The Prisoner of Zhamanak

III CONFRONTATION

When Percy Mjipa had called upon the Heshvavu of Kalwm, he had been compelled to leave his sword with a guard at the door, this being a normal precaution in audiences with Krishnan rulers. He did not mind, since he always felt awkward wearing medieval weaponry, as if caught in a fancy-dress party from which he could not escape. When he visited the Heshvavu of Mutabwk, he had been relieved both of sword and of dagger.

The guards at the chamber of Khororsh, Heshvavu of Zhamanak, not only took his sword and dagger; they also searched him, hoisting his kilt and taking an unseemly interest in the details of his anatomy. Hence Mjipa was not in the best of humor when ushered into the presence. Sweat beaded his black skin, not only because of the steamy heat but also from his apprehension of a difficult task.

Like other Zhamanacians, Khorosh was naked but for a belt holding small personal possessions, and for a gaudy array of body paint in scarlet and gold. His scalp was shaven. As an old Krishnan hand, Percy Mjipa was used to nudity. But his Terran prejudices took a poor view of the Zhamanacians' custom of painting their sexual parts in contrasting colors. It was, he could not help thinking, in bad taste.

Mjipa dutifully touched the ground with his forehead. When commanded to rise, he studied the Krishnan before him.

As nearly as he could judge, Khorosh was relatively young, of slender, almost fragile build. Like other Khaldonians, Khorosh's organs of smell, the feathery antennae, were longer and more luxuriant than those of the more northerly races. These appendages were now lowered, so that the Heshvavu peered out from under a dense hedge of eyebrow and antenna. After a long silence, during which Mjipa had the feeling of being X-rayed by the king's piercing eyes, Khorosh said:

"O Terran, what wouldst?"

The tenseness of the voice suggested to Mjipa that this native might prove difficult. Squaring his broad shoulders, he said:"May it please Your Awesomeness, I have been sent by Novorecife to look into the report that you are holding a female Terran against her will."

The Heshvavu kept another long silence, then said: "We hear you. We also smell you. What then?"

"Well, are you holding her?" snapped Mjipa, inwardly seething at the allusion to his body odor.

Up went the feathery smelling plumes. "That is no affair of yours. As sovran ruler here, we hold whom we wish."

"My fellow Terrans," said Mjipa, "take a serious view of such detainments. They have authorized me to ask you formally, are you holding Alicia Dyckman?"

The Krishnan gave the ghost of a Krishnan smile. "What if we are? She came hither of her own accord, without invitation or safe-conduct from us."

Mjipa said: "I have here a letter from the Comandante at Novorecife, protesting this treatment of a Terran citizen. It is in Gozashtandou, because there was nobody at Novorecife competent to translate it into good Khaldoni." He handed over the letter, adding: "Permit me to ask, sire, what has Mistress Dyckman done to merit incarceration, which amongst us Terrans is deemed a punishment for crimes?"

"We have heard of you Terrans' curious notions of justice. We in Zhamanak deal with the matter more cheaply, expeditiously, and effectively. When we catch a felon, we simply smite off a foot, a hand, or in serious cases a head. None of this nonsense of locking him up, feeding him for years, and releasing him to prey some more upon his fellow beings. Were you Terrans not so puffed up with self-conceit, which tells you that you have the right to conquer and enslave the universe, you could learn lessons from us true human beings."

"But that has nothing to do with Alicia Dyckman—" The Heshvavu held up a hand."We tolerate not argument, Terran. We are who we are! So guard that saucy tongue of yours, an you be not fain to suffer one of our forms of justice. But, foe though you be, your talk summons a thought to mind, as the trumpet of Qarar summoned the spirits of the dead to battle the phantoms evoked by the Witch of the Va'andao.

"At the last conference of the Khaldoni kings, we fell into a dispute with Vuzhov anent Terrans. He'd have it that they belonged to divers species, citing differences in size and color amongst them. I refuted this, pointing out equal variance betwixt, say, the Khaldonians and the folk of Dur. But this prolixious ancient maintained that the gap betwixt persons like you and other Terrans was, rather, like unto that between us here and the tailed wild folk.

"Never would we trust Vuzhov's judgment since, like some other monarchs of this world, he's blind to the menace of the Terrans. Still, you come at an opportune time, to furnish us with a key to this mystery. We are fortunate in that the differences betwixt you and the other Terrans we have seen are greater than any we have observed amongst these others. If you can interbreed with these others, then little doubt remains that all Terrans are of one species.

"So you shall presently encounter this female Terran. You shall, moreover, monstrate to our satisfaction whether you and she be interfertile. Seize him!"

Three guards threw themselves upon Mjipa, grabbing his arms. With a bellow of rage he shook them off, hurling one against the wall with such force that the flimsy structure of the palace shook. But others rushed upon him, until several hung on each limb, holding him helpless.

"Novorecife shall hear of this!" he roared.

The slim, youthful Heshvavu smiled coldly. "Put him in the detention chamber with the other Terran. Make sure the door be well secured."

Mjipa found himself carried supine along the hallway by eight or nine Zhamanacians. After several turns and passing through chambers and doorways, he was borne into what seemed a small apartment filled with daylight. He heard a sharp cry in a feminine Terran voice.

The Krishnans holding Mjipa began swinging him back and forth, while someone counted: "Bur ... aka ... wch!" At "wch" they all let go. Mjipa flew through the air, to crash down on the floor in the center.

