The Swords of Zinjaban

II – Alicia Dyckman

Fergus Reith arrived at the dining table to find Alister tucking away an enormous adolescent breakfast. "Hello, String!" said Reith.

"Hi, Dad. Say, is this Doctor Dyckman the girl you were married to before you met Mom?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I've heard talk, and she seemed to fit. Are you going to marry her again?"

Reith choked on his fried bijar egg. "Great Bákh! Please, Alister! Till yesterday, we hadn't seen each other in eighteen Krishnan years. Would you object if I did?"

Alister frowned. "I've always wondered what it would be like to have a mother. Doctor Dyckman seems nice, and she's certainly swell-looking. But I've heard stories about how badly she treated you before; makes me mad every time I think of them."

"She's supposed to have had a big personality lift on Terra," said Reith. "We'd have to see if it worked."

"Besides," said Alister, "you'd have to get rid of that native girlfriend you've got upriver."

"Gluk" sputtered Reith, disconcerted for the second time. "You know about her?"

"Oh, sure. These things get around."

"Just what do you know?"

"She's at Rimbid; her name is something like 'sorry,' and you stop off there about once a moon."

"She's just a young Krishnan widow I'm sorry for, that's all," said Reith stiffly, hoping against hope that his words carried conviction. "I'll give the matter the most careful consideration. Meanwhile, the less said about Alicia and me, or Sári and me, the better."

Alicia came in, looking as fresh as springtime. While Kardir served her breakfast, Reith said, "Did you sleep well?"

"Just fine. Have you read Swords Beneath Three Moons?" When Reith, his mouth full, nodded, she added: "And what did you think?"

"Bloody awful, as our old friend Percy Mjipa would say."

She sighed. "I was afraid of that. Fodor and his stooge Motilal wouldn't hear a word of advice." She stared at the window. "What's that going bop-bop outside? Sounds as if someone's playing tennis."

"Good guess," smiled Reith. "I've built a court behind the house, and a couple of my neighbors are knocking off a set"

"Marvelous! We must play when we can find the time."

"Me, play an intercollegiate champion? You'd sweep me off the court."

"My game has gone down dreadfully from lack of practice."

"Well, mine was never much to begin with; but we'll give it a try. Some Krishnans, even, are taking up the game."

Alicia laughed lightly. "My movie people had better shoot their medieval scenes soon, or all the Krishnans will be playing golf and tennis and going to work with briefcase in hand and bowler on head."

"That's not so farfetched. Last time I was in Majbur, some merchants asked my advice on setting up a Chamber of Commerce on the Terran model."

A small, slight Krishnan, with antennae of exceptional length and luxuriance, came in. In fluent but accented English, he said: "Good morning, Mr. Reit'. What do you—" His glance alighted on Alicia, and his eyes widened. "M-madam!" he stammered. "Fuf-forgive my forwardness, but are you not de Doctor Dyckman, wiz who—wiz whom I once traveled in de Khaldoni lands?"

"Why, Minyev!" cried Alicia. "What a pleasant surprise! Fergus said you were working for him."

"Oh, madam!" cried Minyev, falling to his knees and touching his forehead to the floor. In the Khaldoni language he reverently added: "Thou are a goddess to me! Thou shouldst have been a queen!"

"Come," she said, smiling indulgently. "Do get up!"

Reith turned to his secretary. "Minyev, Doctor Dyckman and I are going in to Novo. You're to start bringing my card files up to date."

Back at Novorecife, Reith stabled his trap. Alicia said: "My charges won't be up for an hour or two. Let's look around." As they strolled, she remarked, "My goodness! With all these new buildings, I'd hardly know the place. What is this one?"

"Our Athletic Club."

"Who are those people in front of it?"

Three Terrans were pacing back and forth before the entrance, bearing signs. All wore transmundanes, the semi-safari suits favored by Terrans on planets with Earthlike climates and atmospheres. Their headgear, however, varied. One, who combined a clerical collar with his suit, wore a black felt hat. His sign read: FORA AS INDECÉNCIAS—AWAY WITH INDECENCY!

Another, swarthy and black-bearded, wore a kaffiyyah or Arab head cloth. His sign bore a sentence in the fishhooks of Arabic script, and beneath them the words À BAS L'IMPUDEUR!

The third, darker yet and gray-bearded, wore a turban. He carried a sign painted with the flat-topped characters of India's Devenagari alphabet and below it: THE SHAME OF THY NAKEDNESS, Rev. iii, 18.

"What on earth?" said Alicia.

"They're campaigning for compulsory bathing suits in the A.C. pool. Most of the time the Christian, Muslim, and Hindu missionaries hate and intrigue against one another; but for this campaign they've formed a united front." Reith lowered his voice as they neared the demonstrators. "They asked the new Comandante, Planquette, to issue an order, but he just laughed. And Judge Keshavachandra wouldn't help."

"Is old Ram Keshavachandra still your magistrate?"

"Yep; he and Herculeu are the only officials left over from when—when you lived here before."

"I'd like to see the Club."

"Okay," said Reith as he approached the demonstrators. "Alicia, these are the Reverends Hafiz Misri, Arjuna Ghosh, and Gaspar Corvo. Gentlemen, Dr. Alicia Dyckman."

