The Swords of Zinjaban

VIII - The Dasht of Ruz

At Avord, the innkeeper Asteratun, he of the ragged antennae, said: "Hail, good Master Reef! Come ye with other Ertsuma this time?"

"No," said Reith. "Only my trusty Timásh, and I'll bunk with him."

"Then I'll give you Number Six, an that suit you."

Later, when Reith and Timásh sat in the common room nursing goblets of falat, Asteratun, having no other customers at the moment, joined them. Reith asked: "How go things in Ruz these days?"

"Well enough. Praise the divine stars, the Dasht hath rescinded that besotted ordinance calling for the bathhouse owners to divide their premises into compartments for male and female." Asteratun looked Reith in the eye. "Good my sir, last time we met, ye promised me an explication of the lady I took for your daughter. Now, since we're old friends and businessmates, I'll call in that note of hand. What's the tale?"

"She's the same one you met twenty years ago, who was then my wife."

"Master Reef, I know that, with your Terran medicines, ye live longer than do we human beings. In twenty years, forsooth, ye've aged a trifle; but less than I during that time. Yet this pretty damsel seems no older than twenty years agone. Wherefore is that?"

"She's spent all but a couple of those years in space travel, that's why."

Asteratun stared down at the table. "Aye, I've heard of that space magic, that slows down time for him who partakes thereof, like unto the tales of a wight who goes to Fairyland for a day and returns to find a century gone by. A Terran once essayed to explain it to me, but I could make nought oft. Howsomever, ye said: 'was my wife.' Mean ye she no longer is?"

"That's right. We were divorced shortly after you met her."

"Ohé", so that's why ye insisted on her sleeping alone! Yet here ye were a while ago, traveling about together and acting like unto old friends and copemates, as if there'd never been a harsh word betwixt you. When one of us human beings is divorced, the reason is that one of the pair hath done some deed so foul that t'other would never again have aught to do with the wicked one."

"Neither of us did anything wicked," said Reith with a wry smile. "I suppose each of us craved to rule, and she couldn't endure the rivalry."

The old Krishnan shook his graying blue-green hair. "Aye, ye Terrans take your pairings and unpairings as lightly as do the promiscuous Knights of Qarar, who couple like unto the beasts of the wildwood. One, a Sir Khors, stopped here not long since. He had his new leman along and boasted of dropping his previous sweetling for the new—unless in sooth 'twas she who jettisoned him. He hinted that I ought to do the same with my old wife. 'Every man,' quotha, 'needs a new mate every few years.'

"I replied: The stars forbid! After spending forty year in learning to get along with a single mate, and getting her used to my crochets and indulgent of my faults, think ye I'd go back to the beginning and start over again? Think ye I'm moonstricken?' "

"Divorce is a matter of dispute on Terra, too," said Reith somberly, "with no final answer in view. But I find the subject like a knife in the liver; so let's talk of other things."

Arriving at Rosid the next day, Reith went directly to the palace. He asked one of the men-at-arms at the portal to find out when it would be convenient for the Dasht to receive him. The guard barked orders to another guard inside, who soon returned, praying Master Reith to accompany him forthwith. As Reith followed the usher up marble stairs, through huge bronze doors, and along a corridor lined with painted statues and other works of Krishnan art, he wondered why the noble should pay him this sudden honor.

Reith entered the audience chamber to find men with drawn swords suddenly surrounding him. By reflex his hand flew to his hilt; then he realized that resistance now would be suicide.

Before he could sheathe his half-drawn sword, however, a net whirled above his head and settled down upon him. A burly Gozashtandu gave him a violent push; unbalanced, he tripped on the net and went sprawling. Then the burly one and his assistant pulled the net together, binding Reith as firmly as a Terran fly wrapped in spider silk.

"What's this?" shouted the hapless Reith.

"Ye shall soon see," said one of the swordsmen. Several Ruzuma picked up the bundle containing Reith and bore it down three flights of stairs, through many wandering halls, and finally into the dungeon.

They laid Reith on the floor of the cell, unwrapped the net and, gripping his limbs to forestall resistance, relieved him of all his metallic possessions: sword, dagger, pocketknife, money, keys, pen, and pencil. They took his billfold with the letter from the Grand Master, inviting a regiment of Ruzuma to take part in the movie making in Mikardand. They ignored Reith's heated demands for an explanation.

