The Swords of Zinjaban

IV - Kenneth Strachan

The third hour of the next day saw Reith, with Timásh at the reins, driving Alicia and her associates to the drill field beyond the city walls. The adjacent fairgrounds dozed in the morning sun; multicolored pennants hung limply from the poles of tents, as a few of the fair folk moved sleepily about, feeding and watering their animals. Even the guard eshuna lay somnolent with heads on outstretched paws.

In contrast, the parade ground seethed with activity. Liveried flunkeys from the palace were briskly setting out rows of light chairs as an assortment of Rúzuma, from rich to ragged, scrambled for choice locations.

A drumming of aya hooves heralded the arrival of the Dasht. A splendid rider, flanked by several henchmen, the Dasht galloped across the field in still another martial costume. Over a long coat of silvered mail he wore a linenlike surcoat like that of a Terran Crusader, save that instead of the cross, the garment was embellished with astrological symbols in red and yellow and blue. Reith recognized one of the entourage as a bodyguard and another as a minor bureaucrat from the Treasury.

While Timásh secured Reith's ayas to a hitching post, Reith led his clients to the edge of the drill field. The riders drew up sharply before them.

"Good morning!" barked Gilan, leaning down, "You passed a comfortable night, I trust? As soon as we are mounted, we shall commence our discussion."

"Mounted?" muttered Ordway. "Oh, God!" he exclaimed, as grooms appeared with four saddled ayas.

Reith and Alicia swung easily into their saddles, but the others had more difficulty. A groom had to boost the pudgy Ordway up. White waved aside an offer of similar assistance; Reith could see him biting his lip, visibly working up his courage to mount as he rehearsed the steps that Heggstad the trainer had taught him.

White's aya craned its long neck to stare at its hesitant rider. Then it rolled its eyes, uttered a bleating cry, shifted its feet, and lunged at White in an effort to hook him with a horn.

"Damn you, hold still!" cried White in a voice cracking with tension.

"He doesn't understand," Reith called out. "The word is urám!"

"Urám!" yelled White. The aya paused in its tarantellic dance long enough for the location manager to get a toehold in the stirrup and swing into the saddle.

"Let us go!" cried the Dasht, urging his aya to a fast walk. The others followed. When they were out of earshot of servitors and spectators, the Dasht said: "You see, my friends, I do things efficiently. I think best when mounted; so I combine my business of state with my morning's ride.

"Now, let us address your proposal to rent one of my castles and hire my aya-men for this living picture. To get right down to numbers: how many soldiers will you need, and for how long? How much will you pay them? Some think it base for a nobleman to concern himself with crass commercial matters; but I am a modern noble, who comprehends that money is the bloodstream of the state ..."

Thus began an hour's chaffering, at which Ordway showed himself an able negotiator despite his physical discomfort. From time to time the Dasht, also a shrewd bargainer, forced the mounts into a fast trot. At these times, White and Ordway, gasping for breath, were unable to say a word. The aya's trot was especially jarring, because the saddle was placed over the middle pair of legs.

At length Gilan and Ordway reached a tentative agreement. Since the Dasht refused to release a thousand of his men-at-arms from duty, it was agreed that five hundred should be enlisted whenever they were needed. He would not permit his palace in Rosid to be used as a movie set; but he made Castle Shaght, an abandoned fortlet in the hills, available to the shooting crew.

"It is time for a gallop!" cried Dasht Gilan. "Ziddav!" His aya broke into a canter. Ordway and White, ashen with fear, bounced along clutching their saddles as the group rode the length of the field and circled back towards their starting point.

As they neared the spectators' seats, Gilan reined to a sudden stop. All the other animals obediently pulled up save White's. This aya, with a defiant bleat, broke into a full gallop, pounding towards the far end of the field.

"Hey!" said Reith. "We've got to stop that critter!" He kicked his mount into a run, and Alicia galloped beside him. The Dasht followed, shouting orders to the grooms.

As they neared the end of the drill field, Timásh, who had been left with the carriage, ran out shouting and waving his big straw hat. The Krishnan shaihan-herd intercepted the runaway.

Instead of stopping, White's aya wheeled and headed back towards the other end of the field. Reith expected to see White hurled from the saddle like a flung slingstone by the centrifugal force of the turn. But White, with the strength of terror, retained a death grip on his saddle.

