The Swords of Zinjaban

V - Lady Gashigi

Its folding top up against a drizzling rain, the barouche rolled briskly down the river road to Qou. On their left, the country sometimes opened out into cultivated farmland, then closed in again behind a crowded wall of temperate-zone forest. Gaudy trunks of bright-hued trees lined the roadside, like billboards along a busy Terran highway.

Timásh, riding ahead on a spare aya, threw up a warning hand. Reith pulled up his pair of ayas and set the brake.

"What's up?" demanded Ordway.

"You'll see," said Reith. "Just be quiet."

Across the road, a score of meters beyond, shambled three huge beasts: a female bishtar and two young, one half-grown and one a new calf. The cow was of elephantine size and build, with six columnar legs supporting a long-barreled body. Its hide was covered with glossy far of purpled brown, spangled with constellations of small cream-colored spots, as if a demented painter had flapped his brushes at the animal. The head resembled that of a Terran tapir, though vastly larger, with small, trumpet-shaped ears and a long muzzle ending in a pair of stubby, meter-long trunks.

"Wish I had an elephant gun," breathed Ordway. "There's no hunting for sport on Earth any more; all the wildlife's in parks and preserves."

"We ought to have one of those things in our movie," whispered White. "Do they have tame ones for rent?"

Reith replied: "The Dasht of Ruz has one in his zoo; but I daresay he'd never lease it. We'd have to go to Majbur to find one, at the end of the coastal railroad lines."

"They've got railroads here?" exclaimed White.

"Hush! Yes, they do, with tame bishtars for locomotives."

"We've really got to get one into the picture!" said White. "One good action shot of that animal would be worth a hundred meters of an animated model—"

"Oh, hell!" said Ordway. "We can't run all over the planet on the budget they gave me!"

"But Cyril, don't you see—"

The two executives had gradually raised their voices. Reith said, "Hey, pipe down! You're bothering the animals."

Timásh, pulling up beside the carriage, mumbled: "Ye had best turn and flee, Master Reit'. Yon cow hath taken an ill will to you."

The female bishtar had turned to face the carriage. Now she stood with little ears twitching and stumpy trunks sniffing.

"Help me wheel these ayas round," grated Reith, releasing the brake and hauling on the reins.

The road proved too narrow for easy turning. Reith had to back the vehicle so that its rear wheels crunched into the vegetation. Batting his big straw hat at the ayas' heads, Timásh turned them partly around; but then, rolling their eyes in terror, they balked. Out of control, they danced about nervously, unmindful of threat or encouragement.

Alicia slipped out of the carriage, seized the horns of the nearer animal, and hauled its head around by main force. Reith called: "Fine, Lish! Get up on a spare aya; it'll be safer for you."

Timásh threw Alicia the reins of one of the spares. She caught the strap and vaulted on to the back of the unsaddled beast.

Just then, the cow bishtar opened its vast maw, gave a thunderous snort, and began shuffling with appalling speed towards the travelers. Reith, having at last turned the animals and carriage, cracked his whip and shouted "Byant-hao!"

All the ayas broke into a gallop. Ordway, glancing back from his seat in the swaying barouche, cried: "My God, Fergus, that damned thing's gaining on us!"

The bishtar's pounding sextuple footfalls had indeed begun to close the gap. Ordway's ruddy face paled to a livid hue, and his jowls quivered like rolls of jelly.

"I think we're gaining," said White in a strangled voice that lacked conviction. But even as he spoke, the bishtar slowed to a stop, sides heaving, and shook its ponderous head. Reith let his team slow down. When the bishtar was almost out of sight beyond a slight bend in the road, Reith pulled to a halt and looked back.

"There she goes," he murmured at last, as the cow began plodding back the way she had come. When the beast was wholly out of sight, Reith turned the carriage again and cautiously resumed the journey.

"I say!" said Ordway, mopping his forehead. "That'll be something to tell the shooting crew about. Were we in real danger?"

Reith shrugged. "If she'd caught you, she'd have squashed you like a grape. But once we turned, I knew we had enough of a start to get away, unless we lost a wheel or something. Bishtars can move pretty fast, but they soon run out of breath. I once got away from one on foot."

"You did?" said White.

"Sure you're not pulling my leg?" added Ordway. "No; straight goods; tell you some time. There's nothing like being chased by an angry bishtar to bring out the best in a runner. But next time I say to keep your voices down, do it!"

By midafternoon they had reached the Qou ferry landing, where they waited an hour for the terry. At last a broad-beamed scow, propelled by a dozen oars, crawled like a water insect out of the drizzle. The oarsmen were Krishnans of the tailed species,' naked and hairy, who under the ferrymaster's direction swarmed chattering ashore. While Reith and Timásh led their nervous ayas out on the deck of the scow, the tailed ones manhandled the carriage aboard. White remarked: "Cyril, I've got a great idea! Couldn't we get Attila to write in a scene with these monkey-men?"

Ordway raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You know script writers."

When at last they were settled in Qou, Reith and his charges strolled about the slatternly village, staring at the tailed primitives. Scarcely assimilated into such civilization as the town possessed, they lived in a clump of circular reed huts and toiled at menial tasks.

White disappeared into another astrologer's shack. Alicia became engrossed in conversing, in a tongue full of grunts and clicks, with a group of idle primitives. Amazed that any tailless being could address them in their own language, the tailed ones crowded round, grinning and chattering.

"Look at her!" said Ordway, whose round lace bore a stubble of reddish-gold beard. "She can do anything, that gel. Makes one feel flat-out inadequate, just to watch her. I say, Fergus!"