Mjipa scrambled up, to see the Krishnans rush out the door and slam it. He heard heavy bolts shot. Behind him the same voice said in English:

"Good God! Aren't you Percy Mjipa, whom I met in Baianch?"

Mjipa turned, wincing and limping from the bruises. There stood Alicia Dyckman, a slender young woman of a little over average height—just under 170 centimeters. She had honey-blond hair and blue eyes. White men, Mjipa thought sourly, would doubtless find her the most beautiful thing on two legs. Her well-defined cheek bones, her narrow nose with a tiny up-tilt at the end, and her delicately-refined features were just what Caucasoids found attractive in advertisements and on the cinematic screen. These features made little impression on Mjipa, whose ideas of feminine beauty, formed in his youth in Botswana, were different.

Barefoot, Alicia was clad in a short-sleeved khaki shirt and shorts. The garments were not very clean, and a pocket of the shirt was torn to uselessness.

Mjipa looked around. The room was about four by six meters—the interior part of it. A similar area extended out from the house into the palace gardens. Metal bars, upholding a roof, walled in this section. A system of curtains and blinds, now rolled up against the ceiling, divided the indoor and outdoor parts of the apartment.

A low bed with a wooden frame criss-crossed with rope stood in one corner. Another corner was occupied by an inclosure of rough boards, through the door of which Mjipa could see the crude Khaldonian equivalent of bathroom accessories. A simple bench completed the furnishings.

Mjipa's glance around took but seconds. He said: "Yes, I'm Mjipa."

"But how—why—"

"I was sent here to rescue you, but now it looks as if they'd have to send someone to rescue both of us."

"You poor darling! Why should Khorosh throw you in here, too? Mostly they 're pretty careful how they treat Terran officials. Don't you have diplomatic immunity?"

"These blokes never heard of it. For that matter," said Mjipa, "why has he chucked you in chokey? Did you provoke him, as you seem to have done Vuzhov and Ainkhist?"

"I didn't have time to do anything. I had hardly arrived when Khorosh's people seized me and put me in here."

"Didn't they give any reason?"

"Oh, Khorosh visited me. He said he wanted to study a Terran in depth, because he was sure we were his enemies, who would try to conquer and exploit his people."

"Sounds as if he'd been reading Earthly history."

"Perhaps he had. He thinks of us as the same as the European empire-builders of the nineteenth century."

"Or Muhammad's Arabs or Caesar's Romans; it's all the same thing. Neither Bill Kennedy nor I ever had an imperialistic thought; but how do we know what the policy at Novorecife will be a hundred years hence?"

"Well, perhaps. But do you see those holes in the ceiling?" She pointed. "That's so Khorosh or his minions can peer down to watch us. That's why I insisted on a private bathroom and finally talked them into making one." She indicated the inclosure. "It sometimes pays to be a talker; I think they built it so as not to have to listen to my complaints any more. But what about you?"

"If Khorosh were human, I'd call him a bloody paranoid, who can't brook the slightest disagreement. Besides— ahem—" Mjipa stared at the ground. "If I understood him—my Khaldoni isn't very good, and when they rattle it at me I get lost—anyway, I think he said he wanted to learn if your race and mine were—ah—interfertile."

Alicia stared, then burst into laughter. "You mean, he wants to see us fuck and find out what comes of it?"

Mjipa visibly winced. Alicia said: "Oh, come, Percy, don't tell me I've shocked a big, strong, experienced man like you?"

"In Botswana, among my kind of people," said Mjipa stiffly, "ladies don't use such language. But you Americans can do as you like."

"Well, I'll call it coition or sexual congress or carnal knowledge, if it'll make you happier. Anyhow, these people seem to have a glimmering of the distinction between species and varieties. I'm afraid—"

The bolts clanked, and the door opened. A pair of shaven-headed Zhamanacians, backed by armed guards, stepped gingerly into the room. One tossed in a rolled-up pallet; the other, Mjipa's duffel bag. They backed out and slammed and bolted the door.

"Excuse me," said Mjipa, unfastening his bag. He went through the contents with experienced hands and straightened up. "God damn these bloody natives! The beggars took out every piece of metal—everything they think I might use to get out of here. They even took my razor." Mjipa angrily stuffed tobacco into his pipe, started to light it, then waved it at Alicia. "Mind?"

"Not a bit," she said. Mjipa lit the pipe and sent out a vast cloud of smoke. Alicia continued:"Then you'll have to grow a beard, that's all."

"Trouble is, my whiskers are as sparse as a Krishnan's, so they'll look like hell."

"They did the same sort of thing with me. I can't even mend my clothes, because they wouldn't leave me my sewing kit. Do you still have your longevity pills? I'm nearly out of mine."

"Yes, here are my LPs, thank Bákh. So we shan't grow old and die at a mere seventy as our poor forebears did. But about this daft idea of Khorosh's—"

"Don't look at me with the lust light in your eyes, Percy! I don't care for it. I didn't bring any contraceptive pills or devices with me; I knew I was safe from pregnancy while I was alone among Krishnans, even if I got raped. That hasn't happened yet, thank goodness."

"You mean, because you're not interfertile with Krishnans. I must tell you of Fergus Reith's interplanetary romance, which hinged on just that point."

"And I'm certainly not going to bear a stranger's child," she added, "just to please the local raja's curiosity."

"Oh, please, Miss Dyckman—Doctor Dyckman, I should say—"

" 'Alicia' is what you should say, or 'Lish' for short."

