The Swords of Zinjaban

XIII - Ram Keshavachandra

The rest of the journey brought Reith no worse perils and pains than being dragged by Alicia through half the shops of Mishé, while the Cosmic crew shot the street scenes demanded by Motilal. When the crew was once more settled in the Visitors' Building at Novorecife, to await the arrival of the space ship Ceará, Reith and Alicia went to see Stavrakos, to ask what further services might be required.

The producer waved them away. "We don't need you. Just stay in the neighborhood, so we can find you if anything comes up."

"I'd like to get the balance due me," said Reith.

Alicia added, "And my salary for the last two weeks?"

"Oh, for God's sake!" shouted Stavrakos. "I'm being driven nuts, between temperamental actors, a sorehead new director, your finicky head cop at this stupid compound, and a mountain of paper work. Don't you two start on me! I'll get to your checks as quick as I can. Why don't you go off to that ranch of yours for another honeymoon?"

So Reith moved Alicia's possessions to the ranch. He also took home the monster key to the city of Vasabád. The following morning saw Reith and his groundsman, each holding one end of the key against the masonry of Reith's main fireplace, while Alicia gave directions: "A little more to my left ... No, you've got it too high. Down a couple of centimeters ... Fergus, your end's higher than Khudmet's ... Now it's lower ..."

"My arms are giving out," grumbled Reith.

"It won't be long now." At last she stepped forward and made pencil marks on the stones. "When we go in to Novo, you can order a pair of hooks from the blacksmith, and Khudmet can drill holes for them."

Reith visited the compound more or less daily. He tried several times to reach Stavrakos; but the producer was always in conference. When Reith encountered other members of the crew, they smiled vaguely, as if he were someone they had met but could not quite remember.

After twenty-odd years on Krishna, Reith had become too important a personage to angle for gratuities at the end of a tour. Nonetheless, he was used to having his tourists express their appreciation by clubbing together to buy him a gift or giving a party in his honor. As for as the Cosmic people were concerned, though, he seemed to have become invisible. Reith accepted this neglect philosophically, but it made Alicia furious.

"After all the work you did and the risks you ran!" she fumed. "They're the world's most self-absorbed narcissists! I'd never have stayed with them after the first month, if the job hadn't given me a chance to get back to Krishna and find you."

Reith smiled. "Don't give them a second thought. After all, I've got you. Wouldn't trade you in for all of Cosmic Productions—properties, rights, and people, including Cassie and Fodor's pair of cuties."

Driving to Novorecife the next morning, with Alicia curled up beside him in the gig, Reith said: "If that bastard doesn't ante up today, I'll begin to think he's trying to take off without paying what he owes us. If you ever have to jump into a river to rescue a drowning person, don't hand Kostis your wallet to hold while you do it."

Ahead, they glimpsed the silver spire of the Ceará above the sand-colored wall of the settlement. Alicia frowned. "Amazing luck, that the crew gets back to Novo to find a ship ready for takeoff a ten-day later. What's Kostis doing about the people that the ship won't have room for?"

"Doing?" said Reith. "Nothing. Kostis Stavrakos and Hari Motilal grabbed two berths and let the rest of the crew scramble. Cassie made it; the rumor is that she offered the port captain certain—uh—inducements. Those left behind will have to wait. Meanwhile Stavrakos and his new director will be back on Terra, editing the rough cut and adding special effects."

Reith and Alicia hurried to the Customs and Security Building as soon as they had stabled their aya. They found people rushing about, standing in line, shuffling papers, inspecting luggage, loading supplies, and going through all the manifold preparations for an interstellar flight.

Reith and Alicia looked around for familiar faces and sighted Michelle Fodor, relaxing in a lounge chair behind the pages of a book.

Alicia hailed her. "Why, Michelle! Are you one of the unlucky ones left behind?"

Michelle smiled. "No, I am ze lucky one. I decided to stay on Krishna. Mr. Castanhoso, he says he will process my permit as soon as ze ship takes off."

"My goodness! Why?"

Michelle shrugged. "Wiss Attila dead, I have no husband. So I look around. I see zere are many more men zan women here. Some would be glad to get a wife who know how to make zem 'appy. I have one picked, but of course I do not tell him. I only hope he will turn out a more conventional man zan Fodor, who was very difficult. Nancy and I were friends, en quelque fagon; but ze arrangement still made for—how you say—a bit of strain."

There's your practical Frenchwoman, thought Reith. "Good luck, Michelle! Have you seen Kostis?"

"No; not today."

Reith and Alicia wandered about, watching for the producer as they bade farewells to the travelers. After half a Krishnan hour, Reith said: "Lish, how would it be if I stayed here, while you go back to the Visitors' Building and bang on Stavrakos's door? He can't be wearing a helmet of invisibility!"

"Okay," said Alicia and vanished into the crowd.