"Yes?"

"Don't take this wrong; but are you and she—ah— contemplating ..."

"Damn it, Cyril—"

"Please, old boy, don't get off your bike! You know my reason for asking. Here am I, with a peg you could hang a fur coat on, while you two dance a land of hesitation waltz, circling round and round. I want the gel, and you're driving me loopy!"

Reith's expression did not change; experience had taught him to hide his emotions. After a pause, he coolly replied: "I'm afraid you'll have to put up with our dance a while longer. We're just living from day to day, enjoying life and promising nothing." He glanced at the setting sun, intermittently visible through tattered clouds. "We'd better get back; these people dine early."

Dinner, served by the innkeeper's wife and buxom daughter, looked like a kind of shrimp stew and tasted like spiced rubber. Reith entertained his companions with Krishnan tales.

"A French adventurer, Felix Borel, once worked the perfect swindle. He sold the Knights of Qarar the rights to a perpetual-motion machine. He'd have made a good thing of this flimflam, only he got into a duel with a Knight over a female. Being no fighter, he had to run for it—yes?" he said in Mikardandou. The innkeeper's half-grown son was plucking at his sleeve.

"Pray, Master Terran," said the boy, "hast seen my bozmaj?"

"No, my lad I have not. I'll watch for it."

"What's that?" asked Ordway.

The boy's lost his pet, a small relative of the shan. To get back to Borel's sad tale—"

White, staring at Reith's plate, made a strangled sound. Reith looked down to see one of the "shrimps" stagger to its eight feet and now, dripping gravy, wander off the plate. It plodded across the table top, leaving a double row of little brown spots where its feet had touched the wood.

Ordway, his blue eyes wide, said: "Good God, what's that? I thought the five spaghetti we've been eating was pretty revolting; but at least it didn't walk away on a lot of legs!"

"Oh, that's all right," said Reith. "Lots of lower Krishnan organisms still move after being boiled. Something in their proteins." He deftly skewered the creature with one of his eating spears and held it up. It arched its body and rhythmically waved its eight legs.

White clapped a hand to his mouth, rose, and bolted out the door. Reith called: "Madam Nirizi! Kindly take my little friend here back and boil him for another quarter-hour!"

Ordway sighed. "You two seem not only to be made of piano wires and india-rubber bands, but to have stainless-steel insides as well!"

"We've adapted," said Reith. "Actually, a Terran can eat most Krishnan foods. A few would upset or even kill you; but I see to it that my clients don't get them."

Alicia added sweetly: "So whenever a visitor acts obnoxious, all we have to do is to slip him the wrong land of eats."

Ordway shuddered. "I assure you I shall sprout wings! And never let it be said that a plucky British lad funked out at the sight of strange food. I've faced up to worse hazards on dear old Terra." He bravely attacked his pseudo-shrimp. Later he said: "Alicia, you haven't eaten half your dinner. Has that live prawn zapped your appetite, too?"

"No," she replied. "I eat what's good for me, no more."

Ordway sighed. "Wish I had your self-discipline."

"Suffering is the price of sylphishness." Ordway frowned. "What's selfishness got to do with it?''

"I said 'sylphishness.' You know, like a sylph."

"What's that?"

"A kind of fairy."

"D'you mean the kind that flits through the woods on gauzy wings, or the kind that swishes along on Piccadilly?''

"The former," said Alicia, adding severely: "You shouldn't ridicule the handicapped, Cyril."

"Sorry. What beats me is that we still have 'em, when I'm told they can easily be cured nowadays."

Alicia shrugged. "It's like Jack's gambling; some people don't want to be cured."

"Ah, well," said Ordway, "at least I've never had to worry about it myself. I'd gladly show you my capabilities—"

"I saw them in the bathhouse at Avord," said Alicia dryly, "and they looked much like other men's. Just keep your mind above my belt!"

Ordway sighed. "Easier said than done, with a bonzer bird like you."

After dinner, Ordway fell into halting conversation with the innkeeper's daughter, who spoke a little English. Reith and Alicia strolled down a muddy street to the rickety ferry pier. The overcast had rolled away, leaving a clear sky ruled by all three Krishnan moons: big Karrim, middle-sized Golnaz, and little Sheb. Their radiance cast pyramidal shadows that turned the shabby village into a tenebrous fairyland. Above, the satin sky was diamonded with shimmering stars, faint in the overwhelming moonlight.

"What a night for love!" breathed Alicia as she stood with chin up, gazing at the celestial display.

Reith gave a faint grunt, forced by the inner turmoil that intimate converse with Alicia aroused. "Poor Cyril's suffering from unrequited lust. He's even asked me when we'll end our tango, so he can make passes at you again."

"Fergus, are you trying to tell me to give him my all?"

"Gods, no! I'm just gossiping."

"Well, that's a relief. I really don't like him, you know."

"I'm glad of that. It wouldn't commend your taste in men."

"I once showed excellent ta—" She stopped in confusion. To cover an awkward pause, Reith said: "You know, Lish, I look back with pleasure on a tour I guided about five years ago."

"Why?"

"Because that was my one group with no sexual complications for anyone. No falling in or out of love; no domestic quarrels, infidelities, deviations, or involvement with Krishnans."

Alicia, who had been holding Reith's arm, released it and stiffened. "Do you mean I'm just a sexual complication?"

"Eh? No—of course—I don't—you're just—oh, hell!" He gathered her in for a long, fervent kiss. As they resumed their walk, Reith explained. "I was thinking of a tour of the other land, with a highly visible case of adultery and an outraged husband brandishing a souvenir sword. I saved that Don Juan's gore at the cost of a cut on the arm, but relations were pretty strained all around for the rest of the trip. The etiquette books don't cover situations like that." He smothered a yawn. "Time to turn in; we have a long drive tomorrow."