The turn allowed Reith and Alicia to gain on the runaway; but the sound of the sextuple hoofbeats behind it spurred the uncontrolled animal to go fester than ever. They reached the end of the field with Reith and Alicia a length behind White, and the Dasht a like distance behind them.

Between the drill field and the city wall, a kilometer away, lay a sprawling suburb of narrow streets and crowded markets. "If—he gets into that tangle, he'll— kill somebody!" gasped Reith.

"Can you—bulldog an aya?" asked Alicia.

"Don't—know; never—tried. You stay back!"

White's aya thundered into the main road, heading for a massive cart drawn by a pair of shaihans.

"Jack!" yelled Reith. "Say 'ast! That's 'stop.' "

White shouted something, but amid the thunder of hooves and the cries of alarmed Krishnans scrambling out of the way, Reith could not tell what was said. Just as a head-on collision with the cart seemed inevitable, White's aya wheeled into a narrower street, where displays of divers markets spilled out into the street in a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens.

The turn allowed Reith to gain on the runaway. With a fierce lack he forced his aya to bound forward until it was abreast of White's, although upset bins of fruits and vegetables and the yells of outraged proprietors told him that he lacked proper space for the maneuver. Then he saw that Alicia had drawn abreast of White on the left. She was leaning forward in the saddle and extending an arm towards the aya's nearer horn.

"Back, Lish!" screamed Reith. "You'll be killed!"

Instead of obeying, Alicia hurled herself out of the saddle and caught the horn. Instead of stopping, the aya plunged on, dragging Alicia's boots through the mud.

A second later, Reith in turn leaned over, gripped the beast's right horn, and swung himself out of his saddle. He came down with his feet braced, his heels plowing through the mud. The combined pull brought the aya to a sudden halt. White pitched over its head, turned a half-somersault, and landed on his back in a large tub of plumlike Krishnan fruit.

Behind them, Dasht Gilan shouted orders from his saddle. In response, the bodyguard dismounted and pushed past White's aya, still held by Reith and Alicia, and bent over the fallen man.

"My Altitude greatly regrets your accident!" cried Gilan. "Are you hurt?"

White, covered with purple ilá juice, sat up and rubbed a shoulder. "Nothing seems to be broken," he mumbled.

The bodyguard extended a hand and hauled White to his feet in the remains of the shattered bin. Around them, the clustering Krishnans had begun to cry: "The alien hath ruined my stock!" "I demand repayment!" "Justice, my lord! I seek justice!"

Dasht Gilan barked: "Later, goodmen! Who hath a cloth?"

At last someone produced a towel, with which the guard solicitously wiped the smashed fruit from White's transmundane.

Ordway appeared, still mounted and accompanied by two grooms. "I say, Jack, you are a sight! What the devil happened?"

Gilan turned to Reith and Alicia. "Are you all right? Any damages?"

"None, except for my poor scuffed boots," replied Alicia.

"Any harm done to you or your garments shall be remedied." He addressed a groom. "The Terran gentleman hath need of a strong drink!"

The attendant produced a flask. With shaking hand, White took a swig, coughed, and drank some more.

"Now," proclaimed the Dasht, "back into the saddle with you! It is the only way to avoid a fear of riding." As White looked at his aya with an expression of horror, Gilan added: "Not that fractious beast, but—let me see ah, Kul there. The name means an herb. She's so well-mannered, she could walk on eggs without cracking a shell."

At a signal from the Dasht, the groom riding the mount in question got down and turned the animal over to White. The Dasht led the party at a stately walk to the main street and thence to the drill field. The errant aya, with its sides heaving and held by two stalwart grooms, brought up the rear.

On the field, the Dasht gathered his minions around him, speaking sternly. "The Terran's mount looked strangely familiar. Could it be the one we called Flighty?"

"Aye, my lord," mumbled a groom. "The horsemaster commanded us to give Flighty to one of the Terrans— either one."

"He said he had received a message from Your Lordship," added another groom with a worried air. "We thought ye wished to jest at the expense of the alien beings."

"This mystery shall be unraveled," growled Gilan, "if need be, with rack and pincers." The grooms paled beneath their greenish-tan complexions. Gilan faced the Terrans. "Some villain has tried to play a more than cruel joke upon you, my friends. When I find him, he shall regret his perverted humor."

"I wonder who did it and why?" mused Reith.

