The Queen of Zamba

XIII.

The keepers of the city gate at Hershid, knowing Victor Hasselborg as the savior of the Lady Fouri, waved him through without formal identification. It had rained almost continuously since he had left Majbur, and a few sneezes had filled him with more acute fear than all the fighters in Krishna. Although he wanted nothing so much as to curl up in bed with his pills until the threat of a cold disappeared, however, he drove straight to Haste's palace and dashed in.

"Your Reverence," he told the high priest, "you told me when I first arrived here that you'd do anything I asked in return for my small services to your niece. Is that right?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Well then, here's where I foreclose." He smiled disarmingly. "It won't be too terrible and it won't cost the True Faith anything. First I'd like you to send one of your flunkies over to the royal palace and tell Ferzao bad-Qe, the leader of my men-at-arms, that I want them all to report over here on the double, with their arms and their ayas and a couple of spares."

"Master Kavir, the king has been asking after you. Hadn't you better pay your respects to him? He's impatient—"

"That's just the point! I don't want the king to know I'm in town, because he'll want me to paint his picture, and I've got more urgent things to do. Second, will you have somebody go out and buy me some fireworks? The kind you light and hold out, and they shoot out colored fireballs."

"It shall be done, my son."

"Thanks. And finally, will you prepare one of those cells in your basement for an unwilling guest?"

"Master Kavir! What are you about? I trust that you seek not to lure me into sinful acts under the guise of gratitude."

The guy's beginning to waver, thought Hasselborg, remembering' King Eqrar's remark about the priest's habit of promising anything and fulfilling nothing. He decided that the way to deal with Haste was to be brisk and domineering. "You'll see. Nothing against the best interests of Gozashtand. And it's absolutely necessary; I have your promise, you know."

Fouri came out and greeted him formally. When Haste was occupied in giving orders, she murmured: "When can I see my hero alone? I'm aflame with longing for him! I cannot sleep—"

This is where I came in, thought Hasselborg. He managed to be brightly conversational and completely uninformative during the next half-hour while his preparations were being made.

He said: "If the king asks, tell him I've gone hunting with my men. It's no lie, either." And he strode out to his carriage.

Back on the road to Majbur they sped. Hasselborg, observing that the sun was lowering, hoped they would catch the invaders before sunset. He was driving one of the spare ayas he had bought for his little army, since he had nearly killed poor Avvaü to reach Hershid ahead of Fallon. They might meet the train any time, since, while the aya could outsprint the bishtar, the larger beast could keep up a higher average speed for long distances than any other domestic animal.

Presently Ferzao bad-Qe cantered up beside him and pulled down to a trot. "Master Kavir," he said, "methinks I see something far ahead on yonder track!"

Hasselborg looked. Sure enough the track, which stretched away across the plain on their left, parallel to the road, ended in a little spot. As they approached, the spot grew and grew until it became two bishtars in tandem pulling a dozen little cars.

"You've got your orders," said Hasselborg. "Go to it."

Ferzao halted and deployed his men. One of them handed him a Roman candle, which he lit with flint and steel. As the fuse fizzed, the sergeant galloped across the moss towards the leading bishtar, holding the firework in front of him like a lance. At the same time the other twenty-eight set up a yell, banging on their brass bucklers with their mailed hands to augment the din.

The Roman candle spat fireballs at the bishtar. A couple bounced off its slaty hide, while its mahout yelled in terror. The animal screamed and lumbered off across the plain away from its tormentors, dragging its fellow after it. Behind the second bishtar, the first of the little cars left the rails; the next teetered and fell over on its side.

A mighty chorus of yells arose from the train, and two dozen men in sailors' dress tumbled out of the remaining cars with Colt-Thompson machine guns. With a disciplined movement, the sailors dashed out and flung themselves down on the moss in a line of skirmishers.

Hasselborg's men galloped towards them with lances couched and arrows nocked. Up came the guns.

"Pazzoi!" shouted a voice from the train. A multiple click came from the twenty-four guns.

"Surrender!" shouted Ferzao. "Those things won't work!"

He pulled up a few feet in front of them. A couple of sailors worked their bolts and tried again with no better success. The rest, in the face of the lances and drawn bows, threw down their guns and rose to their knees, arms extended in token of surrender.