Alicia looked wistfully up at the triple moons. "But it's so nice ..."

Reith regarded her classic features, heartbreakingly beautiful in the moonlight. "Listen, girl, you'd better do as I say if you don't want splinters in your backsidel"

"Oh." She glanced down at the rough planking of the pier and giggled. "I see the point—or points. Besides it is getting chilly. I'll race you to the inn!"

Alicia won the race. As they flung open the door and staggered in, laughing, the taverner cried in alarm: "What is't? Are the wild Koloftuma attacking?"

It took some minutes to convince the apprehensive innkeeper that foot-racing was just a zany Terran form of amusement.

At Alicia's door, Reith prolonged the good-night kiss. Then they were embracing with the intensity of mutual passion. He was sure that if he stepped into her room ...

A hideous scream tore them apart. Down the hall galloped Cyril Ordway in his underwear, eyes staring and short legs pumping.

"Help!" he shrieked as he raced past. "It's got me!"

After him scuttled the bozmaj, the pet of the innkeeper's son, hissing angrily. It was a scaly animal, as long as a man is tall but mostly neck and tail. From time to time the lizardlike jaws on the end of its serpentine neck snapped a centimeter from Ordway's rear.

As the beast passed, Reith shot out a hand, caught it just behind the head, and hoisted it into the air. He held it away from his body so that the claws of the six thrashing legs could not gouge him as he bellowed: "Master Fangchu!"

As Reith stood holding the bozmaj, Ordway clattered down the stair. Reith heard him pounding on the locked front door, shouting: "Let me out! Let me out!"

Down the hallway whence Ordway had come, Reith glimpsed the innkeeper's daughter, leaning out of her door and staring like one bewitched. Then the innkeeper's son appeared at the head of the stairs crying: "Master Terran, that is my pet! I pray you, give it me!"

"Gladly," said Reith, handing over the bozmaj. The boy embraced the creature, which wound its neck and tail around him and flicked out a forked tongue to lick his ear.

Reith and Alicia hurried down to the entranceway, where Ordway stood frantically trying to push open the door.

"Calm down, Cyril!" said Reith. "The kid has his lizard back. What happened?"

"Well—all—I'd rather not discuss it in front of Alicia."

Reith grinned. "Go to bed, Lish, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"Huh!" she said. "As if I didn't know already!" But she went.

"Well," said Ordway, "you saw me passing the time of night with Fangchu's gel. After you left the inn, we sort of wandered into her room. She wanted to practice her English, and she soon made it plain that she'd entertain a proposition. So we were sitting on her bed, and I was demonstrating the earthly custom of kissing, which she'd asked me about. Then this junior nightmare stuck its long neck out from under the bed and stared me in the eye. Never did like snakes."

"This isn't a snake," said Reith. "It has legs."

"It's a cross between a snake and a centipede, which is worse. It scared the hell out of me, so I jumped up and threw a shoe at it. That tore it. Look at my arm!"

Ordway's arm bore a dozen parallel scratches, oozing tiny ruby droplets. Reith said, "Alicia has the first-aid kit. Come on up."

"Damn!" growled Ordway. "That bloody beast spoiled a perfectly good firkin o' luck before it even got started."

You're not the only one, thought Reith. Ordway continued mournfully, "Why do these things keep happening to a nice, warm-hearted chap like me?"

"Because you don't seem to learn from experience," said Reith.

Ordway grunted. After a pause, he said: "Fergus, I should like an agreement. I won't make any more passes at Alicia, if you'll keep quiet about this lizard episode. I shouldn't care to have the shooting crew learn of it when they arrive."

"Okay," said Reith. "It's a deal."

Three days later, Reith's ayas clopped towards the huge, buff-gray wall of sprawling Mishé. From a distance, upthrust above the scowling wall, the Earthlings could see the central Citadel, a mesalike acropolis whose vertical sides were revetted with massive stone blocks. Over the Citadel's parapet loomed the upper stories of huge, boxlike, elephant-gray buildings, where the Guardians, the knightly ruling caste, dwelt and ruled.

During the journey, White, using a traveler's phrase book, had begun to learn spoken Mikardandou. Reith drilled him in simple phrases. When Reith suggested that Ordway do likewise, the Londoner said: "No, Fergus. Let the bloody wogs learn to speak English, like civilized people, if they want to talk to me."

Near the city gates, the carriage rumbled past an exercise field. There, knights and men-at-arms practiced martial arts. Afoot, they chopped at pells with swords and axes; mounted, they charged with leveled lances at a suspended ring.

Passing a rack of spikes decorated with the rotting heads of malefactors, the carriage drew up at the sentry box outside the gate. The travelers showed their papers to armored guards, who waved them through. Soon their vehicle was rattling over the cobblestones of the main thoroughfare. Ordway asked: "Are you taking us to another inn, Fergus?"

Reith said: "We're first going to see the consul. He's a reformed Englishman named Fallon."

"Reformed? You sound as if being English were a criminal offense."

"No, I merely meant that he's English, like you; and that he's also given up being a drunken drifter."

"Hm. I'm skeptical of reformed characters."

Reith leaned out, looking along the avenue. At last he said to the driver: "Stop here, Timásh!"

The Krishnan halted the ayas before a modest edifice. To one side of the door, the red-white-and-blue medallion of the Terran World Federation was affixed to the beige stucco of the wall.