The Dasht gave the Krishnan version of a shrug. "Perhaps it was a spy of the Kamoran of Qaath. Those ferocious barbarians are always up to something. Or it could be a follower of your fellow Terran, the cult leader Shel—Shneg—he of the Society for Cultural Preservation."

"Schlegel?" murmured Reith.

"That is he. I hear that he aims to sever all communication between my world and yours. He holds that, with each contact, we Krishnans borrow the worst ideas and manners—the vices—of your culture. In this he may not be altogether wrong. But, knowing cultural exchanges to be inevitable, I deem it better to control these borrowings, encouraging those of benefit to us and discouraging the others.

"But enough of lecturing. Mr. White, when you return to your inn, my servants will carry forth your stained garments for washing and repair. You have spares to wear meanwhile, I trust? Mr. Ordway, once I have ascertained the extent of my people's losses, you will, without doubt, make good the damage to their stalls and merchandise?"

"Surely, surely," mumbled Ordway, looking glum.

"And now," barked Gilan, "you must stay to enjoy the parade and concert. Choice seats have been reserved for you. Farewell!"

With a genial wave, the Dasht galloped off, followed by his troop of attendants.

The Terrans straggled towards the reserved seats, from which they watched with disaffected eyes as the band marched up and burst into a cacophony of tunes, mostly crudely-rendered Terran marches. After suffering through their version of Ganne's Marche Lorraine, the empurpled White whispered to Reith: "I've got to get out of here; I've been scared cross-eyed and battered to mush. Watching a parade in this mucked-up suit would finish me off for sure!"

Ordway added his plea to that of the dejected location manager. "I need some rest, too. After this morning's workout, I ache all over."

"Let's all go," said Alicia. "His Pomposity is nowhere in sight, and the locals will fill up our chairs."

As the band struck up the march from Victor Herbert's Babes in Toyland, the Terrans scuttled away.

The journey to Castle Shaght was made the following day on aya back, because the road was too narrow and overgrown for carriages. The Dasht did not accompany them, but sent a score of attendants to minister to their comfort and safety. Ordway chaffed: "Fergus, are you plotting to kill Jack and me by running us ragged, to leave you a clear field with Alicia?"

Reith grinned. "I hadn't thought of that. Fear not; I'll take good care of you, at least till I'm paid off."

Ordway looked from Reith to Alicia and shook his head. "You two must be made of steel and india rubber. You both seem as lively as ever."

"Just practice," said Reith.

"And we love our jobs," Alicia added.

They reached the abandoned castle, towering over a ridge in the forest. They found it ruinous, with crumbling walls and holes in the roof. White and Ordway prowled, stepping over fallen blocks and conferring in undertones. When they had completed their inspection, White told Reith: "I'm afraid this won't do at all."

"Jack's right, you know," said Ordway. "It would cost almost as much to restore this tumbledown pesthole as to build a new one." He glanced at the attendants, unpacking foodstuffs and supplies. "Must we stay the night here?"

"Afraid so," said Reith. "If we started home now, night would catch us on the road."

As darkness descended, White uttered a shrill squeak from where he stood arranging his bedding. "My God, what's that?" He pointed to a pair of luminous spots near the ground at the margin of the lantern fight. The spots were joined by another pair, and another.

"Just some of the present tenants," said Reith. "They're harmless; those big enough to be dangerous have been frightened away."

"Come on, Jack!" said Ordway. "Where's your courage? Summon up the sinews, stiffen the blood!" As rain began to foil, he sighed. "Remind me to strike Cosmic for combat pay."

Reith's bedraggled party reached Rosid late the following morning. In sight of the capital, the rain ceased and Roqir broke through the clouds, gleaming against the gilded onion domes of the temples. Reith announced: "We've got time to rest a bit and clean up before lunch. Afterwards, if you like, we can take in the fair."

"The way I feel now, old boy," said Ordway, "it takes all my self-control not to tell you where to stick your bloody fair."

Later, however, the motion-picture executives felt better. Ordway volunteered: "I say, Fergus, when do we visit the fairgrounds?"

"I'll have Timásh hitch up the carriage."

They found the fair athrong with gaping visitors. On one side of the Midway, three jugglers tossed their sharp-honed knives and hatchets. Beyond, a pair of acrobats in red-and-white loin cloths balanced on a wire stretched between two poles. The male leaped into the air, turned a somersault, and landed with his feet on the wire. The impact threw the female into the air, to come down in her partner's arms. Then the pair bounded to the ground while the crowd shouted and cracked thumb joints.