"Very well, if you insist, Alicia. I assure you I had no such intention. No reflection on you, my dear; it's just that I try to live up to my own standards."

"Good for you! But how shall we get out otherwise?"

"Better lower our voices in talking about escape."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said. "I've tried these people on all the Terran tongues I know, and none seems to know a word of any. But if you start tinkering with the door or sawing the bars outside, they'll see you through those holes."

"Do they have somebody watching through them all the time? Does Khorosh himself watch?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But when I started poking around to see if there was a way I could dig myself out, they quickly knew what I was up to. They made me go a day without food or water as punishment."

"Bastards," growled Mjipa. Moodily he unrolled his pallet and spread it on the floor across the room from Alicia's bed. "We need some sort of commando raid from Novorecife. But how to get word? By the time they heard, the station will be run by that drunken ass Glumelin, so nothing will be done. If they send one more man, Khorosh'll just toss him into bridewell as he did us. Are we the first Terrans Khorosh has given a rough time?"

"N-no," said Alicia. "I heard a missionary named Hanson or something got into trouble for preaching against the local polytheism."

"His name was Jensen," said Mjipa. "An American like you. Last year a package reached Novorecife via the Mejrou Qurardena. When they opened it, they found a wooden cask and inside that the head of the Reverend Jensen, packed in salt."

"Ugh! How dreadful!"

"One gets used to that sort of thing. We knew Jensen had been missionarying in the South, but there was no return address on the package. Now I see what happened. Serves the idiot right."

"You don't like missionaries?"

"They give us consulars a hell of a time, trying on one hand to keep the fools out of trouble and on the other, when they get into it, to pacify the Terran governments they come from. But I come by my anti-missionary prejudice honestly. Back in the 1880s, a chap named Hepburn came from Britain and converted the baMangwato. That was in the days of Kgama the Great, and the two worked together. Of course, Hepburn and his fellow Christers did some good things, like emancipating the slave tribes and the Bushmen.

"On the other hand, he got Kgama to abolish a lot of harmless and even beneficial things, like our all-night dances and our circumcision ritual, thinking 'em heathen. He made men with more than one wife dismiss all but one, and those poor women had to turn whore or starve. He made us wear coats and ties, in that climate! He stopped the brewing of native beer. That reform hurt our health, because we got our vitamins from the beer. Of course, nobody knew about vitamins then.

"One thing was really funny. The baMangwato had an old tradition that men were descended from monkeys. Then Hepburn told us that was all wrong; men were descended from Adam and Eve, supposedly whites like himself. Many years later, European scientists and teachers came in to say no, we were right the first time. All men were descended from monkeys. From what I've seen, some haven't descended very far.

"So I take a dim view of all these fervent Christians and Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists running around Krishna, outraging the locals by blaspheming their beliefs, and getting their silly heads chopped off. Last year we had a fellow preaching what he called Jewish Shinto."

Alicia said: "Boy, is that a contradiction! But I suppose their ideas are no sillier than Khorosh's breeding experiment, or Vuzhov's tower to Heaven."

Mjipa grunted assent. "My impression is that all Khaldonian kings are round the bend. Vuzhov is crackers on the shape of the planet; Ainkhist is mad over sex; and Khorosh is potty on the Terran menace."

"If Vuzhov makes such a fuss over his flat-world idea, what would happen if somebody came preaching modern evolutionary theory?"

"That would shock them less than the round-world idea. They already believe that Krishnans are descended from the mating of their head god with a female—what's the name of those things that look like monkeys? Sounds like a sneeze."

"In Khaldoni, phwchuvit. So they're sort of semi-evolutionists already ? "

"So I'm told. That professor who was in Reith's first gaggle of tourists explained to me how the Krishnans came from phwchuvit, exactly as men came from apes. We baMangwato had the right idea before your white missionaries came along and muddled us up."

Alicia looked thoughtfully at Mjipa. "Tell me, Percy, are you sure you don't have a general prejudice against the Caucasoid race? With your background, it would be practically inevitable."

"I do not!" said Mjipa, smiting one fist into the other palm. "I don't blame the British for coming in and beating civilization into us. If they hadn't, someone else would have. A couple of thousand years earlier, they were barbarians, too, until the Romans came up from Italy and beat civilization into them. I forget who beat it into the Romans. Besides, I was treated perfectly decently at Oxford."

"But still," she persisted, "all people carry such irrational prejudices in their unconscious, and I don't see why you should be an exception. You couldn't help having anti-white prejudice, even if unconsciously."

"Oh, hell!" grunted Mjipa, remembering from his brief earlier meetings with Alicia Dyckman that she would argue the balls off the brazen image of Dashmok in Majbur. "Same opinionated little snip you were in Baianch! Well, I will admit to one prejudice. Your surname is Dutch, isn't it?"

"Yes, though it goes back several centuries in America."

"Well, I'm prejudiced against one white nation: the Dutch."

"Why?"

"Because, in the days of Kgama the Great, the maTabele twice invaded us and were barely driven off. And why did they invade us? Because the damned Dutch—the Boers, that is—had grabbed their land and kicked them out of it. So if you start talking prejudices, you'll first have to work on mine against your name."

"Were you brought up a Christian?"

"Surely. For centuries the baMangwato have been red-hot Christians. We had our slack periods, when advanced ideas filtered in from America; but then came the neo-Puritan reaction, and now we're as straitlaced as ever. As for me, running around Krishna has made me cynical about all gods. Not to change the subject, but when do they feed us here?"