The passengers climbed down, wearily stretching cramped limbs; and a Krishnan servant admitted them to a long, dark hall. As they passed a stand bearing an open registry book, Reith paused to sign. "Now the rest of you sign, too, please!" he said, handing the pen to Alicia.

"Hey there, Fergus!" came a shout from the far end of the hall. "I thought I recognized that voice."

Footsteps signaled the man's approach. The newcomer proved a tall Terran who looked much older than Reith, although in fact the years that separated them were few. His wavy hair was gray and his face, once handsome, was lined and pouched from years of hard, dissipated living; yet Anthony Fallon stood militarily straight and moved with the spring of a younger man. He shook hands heartily with Reith and cheerfully acknowledged the round of introductions.

"What quarters did you get us?" Reith asked.

"A VIP suite in the Citadel. It looks as if your project should go through without a hitch."

"In my experience," said Reith, "when things seem too good to be true, they usually are."

"We shall see; we shall see. Can I give you all a drink?"

As Fallon waved his guests into the consular office, he touched Reith's arm and whispered: "I say, Fergus! Isn't she the gal you once—umm—"

Reith nodded silently and passed through the door. The travelers took seats and watched Fallon pour fight falat wine into four goblets. Instead of pouring a fifth for himself, he filled his own vessel from a pitcher of water.

"Ordway can't believe you've reformed, Tony," said Reith. "Working in the movie industry has made him cynical. Tell him your tale."

"Very well; if you're sure it won't bore you," said Fallon. "I've led a pretty full life: been everything from king to drunken swagman, including along the way policeman for the World Fed, hippopotamus farmer, wild-life photographer, actor, professional cricketer, and spy. By the way," Fallon addressed Reith, "speaking of my kingship days, I got a letter from my ex."

"And how is the onetime Queen of Zamba?"

"Not that ex, the previous one, Alexandra—the one who married that Canadian—ah—Hasselborg, the chap who killed the then Dasht of Ruz. Alex was bubbling over because the Genetics Board on Terra had given them permission to have a third child. Thank the Lord, here we don't have to ask permission to beget our land."

"Are they happy?"

"Apparently. I'm glad they're doing well, but you know how it is. Unhappy marriages are full of mixed emotions, conflict, and tragedy—the stuff of drama—so they're interesting. But as for happy ones—"

"What about your reformation?" interrupted Ordway.

"Certainly. It was about fifteen years ago, after the foil of Balhib, when Ishimoto was consul in Mishé. I was living here by my wits, indulging in futile dreams of getting my throne back and drinking myself to death.

"Then I pulled myself together, went back to Novo, and got the doc there to give me the treatment developed by that Indian chap. Now I can't abide anything alcoholic. Next, I persuaded the brass to make me acting consul here when the job opened up. Later I passed the qualifying tests; and here I am, an excruciatingly respectable civil servant, a bloody bureaucrat. I sometimes miss the old, irregular days; but to quote some ancient bloke: 'We live not as we wish but as we can.' By the way, Fergus, do you know a man named Enrique Schlegel?"

"Slightly, and not to my pleasure. What about him?"

"He was in Mishé a few days ago, campaigning for his Society for the Preservation of Krishnan Culture. In the past half-moon, his followers have smashed up a shop selling Terran-style women's clothes. Before that, they rioted at a concert where the orchestra played Rozanov's Second Symphony. Not that Rozanov would have known his piece by the time the Krishnan band got through with it."

"Why haven't the Knights kicked him out? Or better yet, put his head on a spike?"

"He has a following. Grand Master Juvain was ultra-conservative, and a lot of his admirers are still around."

"Was Schlegel disguised as a Krishnan?"

"Absolutely; a first-class cosmetic job. I talked with him, as I do with all such characters. When I mentioned you, he began to roar curses and threats. Seems you once knocked him down."

"So I did, when he disrupted one of my tours."

"Said he was leaving shortly for Mikardand, drumming up support for his cult, and you'd better look to your sword if he ran into you. He'd been kicked out of Suruskand and blames you."

"That was Herculeu's idea," said Reith. "Not that I didn't agree! But Herculeu wrote Dámir while I was away with my clients here, so I knew nothing about it at the time."

"I tried to gentle him down," said Fallon, "but he's a real paranoiac, sure all Terrans on the planet are out to get him. So keep your sword handy."

As the visitors filed out, Fallon touched Reith's arm to detain him, murmuring: "How the devil does it happen that you're knocking about with your former spouse?"

"I told you," said Reith. "She's an executive with these movie people, and she got me this guiding contract."

"Doesn't it make things a bit awkward?"

"Not a bit," said Reith, avoiding Fallon's eye. "We're friends, and neither of us is now married. We're—well, sort of like brother and sister."

"Good! Then I can be friends with both. You know, keeping up with both halves of an ex-couple is something to be done the way porcupines make love— carefully." Fallon shook his head. "I say, have you two any—all—plans?"

Sternly, Reith said: "You're about the tenth person who's asked me that. The next will be eaten by my pet yeki."

"I didn't know you had a pet yeki."

"I don't; but I'll get one."

Fallon frowned. "Ruin thing about exes; one doesn't get over them as easily as expected. You think it's long since done with, that you have no more feelings one way or the other, that there have been others since, and that you're both better off. But then something brings your former spouse into the foreground again. You see her, or hear from her, like this letter from Alexandra. And suddenly you're all of a twitter emotionally, as if you were still ..." He broke off, staring wistfully.

"I know," said Reith. "Old man, I know."