Reith waited. The first bell sounded, warning passengers to board. There was a stampede towards the gate, where Assistant Security Officer Joao Matos stood checking papers and calling, "Get in line! Em fila de pessoas! Não empurrdo! No pushing! You there, go back to the end, or you shan't board today!"

The would-be queue jumper was Cyril Ordway, who slunk back to the end of the line with his lower lip thrust out and coat collar turned up. Since his arrival at Novorecife, he had kept out of sight. He and Reith ignored each other.

Reith shook hands with Randal Fairweather, who playfully punched Reith's shoulder, saying: "You lucky bastard! You know, my shrink warned me against remarrying any of my exes; said such reunions usually don't work. If he's right, and you and Alicia break up again, let me know and I'll come running!"

"It's a deal," said Reith, who found that he liked the actor in spite of himself. "But don't hold your breath in the meantime!"

Reith was seized and avidly kissed by Cassie Norris, who employed her tongue like an anteater raiding a termite nest. She whispered: "If I was gonna be here longer, boy, what I'd show you!"

Next, he shook the left hand of Ernesto Valdez, whose right arm was still in a sling. The last passengers were passing through the gate when Stavrakos and Motilal bustled up, documents in hand. Reith caught Stavrakos's arm. "Hey! Where have you been?"

"Little argument over spaceport fees," said the producer, "in the head cop's office. G'bye, Fergus—"

"Wait! You haven't paid the second half of my fee. I've been trying to catch you—"

"Don't worry, old pal. I deposited a draft to your account in the bank on my way here. I'm no deadbeat; your money's safe."

Although the producer's words had the ring of sincerity, Reith turned and walked rapidly out of the building. Outside, he broke into a run.

At the bank, Reith found a queue leading to the teller's cage, and he realized this was pay day. He took his place at the end of the line and fidgeted while the customers transacted their business with agonizing slowness. For a while, his inhibitions held him back from bulling his way to the head of the line. He had just worked up the courage to demand attention out of turn when a familiar, thin-lipped face appeared in the doorway behind the teller.

Reith yelled: "Hey, Pierce!"

The Bostonian accents of Pierce Angioletti, the Comptroller, replied: "What is it, Fergus?"

"Look, this is urgent. Could you find out if Stavrakos deposited a draft or check to my account this morning?"

"Okay," said Angioletti. "Come on around."

The Comptroller seated Reith in his office and went out. Soon he returned, saying: "No, no deposit. Yesterday he drew out all the liquid funds he had with us, and he hasn't put anything in since."

Reith sprang to his feet. 'The son of a bitch bamboozled me! If they haven't lifted off—" He departed at a run.

Reith was entering the Customs and Security Building just as the warning siren sounded. He dashed to the passenger gate but found it closed and locked. No officials were visible.

Another blast of the siren, and the floor shook with the familiar rumble of a ship blasting off. A voice behind Reith said: "Fergus! We have been looking all over for you."

It was Herculeu Castanhoso. When he got his breath, Reith explained Stavrakos's trick.

"I suspected something," said the security officer. "He and that little Indian director and the man White were in my office to straighten out a dispute. They wanted to cheat the Viagens of the spaceport fees for their equipment.

"As they went out, I overheard an argument between Stavrakos and the American. Senhor White was saying: 'But it's wrong! Especially after he saved your life ...' And Stavrakos said: 'Forget it, Jack! He broke the contract when he went off to hunt for his girl friend. If he wants his money, let him come to Earth and sue me.' It struck me that they might be talking about you. So I sent Joao to look for you, but without success."

"I was waiting in line at the bank," growled Reith, clenching his fists in frustration. "Where did White go? I didn't see him board."

"He is one of those left behind, to await the next ship."

Reith grunted. "That guy's a born, loser. The fraco could have tipped me off—but I suppose that's too much to expect. Oh, God damn them all to Hishkak!" Reith's voice rose to a shout as he pounded his palm with his fist. He picked up a light chair as if to throw it across the empty waiting room.

"Do not assault Senhor White if you meet him!" said Castanhoso sharply. "I warn you, Fergus!"

Reith got his rage under control and set down the chair. "Don't worry. While he's no hero, he at least made an effort to keep Stavrakos honest."

"In feet, he is thinking of—"

"Darling!" cried Alicia, running towards them. "Where have you been? I couldn't find Kostis ..."

Reith explained the contretemps. Castanhoso added, "Senhor White, as I was saying, is talking of staying on here and becoming a Krishnander."

"He might make it," said Alicia. "He has adapted himself much better than Sexy Cyril did."

"My friend," said Castanhoso to Reith, "you look as if you needed a drink. I, myself, do not drink on duty; but I have a bottle secreted for emergencies."

Reith shook his head. "I don't want a drink, thanks; but I'd like to sit down somewhere quiet for a bit."

