The Prisoner of Zhamanak

VII DELIVERANCE

While Alicia mended sword-cuts in her new kilt, the consul worked late on a revised forgery. This had the same wording as the other, save that it added the sentence: THE PREVIOUS ORDER, TO CONDUCT THE PRISONER ISAYIN TO THE PALACE FOR EXAMINATION, IS HEREBY REVOKED.

Next morning, Mjipa arose before sunrise. He told Minyev: "I'm going to the tower and hope to return in an hour or two. Tell Irants to save me some breakfast."

He slipped out of the inn and hailed a street car. He could have walked to the tower as quickly, but by pulling the curtains of the car across, he hoped to make his visit less conspicuous.

Mjipa arrived at the tower before the work had begun. A group of Krishnans stood around the main doors, awaiting the boss's arrival. Mjipa went up to the group to stand, whereupon they turned to face him, staring. More arrived from moment to moment. The two soldiers on guard at the door also marched up and took their posts.

After a moment of silence, one workman began asking questions, and then others chimed in: "Tell me, Master Terran, is't true that on Terra none hath to work, but all live in idle luxe?" "Be there slavery on Terra?""Eat ye one another, as do the wild men of Fossanderan?" "What do ye for sickness?" "Is't true ye worship a machine, which doth all the thinking for you?" "If your world be a disk, like unto ours, how come ye thence to be here?"

The last question embarrassed Mjipa, since to discuss space travel would bring into question the Heshvavu's flat-world belief. Mjipa was relieved when, as he fumbled for a noncommittal answer, Chief Engineer Arraj appeared. Seeing Mjipa, he cried: "Thrice welcome, dear my Terran! What brings you hither?"

"I so enjoyed your account of the building the other day that I hoped you could spare me the time for more of the same."

"Certes, good my sir. It shall be as ye request, as soon as I put my men to their appointed tasks."

Arraj produced a massive key, twenty centimeters long, and unlocked the front doors. As the workmen streamed in, he issued orders to the foremen and straw bosses. Then he went in, beckoning Mjipa.

Arraj led the way to his office on the ground floor. He unlocked the door of that room with another key and entered.

Inside, Mjipa observed a row of pegs protruding from one wall, on which hung several keys. Arraj hung the big front-door key on one peg and the smaller office-door key on another. Mjipa saw that similar keys, which appeared to be duplicates, already hung on those pegs.

Arraj fumbled in a chest for papers and unrolled a huge scroll on a low table. "Here," he said, "is the master drawing of the plan of the tower. Note the thickness of the lower wall. Ye wite, we know not for certain when we shall pierce the vault of Heaven. At a height of half a regaku? Or one regaku? Or two regakit? Hence must we make the base of prodigious stoutness, to withstand the weight of a shaft of such abnormous height. Now, if ye'll come with me, I'll show you some especial features built into the structure ..."

The small engineer led the way out the door. As he followed, Mjipa snatched one of the front-door keys from its peg and dropped it into his wallet. Having his back to him, Arraj did not notice.

Mjipa soon discovered that with the chief engineer, the difficulty was not in getting him to talk; it was in stopping him once started. Krishnans were on the whole a garrulous species, and in Arraj the consul seemed to have come upon the most loquacious Krishnan of them all. The spry oldster, talking a stream, led Mjipa up and down flight after flight of stairs, up ladders, and down into underground crypts. "... and observe, Master Mjipa, the angle of the windows. The aim is to make the tower, besides its wonted purpose, also a defensive structure; hence the angled windows for shooting bolts and arrows at besiegers below. As an ensample, I cite the well-known incident at the siege of Marinjid, in the Year of the 'Avval, forty-ninth cycle ..."

A visit that Mjipa had estimated to take a fraction of an hour stretched on and on past noon of the long Krishnan day. The flow of talk rattled on, until Mjipa was tempted to strangle the engineer to get a word in edgewise.

As they passed the empty tool room that Mjipa had seen on his earlier visit, the consul paused to examine the door. It opened outward and was kept closed on the outside by a simple drop latch without a lock.

At last Arraj ran down. Seizing the moment, Mjipa gave effusive thanks and bade farewell.

When Mjipa returned to the inn, he was surprised to see, standing across the narrow street from the hostelry, the Mutabwcian herald, Kuimaj, with several strange but rough-looking Khaldonians. When Mjipa looked at Kuimaj, the latter gave a sinister Krishnan smile, calling: "I warned you, Terran!" Mjipa was glad that this time he was wearing his sword.