The new Grand Master, Sir Yazman bad-Esb, proved unexpectedly young. It was hard to judge the age of a Krishnan, but Reith guessed this one to be under forty, a third of the normal Krishnan life span.

Sir Yazman cut a handsome figure save for a prominent scar on one side of his face. Because of the frequent duels and tournaments, such scars were almost as common among the Knights of Qarar as the blue-and-orange tunics and hose that formed their uniform. To indicate his rank, the Grand Master's tunic bore cryptic symbols worked in golden thread.

Fallon made introductions. The Grand Master looked uncertainly at the consul before he came around his desk with outstretched hand, saying in halting, mangled Portuguese: "¿Possa—poderei—dar um apêrto de mão?"

"He wants to shake hands," said Reith, "the way we do."

As the ceremony proceeded, Ordway muttered: "Dashed different from the other, eh?"

The Grand Master asked shyly in Mikardandou: "Said I that right, Master Reith? I essay to study the Ertso tongue for future dealings with your land."

Reith bowed to hide a smile. "I am gratified that Your Superiority takes such a lively interest in our Terran languages."

"I thank you. My Treasurer, meanwhile, hath set herself to master the English. It were expedient to prepare ourselves to address Terrans in any of their tongues. Pray, state how many such languages there are."

"The last I heard, sir, about three thousand."

The Grand Master flinched. "Great Bákh! We shall never live to learn so vast a number!"

"Fear not, Your Superiority. Most Terran languages are spoken by small groups only. If you master a few leading ones besides Portuguese—say, English, French, Spanish, and Chinese—you'll be able to communicate with any Terrans you will meet. I note you referred to the Treasurer as 'herself.' What has befallen my friend Sir Kubanan?"

"He hath retired to the home for superannuated Knights. My lady Treasurer now handles all the business of the Republic; and you, of course, will make your financial arrangements with her." The Grand Master beckoned his secretary. "Daest, kindly fetch Her Sagacity."

After the secretary departed, the Grand Master exchanged pleasantries with the movie executives, Reith and Alicia interpreting. At last the secretary ushered in a handsome Krishnan female, not quite middle-aged, whose breast-baring gown of sky-blue and orange was confined by a winking bejeweled girdle. At the sight of Reith, her antennae quivered.

"Ah, Far-goose!" she cried in tones of arch reproach. "How cruel you are, to pass again and again through Mishé without paying me a visit! It hath been a score of years since we had intimate converse; albeit the memory thereof still burns within my soul! I have had but a glimpse of you betimes, leading your bands of Terrans about our city, and rarely a hasty greeting; that's all. Art afeared of me, dear Far-goose?"

Flushing to the roots of his hair, Reith did not translate this speech. A glance showed that Alicia was struggling to suppress a burst of laughter. Ordway, with a sharp look, muttered: "What's funny, Alicia?"

She shook her head without replying. Mustering his dignity, Reith said: "Your Sagacity, I must watch my charges vigilantly, for they are often as foolish in their ways as Mikardand's commoners can be in theirs. Now permit me to present my associates ..."

As White and Ordway bowed awkwardly, Gashigi replied, in English as weird as the Grand Master's Portuguese: "Ah-ee am pa-lee-sed to mit ze guest-ess fa-rom ze Airf."

"Your Sagacity's English is coming along splendidly," said Reith. "But for serious business, it were better for each to speak his native tongue, while Doctor Dyckman and I interpret."

Gashigi made the Krishnan affirmative head motion. "Then let us begin our business forthwith. How soon will this making of a living picture start... ?"

Fallon excused himself and vanished. For two hours, Gashigi and Ordway verbally jousted, bandying times, sites, numbers of extras, rates of pay, and problems of logistics. As before, Ordway showed himself a master of complex calculation. Gashigi, equally able, did nearly all the talking on the Krishnan side, now and then turning to the Grand Master to ask: "Ye agree to that, sir, do ye not?"

Each time, Sir Yazman muttered a vague assent. Reith got the impression that the Treasurer had him firmly under her thumb.

By sunset, the negotiators had roughed out a tentative agreement. Gashigi said: "You understand, my noble Ertsuma, we must consult with our committees ere we can sign our compact. Neither you nor the Knights are bound as yet. Let us meet again tomorrow at the ninth hour. In the morn, rest and enjoy the sights of Mishé, which Sir Fergus is well qualified to display for your edification."

The visitors bade farewell, again shaking hands in Terran fashion. The Grand Master said: "Had we known before of your arrival, we had staged a banquet in your honor. As 'tis, that must needs await the morrow. You will dine with us then?"

Assuring the Grand Master that they were delighted with his invitation, and bidding Gashigi a wary good night, Reith shepherded his party back to their quarters in the Citadel.

By prearrangement, the travelers met Anthony Fallon at a tavern in the lower city. This was an ill-lit place with a low ceiling of soot-blackened beams. The room was heavy with the odors of cookery, and the smoke made White cough.

The consul presented a buxom Krishnan female of middle-years, saying: "This is my wife, Paranji. She doesn't speak a word of English, so you can say what you like in that tongue."

Reith looked a question. Smiling, Fallon continued: "Oh, I was married by the most solemn, binding Krishnan rites and have a brace of stepchildren at home. You see, Fergus, it's all very well for the Knights to play at musical beds; but I live among the commoners, who adhere to a moral code that would make Savonarola look like a playboy."

"By Qondyor's toenails, you've certainly changed, Tony!"

"Don't we all—at least, those who get sense with the passing of years? How did your meeting go?"

Reith gave a resumed "I got the impression that Gashigi rules that roost."