Ghosh, the Indian, frowned. "The Alicia Dyckman, who worked here years ago?"

"Yes. Let's go in, Fergus."

"A minute, please!" said Ghosh. "Are you thinking of taking a swim?"

Alicia's eyes narrowed ominously. "I might, if I feel like it."

"With a proper bathing suit?"

"With what I consider a proper bathing suit."

"May I see your suit, please?"

"You're looking at some of it now. My skin."

"We cannot permit that!" said Misri the Arab. The three missionaries clustered in front of the entrance and all began speaking at once: "It is a sin against God!" "Thou shalt not uncover ..." ".., example to the young ..." "... promoting immorality ..."

"Lish!" said Reith. "If you want to swim, I'll take you elsewhere."

Alicia ignored him. "Stand aside!" she snapped at the clerics. Passersby stopped to watch.

The demonstrators continued: "Please, we are only doing our duty ..." "... our consciences compel us ..." "... we act in love ..."

"Out of my way if you don't want to be hurt!" grated Alicia, swinging her handbag by its chain.

"We cannot!" said Misri. "God will not permit us!" He feinted at her with his sign.

"Hey!" said Reith. "If you hit her with that thing, I'll make a grease spot of you!"

"Guard my back, Fergus," said Alicia. "I'll handle these—"

Reith glanced around. A small East Asian young woman pushed forward and aimed a camera. "Oh-oh," said Reith, "Here's Meilung!"

"I'll give her a story," said Alicia. Turning back to the missionaries, she said: "We'll put on a counterdemonstration for the paper. I'll model my idea of a bathing suit, and the reporter can shoot the four of us together." She handed Reith her handbag, peeled off her khaki shirt, and called: "Closer, Meilung!"

"Walla!" cried Hafiz Misri. "You cannot do this thing. Our reputations—"

"I'll stand between two of you, with an arm around each," Alicia said, dropping her trousers and stepping out of them. She fumbled with the fastening of her brassiere.

"God help us all!" cried Ghosh, backing away. Father Corvo, muttering Latin, put down his sign and melted into the crowd. In a matter of seconds, the other two missionaries had likewise vanished. Most of the spectators roared with laughter, although Reith heard a few murmurs of sympathy for the discomfited preachers.

Pulling her outer garments back on, Alicia asked: "Get some good pictures, Meilung?"

"I d-don't know," sputtered the reporter. "I was laughing so I could hardly aim the camera."

The pool contained only a handful of swimmers. Reith said: "Later in the day, the pool's so popular you always find someone's knee or elbow in your eye. Shall we give it a try?"

Alicia looked at her watch. "Too late, I'm afraid. I've got to visit the Outfitting Shop for this safari."

As they left the building, Reith said: "Anyway, I prefer a swimming hole a couple of hoda west of my house. Glad to show it to you."

"I'll take you up on that. Coming with me?"

"Thanks, but I have to drop in on Herculeu to check up on the countries where we'll be working. Pick you up at the shop in an hour, eh?"

Reith found Castanhoso comparing photographs of troublesome Terrans. "Ohé!" said the security officer. "Here's that trapaceiro Enrique Schlegel. Wasn't he in last night's fracas?"

"Yes," said Reith. "After the fight, he challenged me to a duel."

"He did? If I'd known, I'd have jailed him. Now he has left Novo for Qirib. Did you strike him in the confusion?"

"No, he struck me. He's angry over something that happened a couple of years ago. I was showing my tourists around Mishé, when he came up and began haranguing about his new religion—or rather, the worship of the old Roman gods, which he said was better suited to Krishna than newfangled theologies like Christianity."

"It might be, at that," mused Castanhoso.

"He claimed to be an incarnation of Mars—the god, not the planet. He was dressed as Mars in a helmet with a scrubbing-brush crest and a ball-baring kilt. After he'd rattled on, I asked him politely to go away. He took a swing, and I conked him with my dagger pommel. Now he's calling himself a culture expert' and adds a 'von' to his name for instant gentility. What's his game?"

Castanhoso explained. "He's started a Society for the Preservation of Krishnan Culture and has quite a following in Suruskand. His gangs roam the streets; when they find a woman wearing clothes of Terran style, they tear the garments off."

"Wow! Imagine their stripping a party of my middle-aged tourists! What are you doing?"

"I have advised President Da'mir to expel this malvado as a subversive. What strange characters get passports to Krishna!" He eyed Reith sharply. "And that includes those two cinematic persons you fobbed off on me last night. This morning I sent my deputy to say they could come peaceably to settle damages or face arrest and deportation. They came meekly enough. The fat one seems to have had some sort of accident.

"By the way, rumors are flying of a campaign of conquest by the nomads of Qaath. Have you heard anything?"

Reith shrugged. "Not I; but then, you know rumors. May I have some new maps of Ruz and Mikardand? Mine are gastado."

Reith and Alicia hastened to the Conference Room to keep their appointment with the other clients. At the sight of Ordway, Reith exclaimed, "Good lord, what happened to you?"

Ordway, with purple discolorations outlining the bandages on his face, groaned. "You tell him, Jack."