In the inn, Mjipa found that dinner, cooked by Irants's wife and daughter, would soon be ready. He went to his room and began to make out a list. For long minutes he sat gazing, trying to think of every contingency and what might be needed to cope with it. Across the room, Minyev said:

"What, no potation ere meat, my lord?"

"Not now," said Mjipa. "I must think."

The dinner gong sounded. Mjipa went down to find Alicia already at table. He said: "Ah there, my lady, how passed your morning?"

"Washing." I suppose you were out trying to break your record for virility?"

"Good lord, no! I was over at the tower ..."

"I was only kidding."

"Well, don't. That's a sore subject with me."

"Okay, Percy. What's that list?"

"Things for Minyev to buy. I need your help in translating it into Khaldoni."

Mjipa gave Minyev another strip of paper, and he and Alicia dictated. When the list was complete, the factotum said: "My lord, the hour grows late. I know not how I shall get through this list of purchases ere dark. A day's supply of aliment ... a basket wherein to carry it ... a wooden wedge and a hammer ... skin paint of the following hues ... brushes wherewith to apply it . .

"Let me see that," said Alicia. "This is to spring the old professor, isn't it?" - "Uh-huh," grunted Mjipa.

"How do you plan to get him out?"

"Better that you don't know."

"Oh, come on! We're all in this, willy nilly."

"Well then, a forged order from the palace. Didn't know I had a talent for forgery, and in an unfamiliar language at that."

"When does this happen?"

"This afternoon, as soon as I can get away."

"But the ship doesn't sail till the day after tomorrow. What'll you do with him in the meantime? I can't see keeping him here."

"I've got a place for him in the tower. He'll spend tomorrow there, and tomorrow night I'll bring him to the ship."

"How will you get into the tower? Scale the walls?"

"Thanks to Maibud, god of thieves, I pinched one of Arraj's keys."

"But when they find he's missing, they'll turn the kingdom upside down looking for him. If you 're involved, they'll come looking for you, too."

Mjipa shrugged. "I've dealt with these natives for many years. Some are amusing blokes; but efficient they ain't. It'll take a fiftnight before somebody at the palace remembers that Isayin was supposed to have been delivered there."

"I hope you're right. Look, it's getting late, as Minyev says. Make a list of half those things—say, the food items— and give it to me. I can buy them to save time. I've lived on Krishnan foods I bought in their markets before."

"Thought you wanted nothing to do with the plan?" said Mjipa.

"Oh, fooey! If we're in it, I'll do my share. I won't let a mere man take all the risk."

"By the way," said Mjipa, "I just saw our friend Kuimaj, the herald from Ainkhist, loitering out front with some bully-boys. You'd better not use the front door without me or Minyev in attendance."

"You think they'd snatch me off the street?"

Mjipa shrugged. "One never knows. Let's not take unnecessary chances."

"A fat lot of good Minyev would be in such a case! He'd run like a rabbit."

Hearing his name spoken but not understanding the English, Minyev stared in puzzlement from one to the other.

"Then you'd better start out with me," said Mjipa. "On the way back, let's meet at the Fountain of the Crippled God before we return together. Can you find it?"

"Of course! I know all the nearby streets like the palm of my hand."

"Yes? Pride goeth before a fall. After all, we did get lost three nights ago, the night we met Khostavorn."

"It was four nights ago, and the reason we got lost was that you insisted on turning left when I wanted to turn right."

"Oh, have it your own way, nitpicker! And, Minyev!"

"Aye, my lord?"

"I wish to borrow that hooded cloak of yours."

If Minyev's cloak was too small for the towering black man, its hood at least concealed his bush of woolly hair. The three set forth, Minyev in one direction and Mjipa and Alicia in the other. Across the street, Kuimaj and his minions stared sullenly.

At the Fountain of the Crippled God, Mjipa sent Alicia off to the food markets, while he continued on to the Old Prison. As Roqir dipped behind the roofs of the nearer houses, he entered the prison and presented his forged release order to the warden.

The warden stared at the document. He called in another jailer, and the two held a muttered consultation. Mjipa thanked the Krishnan gods that Krishna was yet innocent of the telephone, which would have enabled the warden to confirm the order in a few minutes.