While two of his captors held Reith's arms, a Krishnan in a uniform of different style came in, bearing a massive chain, on each end of which dangled a lock ring. The jailer fitted the larger ring around Reith's neck, adjusted it to size, and locked it shut. The smaller ring he attached to a fixture in the wall.

"There, now!" said the jailer. "Ye be not in discomfort, I trust, Master Reef?"

"I shall be more comfortable," growled Reith, "when I know what all this is about."

"As to that, ye must needs await the Dasht's return from Lusht, whither he hath gone for the wedding of the Pandr's daughter."

"When will he return?"

"Any day, now."

The soldiers filed out; but one remained in the corridor, looking through the bars.

Reith said to his jailer, "If His Altitude wished to see me, he had but to request. I have legitimate business, concerning which he and my clients have a written agreement. What is your name, my friend?"

"Herg bad-Yeshram. My people have been jailers to His Altitude for four generations."

"Since you know who I am, why treat me like a desperate criminal? Why chain me up as if I were the giant Damghan, who would otherwise run about slaying and devouring folk?"

Herg wagged his head. "The reason I know not. But the Dasht left orders that ye be kept beyond the remotest chance of evanishment. " 'Tis known that ye be a slippery customer, who ere this hath escaped from bars and gyves. Now I go to fetch your supper."

There followed two days of unrelieved tedium for Fergus Reith. The jailer and his assistant did not treat him unkindly, and they took care of his basic needs. As Herg bad-Yeshram explained: "We've heard tales of you, Master Reef, and know ye be a wight of fair repute amongst the Terrans. I misdoubt not that, when the Dasht returns, he'll discover that he hath been the victim of a misapprehension and order you enlarged. Meanwhile, howsomever, we needs must do our duty."

One guard was always on sentry duty in the hall, watching him. It struck Reith that his present plight derived from his successes in previous adventures, for these very triumphs had endowed him with an inflated reputation for derring-do among the Krishnans.

On the second day, fumbling in his pockets for something that might help him to pass the weary hours, his fingers encountered a flat, rectangular box of pasteboard. This was the deck of playing cards that Fodor had given Alicia, which she had handed him. Ha! He thought. Sitting on his stool, he began dealing the cards out on the tiled floor, trying to remember the rules of solitaire.

On the third day, while engrossed in his eighteenth hand of this dull but time-consuming game, Reith heard a familiar voice, barking English with a distinctive Krishnan resonance. "Mr. Reith! What are you doing?"

Reith looked up. Outside the cell stood Gilan bad-Jam, Dasht of Ruz, wearing a silvered cuirass on which were superimposed figures of mythical beings. To his lip was glued a new mustache, with pomaded ends twisted into spikes. A pair of guards flanked his sides.

"Greetings, Your Altitude," said Reith with forced composure. "I'm playing solitaire."

"Eh? What's that? And why don't you stand up in my presence?"

"To answer your questions in order, my lord: solitaire is a game one plays with oneself by means of little rectangles of stiff paper, called 'cards'. One can also use these cards for other Terran games. As for your second question, your men have loaded me with a chain weighing, I estimate, thirty or forty Gozashtando pounds, which renders rising difficult."

"Yes, yes, I understand. I have seen playing cards. Now I wish you to answer certain questions."

"I'll try to, sir," said Reith.

"What was your part in the disappearance of my betrothed, the Princess Vázni bad-Dushta'en?"

"I had no part in it, sir. I first heard of it after the event."

After a thoughtful pause, the Dasht said: "Your Terran colleague, Mr. Strachan, went to Hershid with us but did not return. He vanished from our ken about the time the princess disappeared. Was there a connection between these events? Did they elope?"

Reith shrugged. "As far as I know, Kenneth Strachan is living happily with his Terran wife at Novo."

"When and how did you hear that the Princess Vázni had disappeared?"

Reith thought fast. Any lie should be one that the Dasht could not easily check out. "I heard it said in Novo, sir, that the princess had paused there on her way to join her daughter in Suruskand. I did not see the lady." After a pause, he added, "My informant—a local lady, I forget which—said the daughter had written, urging her mother to come to her and promising her a fine new husband."