White said, "We were walking back from breakfast when we passed that Krishnan with the false beard and the fancy clothes—the one you called Prince Fairy or something."

"Ferrian of Sotaspé" said Reith. "Go on."

"Well, this guy stopped Cyril and said, in perfect English: 'Sir, last night you made disparaging remarks about me in the presence of others. A man in my position does not brawl in public; but now you are here alone but for your fellow Terran. I think he will have the wisdom not to interfere."

"Then he took off his sword belt and coat, laid them down neatly, and beat the goddam stuffing out of Cyril. When he'd knocked Cyril cold, he wiped his hands on Cyril's suit, calmly gathered up his coat and sword, and walked away."

"You ought to do something, Reith," groaned Ordway. "What good are you if you can't protect us from these bloodthirsty natives?"

"Damn it!" exclaimed Reith. "If you pick fights the way you did last night, you'll get in trouble no matter what I do. You're lucky Ferrian knows Terran customs. Another Krishnan might have let daylight into you with his sticker."

"He's right, Cyril," said White. "Don't make things worse."

"Oh, very well, very well," said Ordway penitently. "I suppose I did go off the reservation a bit. We've been to the boss rozzer's office, paying fines and damages." After a moment's pause, he glanced from Reith to Alicia with a smirk that showed despite his bandages. "I'll wager you two had a jolly good night!"

Reith restrained an urge to punch Ordway's battered face. "You see, Lish," he growled, "one might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb." He turned his coldly steady regard on the production manager. "About your godawful script, I can tell you you've got a dud. Whoever wrote it doesn't know beans about Krishna. He merely cobbles together a couple of Arthurian legends, glues false antennae and ear points on some actors, and dyes their hair and skin—"

"Look here," said Ordway. "You may be right as rain, but it don't make a blasted bit of difference. Attila says this is how he wants it, so that's how it's going to be."

"Can't somebody tell the boss that this silly plot is risking your investment? It put me to sleep."

White spoke up diffidently. "Excuse my saying so, Mr. Reith; but it wouldn't do a bit of good. Even if you're right, you don't have any screen credits to give weight to your words."

Ordway added: "Just forget it, will you, like a good bloke?"

Reith began an angry retort, but a look from Alicia silenced him. "Fergus, I've dealt with these paranoid egomaniacs, and authenticity is the last thing they worry about Stavrakos and Fodor made one historical in which Abraham Lincoln married Queen Victoria."

"Didn't he?" asked Ordway innocently.

"Hell, no!" said White. "Even I know that. Lincoln was the man who liberated the Jews from slavery."

Alicia winked at Reith. "So, Fergus, my advice is: do your job, take your money, and run."

Reith drew a long breath. "Okay. I'm here to take you to shooting sites and help you recruit Krishnan extras." He unfolded a map. "You'll need a castle, unless you'd rather build your own."

"Let's see some real castles first" said Ordway.

Reith continued: "You'll find good castles in Ruz, here." He pointed a long finger. "So our first trip had better be to Rosid, the capital. I know the Dasht of Ruz—"

"The who of what?" interrupted Ordway.

"The Dasht of Ruz, a vassal of the Dour—Emperor, if you prefer—of Gozashtand. You could call the Dasht a count or baron. Dasht Gilan's raised one of the best units of armored cavalry around; but maintaining first-class cavalry is costly, so Gilan's always short. You could probably hire his lancers; how many would you need?"

Ordway answered. "About a thousand—five hundred on a side. What sort of country is this Ruz?"

"Hilly, with farms along little narrow valleys. Like Kentucky."

White shook his head. "We want a wide, flat area, so we can put up towers and shoot the whole scene from above."

Reith frowned in thought. "Much of Mikardand, south of here, is flat. But the area near Mishé, the capital, is all farmed, and you can bet the landowners won't allow cavalry charges across their crops.

"There's an arid section in the West, Zinjaban Province. The hardscrabble farmers there might let you trample their crops if you made it worth their while."

"How far is this Zinjaban?" asked Ordway.

"Over three hundred kilometers from Mishé. That's six to ten days' travel."

"How do we get our people from here to there?" said Ordway. "You can't expect the shooting crew to bounce all the way on the backs of those oversized six-legged gnus."

"How many in the crew?" asked Reith.

"We're trimming them to an absolute minimum—say thirty, including deadheads. For hewers of wood and drawers of water, we count on hiring locals."

"What are deadheads?"

"Our top people always have a dependent or two they insist on bringing. We try to find them jobs, in case the ruddy stockholders raise a stink. For example, Fodor will bring his wife and his mistress. Then, Cassie—"

"Who?"

"Cassie Norris, our leading lady—originally Kasimira Naruszewicz. She always wants both her husband and her current lover. Luckily, the lover this time is our leading man, Randal Fairweather. He at least will be earning his brass.

"Then, we shall need vehicles for equipment, which will require at least as much space as the people."

Reith said: "I'll tell you. Mishé has an omnibus system of buckboards seating twelve. If we could rent them, we could carry your people in three or four, plus a couple of wagons for equipment"

"Makes sense," said Ordway. "You know," he added plaintively, "I work my arse off trying to keep costs inside the budget. Then Fodor or Stavrakos gets a case of ego and says: 'Why be cheapskates, Cyril? Let's do the job right with twice as much of everything!' Then they wonder why some of their flicks lose money.