Across the way, hidden puppeteers manipulated the strings of their marionettes. "By Jove!" said Ordway. "A Punch-and-Judy show, with caricatures of us!"

In the act, a villainous Earthman, identified by blond hair and a huge nose, was dragging off a Krishnan maiden, saying in Gozashtandou: "Come with me, my love! I'll show you pleasures beyond the compass of your degenerate race—"

Then a Krishnan hero appeared to belabor the Terran with a slapstick, crying: "Take that, ye alien scoundrel!" while the Earthman begged for mercy.

Reith and his clients pushed past mountebanks hawking nostrums. They dodged reeling drunkards and sidestepped harlots displaying blue-green nipples. Alicia whispered: "Fergus, I see low-cut dresses are still worn in Ruz—but considering the class of women who wear them, no wonder people stared at me at the banquet!"

On they went, their noses assailed by strong Krishnan body odors and the pungent smell of Krishnan cigars. The people running the concessions were mostly Gavehona —members of a nomadic ethnos that wandered (some said infested) the Varasto nations. They lived by handiwork, petty trade, fortune-telling, and less reputable occupations.

Passing a booth, White exclaimed: "Hey, that's for me!" He pointed to an astrologer's sign, beneath which sat a wrinkled old Krishnan with ragged antennae. The sign advertised his wisdom in Gozashtandou, Portuguese, and English. The English version read:

ALL-KNOWING STARGAZER GHAMIR OF MENZAL SHALL READ FORTUNE IN STAR FOR TROUBLED MORTAL RATE VERY GOOD. CLIENTS SHALL BE EXECUTED IN ORDER OF INCOME

White said: "You go on; I'll catch—hey, wait a minute! Does that sign say what I think it does? Is he going to slice off my head for his fee?"

Reith laughed. "Just his fractured English. He means first come, first served."

Looking apprehensive but determined, White vanished into the astrologer's tent. Alicia said: "Fergus, I want to talk to that young Gavehon over there! I mean to study their culture for a book I have in mind. You and Cyril go on; we'll meet at the flagpole."

Reith and Ordway strolled on until a whore sidled up to the Briton and spoke in Gavehonou.

"Eh, what?" said Ordway. "Don't you speak English?"

The whore said in Gozashtandou: "Would my Terran lord be fain for pleasure?" She gave a sensuous wriggle.

Ordway caught the drift. "Yes! Oui! Fergus, what the hell's the right word for yes'?"

"Irrá." Reith chuckled. "Want me to come along and translate?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Lend me the going fee, will you like a good bloke? I'll pay you back in Novo ... Thanks a million! Irrá!" Ordway and the female disappeared.

Later, Reith found Alicia still interviewing the Gavehon youth. As they walked away, Alicia said: "After we got friendly, I twitted him on his people's reputation for theft. Know what he said?" She rapped her own chest with her knuckles. " 'A Gavehon who does not steal is not a real man!' "

Reith smiled. They strolled towards a clump of Krishnans, swiftly growing into a crowd, who stood around an orator esconsed on a cask. As they neared, they made out his words.

"... never, never trust these aliens from across the black depths of space! Believe not their protestations of friendship and non-aggression! Their own history shows their beguiling words to be but a pack of crafty lies. Their annals drip with the scarlet of their alien blood!

"On their own world, whenever a nation with mightier machines meets another with lesser, the former sends in explorers, traders, teachers, and preachers, who subtly undermine the faiths and traditions of the weaker folk. When the victims seek to expel these subversives, the more mechanized state sends armies with death-dealing weapons, to crush the people and make them slaves. And so it will be here, if ye heed not my warnings ..."

Reith felt Alicia stiffen. She said: "I'd like to get up beside that fellow and demand equal time. I'd show him—"

"No, you won't!" said Reith sharply. "He'd set a mob on us—"

"But, Fergus, someone has to—"

"Lish!" exclaimed Reith, taking a firm grip on her arm. "You know how volatile these folk are, and they're a hundred to one of us. It's lucky nobody's noticed you and me. Now come along!"

Reith forcibly swung Alicia away from the orator and started marching her back toward the tent that had swallowed White. He braced himself for an explosion of temper or even a physical assault, like that by which Alicia had felled Ordway. In a fight, she was a hundred-and-seventy-centimeter stick of dynamite.