From his desk table, the warden brought out another document and compared the two. He murmured: "Verily, that's the Phathvum's true signature." Rising, he beckoned Mjipa down the corridor to Isayin's cell.

The learned Krishnan's eyes lit up as his cell door was unlocked. Mjipa handed him Minyev's cloak, saying: "Put this on, Doctor."

As they started back down the corridor, the warden said: "Ye must needs sign a receipt for this prisoner, Master Terran."

"Certainly. Where's a form?"

From his desk, the warden produced a square of paper covered with writing. Mjipa signed "William Shakespeare" with a flourish. Then he and Isayin emerged into the dusk.

At the Fountain of the Crippled God, Alicia had not yet arrived. Mjipa and Isayin waited for most of an hour, while Mjipa endured the curiosity of Kalwmians who gathered round to stare and ask questions: "Be your world flat, like unto ours? Or of some other shape, like a cube?" "Hath it wild bishtars, yekis, and their ilk?" "Is't covered by one vast sea, wherein sit islands?" "Canst tell me how to cure an obstruction of the breathing passages?" "In sooth, be Terran males so puissant that one can futter a hundred dames in a single night?"

Although the questioners paid little attention to Isayin, who seemed an ordinary Kalwmian, the scholar nevertheless complained: "Master Mjipa, this is most distasteful. Canst not drive them away? Or let us speak only Gozashtandou?"

"They've already heard us speaking Khaldoni, so it's too late for that." The consul, who had begun to enjoy fencing with the questioners, turned back to the last one. "As to that, goodman, I fear the reports exaggerate. Only in myth and legend can Terran males perform as you asked."

"Why comes not your companion?" grumbled Isayin."If the palace inquire after me ..."

"She'll come when she comes!" snapped Mjipa. "Ah, there she is."

Alicia appeared, carrying a large string bag loaded with foodstuffs. The three returned to the inn, where they found that Minyev had already arrived. Mjipa hustled Isayin to his room, saying:"We'll fetch your supper to you. Be careful of those paint pots!"

After supper, Mjipa and Minyev unpacked the rest of the supplies Minyev had bought and set about turning Isayin into a Zhamanacian. While Minyev mixed paints, Mjipa shaved Isayin's scalp, inflicting a few small cuts.

"Why could you not have taken me to a proper barber?" complained Isayin. "You've all but scalped me, as the barbarians of Qaath are said to do to their fallen foes."

"Oh, stop whining!" said Mjipa. "If we'd gone to a barber, the authorities could have traced you through him. Now hold still, or you'll be cut again."

Alicia looked in to see how the job was going. "Doctor," she said, "have you a wife or other dependents?"

"Not now."

"You mean you did? Did she die, or what?"

"If you must know, Mistress Dyckman, she ran away with a traveling musician."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

" 'Twas not without compensating advantages. She said she found life with me intolerable because of my incessant complaining. Verily, mistress, was that not most unfair? I am not a chronic caviler, now am I?" Without awaiting a reply, the savant went on: "Next year she came back, saying the musician was a ramandu addict and insane to boot, and that moreover he sought to futter every dame he met. She begged forgiveness, so I took her back.

"Next year she ran away with a sea captain. Again she came back, telling how he had beaten her; so I took her back again. The third time 'twas an aya-trader who, tiring of her, left her stranded in Yein. This time, recokining thrice to be two times too may, I denied her prayer for reconciliation and sundered our union."

"Have you seen her since?"

"Oh, aye, betimes she comes to clean the house, saying she cannot abide the dirt and disorder whereinto it falls in her absence. Afterwards she seeks my bed, hoping that after a canter conjugal I shall soften and relent. Whereas I rise to the occasion—I am not all through yet—nameless, with Roqir's red rising I send her forth. As saith Nehavend, all err, but the fool is he who perseverates in's errors. And thus it hath been for lo these seventeen years."

"Just like Homo sapiens," said Mjipa in English.

"It sounds to me," said Alicia, "like they deserved each other."

"Don't jump to conclusions. They could both be people of excellent qualities and still not be able to get along." Like you and me, he mentally added.

When the task was done, Mjipa said: "Now off with that kilt, Doctor. I'm told that in Zhamanak they deem all clothing effeminate."

"Ah, the indignities I suffer!" sighed Isayin, dropping his kilt. "If you will apply a pair of scarlet spirals to my back, methinks I can manage the rest."

By midnight the task was done. Mjipa said: "Put on the cloak again, Doctor. It'll blend with the darkness."