"I'd have skipped this battle scene, and have some chap run in to announce a glorious victory, like those Russian plays where a cove wanders in to say that Uncle Ivan just hanged himself in the barn. But no, Attila must have his battle, with simulated gore and severed heads scattered about." He sighed. "Ho for the Middle Ages!"

Reith said, "Consider yourselves lucky to shoot medieval Krishna before it disappears."

"I thought" said White, "the Interplanetary Council kept out advanced technology."

"They try," said Reith. "But blockades leak, and the Krishnans invent on their own. A couple of Krishnan armies have a few crude muskets, something like a Renaissance arquebus. They create more noise and smoke than damage—so far."

"We shan't want guns," said Ordway. "They'd spoil the romance, like Romeo calculating his income tax. Are there castles in Zinjaban?"

"Mikardand isn't a feudal state," said Reith, "but there's a big government fortress across the Khoruz. If the Knights cooperate, you might use it as your castle ..."

At last Reith looked at the wall clock. "Enough planning for one day. I've got to round up a carriage for Rosid, get you two outfitted, and give you a date with Heggstad."

"Who's he?" said White.

"Ivar Heggstad's our athletic trainer. You'll need some exercise to toughen you and some practice at sword fighting, aya riding, and other Krishnan skills."

White and Ordway groaned in unison.

Sinking Roqir saw Fergus Reith and Alicia Dyckman facing each other across the terrace of Reith's ranch house. Padded and masked, they were whacking and thrusting with qong-wood, basket-hilted single sticks. When they drew back after a touch, Reith said: "No, no, Lish! I've told you a parry in seconde is suicide if the other party knows the double."

"My fencing has gone downhill," she said, pulling off the wire mask. "Enough for today; I'm soft. I see you've kept in practice."

"I try, since I want to stay alive. You take first crack at the tub." With a small curl of his lip, he added: "It's only big enough for one, alas."

"You leer most attractively, Mr. Reith," she said with a departing laugh.

After dinner for three, counting Alister, Reith suggested: "Why don't you stay over again? We've got so much to talk about."

"Wish I could, Fergus; but I don't dare leave Cyril and Jack to their own devices. I shouldn't have left the compound last night, except it's not often one finds one's long lost—uh—"

"Amorex?" said Reith, cocking a sardonic eyebrow. The term meant "a lover of one's former spouse."

"Ex-amorex would fit better, but it sounds like some medicine. Oh, before I forget!" She dug into her carryall and handed Reith a book. "Remember urging me to write up my Krishnan adventures? Here they are!"

"By Bákh's toenails!" said Reith. "A real Terran book!" He read the title: Pirates, Priests, and Potentates, by Alicia Dyckman Reith. "Oh, boy! I won't get much sleep tonight ... Say, if this has been published, wouldn't White and Ordway know—ah ..."

She shook her head. "It hadn't yet appeared when we left Terra. So please don't show it to them, at least not soon. Your demon reporter's been after me, but I refused to discuss personal matters."

Minyev brought the gig around the corner and handed Reith the reins. With a backward glance at the ranch house in the moonlight, Alicia asked, "When do we leave for Rosid?"

"In a few days." Reith clucked the aya to its six-legged trot. "I'll send someone ahead to warn the Dasht"

At the Visitors' Building in the Novorecife compound, he dropped Alicia off with the perfunctory kiss that was becoming their regular ritual.

Back at the ranch, Reith settled himself to read in bed. He started on Pirates, Priests, and Potentates. Although fascinating, the book proved slow going. Every sentence so flooded his mind with memories that he had to stop reading every few paragraphs and stare at the wall as image after image paraded by.

When Alicia had spoken of writing a popular book instead of a sociological treatise on Krishna, she had promised to dedicate the book to him. Reith looted in vain for a dedication. Then he noticed that the page following the tide page had been snipped out leaving a centimeter-wide strip. He suspected that the missing sheet had borne the dedication. Had she dedicated it to another? Had the sheet borne some embarrassingly personal sentiment?

The more Reith read, the more absorbed he became. He found himself appalled by the candor with which she set forth the details of their checkered relationship. She accepted the entire blame for their breakup and pictured him much more saintly and heroic than he knew himself to be. Without actually saying so, the work was a book-length love letter.

On the other hand, the incident of the three clerics, that morning, suggested that Alicia the termagant was not dead but sleeping, easily roused to fury. Although his sympathies had lain with her in that confrontation, he firmly resolved thenceforth to treat her as a quasi-sister and to shun the slightest hint of anything closer.

He was also taken aback by her precise, unabashed accounts of her liasons with other males on Krishna, two natives and a Terran, before and after her marriage to Reith. Although in each case she had been more or less coerced, the last of these intrigues had played a part in her final rupture with Reith.

Throughout, Doctor Dyckman the social scientist was in evidence. Using her own experience, she told in baldly physical terms what copulation with a Krishnan male was like. Reith was shaken and embarrassed. Even honesty, he thought, could be overdone.