Fallon grinned. "You can jolly well say that again! Fact is, the Garma thought Yazman too young and inexperienced. There were a couple of stronger candidates for the office; but since each had about the same number of partisans, they compromised and made Yazman Grand Master. He was Gashigi's lover of the moment, and she saw to it that he made her Treasurer. Can't say she's not good at her job! Now tell me about this cinema project of yours."

When Ordway had summarized the script, Fallon wrinkled his face in distaste. "I might have guessed. Knights in shiny armor galloping around on ayas; ladies in bare-tit dresses leaning out of castle windows, and all that feudal rot."

Ordway bridled. "Rot? Now look here—" He broke off to cough from the smoke.

"What somebody ought to do," said Fallon firmly, "is to picture the lives of ordinary Krishnans. You chaps have no idea of what the lack of modern technology means to the poor bastards. You pal around with a few lords and get an entirely false picture of life on this planet.

"For the vast majority here, life involves a perfectly appalling amount of drudgery, which bears most heavily on the ordinary women. Your commoner Krishnan and his wife work their arses off from dawn to dusk, just trying to stay alive. If they accumulate any surplus, it's taxed away to support the glittering courts of the dours and dashts and the Chief Commissar up on the Citadel." Fallon jerked a thumb to indicate the Grand Master. He continued: "You wonder why these people stink? Well, if you had to lug all your bath water, a bucketful at a time, from a well or a street tap or a fountain, you'd stink, too. They don't read much, even when they've been to school; why? Ever try to read by the light of a taper, or one of those little pottery oil lamps, which is all they can afford? After a quarter-hour, your eyes smart so you can't go on.

"If you think the folk stink, you should have been here thirty years ago, before the Interplanetary Council let in soap technology. After talking about it for years, the I.C. at last decided that the knowledge of soap and eyeglasses would do the Krishnans more good than harm, though Krishnan chauvinists like to claim the Krishnans invented these things on their own. Things will improve when the Krishnan Industrial Revolution really takes off."

"And then," said Ordway, "their population will simply explode, so they'll end up with more poor, hungry people."

Fallon shrugged. "Perhaps, unless they show better sense about population control than Terrans did in the past. They certainly won't become better off at their present level of technics. So what you cinema wallahs should do—"

"And who on Earth," snapped Ordway, "is going to queue up to see a flick on the woes of a Krishnan housewife who has to haul her dishwashing water from the well? Most moviegoers want to forget sordid reality. They want romance—adventure. Anyway, that's what we're paid to give 'em, and by God's foreskin, that's what they shall get!"

At the moment, dinner arrived. Reith was agreeably surprised to find the meal simple but excellent; the roast shaihan was done just right. Fallon's Krishnan wife asked a question in Mikardandou. Turning to Paranji, Fallon summarized the discussion. Then, with a crafty smile, he turned back to Ordway, saying: "You don't think there's romance in the lives of ordinary Krishnans? I'll show you." From an inside pocket he pulled and unfolded a mass of newsprint, which proved to be a newspaper, printed on two large sheets.

"What's that?" asked Ordway.

"The Mishé Defender for the current ten-day. Let's see: 'Headless Body Found.' 'Price of Meat Falls.' 'Merchant Ghanum Knighted.' 'News of Royalty.' Ah, here we are! This is Alvandi's personal-advice column. People write in about their problems—"

"Hey!" said Reith. "Isn't that the name of the last Queen of Qirib? The one deposed and exiled?"

"Rather!"

"Is this the old she-yeki herself, or another of the same name? Or a pseudonym?"

"Wish I knew," said Fallon. "They're very secretive at the Defender. She's probably alive somewhere, because there's a movement in Qirib to restore her to the throne, as a figurehead constitutional monarch. Ever since Vizman made himself king—"

"Vizman's a king, now?" interrupted Alicia, staring.

"Why, yes. After he'd postponed the promised elections a dozen times, with the usual excuses—public unrest, the masses' political naïveté, etcetera—he announced that, to comply with the unanimous wish of the Qiribuma, he pronounced himself Dour. From what I hear, he's not doing badly as monarchs go; he's abolished slavery for one thing. But, I understand, lots of Qiribuma go about muttering that, if we've got to have a monarch, it should at least be a legitimate one. Hence the push to restore Alvandi.

"By the way, Alicia, you must certainly have made an impression on him. When he was here last year on a state visit, he asked me if I could round up any pictures of you. Seems he has a collection of old photographs, and he's having your portrait painted from them."

"Hasn't he taken a wife yet?"

"No; still unmarried. They tell me he spends time every day just looking at these photos of you. If you want to be a queen—"

"Let's not go into that," said Reith sharply, aware of the painful memories that mention of the former President Vizman of Qirib would evoke in Alicia. Her one-night liason with the Krishnan politician, though undertaken for idealistic reasons, had played a part in Reith's refusal to remarry her. "Do read us the questions and answers in Alvandi's column. They'll give us a window on the local culture and perhaps a laugh or two as well."

"Okay. Do your clients understand Mikardandou?"

"Practically speaking, no."

"Then I shall translate as I go." Slowly, pausing from time to time for the right word, Fallon read: " 'Dear Alvandi: My suitor wishes me to adopt that disgusting, perverted, unsanitary Terran custom called 'kissing.' He refuses to set our wedding date unless I do. How can I change his mind? Signed, Revolted.'

" 'Dear Revolted: You probably can't. Either learn to like the practice or find another suitor. The act doesn't seem to have hurt the Terrans.'