"What's all this?" yelled a voice, as a tall, gaudily-dressed person walked across the moss from the train.

Hasselborg recognized the handsome heartbreaker of the photographs under the Krishnan makeup. With him came a splendid-looking dark girl, and behind them the stocky form of Chuen Liao-dz. "What sort of reception—"

"Hello there, Fallon," said Hasselborg, who had secured his reins and, like Fallon, followed his army on foot to the scene of the battle.

"Who's speaking English? You? Are you—"

"Careful, chum; if you don't give me away I'll do the same for you. Officially I'm Kavir bad-Ma'lum, portrait painter by appointment to His Awesomeness King Eqrar of Gozashtand. Unofficially I'm Victor Hasselborg of London."

"Oh, really? Well, what do you think you're doing—"

"You'll learn. Meanwhile keep calm, because I've got the advantage. This is Miss Julnar Batruni, isn't it?"

"Our wife!" growled Fallon. '"Her Resplendency Queen Julnar of Zamba, if you please!"

"Seems to me you already had one wife in London, didn't you? She sent her regards."

"You didn't come clear from Earth to tell us that! Anyway, it's not exactly true. We fixed things up."

"How?"

"Why, we divorced her and married Julnar under Zamban law."

"How convenient! I'll be judge, I'll be jury, said cunning old Fury. Delighted to know you, Queen. Mr. Batruni sent me to find out what had become of you."

"Oh, is that so?" said the girl. "Well, now that you know, why don't you go back to Earth and tell the old dear, and take your nose out of our affairs?"

"Uh—well, the fact is he commissioned me to bring you back if possible."

"You—" shouted Fallon, and tugged at his sword.

"Grab him!" said Hasselborg. Two of his men pounced on Fallon, twisted his arms behind him, and took his sword away.

"Naughty, naughty," said Hasselborg. "Now let's continue more calmly. As I was saying, Miss Batruni —pardon me, Mrs. Fallon—or Queen Jul-nar—your father's lonesome and would like to see you again."

"Well I—I do love the old fellow, you know, but one can't leave one's husband and run home half a dozen light-years for a week-end. Won't you please let us be? I'll write Father, or send a message, or anything like that—"

Hasselborg shook his head. "We'll have to go into this further. King Anthony, will you please mount this aya? One of my men will lead it for you, and don't try any breaks. Chuen, here's one for you—"

"Oh," said Chuen, looking apprehensive. "Is no other way to go?"

"No; I'm taking Miss Ba—the young lady with me."

"You know this fella?" said Fallon to Hasselborg. "Who is he?"

"He's Master Li-yau, who's looking into the disappearance of certain machine guns from—uh—from the mails, if you follow me. How did you get on the train with the rest, Chuen?"

"Bought ticket; told some lies about how my old uncle was dying in Hershid, so they let me ride in Fallon's special. What you doing with the Zambava?"

"Sending 'em back. Hey, you there!" Hasselborg called to the mahouts, who were just getting their beasts calmed. "Special's canceled. Break the train and hitch one of those bishtars to the Qadr end of the passenger coaches. Now, you!" He addressed the sailors, collected in a glum and muttering group. "You know you were caught invading Gozashtand with arms, don't you?"

They nodded.

"And it would go pretty hard with you if I turned you over to the dour?"

A sailor asked: "Don't you work for him, master?"

"As it happens I don't, though he and I are good friends. Wouldn't you like to be carried back to Qadr, and nothing said about this?"

"Aye, sir!" cried several of the Zambava with a sudden access of interest in life.

"Okay. Ferzao, detail a couple of men to see these boys off to Qadr in the train. Have somebody help get those derailed cars back on the track. Assign somebody to lead King Antane's aya, and a couple more to shoot him if he tries a break. We'll tell the guards at the gate that we're just back from the hunt, and hope they won't count us. You there, pick up those guns and load 'em into the carriage."

"I say," said Fallon, "what happened that those guns didn't shoot? We're told they were all right when they arrived on Krishna."

"Trade secret; tell you some day," said Hasselborg. "Queen Julnar, will you do me the honor? Don't look so scared, Chuen!"