Reith had assumed that all his feelings towards Alicia Dyckman had faded away, that he had put their stormy romance behind him. Now he was alarmed to find himself bubbling with contradictory emotions. He wanted both to treat her with wary reserve and to offer the ultimate intimacy; to share his every thought and feeling and to retire into a shell of isolation; to be lovingly warm and coldly indifferent; to kiss and cuddle and to shake and slap her.

Despite all that had happened, Alicia had not lost the capacity to arouse an emotional tornado in Fergus Mac-Donald Reith. The sky was paling when at last he fell asleep, the book open on his lap.

At Avoid, the halfway point from Novorecife to Rosid, Reith's party drew up at Asteratun's Inn, identified by an animal skull above the front door.

The carriage that Reith had rented was a barouche, with two facing double seats in the body, another seat in front for the driver, and a collapsible top. A pair of Reith's ayas drew the vehicle. Alicia, Ordway, and White rode in the carriage. Reith was driving; but sometimes he turned the reins over to Timásh, his assistant, and either sat with his clients or rode one of the spare animals. Now Timásh, wearing one of the broad-brimmed, floppy straw hats favored by Krishnan shaihan-herds, rode one spare aya and led the other two.

Alicia also took an occasional turn in the saddle, she said, to get her riding muscles back in trim. When Reith suggested that White and Ordway do likewise, White groaned. Ordway, now clean-shaven, growled: "Not on your life, cobber! I'm so stiff from the workouts that displaced Viking of yours gave me that I can scarcely climb into your rattletrap."

Reith led them into the inn, where he greeted a stout, wrinkled Krishnan with ragged antennae. The innkeeper cried in Gozashtandou: "God den, Master Reef! Your herdsman told me to expect you. Be these your latest batch of Terran tourists?"

"They are businesspersons," said Reith, introducing them. When he presented Alicia as "Doctor Dyckman," Asteratun peered at her dusty riding clothes and said: "Excuse my curiosity, my good sir, but this lady bears an astonishing resemblance to one ye brought hither, it must be nigh unto twenty years past, the one ye called wife. Could this fair young maid be the daughter of you twain? I know not how long it takes you Terrans to grow up."

Reith pursed his lips, frowning at this reminder of a stormy past, while Alicia's classic features revealed only her rigid self-control. "It's a long story; I'll tell you sometime. Meanwhile, what about quarters? The lady requires a private room."

" 'Twill cost you fifty karda the night, sir, counting the stabling for your beasts."

"Your price has risen," said Reith.

"Aye, so it hath. With this new paper money His Awesomeness in Hershid doth issue, all prices have soared."

Reith shrugged; Cosmic Productions would pay. After a wearisome day on the road, all were glad to retire after dinner. In the hall upstairs, Reith glimpsed Ordway in low-voiced conversation at Alicia's door. Then Alicia entered her room and closed the door in a marked manner.

Reith guessed that Ordway had renewed his importunities. Turning into his own room, Reith was fighting down his rising wrath when Ordway called: "I say! Reith! Fergus!"

"Yes?"

"May I speak to you for half a mo'?"

"What is it?"

Coming close, Ordway spoke softly. "About Alicia: first, I've been watching you two. I'd wager that you and she, although old acquaintances, aren't lovers. Am I right?"

"Gods of Krishna, what a question! Now look here—"

"I know; you're going to tell me it's none of my damned business. But it is in a way. You see, old boy, I love her, too."

"Indeed?"

"Rather! Been jolly well smashed on the sheila since I first met her in Montecito. I might even ask her to marry me, if it weren't that I may still have a wife kicking around somewhere."

"And what," said Reith with ice in his voice, "has that got to do with me?"

"Well, you see—ah—I thought that you, knowing her from way back, might be able to tell me what brings her round. Might even put in a good word for me. I can guarantee her a first-class roll in the hay. Ask any of the gels I've rogered if I don't give satisfaction. I can also help her to a career in Montecito. So, how can I get her to give it a try?"

Reith stared poker-faced. At last he said: "I can tell you one thing: if she says no, she means it. No blustering or wheedling will get you anywhere; and if you try any rough stuff, she might kill or cripple you. She knows how."

Ordway stared at the floor. "But Goddamn it, man, I'm so bloody horny it's driving me crackers!"

"Ask Asteratun if his barmaid will entertain a straight commercial proposal. He knows a little English. Good night!" Reith closed his own door sharply behind him.

As setting Roqir touched the gilded onion domes of Rosid with crimson, Reith's party wound through the crooked streets, the carriage wheels bumping over cobblestones. Krishnans crowded the roadway; some walked, some pushed along on scooters, some rode or drove the planet's saddle and draft animals.

When Reith signed his party in a Khenamos's Inn, Ordway said: "I say, Fergus, two days on these dusty roads have put a layer of dirt on me you could plow and plant. I was brought up to take a bath once a week whether I needed it or not."

"When we're settled," said Reith, "we'll walk to the bathhouse."

The bathhouse door, identified by the ornate shell of some marine organism, bore a placard with several words in a curly script. As they took their places in a shuffling line of patrons, White asked: "Fergus, what does the sign say?"

" 'Genuine soap,' " Reith translated. "Soap making is one of the few bits of Terran technology the Interplanetary Council has allowed into Krishna."