The street before Irants's Inn appeared deserted when Mjipa and Isayin set forth, the latter carrying the provisions Alicia had purchased. When Mjipa let out his full stride, Isayin complained: "Slowly, pray! I cannot keep up with those shomal's legs of yours, Terran."

Mjipa slowed down. In the dark he took a wrong turning and got lost. This time there was no squad of the night watch handy to set him right. Even if there had been, Mjipa would not have dared to accost them, fearing any contact with officialdom at this stage. He wished he had brought Alicia, with her infallible sense of direction.

Isayin was not of much help, grumbling: "Nay, Master Mjipa. I know not this old section. Why didst not make out a map or itinerary ere starting? Twould seem an obvious logical step."

"If we keep north," said Mjipa, "we're bound to strike the waterfront, and thence we can beat out way westward to the tower."

"If we get not our throats cut. The waterfront's a lobbish lieu."

Mjipa felt rising exasperation at Isayin's constant carping. "Have you any better ideas? No? Would you rather go back to the Old Prison? Well, then."

In time, Mjipa found the waterfront and followed it westward until Vuzhov's Tower loomed out of the night. Mjipa approached the cleared area around the tower cautiously, keeping piles of rubble between him and the structure. In an ordinary tone of voice, Isayin said: "How do you propose—"

"Hush!" snarled Mjipa. "Don't talk above a whisper!"

"Now, Master Mjipa, you may be a Terran official and all that, but it gives you no right—"

"If you don't shut up, I'll throttle you!" Mjipa extended large black hands with clutching fingers spread. "Now keep behind me. There may be a watchman."

Little by little, Mjipa worked his way forward to the edge of the graded area around the base of the tower. His eyes, adapted to the moonlight, picked out two figures standing before the main door. In place of the gilded soldiers of the daytime, these were plainly clad and painted watchmen, armed with pikes. Snatches of talk between them floated to Mjipa's ears.

"Damn it to Hishkak!" he breathed. "One I could take care of; but two ..."

Presently one of the figures parted from the other and started to walk around the tower. Mjipa turned over various schemes. A single watchman he could engage in talk until he got close enough to knock the fellow cold. Had he been rescuing a fellow Terran, he might have been willing to kill a guard; but he thought it absurd to slay one Krishnan native in order to save another.

But supposing he knocked out one watchman while the other was making a periodical circuit; what then? The latter would return to find his partner unconscious and raise an alarm. If Mjipa had brought a flask of kvad, doped with a soporific, he might persuade both watchmen to partake; but he had no such provision. The bottle of falat in Isayin's bag would give the Krishnans no more than a pleasant glow. Mjipa cursed himself for not more carefully thinking through the watchman problem.

"Why wait you?" said Isayin in a stage whisper. "Art afeared?"

"One more word like that, and I will drag you back to the prison. Now shut up! I'm thinking."

At last the consul roused himself, saying: "Get back behind that pile of rubbish and see what you can find that burns. Keep your head down."

The two backed off to a safer distance and began to rummage in the rubble for bits of wood. Mjipa also gathered a few scraps of cloth and paper. He worked largely by touch, since the light of the moons was not strong enough to see the rubbish clearly.

When Mjipa had a good armful, he told Isayin:"Stay here. Move not unless someone is about to discover you."

Mjipa loped off, making a wide detour around the tower to keep out of sight of the watchmen. On the far side, he stacked his fuel, added a few more pieces he picked up nearby, whittled some slivers of wood for kindling with his dagger, and got out his piston lighter. To start his fire, he sacrificed the pass that Chanapar had given him to Isayin's cell, since he did not expect to have further use for it.

Once his fire was blazing against the base of the tower, Mjipa retraced his steps around the tower and back to where Isayin crouched. They waited.

Presently one of the watchmen stretched, yawned, and set out on a circumambulation of the tower. He had hardly disappeared around the curve of the masonry when he reappeared, running. Mjipa heard him call: "Vichum! Come quickly!" Both guards vanished around the tower.

Mjipa jerked Isayin's cloak and set out with long strides to the front doors, drawing the key from his wallet. The key turned with a squeak, and the doors came open.

"Inside!" hissed Mjipa.

They stumbled about in the dark until Mjipa found the foot of the spiral stair. He led Isayin up, the latter barking his shins and complaining. At the third floor, Mjipa felt along the wall until he came to the door of the disused tool room. He pushed Isayin inside. The light, coming through a square, unpaned window in the brickwork, was better than that in the stair well.