"Damn it to Hell!" snorted the Dasht. "If she marries many more husbands, she'll be too shopworn to be my consort. Now, Reith! Answer truly!"

"Yes, sir?"

"What was your part in that forged letter from Dour Eqrar, which sent us off to Hershid on a wild-aqebat chase?"

"I know nothing about it, Your Altitude." Reith's heart thumped. He was determined at all costs to hide Alicia's part in the hoax, lest a vengeful Dasht send assassins after her.

"Nothing whatever?"

"Absolutely nothing, my lord."

"Can you imagine why anyone should play such a foolish, wasteful, tasteless, embarrassing jest?"

"Well, Your Altitude, I do have a tentative theory."

"Yes? Speak up, man, speak up! I'll not hurt you for bringing unwelcome news. I always keep my word!" Gilan slapped his cuirass so that it rang like a door knocker.

"My suspicion," said Reith carefully, "is that the letter was not a forgery after all."

"Impossible!"

Reith shrugged. "As you wish, sir. But it could be that the Regent Tashian made that request through his ambassador at Hershid. Then, after the Dour's secretary had written the princess, Tashian changed his mind. He may have decided to seize the throne himself, or to promote one of his own sons to royal rank. Why should he care whether he embarrasses Your Altitude?"

"If our lands lay adjacent," snarled Gilan, "my sharpest sword would soon teach him to care!"

"Another matter occurs to me as well, sir."

"Say on!"

"As I understand it, when a woman of your kind weds for the second time and conceives, it's widely believed hereabouts that the second husband merely raises up the seed of the first, which has lain dormant in her. The egg, it is thought, is as likely to be the offspring of the first husband as the second, though the first may have been years in his grave."

"That's the common belief" said the Dasht. "But Terran scientists, I am told, consider it mere folk superstition."

"Your Altitude has known Terrans to advance contradictory beliefs, have you not?"

"Yes, yes. We had the Reverend Trask claiming that the prophet of his sect was the son of his God, and the Reverend Muhammad Basri telling quite a different tale. But what has that to do with this case?"

"Just a suggestion, sir, that you don't accept any one Terran doctrine as necessarily true."

"Hm," said the Dasht. "Strange, to hear a Terran admitting that the all-wise aliens from his planet are not always right! Do you imply that the old belief about raising up the first husband's seed may be true after all?"

"I wouldn't know, Your Altitude. But the possibility might raise questions of the legitimacy of any heirs you begot on the lady in question."

"Oho! I hadn't thought of that, Mr. Reith. In Ruz, or course, my word is final. What I say is right by definition. But in case we should be called to wider responsibilities ... You mean, any egg she laid might actually be sired by you or by the unfortunate Aslehán?"

"Not by me, sir. My sometime marriage to the Lady Vázni would not count, since we Terrans are never interfertile with your people. But she was married for years to Aslehán who, I am sure, performed his husbandly duties."

"I don't doubt that," said the Dasht. "She was a pretty thing."

"In any case," continued Reith, moistening his lips as he chose his words with care, "it seems to me that the chances of her ever becoming a significant factor in Duro politics is slight."

"Hmp!" the Dasht grunted. "You're hinting that I might find her, as wife, more liability than asset?"

"I would not presume to assert such a thing as fact, Your Altitude. I merely suggest that the possibility merits thought."

Gilan stroked his long nose. "Perhaps, perhaps. I'll think the matter over and consult my council."

"Another matter, my lord. What about the five hundred cavalry you promised for the motion picture?"

"They're ready to go, as soon as they know whither. Where is the work to be done?"

"Somewhere in western Mikardand," said Reith, deliberately vague. The more information he gave the Dasht, the fewer bargaining points he would have left to effect his release from the cell.

"How about our castles, which the Earthlings wished to rent?"

"I believe they chose a site in Mikardand."

"Putting us to all that trouble for nothing!" grumped the Dasht. "Well, less money is still money; so I'll command my cavalrymen to ride for western Mikardand. But how shall they gain admittance to that land? Without some arrangement, it would look like an invasion."