" 'Dear Alvandi: I am a tailor's apprentice, about to become journeyman; and I have stupidly plighted my troth to two young ladies at once. The first time, it was the night of the three moons; the second, I had a drop too much. Neither knows of the other. Both my fiancées' fathers have sharp swords. I have put off the dates of the weddings until one father muses aloud what parts he would amputate from any youth who trifled with his little girl's affections. The other father merely sits sharpening his sword and glaring when I come to call. What shall I do? Signed, Cornered.'

" 'Dear Cornered: I hear there are openings for journeymen tailors in Ghulindé, the capital of Qirib, now that some Qiribuma have taken to wearing tailored garments instead of the traditional shawl pinned over one shoulder. The alternative, perhaps impractical, would be to take your betrotheds to the Khaldoni lands, where bigamy is legal.'"

Alicia put in: "If he followed that last suggestion, he'd have to be careful to treat both wives equally. The Khaldonians are fussy about that. When I interviewed King Ainkhist's wives for Women of a Khaldoni Harem, their main complaint was that, being the nation's alpha male, he paid no attention to the law."

"Do you want to hear more?" Fallon asked. Assured of their lively interest, he continued: "Dear Alvandi: Eighty years ago, my husband wedded me. In those days, when I was in heat he could make love fifteen or twenty times a night. Now he can barely manage three or four. How can I strengthen his ability? Signed, Old but Still Ardent'

" 'Dear Ardent: At his age, three or four times is phenomenal. Thank Bákh and stop grumbling.'

" 'Dear Alvandi: The other night, at a banquet, I sat between my present husband and my former spouse. Not having seen the latter for years, I was intensely curious as to how he had fared. Hence nearly all my conversation was with my ex-husband, while my present husband sat glowering. Afterwards my present husband was furious, saying I was free to leave him and return to the other, and similar indecencies. Now he sleeps apart. What should I do? I meant no harm. Signed, Well-intentioned.'

" 'Dear Well-intentioned: When he gets over his present snit, be sure hereafter, at gatherings, to give him at least equal time with any other male, including friends, lovers, and former husbands.' "

Reith muttered in Mikardandou to Alicia: "I could have used Alvandi's help in Rosid, when you and the princess had me up a tree."

Fallon resumed: " 'Dear Alvandi: Last year my husband left me for another, and I divorced him. Lately he has been coming round, saying he and the other woman have broken up for good. He takes me out, flatters me, and even makes love to me; but he does not say whether be wishes me to take him back. Secredy I still love him; besides, I've learned that good husbands are not easily come by. How can I discover his true intentions? Signed, Forlorn.'

" 'Dear Forlorn: Why not ask him?' "

Fallon glanced up, expecting another outburst of laughter. Instead, he perceived that Reith and Alicia were looking, not at him, but at each other with set feces. This last tale, though not quite a replay of his and Alicia's stormy marital history, hit Reith too close to home for comfort; and he guessed that it struck Alicia the same way.

"Oh!" said Fallon, sensitive to his listeners' mood. "I'm sorry—ah—"

"Marvelous evening, Tony," said Reith, rising in a determined manner. "But we must get back to our digs. It's been a long day, with another just ahead of us.

When Reith kissed Alicia good night and went to his room in the Citadel, he found a note tucked under the door. It read:

The Lady Gashigi wishes to see Sir Fergus at the third hour tomorrow, alone and in confidence. Come to Suite Twelve in the Domo Building. Destroy this paper.

After breakfast, Reith left the visitors' building and made his way to Gashigi's private quarters. He found her stretched out on a chaise-longue, wearing a filmy wrap of lavender gauze.

"Far-goose!" she cried, rising and spreading welcoming arms. "Come hither, you wretched alien!"

Reith submitted to her smothering embrace. It was plain to be seen that Gashigi had put on weight.

"Oh, Fergus!" she gushed. "I've had scores of lovers in the intervening years, but none hath erased the memory of our marvelous night. After a lusty Terran, all males of my species seem to lack ..."

"Very kind of you," interrupted Reith, casting about for an idea to divert the proposal that he feared would come next. But, with the inexorability of an avalanche, it came. She said: "Could we not repeat our magical tryst, this very night?"

"I fear you'd be disappointed. After all, I'm twenty years older now—"

"Fiddle-faddle, good my sir! So forsooth am I, and I find my passions not a whit abated; and 'tis plain to see that your eye be as bright and your step as jaunty as ever. I'll wager you can pleasure a lady as featly as any wight."

"There are difficulties," he muttered, groping for an excuse. The thought of copulating with Gashigi had become repugnant to him.

"Is it that you and the yellow-haired doxy be lovers?"

"No, we are not. But ..."

"Then what hinders? I can smooth your way to the Grand Master's approval."

"Isn't he your present lover?"

"Aye, but what thereof? He knows I seek pleasure elsewhere, and he'd better not cavil thereat!"

"How about Khabur, the fellow who was going to carve me up?"

"Dead. We parted at last, years agone, and he took up with another lady. He caught her in full fetter with another knight and stabbed the libertine to death. Then a friend of the dead man challenged Khabur and slew him in a duel."

"Seems to me," said Reith dryly, "that with such a high mortality among the Garma, the Knights would have trouble keeping up their numbers."

"Aye, 'tis true. But you evade my question. I'll put it plain: Give me what I beg, and your clients shall make their living picture in Mikardand with our aid. Deny me, and Yazman shall refuse your simplest request. Grasp you the nub?"

"I understand and will give the matter thought"

"Think all you like, dear Fergus, but my promises stand. I shall expect you here within the hour that marks the close of tonight's entertainment. Unless you'd fain demonstrate now—"

"To my infinite regret, I've promised to take my people sightseeing. They await me below." Reith bowed himself out quickly, before Gashigi could seize him in another octopuslike embrace.