"Here you are," said the consul. "You have food for a day, and the hammer and wedge to secure the door. Knock the wedge in under the bottom, so somebody doesn't open the door in a fit of curiosity. There's no bolt on this side to keep it closed.

"Keep quiet, and it's unlikely anyone will discover you. Give me that cloak. Tomorrow night, if all goes well, I shall come to take you to the ship."

"Why wended we not to the ship directly?"

"Because the ship does not sail till the day after tomorrow."

"You could bribe the captain to hide me aboard."

"And suppose he called the authorities, either before or after pocketing my coin? The more persons who know, the better the chances of betrayal.

"Besides, it's known that Mistress Dyckman and I plan to sail on the Tarvezid. If the palace discovered your disappearance, that's one of the first places they'd look." When the Kalwmian opened his mouth as if to protest further, Mjipa firmly continued: "Remember your instructions. Keep back from the window and out of sight. Make no more noise than you can help."

Mjipa peered out the window. Below, the two watchmen were still stamping out the remains of his fire. The consul left the tool room, closed the door behind him, and trotted down the dark stairway. He opened the front door a crack to make sure the watchmen had not yet returned. Then he slipped out, relocked the door, and ran until he was out of sight of the tower.

Mjipa managed this time to find his way back to the inn without getting lost. But he had an uneasy feeling of being followed. Several times he thought he heard stealthy footsteps; but when he stopped, hand on hilt and eyes searching the shadows, the ghostly patter also ceased. At length he decided that he was hearing the echo of his own footsteps against the walls, augmented by an aroused imagination; but he still moved cautiously.

When Mjipa regained Irants's Inn, the sky was paling. He had hardly entered when an agitated Irants confronted him, with Alicia. Both spoke at once, in Khaldoni and English respectively, until Mjipa said: "Please, please! One at a time. You first, Lish."

"We had a terrible night," she said. "It was a little past midnight when a whole gang—perhaps the same as those who were looking for us in Yein—burst in."

"Zhamanacians, forsooth," put in Irants. "Stert-naked and shaven-polled, and speaking with that foul accent."

"How many?" asked Mjipa.

"Belike fifteen or twenty," said Irants. "I never saw all together, to tally the total."

Alicia continued:"They told Irants they were looking for a pair of Terrans and described us. He denied having seen us—"

"My thanks," said Mjipa to Irants. "I'll remember this when we pay our scot."

"—and sent his daughter upstairs to warn me. I told Minyev to move my gear into your room and say he was a traveling peddler. Then Eliuv—that's the daughter—opened the trapdoor to the attic and sent me up the ladder.

"Soon I heard them stamping around and roaring below, swearing they recognized the Terran smell. I think I heard the voice of Verar, that noisy envoy King Khorosh sent to extradite us. After a while they left, but a couple stayed outside in the street, watching. Didn't you see them on your way in?"

"No," said Mjipa. "I was rather tired, and there were others in the street on their way to work. But I think I should have noticed loungers of that sort. What happened to Minyev?"

"That coward! He listened carefully to what I said, saying 'Yes, madam; I understand, madam.' Then the minute Eliuv boosted me into the attic, he climbed out the window, dropped to the alley below, and ran for dear life. He hasn't been seen since."

"My daughter came upon him as he was climbing out," said Irants. "She asked him what betid, and he muttered something about this soup's being too rich for his palate."

Mjipa grinned."Can't say I blame the chap. We have been running a hectic Grand National of late, and it's not really his fight. But I say, let's have a look to see if they're still out there. O Master Irants, your bedroom overlooks the front, does it not?"

"Aye, sir. Would ye fain regard the street therefrom?"

A few minutes later, Irants, standing back from his window and pointing, said: "There they be."

"Three," said Mjipa. "I'm sure they weren't there when I came in. I suppose they stepped around the corner for a cup of shurab."

"Are you sure which gang they belong to, Verar's or Kuimaj's?"

"They're Zhamanacians, all right. Kuimaj is using either Mutabwcians or local talent hired on the spot. If we could only figure out some way to get them to kill each other off..."

"Leaving only Khostavorn's pals to worry about, and then the government as soon as they find out about Isayin."

"This does give us a problem," said Mjipa.

"The understatement of the Krishnan year."