"Is long way to the ground," said Chuen, peering down from his uneasy saddle.

"Not so far as it looks. And weren't you kidding me about being scared of germs?"

"Where are you taking us?" demanded Fallon. "To King Eqrar?"

"Not yet. Keep quiet and behave yourself and perhaps you won't have to meet him at all. Hao!"

Hasselborg cracked his whip, and his buggy headed back for Hershid at a canter through the sunset.

Haste stroked the arm of his chair with long fingers. "No, I'll see the fellow not, until this matter's settled. Till then I've no official knowledge of his presence."

"Well," said Hasselborg, trying without complete success to conceal his exasperation, "will Your Re-verence do what I ask, or won't you?"

"I know not, Master Kavir. I know not. Tis true I promised, but things have changed since then. I fain would help you, yet you ask a thing bigger than the Six Labors of Qarar. For look you, these sailors will arrive back in Majbur, and nothing on Krishna will stop them from talking. The talk will come to the ears of Gorbovast, who'll report back to the king, who will naturally wonder what befell him who led this strange invasion. He'll know you carried King Antane off, and the people of the city saw you drive up to my palace with your retinue. Therefore he'll come snooping around here with armed men at his back, and if he finds Antane locked in that old cell, there'll be awkward queries to answer."

Hasselborg said: "I think we can divert him. Tell him I took Antane with me to Novorecife. He won't be able to catch me to find out, I hope."

"Surely, you put a fair face on things. Still, I know not—"

"Well, there it is. If you want to carry out your promise—" Privately Hasselborg was more and more sharing the king's opinion of his vacillating high priest.

"I'll tell you. I'll do it on one condition."

"What's that?"

"It has not escaped your attention that my niece Fouri entertains for you feelings warmer than mere esteem?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well then, let you wed her by the rites of our most holy Church, and I'll undertake to keep your prisoner till you send me instructions for his disposal, as you demand."

Neither Haste nor Fouri yet knew he was an Ear-thman, and moreover that he intended to return to Earth as soon as he perfected arrangements here. Legally it would not much matter. Once he got away from Gozashtand, he could nullify the marriage or ignore it, as Fallon had done with his.

Still, he disliked doing such a serious thing—serious to Fouri at least—under false pretenses.

"Well?" said Haste.

Now Hasselborg was squirming on the horns of the dilemma, as Haste had been previously. Should he balk at this point, throw up the game, turn his captives over to King Eqrar, or to Chuen, and report failure back to Batruni? It would simplify matters with Alexandra.

No, having come/this close to success, he would not let himself be finessed out of it.

"Okay," he said. "How about as soon as I get back from where I'm going with the queen?"

"No; ere you leave. This night."

Away went that chance of escape. "All right. Whenever you say."

Haste broke into a weary smile. "I had long hoped that the wedding of my niece would be a splendid affair. I should, for example, have consulted the ancient astrological archives to calculate the most aus-spicious date. However, Fouri insists upon an immediate ceremony. Therefore 'twill not even be necessary to compute your horoscopes." Haste looked at the time candle. " Tis the hour for supper. What say you we perform it now, as soon as we and our friends can make ourselves presentable? Then to sup."

This was going to put Hasselborg in still more of a spot, unless he found a reason for setting off into the darkness right after supper. Yet, at this stage of the game it would not much matter if Fouri found out that he was an earthman.

"Very well," he said amiably, "but I'm afraid I'll have to get married the way I am, since all the rest of my clothes are over in Eqrar's shack."

He went to the room that Haste assigned him, shaved, washed up, took a short nap, and then came out to prowl the palace. He knocked on Julnar's door.

"Yes?"

"Queen Julnar? This is the soi-disant Kavir bad-

Ma'lum."

"What is it, fiend?" She opened the door.

"I thought you might like to attend the wedding."

"Wedding? Who? Where? When? How divine! I'd love to!"

"It seems that Haste's niece Fouri and I are getting hitched in about fifteen minutes in His Reverence's private chapel."

"You are? But how can you if you're an earth—"

"Sh! That can't be helped, and I don't want it spread around. Just say, would you like to come?"

