The Prisoner of Zhamanak

L. Sprague de Camp

THE KRISHNA STORIES

Like many older science-fiction readers and writers, I was trapped in the genre in the 1920s by the Martian tales of Edgar Rice Burroughs. When, after the Second World War, I was getting back into science fiction (after three and a half years in the armed services) the idea struck me: why not write some pure entertainment in the form of light, swashbuckling interplanetary adventure-romances—stories of the Barsoomian type, but more sophisticated and logically thought out? There would be no flagrant incongruities like people who have "radium rifles," which shoot a hundred kilometers by radar sights, but who still fight with swords and spears; or who have marvelous flying machines but can travel on the surface only on the backs of eight-legged throats or in chariots drawn by zitidars.

This idea led to the stories of the Viagens Interplanetarias series, beginning with the novel The Queen of Zamba, published in Astounding Science Fiction in 1949, and continuing to the present The Prisoner of Zhamanak. There have been eighteen stories of various lengths with a Viagens background, of which ten have been laid on my imaginary planet Krishna and the rest on other planets, including our own Terra. Alas! The march of science has eliminated Mars and Venus as plausible sites for such highjinks.

All the novels laid on Krishna have a name beginning with "Z" in the title. This is a matter of personal convenience. When one has written as much as I (my opus-card file contains over 800 entries) one must use such dodges to keep track of things.

Other writers, too, have written stories of this kind, from Burroughs's predecessor Edwin Lester Arnold down to the present. Tales of this sort have come to be known as sword-and-planet stories, the essential feature being the invention of a planet inhabited by hominoid peoples in a preindustrial, pre-gunpowder stage of culture.

Although my early Krishna stories went well, I stopped writing them in 1952 (the last was published in 1953), partly because I was involved in other projects but also because I saw I was bucking the tide of literary fashion. Taste among science-fiction editors and, one must suppose, among their readers ran towards subjective, sentimental, anti-scientific, psychological, and sociological approaches to storytelling, which then also affected realistic fiction. In the last decade or two, taste has again veered more towards pure entertainment; hence the present story, which may not be the last of its kind.

The stories of this series take place between AD 2088 and 2168, Earth time. I assume that Brazil has become the world's leading power; not that I think this probable, but it is a defensible assumption. Vishnu, Krishna, and Ganesha are planets of the star Tau Ceti, called Roqir in the Varasto languages. Krishna has an atmosphere like Earth's. It is a trifle larger but of lower density, so that surface gravity is a small fraction less. It has less surface water; no oceans, but many landlocked seas and vast deserts.

The main events of Krishna's recent historical past are the downfall of the Kalwmian Empire, the following brilliant city-state period around the Triple Seas, and the rise of the ; Varasto nation-states, especially the empires of Balhib, Gozashtand, and Dur. The Battle of Zur, which started the downfall of the Kalwm Empire, .was about AD 1000, Earth time.

The Kalwm Empire was overthrown by barbarians whose - common name for themselves was Varastuma and for their language, Varastou. These Varastuma overran most of the lands around the Triple Sea, save the Khaldoni nations (successor-states to the Kalwm Empire in the South); the republic of Katai-Jhogorai; and enclaves of the primitive tailed men, Krishna's "missing link."

Earthmen landed on Krishna in the late twenty-first century of the Christian Era, followed by the reptilian Osirians. Terrans found an intelligent species of hominoids enough like themselves so that, with cosmetics and artificial aids, a person of either species could disguise himself as one of the other.

An Interplanetary Council was formed to control intercourse among planets bearing intelligent life. The most advanced Krishnan nations had a culture like that of medieval Europe and Asia. The Council decided that, because of the adverse effects of a sudden influx of advanced technology on people of a much lower technological level, giving advanced technologies to native Krishnans should be forbidden, save in small amounts after careful consideration. Krishnans interpret this prohibition as a plot to keep them ignorant in order to conquer and exploit them; so they try to evade this ban.