"That has been arranged, sir. The Grand Master gave me a letter to deliver to you, inviting your men into the Republic. I understand that he sent a confirmation to the commanding officer at Kolkh, instructing him to admit your regiment. Your soldiers took this letter."

The Dasht stood silently for a few breaths, looking fixedly at Reith through the bars. As the lamplight set little topaz highlights dancing in the Krishnan's eyes, Reith perceived Gilan's agile if erratic mind at work. Then the Dasht's antennae twitched.

"I must read this letter and think about it before taking further steps," said the Dasht. "I will not decide before consulting my council; I always follow a rational plan. This cannot be done before tomorrow."

"Your Altitude," said Reith, "did you ever learn who put one of my Terrans on a crazy aya?"

"We learned some things. This person gained access to the palace, passed himself off as a flunkey, and gave the horsemaster a message purportedly from me. Then he slipped out, went to the fair grounds, and began making speeches against you Terrans. When the fair-wardens made to arrest him, he disappeared."

"Was he one of Schlegel's gang?"

"Apparently not. We think he was a certain Nuchohr, once a follower of Schlegel but who, disaffected, started his own faction, with a much more extreme program. Where Schlegel merely would stop cultural interaction between Terrans and human beings, Nuchohr would kill or expel all Terrans from this world.

"But enough of that. I wish you to teach me some of those Terran games with cards, of which I have heard. I foresee increasing involvement with alien beings of your kind, and I shall have to learn their social customs in self-defense."

Reith smiled. "In the cell here?"

"Yes, yes; but you need not wear that burdensome chain." He shouted in his native tongue. "Herg! Come hither and remove this gyve from the prisoner ... Now fetch a table and two decent chairs. I, my good Herg, am about to learn the mysteries of Terran indoor games."

Reith, dropping easily into Gozashtandou, said: "I mind me of a game called 'poker.' "

"The word is familiar," said Gilan; "but methought it denoted an implement wherewith one manipulates a fire."

"It means that, also," said Reith. "As Your Altitude has doubtless observed, in my language one word may serve for several meanings. But as to poker: for a successful game one needs at least three players and a number of tokens, called 'chips.' These are disks of some common material, like unto coins but of little value. If a few hundred of your smallest coins be available ..."

The Dasht spoke to one of his guards: "Fetch me a sack of arzuma from the Treasurer's office. Here's my seal ring to serve as authorization; be sure you return it with the coins! Herg, get us another chair! You shall play, also."

"Me, my lord?" said the jailer hesitantly.

"Aye, ye yourself. In a Terran game, there's no distinction of rank."

When the guard returned with a bag full of little bronze coins—the pennies of Gozashtand—he found Reith, the Dasht, and Herg sitting around the table, while Reith explained the values of the combinations of cards.

"I fear I be confused, my lord," said Herg. "I know not these little Terran symbols for numbers."

"You can count, can you not?" barked the Dasht.

"Then count these spots, which Master Reith calls hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs, albeit they look like no hearts, shovels, gems, or cudgels that mine eyes have seen."

"I shall deal first, Your Altitude," said Reith. "Pray, hold your cards up, thus, so no other player can get a look at them ..."

Hours later, the Dasht rose. "My thanks, Mr. Reith," he said in English. "I fear I've been so engrossed in play that I forgot the dinner hour. Permit me to take your deck of cards with me; I have an idea for the evening's entertainment. Until tomorrow, then!"

"But, my lord!" exclaimed Reith. "How about letting me out—"

Heedless, the Dasht plunged out the cell door, slammed the bars shut, and strode away. Although he knew Gilan to be highly intelligent despite his eccentricities, Reith had been surprised by the speed with which the noble had mastered the game. Intelligence and a streak of zanyism, thought Reith, made a dangerous combination.

Later, Herg entered the cell to remove the remains of Reith's dinner. The jailer said: " 'Tis well, Master Reef, that we played but for arzuma, and they furnished by the Treasury. Otherwise the Dasht had reduced me to beggary."

Reith smiled. "You had done better, had you called his bluff betimes to keep him honest."

"Aye, that I once attempted, and marked how displeased he was. We his servants must needs attend to's moods. He liked it not when ye, as ye say, 'called' him."