Instead, after a few long breaths, she said: "You may release my arm, Fergus. You were right and I was wrong."

Reith drew a deep breath. "You've certainly changed, my darling Wart Hog!"

"I try not to make the same mistake twice, that's all."

"If that's what the Moritzian therapy accomplished—"

"Look, Gilan's men are taking an interest in the proceedings!"

Reith turned back. A squad of mailed fairwardens with quarterstaves were moving in on the crowd. The orator cut short his speech, hopped down from his cask, and vanished in the dispersing throng. The fairwardens grabbed one auditor after another, barking questions; but each fairgoer so seized wrapped himself in a cloak of innocence. Soon the area was clear save for gaping passersby.

"That fellow may have been one of Schlegel's boys," said Reith, "though I hear there are several anti-Terran cults and societies working—"

White hurried up, crying: "Fergus, I've been robbed!"

"How so?" asked the tour guide, frowning.

"The astrologer said I ought to try a booth down the way, where you throw darts at a spinning wheel. The wheel's divided into sectors with different values. But no matter how carefully I threw, I could never get a winning combination. The thing must be rigged."

"What are you crabbing about?" retorted Reith. "You've had your fun and paid for it—probably less than Cyril will pay for his."

"What's Cyril up to?"

"Don't ask; a lady is present." Reith grinned as he caught Alicia suppressing a laugh. When she felt like it, he knew, she was capable of language that would make a longshoreman blush. "And by the way, the Dasht wants us to see another castle tomorrow. His people must have told him you weren't ecstatic over Shaght."

"Where is this other castle?"

"A day's journey north. It's an active fortress, so at least it'll be in good repair."

As they mounted the stairs at the inn, the taverner's potboy touched Reith's arm. "A man from the castle commanded me to give you this missive, my lord. Strictly confidential, he said."

"Thank you," said Reith. In his room he unfolded a sheet of Krishnan paper and frowned as he read the spidery hooks and curls of Gozashtando longhand:

Dearest F: Show no surprise if a strange Terran youth joins you on your return journey.

Opening his door with a haste born of apprehension, Reith called: "Lish! Come here and look at this!"

Alicia studied the script and nodded. "It's Vázni, all right. Seems she's determined to go to Novo with us."

"We must stop her somehow!" exclaimed Reith.

Alicia eyed him sympathetically. "Easier said than done. If I'm any guesser, she'll make herself scarce until departure time. Then, if you try to turn her over to the Dasht—"

"I couldn't do that! He'd kill her."

"It's nice to know you feel that way about ex-wives. But if we tried to stop her some other way, she'd run to the guy with a fanciful tale of rape or mayhem. Then you'd find Gilan's gleaming sword more than a figure of speech."

"I'm not afraid of the pompous ass—"

"Don't be silly, darling! He's got armed men all over the place, and we—Cyril, Jack, and I—are hostages for your good behavior."

"You're right, damn it. It's your most irritating quality, Lish. So what should we do?"

"Look, you don't need me at Castle Mikkim. I want to stay here anyway for a little shopping. While I'm about it, I'll see what can be done about this other thing."

"Got a plan?"

"Let's just say, I'm hatching one."

Reith heaved a sigh. "Okay, superwoman. You've sprung me out of durance vile before; so I guess you'll find the key to this one."

Three days later, Reith, White, and Ordway returned to Rosid. As Reith drove his carriage through the streets, he sensed an undercurrent of bustle and excitement. When he drew up at the inn and turned the reins over to Timásh, Alicia burst out the door to seize Reith and give him a kiss that was anything but cousinly.

"How was your trip?" she asked with one of her dazzling smiles.

"So-so. Jack likes Castle Mikkim better than Shaght but hopes to do better still. The fort's pretty far out in the boonies—"

"That's not the main objection," said White, animated now by the discussion of his specialty. "It's lighting. Castle Mikkim stands on the banks of a river, with steep cliffs on both sides. So it's always in deep shadow. Since we can't bring in good artificial lights, we need the sun, and it strikes Mikkim for only a few minutes each day."

"I thought," said Alicia, "with that super-sensitive film they have nowadays, you could shoot in pitch darkness."

"We could, but you can't fake the chiaroscuro you get from full sunlight. Some of our scenes demand it. An overcast could tie up production completely."