"I'd adore it! But—but—"

"But what?" asked Hasselborg.

"I couldn't very well accept while you're holding my husband in that wretched little cell, could I? That wouldn't be loyal."

"I'm sorry, but—"

"My idea was, why not let him out long enough to attend? Tony's a good sport, and I'm sure he'll behave."

"I'll see."

He went downstairs to Fallon's cell, finding the erstwhile king comfortably settled and playing Krishnan checkers with Ferzao. He said to the captive:

"Tony, I'm getting married to Haste's niece in a few minutes, and your—uh—wife said she'd like to attend if I'd let you come, too. Would you like to?"

"We most certainly should!" said Fallon with such emphasis that Hasselborg looked at him in alarm.

Hasselborg warned: "Don't nourish ideas of making a break, chum; I'll have you well guarded."

"Oh, we won't bother you. Word of honor and all that."

"Okay. Ferzao, you and Ghum let King Antane out and take him up to the high priest's private chapel in a few minutes. Stick close to him and watch him."

Hasselborg then went to the chapel itself, finding Haste, Fouri, Chuen, Fouri's maid, and Julnar. Fouri looked at him with a hungry expression that re-minded him of those terran female spiders that ate their mates. Julnar, Hasselborg had decided, was just a healthy, normal girl, impressionable perhaps, but with a wonderful shape that the topless Krishnan evening dress made the most of.

Haste said: "I will run through the forms once, to forewarn you of the responses you must make. You stand there and Fouri there. You take her hand in yours, so, I say— Who's this? Take that man away!"

Hasselborg turned to see Fallon and his two guards. "Which man?" he asked.

Fallon cut loose with a shout: "Haste, you double-crossing—"

"Silence! I forbid you to speak!" cried Haste.

Fallon paid no attention. "You double-crossing zeft, we'll see that you get—ohe, watch him!"

Hasselborg turned to see the high priest cock a little one-hand pistol crossbow and aim it in the general direction of Fallon. Fallon and his two guards ducked frantically. So did everybody else in the room except Hasselborg and Chuen.

While Chuen looked around for something to throw, Hasselborg, who was standing closer to Haste, brought his right foot up in a terrific kick at Haste's hand. The twang of the string mingled with the smack of Hasselborg's boot, the little crossbow flew high into the air, and the bolt struck the ceiling with a sharp sound and buried itself in the plaster.

Hasselborg threw himself upon Haste in a tackle. Down went the priest, gorgeous robes and all. Hasselborg heard one of his men gasp at the sacrilege.

"Really, my son," said Haste when he got his breath back, "be not so rough with one who is no longer young!"

"Sorry," said Hasselborg. "I thought you were reaching for a knife. Anyway, who told you you could plug Antane! He's my prisoner, see?" He got up with a grunt, feeling as if he had dislocated a hip joint. You are old, Father Victor, he thought, at least for football practice. "Say!"

"What?" Haste sat up.

"This!" Hasselborg reached out and yanked off one of Haste's antennae, which had become partly detached in the scuffle. "An Earthman, huh?"

Haste felt his forehead. "Yes, now that you make mention thereof." Then as the significance of the event sank in, Haste did a double-take. The rather stupid expression on his face changed to one of horror: "Speak it not, my's-s-son! I p-pray you! The results were dire! I were slain; the Established Church were overthrown; the bases of morality and justice were destroyed! Anything shall be yours, so that you betray not this dread's-s-secret!"

"Oho, so that's it? You were in on this smuggling deal too, eh? And you tried to murder Fallon just now because he was going to give you away?"

"That were a harsh interpretation, my boy. I—I c-can explain, though 'twere a lengthy tale—"

"Huh. No wonder you wouldn't see him when I brought him in! Well, that simplifies things. Sorry, Fouri, wedding's off."

"No! No! I love only you!"

He ignored her cries, not without a small internal pang. But then, he hoped to see Alexandra soon. He continued:

"Haste, I'm pulling out tonight with Queen Julnar. You'll put Fallon back in his cell and hold him on pain of exposure. Moreover you'll carry out any instructions I send you with regard to him; meanwhile you'll make him as comfortable as possible. You'd also better pension Ferzao and Ghum to keep their mouths shut. Follow me?"