The following afternoon, Herg unlocked the door and announced: "Ye are free, Master Reef! The Dasht hath sent word to enlarge you instanter. Ye shall, he saith, enjoy all the luxe his palace can afford."

Reith found Timásh patiently waiting before the palace, having taken a room locally for nights. Reith moved into the Dasht's guest suite. Hiding his resentment at the treatment accorded him, Reith dined with the Dasht and the weather-beaten Sir Bobir, commander of the detachment to be sent to Zinjaban.

Sir Bobir was full of questions about the part his five hundred knights were to play. "For look you, Master Reef. If we have five hundred of our men and five hundred Mikardanduma galloping about pretending to fight a battle, someone amongst the Mikardanduma will surely try to avenge the battle of Meozid by smiting the head from one of our folk. Then there'd be a general melee, with many slain and belike a war; albeit neither government lusts for such a brabble, with the Qaathian menace looming over all."

"We've thought of that," said Reith, speaking Gozashtandou like the others. "The motion-picture folk will furnish each warrior with a wooden sword covered with silver paint. Thus we hope to avoid injuries, save perhaps a few bruises."

"Bobir!" said the Dasht, beaming in a new uniform of bleached shaihan wool embellished with gold lace. "You are commanded to wait upon us here this even. I wish to teach you the fascinating game that Master Reith hath shown me. 'Tis called 'poker' in his Terran tongue. Last night I trounced the Treasurer and my secretary. For tonight, I've enlisted the Chamberlain. With you and the Earthman, we shall be four. And oh, ere I forget!" The Dasht pulled a small scroll from his sleeve. "Down on your knees, Master Reith! Behold your patent of knighthood!"

The Dasht slapped Reith's face with the scroll, then said, "Rise, Sir Fergus!" He seized Reith in a bear hug and kissed him on both cheeks. Reith blinked too late to keep his eye from being scrubbed by the boar's-tusk mustache.

"Your knighthood is a small token of my appreciation for introducing me to so enthralling a game," said Gilan. "It hath military value as well, in case we should ever be compelled to draw our shining sword. Feint, bluff, and deception are necessary parts of the military art. I knew at first sight that you were one whose acquaintance would please me. By Qondyor's iron yard, I am never wrong in my judgment of men, whether Terran or human!"

"I thank Your Altitude," said Reith, wiping a tear from his assaulted eye. "By the way, my lord, you mentioned the Reverend Trask. How goes their enterprise?"

"I know not," snapped the Dasht. "They were expelled from the Dashtate a ten-day past, along with the other Terran missioners—Christian, Buddhist, the whole lot."

"How so?"

"A band of the Trasks' fanatical followers seized upon my Chief Astrologer; knocked the old fellow down and broke his eyeglasses. I pay astrology small heed myself; but I cannot permit the abuse of my servants. Loyalty up; loyalty down."

"The Trasks told me they were devoted to nonviolence," mused Reith.

"Indeed. They claimed to abhor the attack as much as I. But any movement of that ilk attracts unruly spirits, who grasp but the flimsiest pretext to assail and destroy. I allow no such turmoil in my realm! Given a choice between the peaceful security of my subjects and the Terrans' messages from the spirit world, I'll forgo the messages!"

Driving down the long road from Qou to Mishé, with Timásh riding a spare aya and leading another, Reith tried to sort out his feelings about Alicia. One part of his mind said forget the whole deal. If she wanted a permanent relationship with you, she would not have taken Sári so casually or questioned the girl in such a cold-bloodedly scientific spirit.

Meanwhile the other part of his mind missed Alicia with a poignancy that, a few moons before, he would not have believed possible. He had to restrain himself from winding the animals in his eagerness to see her again.

Being well-known in Mishé, Reith had no trouble at the city gate; but inside, he found the main avenue blocked by a growing crowd. By standing up in the gig, he could see over the Krishnans' heads.

A section of the avenue had been cordoned off by rows of Mikardando men-at-arms, their pikes held horizontally to keep the citizens back. In the cleared space beyond, he could see cameras mounted on wheeled scaffolds and a few actors, costumed as Krishnans, moving purposefully about.