"We've got to get our gear to the Tarvezid some time today. Then I'll leave you there to watch it while I go to fetch our academic friend."

The front-door gong called Irants away. Alicia asked: "How'd you get so filthy, Percy?"

"Carrying rubbish to build a fire, to draw off the watchmen. Can't decide which I need worse, a bath or a few hours' doss. Hang it all, Lish, if I only had my kit for going Krishnan! I could at least turn you into a plausible one."

"We've got all those paints Minyev brought. We could mix up an olive brown pretty close to these folks' color. I don't suppose it'll poison us, considering how they slather it on."

"That still leaves our hair."

"We might make a sample of bluish-green paint and try it on my hair. I don't know what we could do about yours."

Mjipa ran his fingers through his bush of wiry black wool. "I could shave it off, as the Zhamanacians do, but I should have to go naked; and—ah—one good look would tell any Krishnan I wasn't ... Well, you know what I mean. I've always disliked wearing native dress anyway. Seems like letting the side down."

"You've been wearing that kilt all this time."

"I know. Didn't want to shock the natives more than I had to. They 're not used to Earthlings here. But I shall be glad to get back into good old Terran trousers."

"Just a bigoted anthropocentric, that's all you are."

"An anthro-what? Whatever I am, I shall have to suppress my prejudices. I'm not quite a bloody fool, you know. But I'm afraid nothing will make me look like a real Krishnan."

"What about my ears?" asked Alicia.

"By Jove, I forgot! I'll see what I can do with homemade papier mâché." He yawned prodigiously at the door to his room. "The bath will have to wait. Wake me in two or three hours, and we'll have a go at it."

After dinner, they mixed paints and tried dabs on skin and on Alicia's hair. Paint in her hair proved unsatisfactory; the hairs stuck together in sticky clumps, not at all like real Krishnan hair.

"What a ghastly mess!" said Alicia, looking in the mirror. She angrily wiped away a tear.

"Looks as if we should have to make a Zhamanacian of you after all, and shave it all off."

"Oh, Percy! What a horrible idea! It'll probably grow out dark. And I was always proud of my hair."

"We have first-class dyes at Novo; Sivird carries a line. Any better ideas?"

She thought a while and said: "I'm afraid not. Oh, well, it'll be partly grown back by the time we get to Novo."

"You'll have to shave your pubic hair, too. Krishnans don't have any."

"I'll have to wear that new kilt I bought, to hide my navel. Krishnans don't have them, either. So we'll just leave my personal person alone."

"Then you won't be an authentic Zhamanacian. They despise clothes. Hats and shoes are allowable, but anything between is tabu."

"I can't help that. I'll just say I've moved to Kalwm for good and mean to adopt their customs. All right, damn it, go ahead and shave my hair! I'll hate you for it; I loved my hair."

As Mjipa got basin, soap, and razor ready, she added: "What about you? As you said, nobody would ever take you for a Krishnan, even shaved and painted."

"First time in my life I was sorry I belonged to the noble Negroid race. Maybe I should go on all fours, while you led me on a leash. You could say I was a monster from the jungle of Aurus."

"Wait a minute," said Alicia. "I'm getting an idea. I know! We'll make you into a tailed Krishnan. Some of those on Za grow pretty big."

"And how, my dear girl, am I supposed to grow a tail?"

"We'll fake one. You've got socks in your baggage, haven't you?"

"Certainly; three pairs. I don't wear them in this climate, but they're there."

"We'll stuff them, and I'll sew them together. I can fasten the tail to the underside of your kilt, so it hangs down behind. You can walk hunched over, the way they do."

"Sheer genius! I'll climb back up the Terran family tree and be your humble monkey slave. My wages shall be one banana a day. But don't think it gives you any permanent rights over me!"

The declining sun saw a curious procession emerge from Irants's Inn. First came an obvious Zhamanacian lady of quality, wearing sandals and a kilt but otherwise nude. Her head was shaven. Her skin was a medium brown with a slight greenish tinge, decorated with stripes and swirls of scarlet and black.

Long, feathery smelling antennae sprouted from the inner ends of her eyebrows. Percy and Alicia had made these with Alicia's sewing scissors from some of the paper Minyev had bought, attached with paste improvised from badr flour and water. The same paste, mixed with chewed paper, furnished the points to the woman's ears; a close look would have quickly disclosed their artificially.