"I understand. But tell me one thing, my son—I've suspected that you, too, are of the race of earthmen. Be that the truth, or—"

"That's my business, chum. You understand, Julnar? You'll do just as I say, or I'll get word to Haste to put your boy friend out of his misery?"

"I understand, you fiend."

"Chuen, you'll want to stick around, won't you?"

"Yes," said Chuen. "I got to collect depositions and other evidence."

"Okay, then—"

"But!" cried Julnar. "If I go back with you, it'll be years by Krishnan time before I can see Tony again, even though it seems only weeks to me!"

"I'll fix that," said Hasselborg, fishing out his precious pills. "Here, Tony. Trance pills. Know the formula?"

"Certainly we do," said Fallon sullenly.

"Fine. Haste, before I go, I want to borrow the amount I left in my rooms in the royal place. I'll give you a note, and after I've left you can take it around to the palace. If King Eqrar's feeling honest, maybe he'll let you have the stuff. Ferzao, put King Antane back in his cell; then choose half the men to come with me to Novorecife. The other half I'm turning over to Master Li-yau, to do as he commands, together with the money to pay them. Then get my carriage ready, with food for a long fast journey. And cups of hot shurab for Queen Julnar and me before we start—" i

Hasselborg was well away from Hershid, trotting briskly through the multiple moonlight, when Julnar asked: "Isn't this the road back to Majbur?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, isn't that a roundabout way of getting to Novorecife?"

"Yes; we're going up the Pichide by boat. The only other route lies via Rosid, and I'm afraid I'm not popular in Ruz just now."

She relapsed into gloom. The escort clop-clopped behind them. Hasselborg suddenly clapped a hand to his forehead.

"Tamates! It just occurred to me: if Haste's an Earth-man, Fouri can't be his niece, unless she's human to—say, d'you know anything about their background?"

"No," said Julnar, "and if I did I wouldn't tell you, you home-wrecker!"

Hasselborg subsided. As far as he was concerned, the many loose ends in this case would have to be left adrift. And he must remember to send Yeshram bad-Yeshram the jailer the other half of his bribe. He grinned as he thought how much easier it was to be scrupulous with Batruni's money than with his own.

Hasselborg walked down the ramp from the side of his ship at the Barcelona spaceport, followed by Jul-nar Batruni. Her suitcase had already gone down the chute; he insisted on carrying his own by hand rather than risk his professional equipment and medicines. In the other hand, he twirled the carved Gozashtando umbrella, an incongruous sight in this sunny city.

"What now?" she asked as they stood in line at the passport desk.

"First I'm going to wire your old man in Aleppo, and a—a friend of mine in London. Then I'll hunt up a doctor for a physical checkup."

"Why, are you sick? I thought the Viagens doctor checked you."

"So he did," he said seriously, "but you can't be too careful. Then I thought we'd take in some of the high life. While most of it's estincamente, I know some good places over on the Montjuich."

"How simply divine! You're an extraordinary man, Victor," she said.

"How?"

"I don't seem to be able to loathe you as much as I should for breaking into my life."

"That's my insidious charm. Watch out for it." He handed over his passport.

He had just finished sending his telegrams when somebody at his elbow said in Spanish: "Excuse me, but are you Senor Hasselborg?"

"Si, soy Hasselborg." The fellow was dressed in the uniform of an Iberian Federation cop, and flanked by two Viagens men.

"Lo siento mucho," said the Spaniard with an apologetic bow, "but I must place you under arrest."

"Huh? What for?"

"These gentlemen have a warrant. Will you explain, Senor Ndombu?"

One of the Viagens men, a Negro, said: "Violation of Regulation 368 of the Interplanetary Council rules, Section Four, Subsection Twenty-six, fifteenth paragraph."

"Whew! Which is that?"

"The one relating to the introduction of mechanical devices or inventions on the planet Krishna."

"I never—"

"Queira, senhor, don't savage me about it! All I know is what's in this warrant. Something about putting a sight on a crossbow."

"Oh." Hasselborg turned to Julnar. "Here's some money. Take a cab to the Cristobal Hotel. Call up the firm of Montejo and Durruti and tell 'em to bail me out of the calabozo, will you like a good kid?"