"Do you mean," asked White, "that they're trying to keep these people stuck in the Middle Ages, for fear they'll learn too much and blow up their planet?"

"That's the idea. But in practice, the Krishnans either smuggle in the technology they want or invent things themselves." As the bathhouse proprietor waved Reith's party in, Reith said in Gozashtandou: "Hail, good Master Himmash! How goes your business?"

"Well enough," said the stout Krishnan who stood behind the counter, handing out towels and collecting fees. In a lower voice he added: "Were't not for this new rule His Altitude would foist upon me, I had no complaint ... what rule?"

"He ordains that I shall divide my establishment into two, sundered by a wall, and admit males only to one pool and females to t'other. 'Tis said those Terran holy ones who infest the court have persuaded him to their ninnyish alien notions of modesty. How many Ertsuma bring ye this time?"

"Just these three." Reith dug out a small silver coin, then led his party into a locker room crowded with Krishnans of both sexes and all stages of undress. All were talking at once in their rolling, rhythmic speech, punctuated by oratorical gestures. The pungent Krishnan body odor saturated the air.

Reith spoke to an attendant, who handed him four keys on necklaces of string. As he distributed keys to White and Ordway, he said, pointing: "Yours are numbers nine and twenty-four. Just match the squiggles on the keys with those on the doors of your lockers, and be sure to lock up all your gear."

Ordway, who had been staring bemused at the Krishnans, began in an absentminded way to strip. White, looking appalled, said: "Fergus, I can't! If it was just men—I mean, males of both species;—but..."

"Do you want a bath or not?" rasped Reith, wrestling off one of Alicia's boots. "That's how we get clean on this world."

"Oh, no!" said White. "It's just too indecent for someone with my strict, Conservative Jewish upbringing ..."

"What ails your Terran?" said Himmash, who had poked his head and antennae into the locker-room doorway. "Doth he suffer some Ertso infirmity?"

"In a way," said Reith. "His religion forbids him to undress in mixed company."

"We can easily remedy that," said the bathhouse proprietor as he bustled away. Returning with a large square of cloth with a hole in the middle, he continued:

"There's a cult in the distant North that have a similar rule. I keep this sheet for the seldom-seen patron from those purlieus." He deftly lowered the sheet over White.

When Reith and Alicia had stowed their clothes, they turned to see Ordway, sitting on a bench with a forgotten sock in his hand, staring goggle-eyed at Alicia. Reith scowled like a berserker until Ordway looked away.

"Come on!" he said calmly. "We'll miss dinner if we don't hop along."

He chivvied his Terrans down a hall past several small chambers. In one, four mature Krishnans, three males and a female, sat around a small pool smoking cigars. Reith caught a sentence about a rise in the price of tunest. In the next room, a virile young Krishnan grunted as he heaved a barbell aloft. In the next, a masseur was busily slapping and thumping his voluntary victim.

The travelers emerged into a room containing a row of basins full of soapy water. A pair of Krishnan attendants slathered the bathers with suds, using spongelike objects, which were a land of fungus. Being old Krishnan hands, Reith and Alicia turned slowly to present all sides to be lathered. Ordway submitted uneasily to this ritual, while White huddled unhappily in his sheet until an attendant handed him a fungus and let him soap himself beneath the flapping poncho.

Clad from neck to foot in a thick layer of suds, Reith and Alicia led the way to the next room. From a large pool of water, plumes of vapor rose like indolent ghosts. The pool was full of Krishnans, standing, floating, or resting against the walls of the tank in torpid ecstasy.

"Ouch!" said Ordway, inching his way down the marble steps. "Any hotter and you could jolly well serve me up for dinner." White gingerly followed, his sheet billowing out around him.

Reith and Alicia swam leisurely to a corner of the pool, where they rested their feet on the nether tiles of the tank. The sight of Alicia, rising in pink and golden glory from the rippling water like some goddess of ancient myth, brought the whole heartbreaking tale of their ill-starred romance rushing into Reith's mind. He unexpectedly felt his eyes watering but hoped that any actual tears would be mistaken for drops of pool water. In myths, he vaguely remembered, mortals who mated with goddesses came to sticky ends.

Suddenly Reith caught sight of a tiny metallic gleam against Alicia's ivory skin, which had before been hidden by suds. Suspended on a slender chain, a simple ring of gold reposed between her breasts. As Reith bent forward to scrutinize the ring, Alicia flinched back; then she quietly submitted to his inspection.

"What's this?" said Reith, turning the ring. "Without my glasses I can't read the initials; but it sure looks like—"

"Same old ring," said Alicia. "I ought to have left it in the innkeeper's strongbox. But when I thought of it, we were here, and I don't trust these lockers."

"You've kept our ring all these years?"

"Not so many for me, remember."

"But—uh—why ..."

"Oh, I'm just a sentimental idiot. We did have some good times together, didn't we?" She sharply changed the subject. "Let's swim some more!"

Next to Ordway, a Krishnan said: "You Earsman is?"

"Yes, old boy, I am."

The Krishnan puzzled over this. "I sa-tudy ze English. I sink 'boy' mean young he-Earsman. How can 'boy' old be?"

"Just a manner of speaking," grunted Ordway.

" 'Manner' mean 'polite,' yes?"

