so boisterous.

Salazar and Kara were pressed to tell the tale of their captivity by the Choshas and their escape. This they did, with tactful omissions. Penny said:

"Why must Terrans like your Reverend Ragnarsen always be meddling? Meddle, meddle, meddle, that's all some people think of! One missionary thought it indecent for the Kooks to run around naked; he wanted to use our army to force them to put on clothes."

"True," said Firestone. "You see, my dear, we're primates. I've watched apes and monkeys on Terra when something new is put into their cage—say, a device they're not familiar with. When they get over being afraid of it, their next thought is to take it apart. They push, pull, twist, and bang it against the floor. Like our primate ancestors, we—or at least many of us—are born meddlers.

"The Kooks, to the contrary, are closer to our Terran reptiles—stolid, single-minded, and coldly unsentimental. They're what our Terran dinosaurs might have become if the Cretaceous catastrophe hadn't wiped them out. Their needs are simpler and their curiosity less. When they want something, they go straight for it, without letting anything distract them.

"They also hold tight to what they think they know. That's why it took them a hundred thousand years to move from the hunting-gathering stage to the beginnings of industrialization, when it took us only ten thousand. Yet their brains are as big and well-developed as ours."

Under the benign influence of wine and pretty women, Patel rose to the defense of the extraterrestrials. "You must not ignore that the Kukulcanians also have their virtues. They have little crime, and their wars are piddling affairs compared to those that Terra has seen. They do not fight over obscure abstract questions like the precise nature of the gods."

Salazar, helping Firestone to clear the table, interjected: "You may not be able to say that much longer, Skanda, if Terrans like the Reverend Ragnarsen put their teachings across." After a pause, he added: "Sorry, folks, but I've got to leave you for a while. Got an errand to run—a small job but necessary." He held out a hand to Firestone. "May I, Cabot?"

Firestone placed the car keys in the hand. "I left the pilot light on; you can get up steam in a few minutes."

"But Keith—" began Penny in tones of surprise and disappointment.

"I shall be back soon," said Salazar, smiling. With calculated composure, he bowed his way out.

Once out of the apartment, he hurried down the stairs, started Firestone's car, and drove off toward di Pasquale's farm.

An hour later he chugged into the Museum courtyard, followed by a train of sixteen kyuumeis and their attendants. They found Kono and Uwangi waiting before the main entrance; for Salazar had persuaded his camp servants to sign new contracts, to go on working for him.

Salazar conferred in low tones with Chensoö, the caravan leader. Then he gathered several Kooks, unlocked the main door, and led them all into the building. There was no watchman on the premises because Salazar had, on his own responsibility, given the man the night off and the money to take his wife to a show.

Presently Kono and Uwangi staggered through the entryway, each holding an end of a heavy crate. Another crate followed, borne by another pair of Kooks. As each crate appeared, Chensoö directed its tying up with iron wire, the ends of which were twisted together and secured with a leaden seal bearing the symbol of the Empress. Salazar supervised the lashing of crates in pairs, one on either side of each kyuumei.

The loading took over two hours. It was past midnight when, having seen the caravan off on the road to Neruu, a weary Salazar returned to Firestone's apartment. He expected the party to have ended as he parked Firestone's car and rang the bell. But when Firestone opened his door and Salazar held out the keys, Firestone said: "Come in! The party's not over yet."

"Huh?"

Firestone waved toward the bedroom door. "They're in there."

"Who are?" Salazar's voice rose as he conjured up a horrid vision of Kara with ...

Firestone interrupted the fantasy. "Penny and Skanda, of course. Has this been a night! It would have done Caligula proud."

"What happened?"

"Sit down. For an hour or so it was just talk and some drinking. We played games and told stories. Then Skanda, who had shifted from bumbleberry wine to whiskey, began to show symptoms. We were still a little high, I guess, when somebody proposed penny-ante poker.

"We played for a while and drank some more. When I ran out of whiskey I opened a bottle of filegrass rum. Then your Penny Molina—"

"Not my Penny Molina!" said Salazar sharply.

"Anyway, having lost her stake, Penny offered to bet a shoe. Pretty soon we were all playing a game of strip poker. By now Skanda was pretty exhilarated, not at all like his usual sober self."

"He's not used to liquor," muttered Salazar.

"The time came when I still had my pants on, and Kara her underwear; but Skanda and Penny were both—well, you might say dressed for an orgy. Skanda began doing all sorts of foolish things. He performed a kind of bow-legged dance around the room, saying he was an incarnation of Krishna. He rolled up a piece of paper and held it sideways, pretending it was Krishna's flute.

"Then Penny, also in an advanced state, joined him. The pair did some kind of erotic Tantric dance; he was expert, while she followed as best she could. Then she picked him up and carried him—"

"Did you say she picked him up?"

"Yes; she's bigger than he and a strong girl. In they went to my bedroom, and she kicked the door shut behind her.

"Kara and I got dressed, and I walked her home and came back here. The door was still closed, and I heard a faint murmur of voices through it. Then all was silent. I'm wondering what to do with them."

Just then the bedroom door flew open. Within the frame stood Penthesileia Molina, every inch a queen of the Amazons. Staring at her frontal exposure, Salazar felt himself flushing. The sight, he thought, would arouse a marble statue.