About pronunciations: Portuguese, like French, has nasal vowels. If I represent them by a line over the letter, the name of the Brazilian-dominated space-travel organization, the Viagens Interplanetarias, comes out vee-AH-zhaysh ee-ter-pla-neh-TAH-re-ush. The Brazilian officials, Cristôvāo Abreu and Herculeu Castanhoso, are kreesh-too-VOW. uh-BREH-oo and air-koo-LEH-oo kush-TAH-nyew-soo. Since only a few Varasto names occur, it is enough to say that a and á stand for the vowels of "add" and "wad" respectively; ' is a glottal plosive or cough; gh like French r; kh like ch in German ach; k andg as in "key" and "quote"; otherwise consonants as in English, vowels as in Spanish. Stress is usually on the last syllable ending in a consonant or a diphthong; hence "Balhib" is bal-HEEB.

In Khaldoni words, w stands for a sound resembling the vowels of English "put" and "but"; so "Kalwm" may be pronounced "column" and "Mutabwk" to rhyme with "shoot a book." In the Setswana language of Africa, the digraph kg in Kgama, kgolo stands for a k followed by the sound of ch in German ach. The combination could be spelled kkh, but kg is the official spelling.

L. Sprague de Camp

I

HONOR

On the greensward at the center of the compound at Novorecife, the Terran spaceport on the planet Krishna, a retirement party flowered. The native drinks, kvad and falat, flowed freely.

The small, squirrel-like assistant security officer, Herculeu Castanhoso, stepped out of the Administration Building with a document in his hand and a worried look on his face. His eye ran over the festive crowd, looking for the superiors to whom he must report the latest trouble.

He saw Ivar Heggstad, the trainer, whispering in broken Gozashtandou with a Norse accent to a Krishnan female employee of the spaceport. A physical-culture fanatic, as his job called for, Heggstad drank only fruit juice; but he made up for this austerity in other ways.

Magistrate Ram Keshavachandra, a slight man with a fringe of gray curls around his bald brown cranium, was deep in conversation with Masanobu Ishimoto, square-built, slow-spoken, and just appointed the new consul to Baianch, the capital of the empire of Dur.

At last Castanhoso's roving gaze picked out the wavy silver hair of William Desmond Kennedy, the retiring Com-andante. Next to Kennedy, Castanhoso spotted the plump figure of his immediate superior, the retiring chief security officer, Cristôvāo Abreu. Gripping the paper, Castanhoso started purposefully towards this pair.

Kennedy was saying to Abreu: "Cris, I don't like the looks of it at all, at all."

Abreu looked in the direction indicated. "You mean our new Comandante, getting himself embrigado—you would say, plastered?" He alluded to a stocky, bald man with a brown handlebar mustache, standing with a glass of golden kvad in his hand amid a group of Novorecife's female employees, both human and Krishnan. This man, Comandante-designate Boris Glumelin, paid especial attention to Kristina Brunius, the tall, honey-haired secretary-typist. Oswaldo Guerra, Kristina's usual swain, stood aside and glowered.

"Pois sim. I do that," said Kennedy. "Nobody warned us the W.F. would send a rumdum as my replacement."

Abreu sighed. "Let us hope this is just a temporary aberration. Everyone liked Senhor Glumelin when he arrived four moons ago. He did the work we gave him competently. When things went wrong, he just said, 'Eto nichyevo!' and went on to the next task. In any case, that will be Herculeu's problem."

"Gorchakov seems to be trying to help," said Kennedy. Afanasi Gorchakov, the big, scowling, black-haired customs inspector, had taken Glumelin's elbow and was speaking in his ear. Fragments of heavily consonantal Russian phrases floated to the watchers' ears. Presently he led Glumelin gently away.

Abreu shook a pudgy forefinger. "That Gorchakov will bear watching. He is power-mad. We had better speak to Keshavachandra; he won't retire until next year, and as magistrate he'll be the only one with authority—Yes, Herculeu?"