"I suppose so," said Ordway, looking around for Reith. But Reith and Alicia were standing at the for end of the tank, talking in low tones. The Krishnan persisted: "Zen you say 'old boy' to be polite, yes?"

"Look here, my friend—"

"Look where? Look at you? And is you friend?"

"I'm trying to tell you, I don't speak your bloody language."

After a few seconds of silence, the Krishnan said: " 'Bloody' mean has blood on, yes? How can words—"

"Oh, God!" breathed Ordway. "Let me relax and enjoy my bath, will you like a good chap?"

"Chap. 'Chap' mean part of face, no? Zen how—"

"I don't know, Goddamn it! Will you please for sweet Jesus's sake shut your face and leave me alone?"

"Jesus not my god is, and you cannot alone in a crowd be." After more silence, the Krishnan pointed to White. "Ozzer Earsman zere. Why him have shit all over?"

"Now see here, I don't let no bloody greenie insult an associate of mine! You natives are getting too much cheek—"

" 'Cheek' mean same as 'chap,' yes?"

"Shut up!" screamed Ordway. Putting his pudgy hands against the Krishnan's bony chest, he shoved. The Krishnan fell backwards; all but the ends of his olfactory antennae disappeared beneath the ripples.

The Krishnan reappeared, sputtering: "Hishkako baghan!" Then he shot out long arms and seized Ordway's throat. Other bathers crowded round. Some yelled advice and encouragement; others offered bets. A female shrieked: "Out with these filthy aliens! These vile barbarians trample the rights of us human beings!"

Attendants scrambled into the pool, pushed through the crowd, and laid hands on the struggling pair; but they did not succeed in separating the combatants until Reith hooked an arm around Ordway's thick neck and began to strangle him.

"G-Goddamn you, Reith," guggled Ordway, "letting these wogs call us full of shit! I'm not afraid of—"

"He meant Jack's sheet, you ass!" said Reith. "The two of you, come on out. It's time for the warm pool before you get us into further trouble." Reith turned to the assaulted Krishnan and spoke a few private words.

"Nay," growled the Krishnan in his own language. "I crave no legal contentions with Terrans; ye are too clever for us honest human beings. Take your unmannerly aliens away."

The next pool was larger, less crowded, and filled with lukewarm water. Reith and Alicia swam slowly side by side around the perimeter. Ordway floated, his belly making a red-furred dome above the surface. White stood looking unhappy. Reith murmured to Alicia: "Tell me, what flat rock did you find Cyril under? If that one-man pestilence goes around making bigoted remarks and picking fights, he'll get his throat cut and ours, too."

"Cyril's strange," she replied. "Most of the time he presents the persona of a competent, self-controlled English executive. But get a few drinks into him, and he turns into an East End larrikin. Every few weeks or months he goes on a tear."

"Has he been—uh—troublesome in other ways?" asked Reith diffidently.

"You mean, has he propositioned me? Oh, sure. He pestered me the whole time on the Pará, stalking me like a lion after a wart hog—"

Reith chortled. "The prettiest woman on Krishna, calling herself a wart hog? Ha!"

"Who, me—a beat-up, washed-out divorcee, past her first youth? I like praise from you, Fergus; but I don't take such flatteries—"

"Okay, okay," Reith laughed. "But you can't deny that, as wart hogs go, you're the prettiest one in captivity. I'll call you 'Wart Hog' just to remind you. But go on about Ordway on the Pará."

"After I used a judo trip on him and he bumped his head on the deck, he kept his hands, at least, to himself."

Reith felt a visceral stir of jealous anger. He told himself not to be silly; it was no business of his if a former wife, whom he had not seen in eighteen Krishnan years, accepted or rejected another's advances. He asked: "If he's such a blug, how did he get an important job with a big, rich company?"

"He's not a boor all the time; and he's really expert at his job. He can carry an amazing lot of details in his head and fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle. And if you think Cyril's a character, you ought to see some of the others in the movie business! They remind you of the nameless creeping things you see in a drop of swamp water under the microscope."

"How about White?"

"Jack's only known vice is gambling. He's a bit of a twerp but otherwise not a bad sort. Speaking of whom, the poor squit just stands there looking miserable. Let's see if we can ginger him up."

As they beckoned White to join them, he mumbled: "I'm sorry, but I don't know how to swim."

"I'll teach you!" said Alicia brightly. "First lesson: lie back with your arms raised above your head. Don't be afraid; I won't duck you."

While Alicia bullied the reluctant White into his first swimming lesson, Reith continued his swim. After another lap, he noticed that Ordway now stood in waist-deep water very close to a Krishnan female. Reith heard the woman coo: "... oh, I loov ze Terrans. I weesh I could know one ca-lose—you know, antim— in tarn—"

"Intimately?" prompted Ordway.

"Zat iss it, antameetly—Aiee!" Her words ended in a shriek.

A large Krishnan came plowing through the water towards the pair. Reith was awakened from his blissful lethargy just as Ordway scrambled out of the pool, followed by the formidable Krishnan roaring threats. Ordway began to run around the pool; the Krishnan ran after him, reaching with hooked fingers.