"I hadn't seen Mikkim before," said Reith with a travel agent's enthusiasm. "It has the land of wild, romantic beauty that will appeal to my tourists. What's been happening here? Is something going on?"

Alicia smiled like a satisfied cat. "Only that the Dasht, his fiancée, and a small army of attendants take off tomorrow for Hershid."

Reith gasped: "How come?"

"It seems that Tashian wrote to King Eqrar of Gozashtand—"

"Who's Tashian?" asked White.

"The Regent of Dur, up north, and a cousin of Princess Vázni. Anyway, the Regent sent a letter to his fellow ruler King Eqrar at Hershid, saying that it was time to consider the future government of Dur. Vázni is the late King Dushta'en's only surviving legitimate offspring, and their constitution doesn't allow for the succession of females to the throne. In this connection, he trusts King Eqrar will receive Vázni at his court when she comes to Hershid to discuss the matter of succession with the ambassador from Dur.

"So, after you left, Eqrar's secretary dispatched a messenger inviting Princess Vázni to sojourn at the palace while visiting the capital of Gozashtand. Although the letter invited only Vázni, you can just bet Gilan won't stay home while his betrothed goes off to become heir to a throne or something. He'll be there, presenting his plans, in his usual modest fashion, for becoming the real ruler of Dur.

"Thank goodness, we'll be on the move tomorrow, too. By the way, Gilan has invited us to a farewell banquet this evening. So get washed and shaved, the lot of you!"

"I'm going to let my whiskers grow," said Ordway. "If the wogs can put on false beards, I can wear a real one."

When they were alone, Reith looked narrowly at Alicia. "How did you work it?"

"Who, me? I had nothing to do with it—unless a little prayer to Dashmok helped."

Reith grinned. "If I believed that, I'd also believe in Prince Bourujird's flying chariot."

When they gathered for the drive to the palace, Reith gazed at Alicia with significant intentness. "New gown, in the Rosido high-necked fashion?"

Alicia smiled. "New dress, new style. I spent half of yesterday at the dressmaker's being measured and fitted and poked like a pincushion."

Grinning, Reith quoted:

"Who wrote that " asked Alicia. "Byron or one of those other old-timers?"

"Tennyson. Just a fragment remembered from my school teaching days."

The onion domes of Rosid emerged from the sun-shredded morning mists and then disappeared behind the coach at a bend in the road. The four travelers settled themselves comfortably for the journey to Novorecife. The barouche moved briskly along the wide road south, the hooves of the ayas crunching on the gravel with Timásh at the reins. Zerré. the shaihan-herd whom Reith had dispatched ahead on the journey to Rosid, followed with baggage loaded on spare ayas.

The farewell banquet had kept them all up most of the night. Ordway and White, after patting yawns, fell into a doze. When they seemed dead to the world, Reith quietly requested: "Lish, now that we're clear of the city, give me the straight goods on this excursion of our lordlings to Hershid."

She chortled. "I forged a letter from King Eqrar and hired the Gavehon I interviewed to deliver it. I figured Vázni would choose a chance to become queen of Dur over a flight with us to Novo."

"How did you get a suit of King Eqrar's livery for the fake messenger to wear?"

"I made it."

"What?" Reith's exclamation snapped White and Ordway out of their doze.

"I've told you," said Alicia, "sewing is my one domestic accomplishment. I found a picture book of costumes in Gilan's library, bought the fabric in Rosid, and sat up the night before last stitching the thing. It didn't fit very well, but nobody noticed. By the way, Cyril, Cosmic owes me a thousand karda for expenses. No arguments, now! It took most of that just to bribe the Gavehon to deliver the letter and then disappear."

"What'll happen," Ordway asked, "when Gilan and company get to Hershid and find it's all a hoax?"

Alicia shrugged. "That will be interesting to see— preferably from a safe distance."

Reith chuckled and winked at White and Ordway. "Gentlemen, you'd better take Doctor Dyckman back to Earth with you. If you leave her here, she'll soon be running the whole damned planet."

Alicia raised a defiant chin. "And the whole damned planet could do a lot worse than that!"

Back at Novorecife, the travelers renewed their wardrobes, submitted to Heggstad's exhausting athletic drills and torturous massages, studied maps, and sought news of the Republic of Mikardand.

"We don't want to arrive in the middle of a revolution," said Reith at the end of several days of preparation for the next journey.

"If it's already a republic," asked Ordway, "what's their peeve?"