When they had eaten and the wardens had taken their tray, night fell. Mjipa prowled the apartment. He counted on darkness to neutralize the watch the Zhamanacians maintained on their captives.

The massive door of the inner room, which had a small, heavily barred window, was secured not only by a lock but also by two heavy bolts on the far side. If he could drive a wedge between the door and the jamb and had a good hacksaw, Mjipa thought he could saw through those bolts. Otherwise there was no way to get at them. Of course he had no hacksaw, and there was nobody outside his prison whom he could communicate with and persuade to smuggle such tools in to him.

The outer part of the apartment, the porch or terrace, looked out upon the royal gardens. In the light of the two smaller moons, minor buildings of the palace complex loomed behind the shrubbery and fountains. Mjipa could barely make out a piece of the battlemented outer wall, separating the royal compound from the city of Mejvorosh. The night was noisy with the chirps and buzzes of Krishnan arthropods, corresponding to Terran insects.

The bars surrounding the terrace were of wrought iron, square in cross-section and set so closely that not even the slender Alicia could hope to squeeze through. Mjipa's touch told him that these bars were too thick to be bent by even his great strength. Moreover, these bars had been oiled against rust, and running his fingers over them revealed no spots weakened by corrosion. Without a hacksaw and plenty of time and privacy, Mjipa saw no way to freedom there, either.

The floor was of boards, laid over a base of concrete. Around the edges of the terrace, where the boards approached the iron bars, Mjipa detected some rot by digging his thumbnails into the wood. But the cement underneath seemed solid and might go down a meter. Hence there was little prospect for an escape tunnel.

"Don't they even give you a candle?" he grumbled, feeling his way around the inner room.

"No," said Alicia's voice. "I suppose they 're afraid we'd set the palace on fire, hoping to escape in the confusion."

"Well, as some ancient Greek johnny said, what can't be cured must be endured. Good-night, Alicia."

The red rising of Roqir saw Percy Mjipa doing push-ups on the floor. When he rolled over on his back, hoisted both legs in the air, lowered them to the floor, the rhythmic thump aroused Alicia.

"Must keep in shape," grunted Mjipa. "We may be here for a bloody long time. If we do get a chance to do a bunk, we shall want to be in top-hole physical form. Here, hold my ankles while I do sit-ups, will you?" When he had finished, he said: "Now you, too!"

Alicia sighed. "I suppose you're right. I was once something of an athlete, too; but I always found calisthenics a bore."

"Sitting around here doing nothing will be an even bigger bore, so go to it!"

They washed up in the primitive bathroom. When it came his turn, Mjipa called out: "By Jove, real soap! Remember how, when we were in Dur, soap hadn't got there yet?"

"You bet I remember how everybody stank! These people import it from that works in the Sunqar."

The wardens, backed by armed guards, brought in a breakfast tray. As she ate, Alicia said: "Did you have any luck when you were fumbling around in the dark, looking for a weak spot?"

"None whatever. Whoever laid out this detention room, as they call it, knew his business. I suspect it's the best-built part of the whole damned palace."

"Then if we can't dig our way out, and we can't count on a rescue from Novorecife, we may be here indefinitely!"

"Precisely, my dear. If the Heshvavu were old, we might at least hope to outlive him; but that's not the case."

"I'm trying to think ahead. Maybe the only way we'll ever get out is to do what Khorosh wants."

"Seriously?" said Mjipa. "I'd call that a last, desperate resort. You wouldn't want to trust a native midwife or medico. Besides, what should we do with the infant?"

"You'd be welcome to it. I don't intend to let motherhood interfere with my career."

"You might change your mind, once you had the little nipper. But my wife would raise bloody hell, especially if I brought home a half-breed baby for her to raise. We baMangwato have a prejudice in favor of pure black ancestry, even though one of the Kgamas married an English girl."

"I heard them speak of you in Novorecife as Percy the henpecked hero," said Alicia with a malicious little smile.

"God damn it!" Mjipa exploded."It's nothing of the sort.

Vicky and I have our differences, like all married couples. But we get along; been doing so for decades. By the way, what's your status? Married, divorced, or what?"

"I've never been married, so you were right in calling me 'Miss Dyckman'."

"Oh, well then, I couldn't possibly consider deflowering a virgin—"

"Who said anything about virginity? I've had experience; not much, but enough to disqualify me."

"Oh?" said Mjipa. "What happened?"

"Percy! I'm no prude; but you're not my shrink, and I don't discuss my personal affairs with everybody."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's all right. Tell me some of your experiences as consul."

"I shall be glad to, but first I've got to get in touch with my Krishnans—the ones I hired in Kalwm City. They'll be wondering what's happened to me."

Mjipa went to the door and pounded. Presently the shutter outside the little window slid aside, and a helmeted Krishnan face looked in. In a loud, commanding voice, Mjipa said: "In the name of the Terran World Federation, of whom I am a diplomatic representative, I demand to see the Heshvavu!"

The shutter snapped back into place. Mjipa returned to the bench, muttering: "If that doesn't fetch somebody in an hour, I'll really raise hell."

"Be careful," said Alicia. "If you get obstreperous, they may discipline you. They wouldn't balk at starving, flogging, or mutilating you."

"You can't let these beggars think you're afraid of them, no matter what," said Mjipa. "While we're waiting, I'll tell you about that French con man, Felix Borel. He ended up shy of a head, too ..."