In Castanhoso's office, Reith looked bleakly at Alicia. His anger had given way to a mood of morose discouragement. "Lish, are you sure you want to marry an ineffectual wimp like me? You needn't, if you've changed your mind."

"Don't be silly, Fearless! With the money they did pay you, we're rich by Krishnan standards. Anyway, I'd still want you if you were flat broke. And you're not a wimp."

"Oh, yes I am; a mere bug tossed on a chip on the sea of ltfe. A loser, like Jack White. Not to mention weary, flat, stale, and unprofitable."

She gave him a little shake. "Stop it, you dear idiot! Anybody can have a run of bad luck—even Fearless Fergus!"

"She is right," said Castanhoso. "With a quarter-hour's leeway, I could have put a hold on their equipment until he paid up. But ..."He shrugged. "These things happen. I do not see what you could have done differently, unless you had that extra-sensory perception they talk about. I hardly suppose you would go back to Terra in pursuit of your second payment?"

"Great Balm, no!" said Reith. "They've got more money to hire gonifs in Montecito then I could ever beg, borrow, or steal. If I sued, they'd keep me mucking around with courts and lawyers until I died of old age. I have better things to do with my life, I hope." His eyes narrowed and he doubled a fist. "But if Stavrakos ever comes back here ..."

Castanhoso headed off another outburst by changing the subject. "When will be this wedding of which we have heard?"

"In four days. I wanted to splice the halyard as soon as we reached Mishé—"

"But," said Alicia, "I thought it only fair that Fergus's friends have a chance to wish him well."

"Ah, as mulheres!" said Castanhoso. "The women always hope that the bigger the ceremony, the more secure the knot. Perhaps it works that way. At least, I shall be there!"

Reith had hoped to marry Alicia before Anthony Fallon in his consulate, sign the proper papers, hear the necessary words, and get the formalities out of the way. To make a big event of the occasion, he thought, would be in doubtful taste for someone already thrice married. But as so often in the past, Alicia had her way; although nowadays, Reith observed, she got it by subde suggestion instead of imperious demand.

On the appointed day, Reith and Alicia, in their best, stood in a packed courtroom. The magistrate, a small, slight man with a fringe of white curls around his bare, brown scalp, beamed upon the wedding party. Alister Reith was his father's best man, while Masako Ishimoto was Alicia's attendant. For a flower child, they had drafted the youngest daughter of Li Guoching, the communications officer; but in lieu of Terran flowers, the little girl carried a bunch of multicolored local herbs.

After questions were answered and a final pronouncement made them once more husband and wife, Judge Keshavachandra raised his hands and solemnly intoned: "lsvär bhagvân tumhâre sâdh haim!"

The ceremony over, the spectators rose and filed past the reweds, showering congratulations. Castanhoso cried: "Parabens!"

Masanobu Ishimoto murmured: "Omedetõ gozaimas'!"

Juanita Strachan said: "Felicitacionesr

Percy Mjipa boomed: "A re itumêleng!"

The new comandante, Jules Planquette, bowed over the bride's hand. "Je vous an fats mes complvmentsr Prince Ferrian of Sotaspé called out: "Hao na zanshihoraka!"

And Juana Rincon and Michelle Fodor burst into tears. Hands were wrung, backs slapped, cheeks kissed. Meilung Guan lined up the wedding party for photographs. Nobody was so tactless as to mention the couple's previous intimacies, within and without the bond of matrimony. At last Reith raised a hand for silence and said: "Alicia and I are grateful for your friendship; and now we invite you to a small party at the Nova Iorque!"

As they walked from the Law Building to the cocktail lounge, an ecstatic Alicia was surrounded by a gaggle of women, who chattered about houses, furniture, and clothes. Strachan and Castanhoso carried their instruments, bagpipes and a recorder, to furnish dance music. Reith found himself paired with Ram Keshavachandra. The magistrate asked: "Do you plan a wedding trip?"

"No," said Reith. "We're just going back to the ranch to help dig a swimming pool. Then we'll sit around with our feet up, enjoying the simple life until my next group of tourists arrives.

"By the way, Ram," continued Reith, "Hindi is not a language I know. What was that sentence you uttered so impressively at the end of the ceremony? A Hindu blessing?"

"Well—not exactly. I merely said—the nearest English idiom would be: 'Better luck this time around!' "

A Krishnan year later, four friends sat under the tree, which grew beside a handsome swimming pool. They were Fergus Reith; a very pregnant Alicia Dyckman Reith; Percy Mjipa, now Terran consul at Majbur; and his massive wife Victoria, almost as tall and just as black as he. Mjipa was saying, "... the office in Majbur has gone to pot since ibn-Ayub got himself murdered. He would try to mingle with natives of all classes on a familiar basis. Some Krishnans are fine people; but you'd jolly well better keep a little distance from them. If you don't..." Mjipa drew a finger across his throat.