"It's a peculiar kind of republic. The power's in the hands of a military caste, the Garma Qararuma or Knights of Qarar. Among themselves, the Knights practice a land of communism, sharing everything, including sex."

"That I must see!" said Ordway. "That's the kind of communism I approve of."

Ignoring the comment, Reith continued. "They promote the most gifted commoners to knighthood, to nip the buds of disaffection; but sometimes the less fortunate Mikardanduma get restless. Will you and Jack be ready to set out early tomorrow?"

"Certainly, mate," said Ordway.

"Okay; then I'll send Zerré on ahead with a letter to the Grand Master. The Knights have just elected a new one, and I don't know how he feels about Terrans."

As Reith strolled out into the sunny afternoon, a yell of "Haw, Fergus!" made him turn.

"Ken!" he cried as the engineer approached, a smaller companion in tow. "Who's your new—good gods, it's Vázni!"

"The goddess Varzai blast your keen eyesight, Fergus!" said Vázni. "You're the first whom my masquerade hath not befooled."

She was dressed as a Terran youth, with her antennae taped down and freshly-bleached hair arranged to hide her ears. Grease paint and powder had tinted the faintly olive-green hue of her skin to a ruddy pink. Reith said: "Let's step into the Nova Iorque. Have you two just arrived?"

"Aye," said Strachan. "I've been stabling ma ayas and finding quarters for the princess."

In the bar, Strachan took a wall seat. Vázni insisted on sitting beside him, snuggling up close. Reith formed his own opinion as to how these two had amused themselves on the way from Hershid. He said: "Now talk!"

"Weel," said Strachan, "I wanted to go to Hershid wi' the Dasht and the princess, to make sure I received the last installment on ma contract. I wudna have put it past Gilan to hare off to become regent of Dur, leaving me to whistle for ma siller."

Strachan glanced around the barroom and switched to the Duro language, either out of courtesy to Vázni or to baffle eavesdroppers. "I put it up to the Dasht, who said: 'Surely, my lad, come along.' But when we reached Hershid, we found the Dour saying he knew of no such missive to Vázni, and Tashian's ambassador denying he'd received such a word from the Regent, and the Dour's secretary professing equal ignorance. Know you aught of this Fergus?"

Reith shook his head, and Strachan continued: "Seeing that the party would return to Rosid disappointed, I took the Dasht to task about my money. But he was in a fury, threatening to have whoever had perpetrated this jape stepped on by a bishtar from the baronial menagerie. When I spoke of the contract, he said: 'Are ye involved in this unmannerly jest, Strachan? If I discover that ye be ...' And he drew a finger across his throat.

"So I said to myself, Kenneth my lad, you'd better hie you hence before His Self-importance sets his headsman on you with rack and thumbscrews. I was saddling up when along came the princess, disguised as you see, demanding to be taken, too. Since there's no crown awaiting her in Baianch, it was either flee, with her jewels in a little bag in her bosom, or return to Rosid to be Gilan's blushing bride—if these greenish folk can blush. So here we are."

Thoughtfully, Reith said: "Gillan may soon test Novo's right to grant asylum. I, luckily, shall be far away. What are your plans, Princess?"

She glanced appealing from one Terran to the other. "I truly know not. What are yours, Fergus?"

"I leave tomorrow for Mishé with my people."

"And you, Kennet'?"

The Scot grinned. "I'll bide at home a while; then who knows? I hear the Krishnans have made a botch of the Majbur-Mishé railroad. Perhaps they could use a good Terran engineer."

Vázni sighed. "There's nought left for me, save to join my daughter in Suruskand. She hath invited me. I shall have to find trusty bodyguards, who'll not murder me for my gems along the way."

"I'll ask Castanhoso to help," said Reith. "Now I'm bound for the ranch. Can I give you a lift, Ken?"

Before dropping Strachan off at his house, Reith brought the Scot up to date on the movie project. Strachan said: "Aside from your business, how about you and your onetime kimmer, Alicia? What's the status, if ye dinna mind? You two were my favorite people, and I wudna wish to put my foot in it."

"We're just good old friends, that's all."

"Hmph!" Strachan snorted. "I dinna ken about you, Fergus; but if I were unattached, I cudna be just friends' with such a lovely woman for very long. Something would have to give."

Reith grinned. "Something or somebody, eh? Just give us a while to find out."