Mjipa was well into the tale of Borel the swindler when he heard the bolts withdrawn. The door opened, and in came a small, plump Krishnan with green stars painted all over him, followed by three guards with swords drawn. The civilian said:

"Good-day, Master Mjipa and Mistress Dyckman. I am Khateluts, the ..." He gave a long title of whose meaning Mjipa could not be sure; but the consul thought it meant Third Assistant Secretary for Foreign Affairs. "The guard told me ye demanded His Awesomeness to see. That cannot be. The Heshvavu issues demands; he accepts them not from others. If ye have aught to say, utter it unto me."

"I need to get a message to the men I brought from Kalwm," said Mjipa. "They are quartered in the town, awaiting orders."

"Nay, that is impossible. We are commanded to cut you off from the outer world, so that ye shall devote your minds to your part in the Heshvavu's great experiment."

"You have no right to keep an accredited diplomat from communicating with his government! What sort of barbarism is that?"

"Good my sir, your rights here are what the Heshvavu says they are."

"Then tell the Heshvavu his experiment cannot proceed while the subjects are locked up. The Terran sexual act requires freedom and contentment, or it doesn't take place. So Khorosh is defeating his own ends."

"I will pass the word; but I warn you 'twill achieve nought. He avers that, since all Terrans are notorious bars, nought they say shall be given weight. And now I bid you good-morn. May your livers be light!"

The Assistant Secretary withdrew, leaving Mjipa and Alicia staring. The latter said: "Now what? What will your people do when they don't hear from you?"

Mjipa shrugged. "I suppose they'll hang around for a few days, then light out for home. Minyev has enough money to buy food and supplies for the trip. So I might as well finish the sad story of Felix Borel ..."

The following night, as dark came on and the bijars swooped through the gardens in pursuit of the Krishnan equivalent of insects, a couple of the Heshvavu's servants set up a pair of lanterns in the garden outside the barred terrace.

They set them far enough from the bars so that Mjipa, even with a pole, could not have reached them. They cast a wan light, crisscrossed with the shadows of the bars, through the detention chamber.

The next day, Mjipa demanded to see Khateluts again. When the official appeared, the consul asked: "Why have you people put those lanterns in the garden? They interfere with our sleep."

"Ye will wax accustomed to them," said Khateluts. 'They were installed for two reasons. First, we heard you moving about in the dark the first night. We could not see, but we suspicioned ye sought a weak spot in our barriers, whereby to escape. Second, in total darkness we cannot see whether ye twain be obeying my sovran lord's behest and copulating."

Mjipa argued, but to no avail. The lanterns remained a constant factor in their captivity, save for one night when the Zhamanacian whose duty it was forgot to light them. Mjipa could hear the swish and crack of the whip and the yells of the culprit as the Krishnan was punished elsewhere in the gardens.

Days crawled by. To pass the time, the prisoners told their life stories, and the stories of their friends and kinsmen. Mjipa said:

"There's nothing odd about my speaking English without an accent. We spoke it at home, though they taught us Setswana in school. You know, priceless cultural heritage and that sort of thing. I don't speak Setswana well, because the only times I used it were when we visited our relatives in the back country."

When they had exhausted other topics, the conversation again worked its way around to the prisoners' love lives. Mjipa said: "I hope I'm not a voyeur like our royal host, but you might as well tell me. We have nothing else to do in this damned native borstal."

After a pause, Alicia said: "All right. Under the circs, I suppose ... When I was a freshman, I was engaged to a young man; but he was a neo-Puritan, so we never went further than a little necking on the sofa. Then he graduated and got a job in Burma, and the next I heard he'd married a Burmese girl.

"After a while, I naturally began dating around. After a year of being propositioned on every date and saying 'no,' I thought I'd better find out what I'd been missing—whether it was really as heavenly as the men said. So I let a senior take me to his room. But it was a disappointment. He must have been hardly more experienced than I, because he went off on the first stroke, leaving me all undressed up and no place to go.

"Next morning he went at it again, and this time he did work me up to a climax. But my feeling was, gosh, is this all? It's not unpleasant, but hardly worth skipping a class for.

"There was one more. When I was getting my doctorate, a professor who was to audit my oral let me know that, if I wanted my degree, I'd better 'treat him right', Well, I thought, maybe this guy, being older and more experienced, can furnish some of that ecstasy I hear about. But the old goat was no improvement on the college boy. He had a bad breath and a potbelly, and he went off before I was ready. When he tried a second time, he went limp before he could get it in. So I decided that sex was all very fine to carry on the species, but it didn't interest me."

Mjipa asked: "How about love? From what I hear, you Americans are always falling in love. They're as crazy on that subject as the French are about money and the British about social position."

"Oh, I was desperately in love with Jack, as I remember—the one who went to Burma—and was terribly upset when he broke the news. Since then, I've been in love with my career."

"Would you say you were—ah—I do not know quite how to put it—normal in such matters?"

"You mean, have I lesbian tendencies, don't you?"

"Well—ah—I don't want to embarrass ..."

"Don't worry, Percy darling. As far as I know I don't, and you're the one who gets embarrassed. I guess I just don't have much sex drive of any kind. Maybe a shrink would say I've sublimated it into a drive for professional success."

"How about the natives? You go kiting about the planet by yourself. You're not bad-looking even by their standards, and you 're hardly built like a wrestler. So it would surprise me if none had made advances."