The two had completed their first lap when they plowed into a knot of newcomers. Feet slipped on the smooth, wet flagstones; naked bodies went sprawling. A couple made a resounding splash as they struck the water.

Reith thrust himself between Ordway and his pursuer, who howled: "Beshrew me an I slay not this unspeakable mass of ordure!"

"Easy, easy," soothed Reith. "What has Master Ordway done?"

"He hath grossly insulted my wife!"

"How?"

"She engaged him in converse, meaning but to practice her English and thus to amplify friendly intercourse betwixt our far-flung worlds. This zeft laid lustful hands upon her blameless person!"

"I'm sure it was a misunderstanding," said Reith.

This Krishnan, however, proved less easily pacified than the other. "I care naught!" he cried. "The stain upon mine honor cannot be washed away, save only by blood! I will meet this stinking alien with swords or crossbows or whatever weapons—"

"Master Ordway is not permitted to fight duels," said Reith. "He will, however, compensate you for any injury done to your dignity."

"Honor cannot be bought with vulgar coin! How much hath the dazg with him?" Among Krishnans dazg, applied to Terrans, was an ethnic pejorative, as were words like "gook" and "wog" used by Earthmen of the crasser sort.

"We shall see," said Reith. "Come, all! Well slop the cold plunge."

In the locker room, Reith made Ordway turn out the contents of the large coin purse he carried and handed the money to the angry Krishnan.

"You're leaving me flat slant!" groaned Ordway.

"Serves you right, idiot!" snarled Reith, turning away. When the aggrieved Krishnan had departed and the Terrans were dressing, Reith said: "Now, Cyril, give me the straight goods about that encounter, or you can stick your movie where the sun never shines!"

"I was enjoying the water, Fergus, when this bird comes up and commences to practice her English. When she starts rubbing up against me, I couldn't help getting a—you know—well, after seeing Alicia without her—anyway, I don't care what this dame says; I know what she wanted. So to help matters along, I gave her a gentle little pinch on the arse. 'Ow was I to know that big bloke was her husband? The Eyetalians do it, and it gets 'em a quick go in the bushes any time."

Reith signed. "I don't care for your excuses. The next Donnybrook you stir up will be your last on this planet. And I mean it!"

An officer in a silvered cuirass led Reith and his protégés into the audience room of the Dasht's palace, where tapestries of battle scenes hung behind statues of raging warriors and ravishing women. As they marched in, with Alicia walking in step with Reith and the other two trailing, Ordway craned his neck to peer at the Krishnan females in marble, muttering, "They're not quite like us—proportions different somehow—but I'd like to give one a try ..."

"Hush up and keep your mind on the business at hand," murmured Reith.

As they entered the room, four trumpeters in medieval-looking tabards, tike those of playing-card jacks, raised silver trumpets and blew a long flourish. On the opposite side, four drummer boys burst into a deafening ruffle.

The officer leading them strode forward, dropped to one knee before a seated figure, and banged a fist against his gleaming breastplate, intoning, "Your Supreme Altitude, I have the honor to present visitors from the world called Terra, namely: Master Reith, Master Ordway, Master White, and Doctor Dyckman."

With the hand behind his back, the officer motioned to the four Terrans to approach.

Ordway muttered: "Blast you, Fergus! You made me shave off my mustache, and now look at that comic-opera brighter in the dixie!"

The person referred to rose from his throne to acknowledge the Terrans' bows with a condescending nod. Gilan the Third, or Gilan bad-Jam, Dasht of Ruz, was a tall, slim Krishnan with a nose more prominent than usual among his flat-faced countrymen. He wore shiny black jackboots, tight scarlet breeches, an argent breastplate ablaze with medals, and a silver helmet whence sprouted a pair of aqebat wings. The Dasht's most arresting feature was a large, obviously false mustache, the ends of which turned up like the tusks of a Terran wild boar.

"My Altitude is pleased to greet the visitors from another world," said Gilan in a high, rasping voice, speaking English with only the slightest trace of accent. "Mr. Reith, have I not had the pleasure before?"

"Indeed so, Your Altitude," said Reith. "Twice, when I have brought parties of Terrans through your splendid city, you have graciously condescended to greet us in person."

"Indeed, my memory never fails," said the Dasht. "But tell me, is the person the usher called 'Doctor' the female Terran I see?"

"Yes, sir. She is a learned student of the societies of your planet."

The Dasht wagged his head. "I should not have thought that one so youthful, and a female at that, were capable of such distinction; but perhaps it is different with your species." He stepped forward and held out his hand, palm down, to be kissed.

Ordway grabbed the proffered hand, gave it a hearty squeeze, and pumped it several times. When the Dasht recovered his appendage, he rubbed his fingers to restore circulation. The flash of anger that flickered across his features was quickly replaced by a glimmer of amusement. He proffered his hand to Reith, who ceremoniously kissed it. Alicia and White followed suit, while Ordway looked uncomfortable. The Dasht spoke: "My good Terrans, you come at an auspicious time. Tomorrow begins the year's Rosido Fair, with a parade and a concert. Tonight I bid you to a banquet heralding the opening of the (air. Afterwards our talented Earth-born engineer, Mr. Strachan, will demonstrate the wonders of science. Until the tenth hour, then, farewell!"