Being too far away to hear, he hopped down from the gig, handed the reins to Timásh, and pushed through the crowd. Despite his apologies, the locals whom he elbowed aside looked angrily at him and muttered about mannerless alien barbarians as he squirmed past. When he reached the front row of spectators, further progress was halted by a soldier's pike. Reith said to the man-at-arms: "Let me pass, pray. I am with those Terran play-actors and must speak to them."

"Everyone hath some excuse for trespassing," sneered the trooper. "Orders are to keep all back, including you, alien!"

"But I am their official guide!" said Reith. "If you don't believe me, call one over."

Strachan's deep voice boomed out in Mikardandou. "Less noise, over there!! Whoever is babbling has ruined the sound for this scene, and we must start over."

"Now will ye get out?" snarled the soldier. "Or would ye liefer have your pate cracked by a spear shaft?"

With a sigh, Reith pushed back to the gig. By a roundabout way through back streets, he reached the consulate and found Fallon at his desk. Fallon told him: "They're all but one staying at Bosyár's Inn. Treasurer Gashigi said it was out of the question to sleep all thirty-odd in the Citadel."

"I can guess the exception," said Reith. "Your fellow Briton."

"Of course. The Treasurer seems to have a fancy for him."

"Or for his capabilities. Have you a room reserved for me?"

"I'm pairing you with Doctor Dyckman," said Fallon.

"You what?" Reith bounced out of his chair. "Whose idea—I mean—did she—"

"Just joking," said Fallon with a satyrlike grin. "You've got a single, with a nice bed big enough for two. You can use it as you please so long as you don't break it in a transport of passion."

"My dear Tony," growled Reith, "your ideas of humor can be smelled a kilometer upwind."

"Sorry; I didn't mean to poke a sore nerve."

"By the way," said Reith with a wry smile, "you may call me 'Sir Fergus' is you like. I am now a knight of Ruz."

"Congratulations," said Fallon. "But you were already a knight of Dur. Should I call you Sir Sir Fergus? And what did His Pomposity honor you for?"

"For teaching him poker."

"By Qondyor's brazen balls, that's rich!" laughed Fallon. "Having been a king myself, I don't take tides seriously. But I shall want to see Ordway's face when he hears. He adores titles!"

"Poker's not just fun with Gilan," said Reith. "It's also a matter of money, lots of it."

"How do you mean?"

"Each night Gilan sends command invitations to some of his poor little bureaucrats and mulcts them of their salaries."

"I know that zany's clever, but is he such a marvelous player?"

"He doesn't have to be. You see, when he bluffs, none of his underlings dares to call him, for fear of his august displeasure. So he rakes in pot after pot."

Fallon laughed again. "Fergus, old fish, the Dasht certainly owed you that knighthood. To do it right, he should have thrown in half the dashtate and a nubile daughter as well!"

Reith was sitting in a corner of Bosyár's lobby, toilsomely deciphering his way through a copy of the Mishé Defender, when the shooting crew straggled in, chattering. A couple of them greeted Reith; the others failed to notice him. He told himself: when she comes, no extravagant gestures! She's just an old friend. (Then why, said another part of his mind, was he wearing his best Mikardando kilt and his sword?)

"Hello, Fergus!" said Alicia from the doorway. A dozen pairs of eyeballs swiveled towards them, patiently expecting a repetition of their steamy parting at Novorecife. Aware of the curious stares, Reith merely said: "Hello, Alicia!" and shook her hand.

"How did you make out with the Dasht?" she asked.

"That's quite a story. Why don't we—you and I—go out to dinner? Baghál's Place is only a couple of blocks, and the food's good."

"Do they have dancing?"

"Some nights. And they often run a pretty good show—authentic Krishnan stuff instead of bad imitations of Terran performing arts."

"All right; give me a few minutes to wash up."

Alicia reappeared in a plain but attractive Terran street dress. As they walked arm in arm towards the tavern, words tumbled out. "One of the cameramen forgot to take off his lens cap today; ruined an hour's takes ..."

"Has Old Slimy been slithering up to you lately?"

"Cyril? No; he's been bunking up in the Citadel, where I guess Gashigi keeps him drained. But I've had to straight-arm Randal Fairweather more than once. The last time, he tried caveman tactics; so I hit him with my trusty handbag, with the coins. I will say he's a good sport; when he recovered consciousness he apologized ..."