She smiled. "Oh, yes, that happens. I warn them of some horrid disease, and they back away; at least they have up to now. Actually, I've had more advances from Earthmen on Krishna than from the Krishnans. That's one reason I prefer to work alone among the Krishnans."

"Oh?" said Mjipa. '"That's one thing the neo-Puritans never succeeded in stopping. Anybody in particular?"

"Almost every healthy human male I meet! One, for instance, was that Scotch engineer in Dur."

"Yes, I know Ken Strachan's reputation. He tries 'em all regardless of species."

Alicia laughed."Like that legendary fellow they tell about in America, whose first remark to every girl he meets is, 'Hey, let's fuck!' And when someone asks if he doesn't get many rebuffs, he answers, 'Sure, but you'd be surprised at how many say, "Okay, let's!" ' "

Mjipa smiled, suppressing a wince at Alicia's language. "I can just imagine Strachan saying, 'Whisht, man, I wish some hempie would lock me up wi' a beautiful lass, with orders to have sex with her!' "

"Only he wouldn't say 'have sex'; he'd use the Anglo-Saxon. And then there was your Comandante, with the beautiful silvery hair."

"William Desmond Kennedy? Good lord! And him so proper and moral and all!" (Mjipa imitated Kennedy's -brogue, as he had mimicked Strachan's burr.)"So that's why he had an attack of bureaucratic inaction when we discussed what to do with your case!"

"Is that what happened? He wanted to leave me to my fate?"

"He talked that way for a bit, though I don't believe he meant it; at least, I hope he didn't. But the rest of us brought him round. Still, I'm disappointed in Bill. Everybody thinks highly of him, but he has his clay foot, too."

"I suppose I did take some of his hide off with my refusal," she said. "I'm afraid I was anything but tactful. But he shouldn't have been vindictive about it, in his position."

"You're jolly well right, and if I ever see him again I'll tell him so. He's retired now, and in his place we've got a fat, amiable Russian slob with a drinking problem. But see here, you'd better watch yourself! Some day a randy Krishnan won't believe your story about diseases and use force."

Alicia: "I've had some narrow escapes. But that's a risk that comes with the job, just as you take a chance of being eaten by some cannibal chief." She giggled. "When the Heshvavu of Mutabwk got horny—"

"That dirty old satyr!"

"Yes, sir, that one. He was going to detain me, too, to exercise his—well, you can call it his manly charm, if an organ can be a charm. But I fixed him. I said my c—pardon, my vagina had teeth, and at the climax he was liable to have his manly charm bitten off. He didn't dare take a chance I was lying. There's a human psychoneurosis, you know—"

"So that's why Ainkhist asked me about that!" said Mjipa laughing. "I assured him it was a myth." Suddenly serious, he continued: "But I say, this may cause us trouble later! If we ever get free, we shall have to go through Ainkhist's territory to get to a seaport, and he won't take kindly to being ramped."

She shrugged. "Maybe I can get through disguised as a boy, or something. Now I have enough to worry about. But how about you, Percy? You must have had all sorts of remarkable experiences, not only with human women but also with Krishnans."

Mjipa, about to light his pipe with his wooden piston firemaker, gave a snort of laughter. "You may not believe this, Lish, but you see a man of complete sexual virtue. Don't know whether to boast or be ashamed, but I've never committed either fornication or adultery. I married young, and Victoria's given me all I need ever since. Perhaps it's not really virtue, but mere laziness and timidity on my part."

"Don't you have any vices?"

"Oh, I drink a little, and I like my pipe."

"Did you and Vicky have children?"

"We've got a son back on Terra, whom we haven't seen in dog's years. If we went back, he'd be as old as we, because of the Fitzgerald effect."

"Space travelers who go back to their native worlds," said Alicia, "run into a kind of Rip van Winkle effect. I know; I went back once and was appalled at how much had changed in the two years I was gone—only on Earth it was a quarter-century."

Mjipa nodded. "It works in reverse, too. Vicky and I should like to go back to Earth to visit our son and his family. But if we did, by the time we got back here, all my laboriously acquired expertise in Krishnan politics and economics would be out of date. So we have to be satisfied with sending each other holocasettes, telling what we've been up to." Mjipa finished lighting his pipe. "Anyway, you can see why I'm not keen about Khorosh's cockamamie plan. Vicky wouldn't like it a bit, and I should feel guilty even if she never found out."

She frowned thoughtfully. "There are forms of sexual relief that avoid the risk of pregnancy, and they'd confuse the devil out of the Krishnans—"

"Oy!" said Mjipa. "If you're thinking of one of those disgusting perversions, you can forget it as far as I'm concerned. I'll do it the normal way or not at all."

Alicia sighed. "You are a neo-Puritan!"

"So what? I came by that honestly, too. You whites still like to think of us black Africans as jolly, uninhibited sons of nature; but it's not so at all. Even in preliterate days, most southern Bantu tribes had pretty strict codes. Among the amaZulu, the penalty for adultery was death to both culprits.

Of course a lot has changed since then; but there's still a good deal of the old attitudes."

She said: "What I was really thinking—I suppose you know the Krishnans have some knowledge of contraception?"

"Yes, I know; but that doesn't help us."

"If we could get somebody to smuggle—"

"In the first place, it would ruin Khorosh's experiment, so he'll be on the watch. Second, we've got nothing to bribe any of the locals with. If I could get anything smuggled, it would be a hacksaw, if these blokes have 'em." Mjipa sighed in his turn. "Now let's do some deep knee bends."