Victoria hastily changed the subject as Reith's new Krishnan secretary appeared, bearing a tray of refreshments. "And where's your son? I haven't seen him around."

Reith answered, "Alister's running a tour, all on his own. His clients are three rich Mexican widows."

Mjipa commented: "Shouldn't think so small a party would prove profitable."

"It isn't; but the boy needed to start somewhere. Guiding on this planet takes special skills and resourcefulness, which can only be developed by experience."

Alicia added: "You should see how Fergus trained him for this tour! He and Juanita Strachan and I would sit feeing Alister and all scream outrageous complaints and demands in Spanish. Then we'd rate the lad on how adroitly he handled each one."

"Actually," said Reith, "Alister's three widows seem to be nice old ladies who won't give him trouble. Most tourists are easy enough to manage; and with a bit of luck Alister and Timásh will be able to handle all my tour groups during the next few months, while I stay home to help with the blessed event."

"Lish, my dear," said Mjipa, "I seem to remember that in Zhamanak, you said you were married to your career and didn't want a husband or children knocking holes in your work schedule."

Alicia, beaming with the smug satisfaction of mothers-to-be, raised her chin with a touch of her old arrogance. "Don't you go thinking I've given up my researches just because I'm a wife and mother! In fact, I've just sent off the manuscript of my latest book, and I'll go back to professional work full-time when the kids are grown."

"What book is this?" asked Victoria Mjipa.

"On the marriage system in the republic of Katai-Jhogorai, where all husbands and wives are expected to take lovers and show no jealousy. Next comes my ghosting of Tony Fallon's memoirs."

"Don't whitewash him!" said Mjipa.

"Indeed not! He knows I won't write the book unless he confesses his whole rascally past."

Reith said: "Speaking of the past, Lish and I have a peculiar problem."

"Yes?" said the Mjipas in unison.

"It'll soon be twenty-five Terran years since Lish and I were married for the first time. Now, do you dunk we should celebrate our silver wedding anniversary next year? Or should we count the years we were divorced as time out, and celebrate—oh, about twenty-three Terran years hence? Or should we go by the Krishnan calendar—twenty-five local years from the beginning, whether or not we called time out?"

"That's not all," said Alicia, laughing. "Fergus, being a self-centered male, dunks only of things from his point of view. To me, because of my space-shuttling, we were first married about four and a half Terran years ago."

"Great Bákh!" exclaimed Mjipa. "I can see at least eight possible dates for your silver wedding anniversary! Why not celebrate all eight? Think of all the gifts you could cadge!"

"That's an idea," said Reith, grinning. "If we counted all the possible anniversaries—crystal, china, and so forth—and figured eight dates for each, we could celebrate nearly every moon from now on."

"I'm surprised you keep track of such things, Fergus," said Victoria Mjipa, "since so few Americans nowadays get past their tenth year with the same spouse."

Percy Mjipa lit his pipe. "Trouble with you Americans is, you think your Declaration of Independence promised you happiness. It doesn't, of course; merely the pursuit thereof. So when the pink fog thins and your spouse shows the normal quota of faults and foibles, you feel cheated. Then your average American dumps his or her mate, picks another, and goes through the same dreary charade over and over.

"Oh, hell, I oughtn't to run on this way, like a bloody moralist. Besides, I've let my pipe go out again."

"What's wrong with moralists?" said Alicia. "We need them to balance the hedonists."

"Hm!" said Mjipa. "Maybe you've got something there." He turned to the others. "When we get our Novocife college off the pad, Lish and I might give a course in cultural relativism."

"I'd like that!" said Alicia. Eagerly she asked, "Think I might get a full professorship?"

"Better yet," said Mjipa. "The Committee wants you to head the Sociology Department, as soon as family responsibilities allow." He looked at his watch, a native Krishnan timepiece, thumb-thick and saucer-sized, with a single hand and a loud tick. "Must be going. Thanks for a wonderful visit."

Victoria added her thanks as her husband handed her into his trap. He touched the aya with his whip, and the little vehicle wheeled down Reith's driveway.

Out of hearing, Victoria Mjipa said: "Alicia has changed, and I don't think it's just the pregnancy."

"Certainly she's changed," said Mjipa. "Had to if she didn't want all that fancy psychotherapy to be a swindle."

"Somehow I found her more likable but less interesting. She's never dull; but she's lost some of the fire that used to fascinate people but make them a little afraid of her, too."

Mjipa blew a smoke ring. "True, ray dear. Alicia's old fiery self lit the romance of the century under Fergus and then burned it to ashes. If, by giving up that volcanic temperament, she can now five in loving domesticity with her man, I'd say she's made a sound trade. And that's about the best that anyone can expect out of life."