Then he went with the men.

Whether Julnar took the chance of getting even with him, or whether his Catalan colleagues were having an attack of mahana, nothing happened to get Hasselborg out of his cell as evening came on. This could be serious. They had the goods on him with respect to those sights, even if they were only a pair of corsage pins. The spectators had taken note at the time, and the imitative Krishnans were no doubt spreading the device all over their planet. Not that it was really important; a man is as dead when beaten to death with a club as when blown up with a plutonium bomb.

There would be a hearing, whenever the local magistrate got around to it, at which said magistrate would either dismiss the case or bind Hasselborg over and assign him to the court of first instance for trial. For an offense by an earthman on Krishna against an Interplanetary Council regulation en-forced by the Viagens Interplanetarias security force, and arrested in Iberia on Earth, that would be—let's see—Lower Division, Earth World Court for the Third International Judicial District, which sat in— hm-m-m—Paris, didn't it? With appeal to— He'd have to dig out his old law texts when he got back to London. The maze of jurisdictions was so complicated that sometimes interplanetary cases simply got lost in the shuffle and never were tried at all, while the principals lived out their long lives on bail.

No, if he got back to London. This could result in a stiff sentence, especially if Chuen broke a big scandal inside the Viagens ranks about now, and the word was passed down to tighten up and make an example. And it did no good to have a trance pill smuggled in to knock yourself out with; Earth penal systems were wise to that one and simply added the time you spent in trance to your sentence.

Hasselborg reflected that he who acts as his own lawyer has a fool for a client. He had better round up some high-powered advice muy pronto. Lawyer though he was by training, he was too rusty to cope with this problem himself. Maybe he should have stuck to law in the first place, instead of getting involved in investigation. The glamour of detecting soon wore off…

Obviously Montejo and Durruti were not going to call, whatever the reason. Although the jail people let him telephone, their office failed to answer, he did not know their home numbers, and the directory listed so many Montejos and Durrutis that he decided that it would take all night to go through them.

Next he tried the Cristobal Hotel. No, they had no Miss Batruni. Nor any Senora Fallon either. Did they have the Queen of Zamba? Come, senior, you are joking with us and we do not appreciate… oh, wait a minute! We have a Hoolnar de Thamba; would that be the one?

But Julnar's room did not answer. Hasselborg disgustedly went to bed. At least the Barcelona munici-pal clink, unlike many in the Peninsula, was a reasonably sanitary one, although Hasselborg doubted whether any Iberians could be trusted to display sufficient vigilance towards germs.

Hasselborg was at the telephone again next morning when a warden said: "A Senorita Garshin to see you."

He hung up unsteadily, missing the cradle with the handset twice, and followed the man to the visitors' room. There she was, looking just as he'd imagined her, only prettier if anything.

"Alexandra!" he said. "I—you—you're Miss Gar-shin now?"

"Yes. Why Victor, your hair!"

"It's green, isn't it?"

"You mean you see it, too? I thought I was having hallucinations."

"It's just the ends; it'll be gone the next haircut I get. You don't look different—not a day older."

"I've been in trance most of the time; that's why."

"You were?"

"Yes," she said.

"But—I'm afraid—I didn't bring back Tony after all."

"Oh, I didn't do it on Tony's account. I don't care anything about him any more."

"Then—uh—whose?"

"Can't you guess?"

"You mean you—uh—you—"

She nodded. He held out his arms, and the warden, who thought of Anglo-Saxons as cold fish, received a surprising enlightenment.

He brought out the little Krishnan god, which he had been carrying in his pocket for this moment, and gave it to her. Then they sat down holding hands. Hasselborg found that the paralysis of his vocal organs had vanished. They talked at a terrific pace of their past, present, and future until Hasselborg looked at his watch.

"Say," he cried, "I forgot I haven't even got a lawyer yet! Wait a minute, will you, chum?"

He dashed back to the telephone, this time getting Montejo and Durruti, who promised to send him a lawyer forthwith. The lawyer was arranging bail when the warden announced more visitors—a Senor Batruni and a lady.