As the slow days dragged on, the prisoners played Krishnan checkers. They played word games. They did endless exercises. They studied the wild life in the surrounding gardens. They coached each other in the Khaldoni language.

Despite all, Mjipa felt increasingly bored and frustrated. From Alicia's behavior, he inferred that she felt the same. They became increasingly irritable, with minor quarrels and explosions of temper. Alicia poked fun at what she considered Mjipa's puritanism and idealistic naiveté. She lectured him on the policies that Novorecife ought to adopt towards the Krishnans, until he burst out:

"Damn it, woman, if you weren't always telling people like these benighted natives what to do, we shouldn't be locked up here now!"

"You're out of your mind, Percy! I told you, I had no chance to lecture anyone in Zhamanak before they arrested me."

"But you did lecture the other Khaldonians. Did you by chance discuss geography with a Doctor Isayin in Kalwm City?"

"Now that you mention it, I believe I did. He'd heard of the theory that the planet was round and wanted my opinion as a space traveler. So I answered his questions truthfully. Why?"

"They've got the poor blighter in jail, awaiting execution for heresy. You evidently sold him so well on the round world that he started preaching it to his students."

"Oh, how dreadful! I don't suppose there's anything we can do for him?"

"Not bloody likely. It's just luck they didn't toss you in quod, too, or chop off that pretty head."

"Oh, come now! I merely answered a straight question, as any Earthling would have done. If Isayin had no more sense than to take a private conversation and spread it abroad—"

"That'll be a big consolation to him, I'm sure, when they impale him or whatever they do to heretics here. In a strange society, you have to learn to weigh each word before you say it."

She insisted: "But when you see a group headed for obvious disaster, it's only decent to drop a word of warning. You don't let a blind man walk off a cliff. Like, Khorosh had just discovered paper money; so I told him what would happen if he flooded the country with it—"

"Hah! You just said you didn't lecture anyone in Zhamanak, and now it seems the first thing you did was to tell the king where he got off—"

She jumped up. "You big male bully! There's no reasoning with you, you ..." Mjipa retreated into morose silence, puffing great clouds of smoke and muttering: "Why in hell did I risk my bloody neck trying to rescue a blasted American female pedant ..."

When Karrim had made half a circuit of its primary, the ruler, Khorosh of Zhamanak, appeared resplendent in gold and scarlet body paint in the garden outside the bars of the terrace. With him was another Krishnan, of similar size and build and likewise nude, shaven-headed, and painted. But this was a female. The pair walked in formal fashion, Khorosh holding out his arm and the female resting a hand lightly upon it. A Krishnan tootling on a flute preceded them, while behind them walked another servant holding an enormous parasol over their heads.

"Good-day to Your Awesomeness," growled Mjipa.

Alicia repeated the greeting.

"Are you in comfort, O Terrans?" said the slender Heshvavu. The flutist ceased his tune.

"It could be worse," said Mjipa. "Our real complaint is the loss of our liberty, without just cause."

"We decide what is just and unjust here," said Khorosh. "But tell us: our men have watched you twain night and day. Not once, they report, have you sought the solace of sexual embrace; the which, we understand, is done by Terrans much as amongst real people. Wherefore is this?"

"Our principles forbid," said Mjipa. "We Terrans have rules as to who may make love to whom."

"Aye verily; so have we. But your rules mean nought here, any more than would our ordinances in your world."

Alicia spoke: "Nonetheless, sire, we'll do what we think right. You can make me live with Consul Mjipa, but you can't make me sleep with him."

"Sleep?" The Heshvavu looked puzzled. "What hath sleeping to do with it? Do Terrans then, copulate only in their sleep? We suppose we could get you a larger bed ..."

"No, no. It's a—" She turned to Mjipa. "How would you say 'euphemism' in Khaldoni?"

Mjipa spread his hands. "Good lord, how should I know? They may not even have the concept."

She turned back. "It is a—a manner of speaking, my lord. We Terrans often use one term to mean another."

"Strange! Hath your language no plain, simple word for futtering?"

"Oh, yes, it has one. But I try not to use it around Consul Mjipa. It hurts his ears."

"Stranger and stranger! Canst tell us this word?"

"I can whisper it, if you come close to the bars."

"Nay!" say Khorosh. "We are not so simple as to trust ourselves within reach of your companion's mighty arms. We know! O Yorbuv!" the king addressed his flutist, standing patiently nearby. "Go to the bars, that Mistress Dyckman shall whisper this mysterious word to you; then repeat it to me."

The flutist nervously approached the barrier and presented a pointed ear. Alicia whispered. Yorbuv turned to Khorosh, saying: "Methought, Your Awesomeness, that it sounded like phwkh."

"That's close enough," said Alicia. "The way Goodman Yorbuv says it, it wouldn't cause Consul Mjipa's ears the least distress."

"Very interesting," said Khorosh. "But it gets us no nigher unto the resolution of the problem. My consort, the Heshvava Phejerdel—" (he indicated the female by his side with a small head motion) "—is also eager to behold the consummation of your relationship." The Heshvavu gave the ghost of a Krishnan smile. "She thinks the sight might furnish us with ideas wherewith to better the royal connection."

Alicia asked: "Does Your Awesomeness mean that not all is harmonious in your royal household?"