A sorely-tried travel guide showed his trio through the Citadel's miniature museum, translating the captions on the exhibits. Then he piled them into his carriage and drove them around the city. Ordway, little heeding the historic sights of Mishé, gazed fixedly at Alicia with the eyes of a hungry wolf. White craned his neck this way and that, from time to time exclaiming: "That street scene would make a splendid shot ... The place in the script where Attila has hero meet heroine at the vegetable stall: wouldn't that market over there be just right for it? Cyril, I'm talking to you!"

Back in the Citadel, White said, "I've got to write up some notes on what we've seen. Cyril, come along and help me remember."

When they had departed, Reith tapped on Alicia's door. "Lish, may I speak with you a minute?"

"Sure; come in. What's got you in a tizzy?"

Nervously cracking his joints, Reith paced about Alicia's two-room suite. "You know I was gone for an hour this morning? Well, I was paying a command visit on our Treasurer ... No, she didn't seduce me, though she tried. What happened was this ..." Reith summarized his talk with Gashigi.

Icily, Alicia asked: "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want to ask you, seriously: if I gave her what she wants, how would you feel about it?"

Alicia's sky-blue eyes widened, and she sniffed her displeasure. "Good heavens, what a question! It doesn't matter to me, which she-Krishnan you copulate with. I should think a man in your situation would leap at the chance. As I remember, you did it with her once before, after we ... Go ahead and hump her till she yells, 'Enough!' "

"Lish, you haven't answered my question. Would you, deep down in, disapprove?"

"Fergus!" she said in a voice pregnant with exasperation. "Let's understand a few things. Once you and I were married. Later, when we were no longer married, we were lovers for a while. But all that's long ago and far away. Now we're not married; we're not engaged; we're not lovers. We're nothing but old friends—at least, I hope we are—and business associates.

"So your sex life is no affair of mine. I have no more right to object to your laying Gashigi than you'd have to stop me from inviting Cyril Ordway in for the night. So do what you want and just don't talk to me about it!"

"You still haven't given a straight answer to my question. Would you mind?"

"Would you mind if I didn't mind?"

Some of the tenseness went out of Reith, and he gave a sly chuckle. "Now you've put me on the spot! Let's say me ego would be chipped. So what's the answer to my question?"

Alicia brought her fist down on the night table, making the brass candlestick jump. "Damn it, stop badgering me! Go ahead and fuck your big, blowsy hominoid, and see if I care! You—you alpha male!"

Her lip trembled, and a tear ran down her cheek. Reith murmured: "Oh, darling!" and gathered her into his arms. After he had petted her and stroked her shining hair, Alicia shook herself free and wiped away the tears. She said: "Fergus Reith, sometimes I hate you for being the only person in the Galaxy who can make me cry. This is like a replay of my affair with Vizman, only with—" She broke off, clapping a hand to her mouth.

"With roles reversed? Except that—"

She seized his arms and gave him a little shake. "Oh, please! Don't talk about it! I was a fool to mention it ..."

Reith enfolded her and held her silently for a few seconds. Then he bent down, saying: "Lish darling, please, give me some honest advice on handling this she-octopus. Right now, I no more want to frig her than if she were something that crawled out of the Great Koloft Swamp. I feel that if I so much as let her loss me, I'd turn into an enchanted frog.

"Feeling that way, I doubt if I could give satisfaction in any event—even if I did it with your blessing—and there goes your movie. So what should I do? Weave a circle round her thrice and close my eyes in holy dread?"

Alicia looked up at him. "Fergus, I have a marvelous idea!"

He released her. "What's that?"

"To hear Cyril talk, you'd think he was Lothario, Don Juan, and Casanova all rolled into one. Of course we know better than to take such boasts seriously; but how would it be if you came down with a diplomatic illness and sent him to Gashigi in your place?"

"That's my brilliant superwoman! Even if he doesn't satisfy Gashigi, at least it'll stop him from stripping you with his eyes every time he looks at you!"

Next morning, Ordway did not appear for breakfast. Later, when Reith was in the courtyard directing the harnessing of the ayas and the stowage of baggage, Ordway came out; moving as if still half asleep. When he came close, Reith asked quietly: "How did it go?"

Ordway rolled his eyes. "God, man, the bloody popsie's insatiable! If my—uh—capacity hadn't given out, we should still be at it. I'm not that Spanish bloke they tell about, who could roger day and night without letup. What was his name? Something like Donald June."

"You mean Don Juan?"

"I suppose so. Anyway, I did my best." Grinning, Ordway dug an elbow into Reith's ribs. "Know what she said? That she preferred me to you, and not just for my beautiful whiskers. She's commanded me, on pain of flaying alive, to wait upon her whenever we pass through Mishé."

"Bully for you!" said Reith. "Are you packed to go?"

"Oh, hell, I'd forgot we're leaving! Half a mo' and I shall be with you." Ordway departed at a run.

Fallon appeared, saying, "Just dropped by to see you off"

"Keeping an Argus eye on all the Terrans in your bailiwick, eh?"

"I try. I say, old chap, when Alicia Dyckman was on Krishna before, she had the reputation of being a sort of female drill-sergeant."

"Who knows better than I?" said Reith.

"But yesterday she seemed pleasant enough; if anything, rather subdued. And still single after all these years—but I forgot; to her the lapse of time is only a fraction of what it is to us. Mark my words, Fergus: she won't stay unattached long!"

"Maybe not. Here she comes now. Give me your bag, Alicia."