Batruni practically slobbered over Hasselborg in gratitude. When the investigator finally wormed out of the emotional Levantine's embrace, he introduced Alexandra simply as "my fiancee, Miss Garshin." Then he asked Julnar:

"I thought I asked you to call Montejo and Durruti for me yesterday?"

"I would have, Victor, only—"

"Only what?"

"Well, you see, the stupid taxi driver must have misunderstood me and took me to the wrong place, so we got into an argument, and what with me not speaking any Spanish or Catalan and he not speaking any English or French or Arabic it was simply ghastly—and what with one thing and another, by the time I did get to the Cristobal I'd forgotten the name!"

"Then why didn't you call me at the jail and find out?"

"I didn't think of that."

"Where were you during the evening, and again this morning when I called you?"

"In the evening I went to a movie, and when I got back to my room, Daddy called me by telephone from Aleppo to say he was chartering a special fast plane. So this morning I was so excited I left early to wait for him at the airport."

Hasselborg sighed. Nice girl, but too scatterbrained for his taste.

"Has Daddy told you the news?" she continued. "Of course not; he just arrived. Tell him, Daddy."

"I am going back to Krishna with Julnar," said Batruni.

"Why?" said Hasselborg.

"It is this way. While you were gone, the government socialized my factories. They paid me for them, so I need not starve, but there is no more fun in life. I even offered to act as manager; but they turned it down. They do not trust a wicked capitalist to run them without sabotaging them. There is no pleasure on Earth any more. Everything is too orderly, planned, regulated. You cannot move a meter without tripping over red tape.

"Therefore, if you will give me a letter directing that person who has Anthony in custody to let him go, I will go to Krishna and live with this wild son-in-law of mine in his island kingdom. I shall be a genuine prince, which you cannot be on Earth any more unless you are a Scandinavian."

"Isn't it just too divine?" squealed Julnar. "Now I'm really grateful to you for kidnaping me!"

"Swell," said Hasselborg. "I hope you're satisfied with the way I carried out the assignment, Mr. Batruni."

"Certainly, more than satisfied. In fact I am so pleased that I have an offer to make to you."

"Another job? said Hasselborg in slight alarm.

"Yes, but not the kind you think. In addition to my regular fee I am offering you a lectureship at the University of Beyrut, of which I am a trustee."

Hasselborg paused to let this sink in. "A lectureship in what?"

"Anglo-Saxon law."

"My word! I'd have to think, even if I beat this rap; but my sincerest thanks. I'd have to brush up on my law and my Arabic. Say, how about seeing the sights of Barcelona? I promised Julnar but got pinched before I could deliver. Come on; 'tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea, along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!"

The hearing took place the following morning. In the front row, like Alice between the two queens, sat

Papa Batruni, showing signs of a hangover, with his daughter on one side and Alexandra on the other. The magistrate had just called the case when a bulky Oriental walked down the aisle.

"Chuen!" cried Hasselborg, then to his lawyer: "Senor Agüesar, there's the man we want!"

Chuen shook hands warmly. "I just arrived and learned you were in pokey. I left several days after you, but in faster ship."

"I always get the scows," said Hasselborg, and explained his plight.

When the Viagens officer, Ndombu, had explained the warrant, Agüesar called Chuen to the stand. Chuen, using an interpreter, told what had happened on Krishna, emphasizing the fact that only by a slight infraction of the anti-invention regulation had Hasselborg been able to survive to forestall another and much graver violation.

"Case dismissed," said the magistrate.

Hasselborg asked Chuen: "Could you stay over two days and act as my best man?" At Chuen's quizzical look he added: "Miss Garshin and I are getting married. We got our license yesterday, but they've got a three-day law in Iberia."

"I'm so sorry! I have my ticket for airplane to China; leave this afternoon. If I miss, won't be another seat for a week. Wish I knew sooner."

"Oh. Too bad. When are you going?"

Chuen looked at his watch. "Should start in a few minutes."

"I'll go with you. Can you dear, sweet people excuse me for an hour?"

In the taxi Chuen said: "Glad to get back to civilization?"

"Right! What did you do after I left?"

"Collected evidence for several days. I got those letters from Gois to Dasht of Ruz, for instance. Took doing."