" 'Tis not a matter for discussion amongst the vulgar; but we'll grant that you've put your shaft in the shaihan's eye. Even monarchs suffer the woes of other mortals."

"I fear," said Mjipa, "Her Awesomeness will be disappointed in her hopes, for reasons explained. Of course if Your Awesomeness would deign to confide your marital problems to us, we should be glad to proffer advice, based upon wide study and experience, in return for our liberty."

"Nay, nay, fellow, that were presumptuous. But tell us: wherefore persist the twain of you in wearing those garments, which in our salubrious clime are quite needless for warmth?"

"It's a matter of custom," said Mjipa. "We think it more seemly."

"Besides," said Alicia, "we need the pockets for our things."

The Heshvavu stood for a while in silence, staring out from under bushy antennae. Then he said: "We are told that, to a Terran, the sight of another Terran, of the opposite sex and nude, so rouses its animal instincts as to compel it to copulate."

"A ridiculous exaggeration!" said Mjipa.

"It may be true of some males," said Alicia. "Most Terran females don't find the men's dangling parts especially beautiful."

"Indeed?" said Khorosh. "We shall see."

He turned to one of his bodyguards and shot an order. The naked king spoke too fast for Mjipa to follow. But Mjipa was not surprised when, seconds later, the door of the inner apartment flew open and a dozen guards and wardens came in. They rushed upon the captives, seized them, and stripped them. They tore off Alicia's shirt and shorts, heedless of how they ripped the garments and popped the buttons.

With Mjipa they had a harder time. Mjipa tore loose, knocked one Zhamanacian flat, broke the nose of another, and sent another reeling back clutching his belly, before the rest fastened on him and held him until he wore himself out struggling. Then they relieved him of his kilt; of the G-string that, in deference to Earthly prejudices, he wore beneath it; of sandals, money belt, and jadeite identification medallion. Two helped the one whom Mjipa had knocked down to stagger out the door; two others bore away the prisoners' garments.

"A pretty show," said the Heshvavu outside the bars. "We are interested to see that you twain are those same curious colors, pale pink and near-black, all over. What are those curious little scars at the center of your bellies?"

"We call them navels," growled Mjipa. "They have to do with our manner of birth."

"Wert not so recalcitrant," continued the Heshvavu, "O Terran, a place might be found for you in teaching our warriors how to fight with the fists. We perceive that you are skilled at that martial art. May your livers be light!"

Preceded by his flutist playing a tune, the king and his queen strolled off. Alicia Dyckman looked at Percy Mjipa; the latter stared at the ground. She said:"Oh, look up, Percy! The sight of me doesn't turn people to stone. Now help me find my bub-buttons."

As she crouched down to search for the lost buttons, Mjipa saw that she was weeping. She found two and Mjipa, one. She said: "I've tried so hard to keep my things in shape, but without even a needle and thread ..." She dissolved in tears.

"There, there!" said Mjipa, sitting beside her on the bench and putting an arm around her shoulders. "We're really no worse off than we were. Before the Reverend Hepburn taught my people that human skin was indecent, they thought nothing of going naked. And you're getting a black eye."

"I got p-punched in the struggle. Where did you learn to use your fists so well?"

"Oh, I once boxed for Oxford," said Mjipa with affected nonchalance.

She wiped her eyes and moved away on the bench. "Thanks, Percy. You're a good man."

Mjipa found himself staring at Alicia's body. It had been a long time since he parted from his wife. For all his good intentions, carnal thoughts flooded into his mind. Suddenly aware of his scrutiny, Alicia colored. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I—ah—wondered if you were still thinking of complying with Khorosh's demand ..."

She laughed. "That's the funniest proposition I've had, and I've had plenty. No, darling, I won't do it."

"Well," mumbled Mjipa, "you were talking of getting contraceptives smuggled in. So I thought that maybe ..."

"As you said, it's a last desperate resort. I thought maybe we could fool Khorosh into thinking we'd obeyed his orders, but without danger of pregnancy; and at the same time I could spare you the pain of unrequited lust. But I hadn't seen what I'd be getting into—or rather, vice versa."

"Okay, forget it." Mjipa took a firm grip on himself and filled his pipe.

"I'm only sorry he wouldn't take you up on your suggestion for marital counseling. That was a brilliant idea."

"I suppose it was a matter of timing. If I'd spoken when he and his Heshvava had had a particularly nasty quarrel... If she complained that he was too fast in his lovemaking, I'd have told him to count four breaths between each stroke and the next."

Seated on the little bench, Alicia burst into a spasm of laughter so vigorous as almost to make her lose her balance. When she could talk, she sputtered: "Why, P-percy, that's not like you! I didn't expect such earthy realism from my Puritan hero! Four breaths to each stroke? That's the opposite of what you do in swimming the crawl."

"Four strokes to a breath, eh?" Mjipa joined his fellow captive in uproarious laughter."If Khorosh had agreed, then when we got back to Novo, we could hang out a sign:

"MJIPA AND DYCKMAN, MARRIAGE COUNSELORS,

BY APPOINTMENT TO

THEIR MAJESTIES OF ZHAMANAK.

"And why should your name come first?"

"Because I've been married, my dear, and you haven't."

"But you haven't had my courses in marital anthropology and sexual psychology, and you don't have a doctorate. Ph.D.s take precedence in such cases. It's just your stubborn conviction of male superiority—"

Mjipa held up a hand. "Let's not start that again! We must maintain a united front. How about reviewing the present optative tense in Khaldoni?"