The female was bedizened with the ostentatious jeweled necklace that Ainkhist had given Alicia, and also the more modest one that she had bought herself. As such a noblewoman would, she strode along as if not in the least concerned that some evildoer try to seize her jewels or her person.

For protection, she plainly relied upon a huge, sword-wearing tailed Krishnan who shambled behind her. This person, of darker hue, was also shaven-headed and furnished with antennae. A tail, made of socks stuffed with rags, hung down from beneath his kilt. He staggered under two large canvas bags, glowering right and left to make sure that no evildoer took liberties with his mistress.

The watchers, lounging in doorways across the street from the inn, gave the pair no more than a cursory glance. Persons of their sort were a common sight in this port city, which brought together visitors from all the shores of the Triple Seas.

At the berth of the Tarvezid, longshoremen were walking up the gangplank bearing loads of merchandise and returning without them. On the ship, two Krishnans wearing the diaperlike garment of the middle latitudes stood about, ordering the stowing of cargo. One was identified by the large medallion on his bare chest as the captain.

When the gangplank was momentarily free, Mjipa and Alicia walked up to the deck. The captain confronted them, saying:"Who be ye? We allow no visitors during loading."

"I'm Percy Mjipa, Terran consul, and this is Mistress Alicia Dyckman, also a Terran. We have three berths reserved."

"Oh!" said the captain. "Methought I caught an Ertso sound in your voices, despite your Khaldonian aspect. Be ye those for whom that little Kalwmian bespoke three places, some days agone?"

"The same. You are—?"

"Captain Farrá bad-Da'mir, at your service. Master Ghanum!" The captain addressed the other officer, evidently his first officer. "Show these passengers where to stow their gear." He turned back. "Will ye abide aboard the night? The ship's a good place to evitate during loading."

"We shall be on and off. We'll try to keep out of your way."

"Where's your third passenger?"

"He'll be along."

The cabin had bunks for four. Alicia said: "The professor will make a third, if you get him. But what'll we do if Minyev shows up?"

Mjipa: "I think we've seen the last of Minyev. If the beggar does appear, I'll tell him to flake off. After he ran out on us a second time, we owe him nothing."

"It's too bad in a way," said Alicia. "We Earthlings need a class of friendly, intelligent go-betweens as buffers between us and the Krishnans. I think Minyev might have made a good one."

"I daresay. Well, I'll see whether Captain Farrá has room for another. If he doesn't, that'll be too bad for Minyev. Now I must try to find a chemist's while the shops are open."

As the dark of evening strengthened and the bijars flitted like a host of twinkling black specs against the deepening blue, Mjipa, as a tailed Krishnan, approached Vuzhov's Tower. This time, instead of stealing stealthily, he approached it openly, weaving a little. As he neared the two watchmen, one gave a derisive laugh.

"Behold the drunken monkey!" he cried. The word he used was phwchuv, Khaldoni for an arboreal beast bearing the same relation to Krishnans as monkeys do to human beings.

"Not drunk!" mumbled Mjipa. "Just a little happy! Want to make everybody happy! Have a drink?" He proffered a flask to the watchmen.

The Krishnans looked at each other. One said:"Belike we ought not on duty ..."

"Oh, one minikin sip won't hurt," said the other. "Let's see that flask. For a monkey, ye be a good fellow!"

He tilted the flask. The other watchman said: "Ho! Hast taken three swallows at least! Now 'tis my turn."

"Methought ye'd have nought to do with the stuff," said the first watchman, handing over the flask. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Monkey, whence gat ye such good liquor?"

Mjipa squinted and waved a forefmger before his face. "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."

"Stole it from's master, I'll warrant. But that makes it taste no less good. Give me back the flask, Vichum, ere ye drain it dry!"

Soon the flask was empty of doctored kvad. Mjipa had laced it with the soporific he had bought from an apothecary on the pretext of sleeplessness.

"Whence come ye, monkey?" said the first watchman.

"The isle of Za, lord. But my employment has carried me far and wide."

"Had ye adventures to make a tale? We were pleased to hear such. Life's a bore in Kalwm City; nought ever happens here."

"Well, I can spin a yarn or two ..." Mjipa began a story, based upon the tale of Siegfried in Wagner's Ring of the Niebelungen, with Mjipa as the archetypical hero of Nordic myth.

Another half-hour, and the two watchmen were curled up against the bricks of the tower, sleeping. Mjipa opened the front doors with his key and slipped in.