"... so His Pomposity chucked me into a dungeon dark and dank; but Fodor's deck of cards got me out ..."

"... I had to give Ernesto Valdez the knee where it would do the most good, when he got grabby at the bathhouse the other day. Most of the crew have taken to Krishnan bath customs ..."

"... so I taught that crazy autocrat to play poker ..."

"... Randal's real name is Elmer Grotz, and he talks of nothing but the pictures he's been in. That's how they all are. Either they're bragging of past triumphs, or blaming someone for failures, or gossiping about who's screwing whom ..."

"I had a straight and was sure the Dasht was bluffing; but I didn't dare call him, because I'd already won as much as I thought safe ..."

"... that horrid little Motilal made a nasty remark to Bennett Ames—you know, Cassie's big, dumb husband— about his wife's lovers, and Ames hit him, and then Attila hit Ames ..."

"Remember the Reverend Trask and his wife? They've been kicked out of Ruz. Some of their converts attacked Gilan's pet astrologer—"

"Poor things! And the Trasks mean so well, too!"

"Krishna is littered with the bones of Terrans who meant well. Somebody ought to tell the Trasks what happened to the Reverend Jensen."

"The one whose head arrived at Novo in a cask of salt? They probably know; and in any case, they might welcome martyrdom."

"At least, if we ever go back to Rosid, you can display your assets without fear of disapproval ..."

"When Attila isn't working, he's out touring the armorers' shops in Mishé. He has a famous collection of swords at Montecito; that's where his money goes ..."

At Baghál's, the manager, knowing Reith, gave him a table for two on the edge of the dance floor. A waiter in a black-and-white striped kilt came to take orders. Alicia said: "When I left Krishna, a few places were beginning to hire waiters, instead of making patrons give their orders to the cook and come to fetch their own meals. Is table service customary now?"

"It's spreading; but some of these waiters are still pretty new at the trade. So don't be surprised if one of them dumps a plate of sodpá soup in your lap."

"I'm glad I'm not wearing my best dress. I suppose this is an example of that Terran corruption of Krishnan culture that your enemy Schlegel deplores."

Reith shrugged. "He can deplore all he likes, so long as he doesn't interfere. Hey, do you see what I do, yonder? Fry my guts if that isn't Ordway, Gashigi, and a couple of locals!" Just then the production manager laughed with a bray like that of a lonesome donkey. "Hear that?" asked Reith.

"I hear them," said Alicia. "I also see that Cyril's sopping up the booze again. Here comes the band; how's your dancing?"

"Haven't had much practice lately, except for hauling overweight female tourists around the floor in line of duty. After dancing with you, they seemed like waltzing hippopotami."

"Then it's high time for a practice session," she said firmly. She paused to listen. "They're playing the Indian tandava, I dunk. Do you know it? It has those gymnastic arm movements. I'll show you!"

As they danced past the table occupied by Ordway and Gashigi, they paused and were introduced to two bureaucrats from the Knights' Treasury. Gashigi said: "I ba-rought Cyril here, Far-goose, because ze great singer Sotaru bad-Khors performs tonight."

"Isn't he the fellow who fights duels with rival singers?" asked Reith.

"So I hear. Isn't it exciting? If he finds a rival here—" Reith said: "We'd better sit down, Lish, before he starts a fight with us."

Reith and Alicia were nearly through their dinner when Sotaru at last appeared. To the twang of a harp in the hands of one of the musicians, he sang three wailing Mikardando songs.

After the last of these, the singer bowed to the applause of cracking joints and retired. In the quiet that followed, Reith was startled to hear Ordway boom out; he proved to have an excellent singing voice as, beating time with an eating spear, he sang:

At another time and place, Reith would have been amused; but now he worried. Alicia said: "Oh-oh, here comes the great Sotaru. He looks furious."

"Better be ready for trouble," said Reith grimly, reaching down to pick up his sword from beneath his chair and to loosen the peace wires.

The singer strode to Ordway's table, bowed stiffly, and went through the motions of introducing himself. Instead of assaulting Ordway, however, he pulled up an empty chair, seated himself, and plunged into earnest conversation, while Gashigi translated. Then Reith watched in astonishment as Ordway and Sotaru faced each other, beat time with outstretched fingers, and mouthed words that Reith could not hear over the background noise.