"What happened to Gois?"

"Oh, he got ten years; couple of others who were in with him, shorter terms."

"Was Abreu in on it?"

"No; he's all right. He wouldn't belieye Gois was a crook at first, but when I convinced him he helped me very much. But while I was still in Hershid, the most awful thing happened to me!

"What?"

"Fouri made me marry her on threat of exposing me as Terran spy! Embarrassing, especially since I already got wife and eight children in Gweilin."

"What's the dope on Haste and Fouri? She can't be his niece—"

"No."

"Mistress?"

"Think no. Haste real old ascetic."

"She is a Krishnan?"

"Oh, yes," said Chuen.

"Then how—"

"Haste was a deserter from one of earliest ships to land on Krishna. Pretty old then, over two hundred. Set himself up as holy hermit, lived in cave, became a power in their church in Gozashtand. Then when there was deadlock in election a few years ago, they picked him for high priest as compromise. Not bad man really, but too small for his job. Was owing to his weak leadership the Church was failing, I think, which is after all good thing if you don't believe that astrological nonsense."

"But Fouri?"

"She was young girl from caravan of Gavehona—you know, a wandering tribe, like our Gypsies. Went live with him while he was still hermit; don't know how much for religion, how much for regular meals. When he became high priest, she moved in with him—like father and daughter. Now Haste getting really old, so Fouri start looking for another berth. Fall in love with you; genuine, I think. Made Haste cooperate by threatening to expose him as Earthman.

"Meanwhile Haste is looking for another berth too, since his Established Church is failing, so he entered plot with Fallon. He was going to hail Fallon as Messiah or something like that when Fallon took Hershi'd. We fixed that. But when you escaped, idea of getting married had become an obsession with Fouri. Haste couldn't marry her, obviously, so she picked me; better than nothing, I suppose. Maybe she thought I'd fall in love with her and stay. Hard enough to tell what goes on in Earthwoman's mind."

Hasselborg brought his friend up to date on the Batruni affairs, adding: "I didn't mention that Alexandra was Fallon's ex; the Batrunis don't know it and it would only embarrass everybody. How's Fallon doing?"

"All right. Was planning to put himself in trance when I left; wanted to make sure you took off with Julnar first."

Hasselborg said: "It'll be years by objective time before they get back to Krishna, and anything might have happened by then. However, that's their lookout. You know, I'm sometimes bothered by the feeling that Gois and his gang were right and we and the Interplanetary Council wrong."

"I know, but not our business. We do our jobs. Speaking of jobs—you taking up this teaching offer?"

"I think so."

"Sounds dull."

"D'you like manhunting?"

"Of course. Why you think I work as a cop?"

"Well, I've had my fill. While I've usually taken things pretty much as they came, I pushed my luck on Krishna as far as anybody could, what with being shot at with crossbows and slashed at with swords and stabbed with knives and almost eaten by yekis." Hasselborg, feeling expansive, drew on his cigar. "I remember in Plato's Republic where a character named Er gets knocked cold in a fight. His soul goes to Hades and later returns to his body, and Er comes to and tells how in Hades he saw the souls of other dead people picking their next incarnations. Ajax is choosing the life of a lion and so on. But Odysseus is smart. He figures he's had enough excitement in his last life, so he's selecting the life of an obscure private citizen leading a peaceful existence. And that's how I feel. Any time you're in Beyrut, come see Professor and Mrs. Hasselborg and all the little Hasselborgs. We'll bore you to death with placid domesticity."

As Chuen waddled up the companionway into the fuselage, he turned to wave at Hasselborg, who waved back. A good guy, thought Hasselborg, but I hope I never have anything to do with the detective business again. That's that.

A young man brushed by Hasselborg, flashed him a quick glance, and ran up the companionway into the fuselage just before the door shut and the tractor towed the plane away to the catapult strip. Although Hasselborg had only a glimpse of the man's face, it was enough.

The man was the young Gozashtando priest who used to come in and murmur in Haste's ear, disguised as an Earthman by a wig that came down over his forehead to hide the antennae. Fouri must have sent him to Earth to track down her fugitive and bigamous husband!