"Well!" she said. "Your little Hindu god pooped out on me!"

"What happened?" The two men spoke at once.

She strode across the room and began to dress. "The silly man drank too much, that's all. When the time came for action, he couldn't get it up. He said if we just rested and talked, he'd get his powers back. Instead, he passed out. Now, not even shaking can wake him. Oh, Keith, if only you hadn't been away so long!"

"Sorry," said Salazar, "but I had a job to do. Shall I walk you home?"

"Sure! Thanks for the party, Cabot, even if it didn't turn out quite the way it was planned."

On the street, Penny compensated for unsteadiness by clutching Salazar's arm in a muscular grip. She asked: "What's that Kara Sheffield to you, Keith? Some things that were said made me think she's more than just an acquaintance."

"Smart girl! She's my former wife."

"Oh! What a fool she must be, to let a prize catch like you get away!"

"I'm afraid that was my doing. I'm the villain."

"She must have done something to drive you away. Did she have an affair? Or nag? Or—"

"No. She did nothing wrong. It's a painful subject; I'd rather not discuss it."

Penny prattled on. "I understand. But I'm interested in relations between former spouses. I may do my master's thesis on them. They range all the way from people who bitterly hate each other to divorced couples who return to living together as if they were still married. In your case, for instance, do you and she get together now and then for a horizontal workout, just for old times' sake? Do you—"

"Just friends. No liaison, no plans." His voice sharp, Salazar changed the subject. "Please promise me one thing, Penny. Don't say a word to anybody about Skanda's part in this abortive orgy!"

"Is that excessive loyalty to your boss, or what? If Skanda lost his job, wouldn't you be the next director?"

"I might; but that's exactly what I don't want! I want to stay with field work and publication. I love real dirt archaeology; it's the most fun you can have with your pants on. As director my time would be taken up with paper shuffling and wangling money for the Museum, and that sort of thing makes me feel as if I were wrestling with pythons. So be a good girl and clam up about this evening, will you?"

"All right." She giggled. "But that poor little Skanda Patel was funny!"

They arrived at her door. She said: "Won't you come in, Keith? I'll make you a nightcap."

"Thanks, but I—"

"Oh, come on! This has been a frustrating evening for all of us, and we deserve a little real fun!"

With a powerful tug, she hauled him over the threshold and closed the door. Then she faced him, sliding her hands slowly up the front of his jacket as she murmured: "Isn't it time we really got to know each other better?"

A moment later, locked in an ardent embrace, Salazar felt his blood pound. Then the girl abated her incandescent kisses long enough to add: "Especially since I'll be in your graduate class next month?"

Like an exorcism, these words broke Penny's spell. Although a bit of a puritan, Salazar would have been overjoyed by such overtures from Kara. But a sexual encounter with a student filled him with distaste. He despised instructors who took advantage of their pupils.

Still, Salazar hesitated to make an enemy of Penny Molina, a gifted and forceful young person accustomed to getting her own way. Neither was he willing to make himself vulnerable to charges of sexual harassment, or to foreclose all chances of reconciliation with Kara. Thinking fast, he said:

"Penny dear, I fear I must tell you the ghastly truth."

"What's that?"

"I lately went deep into Kookish country."

"I know; you saw the Empress."

"Well, along the way I acquired a kind of Kook called an onnifa—a sterile female, living a warrior's life. Although I didn't know it at the time she became my retainer, Kookish rules say that the master of an onnifa is expected to service her sexually whenever his legal mate is absent."

"Sort of like the Biblical handmaidens?"

"Yep. Anyway, she put it to me: If I didn't come across, one of us would have to kill the other."

"Good heavens! Why?"

"It's a long story. Anyway, I thought: Why not? But Kook organs differ from ours. In any case the result was—" (Salazar stepped back with a woebegone expression)"—that my manhood was destroyed!"

"Oh, my God! You mean you lost your—"

"Yep. Luckily the Empress's physicians saved my life."

She lowered her gaze with a puzzled expression. "But when we kissed, I thought I felt ..."

Wordlessly, Salazar drew his small in-town pistol from his pocket, showed it, and replaced it.

"You poor, poor man!" cried Penny, throwing herself into his arms and covering him with tears and kisses. "So that's why you and Kara have to be 'just friends'!"

"There, there, my dear," said Salazar, trying tactfully to fend her off. "We must all bravely face the vicissitudes of fortune. And now good-night!"

Salazar stopped at his apartment to pick up personal effects, including his new binoculars. While packing toiletries and a change of clothes, he stared uncertainly at the poignette on his wrist. He could not decide whether or not to tell Kara that the caravan was about to leave. There were arguments for and against. In the end he buttoned her and said:

"Kara, I'm setting out tonight. The kyuumeis are on their way to the farm. I'm heading for the Museum to pick up Kono and Uwangi, and we shall be on the road by first fight. Want to come?"

"Certainly!"

"Your juten is still stabled at Vittorio's farm. I'll tell him to have it saddled and ready for you."

"Good; I'll bike out to the farm at daybreak."

"Fine! And please, not a word about tonight's events. I'll explain when I see you."