"By Bákh's toenails!" said Reith. "I believe Cyril's teaching him that song!"

After running through the verse a few times, Sotaru stood up, bowed to the assembly, and launched into Ordway's ditty:

Alicia murmured, "The Mikardando accent rather spoils the meter. So much for your authentic Krishnan performing arts!"

Reith sighed. "Sometimes I almost sympathize with Schlegel. Excuse me a moment."

When he returned, Reith was surprised to see his table empty and Alicia's weighted handbag lying on her chair. Thinking that she must have made a similar comfort stop, he sat patiently unconcerned for some minutes. When she did not reappear, he pushed past the dancing couples to Ordway's table.

"Cyril," he said, "did you see Alicia leave the hall?"

"Why yes, old boy," said Ordway. "Gashigi called my attention to it. A greenie came in and spoke to two chaps sitting at that corner table." He pointed. "Then the three hurried over to your table and talked to Alicia. They acted excited, as if there'd been some sort of disaster. Then she got up and went out with them. That's all."

Reith asked, "Can you add anything, Lady Gashigi?"

"No, Far-goose. We all sought it a little sa-trange; but I did not see any cause to interfere. She could have—"

Reith bolted out of Baghál's. The last twilight was hiding as Mikardanduma went to and fro about their business. Everything seemed normal on the street, but there was no sign of Alicia. Reith strode up and down the block, looking in all directions.

At last he accosted the man-at-arms on point duty at the nearest crossing. "Have you seen a Terran woman come out of Baghál's?"

The trooper thought. "Aye, sir, that I did, but a short time since. She issued forth with three human beings, and all four got into a closed carriage and drove off. I should not have noticed but that the female alien had shining yellow hair, a thing whereof I have heard but have never witnessed."

"What can you tell me about the three with her?"

The trooper gave the equivalent of a shrug: "They seemed but ordinary citizens; nor was there aught strange about their carriage."

Further questions failed to elicit more facts, so Reith returned to Baghál's. On a last chance, he asked Gashigi to check the women's rest room. Still no Alicia.

"I say, cobber," said Ordway, "this has a fishy smell to me!"

"To both of us," said Reith.

"I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Thanks."

Reith next questioned the manager, who said: "They behaved themselves and paid their due; so I gave them little heed. Here's their waiter. Zalmanu! Tell Sir Fergus what ye know of the men with whom Doctor Dyckman departed."

The waiter wagged his head. "Nought out of the ordinary, sir. They wore common garb—one in gray, the other brown, methinks—but otherwise they ate their dinners, paid their scot, and went."

Reith asked "Was there anything in their speech or mannerisms to show their origin?"

"Nay, sir—but hold a bit. The little fellow with the purplish-red beard, who came in after the others, I took for a Khaldonian. He had the long smellers of s race and spake with the harsh Khaldoni accent."

"Good!" said Reith. "Here's something for your trouble; and where's my man with the bill?"

Having paid, Reith picked up Alicia's handbag. To Ordway and Gashigi he said: "I'm going back to Bosyár's, to see what I can learn."

"Do you sink zere has been an abduction?" said Gashigi.

"Just that," said Reith. "She wouldn't have left her handbag unless she thought she would soon return. You might alert your government. Good night!"

At the inn, Reith first knocked on Alicia's door. "Lash!"

There was no response, even when he knocked harder and called more loudly. He returned to the lobby and asked the innkeeper: "Have you seen Doctor Dyckman, the yellow-haired Terran woman?"

"Nay, sir; but a small human being, Khaldonian from his looks, came in and gave me this for you." He handed Reith a folded sheet. Reith read:

Dear Fergus:

Forgive my leaving so abruptly, but a representative of a powerful Krishnan nation has to me made an offer that I cannot refuse. I am leaving to take up a position of great authority, wherein I can do for this world the greatest possible good, When I am settled, I shall inform you of my location.

If you still entertain sentimental feelings towards me, forget them. Nothing would ever have worked for the pair of us. And fear not for the Cosmic project; you and Mr. Strachan can perform any tasks that would otherwise have fallen to me. Best wishes,

Alicia Dyckman, Ph. D.