Castanhoso came up with the same troubled expression he had worn since emerging from the building."Senhores," he said tensely, "I must speak. Something has come in from Gorbovast."

"Eh?" said Kennedy. "Are we after getting the head of another meddling Terran missionary, packed in salt?"

Castanhoso shook his head. "Here! Read, por favor." He handed over a sheet of yellow Krishnan paper, which bore a text in the Portuguese language of the Brazilian-dominated Terran space organization, the Viagens Interplanetarias, but in spidery Krishnan handwriting. It read:

The most illustrious Senhor W. D. Kennedy,

Comandante

Novorecife Spaceport.

Most excellent Senhor:

I am reliably informed that a Doutora Alicia Dyckman, who traversed Majbur three moons ago en route to Kalwm for purposes of scientific study, is held captive by Khorosh, Heshvavu ofZhamanak. I have no further details.

Of Your Lordship, very politely,

Gorbovast bad-Sár

Commissioner of King Eqrar of

Gozashtand to the city of Majbur.

"Hell!" said Kennedy. "A fine time, amid a change of administrations."

"You're Comandante until midnight," said Abreu. "Tomorrow, if Glumelin is lying in bed with an ice bag on his head, you'll be acting Comandante until he recovers."

"It's the silly woman's own fault," Kennedy frowned. "I warned her she'd be on her own, as we have no treaties with those southern nations. But no, she had to record the Khaldoni dialects and measure people's skulls and compare their social systems with that of Dur."

"Well, what shall we do?" said Castanhoso.

"Are we obliged to do anything?" said Kennedy.

"We can't just sit and do nothing! It would be a disgrace to let this primitive tropical potentate feed such a beautiful woman to his pet shan."

"Beautiful, maybe; but an incorrigible meddler and as warm as an icicle. Serve her right if we left her to her fate."

"Whether we like some Ertsu's personality should not be a factor in whether we help him," said Castanhoso.

"Neither," replied Kennedy, "should his—or in this case her—physical appearance. No; we warned her and washed our hands of her expedition. So we have, strictly speaking, no responsibility."

Castanhoso: "You cannot be so callous, Comandante! We must at least send a letter of protest to this Khorosh."

"Well," said Kennedy reluctantly, "I suppose we really should, before the American government hears of the case. She's backed by some important organizations."

"I agree," said Abreu. "The problem is, how to get such a letter there? The Mejrou Qurardena does not deliver parcels so far south."

"What's all this?" said a deep, musically resonant voice. A lean, very tall man of Negroid race, black of skin and kinky of hair, loomed up. "Have Fergus and his oriental tourists got into trouble already?"

"Hello, Percy," said Kennedy. "Read this."

Percy Kuruman Mjipa, Oxon., born a Mangwato in Botswana and now a Terran consul on Krishna, awaiting his new assignment, frowned at the letter. Mjipa's black wife, almost as tall as he and massive, tried to read over his shoulder.

With a snort, Mjipa handed back the letter. "Blasted cheek! This Khorosh, I mean. We keep our hands off these beggars, so they think they can do as they like with our people. I'd—I'd—Well, I'd do something, I assure you, and to hell with Interplanetary Council rules against imperialism."

Kennedy: "Do you know this Alicia Dyckman, Percy? She was working in Dur when you were at Baianch."

Mjipa shrugged. "I met her a couple of times. Can't say I much liked her; but that has nothing to do with the case. It's a matter of principle."

Abreu said: "We were wondering how to get a stiff letter of protest to Zhamanak—"

"My dear fellow, that's no problem. I'll carry the letter in person, since my assignment to Balhib isn't yet final."

"Percy!" cried Mjipa's wife. "You can't go off, just like that!"

"Can't I? Just watch."

"But you promised to stay out of trouble!"

"Can't be helped, darling," said the black man.

"Certainly it can. We could hire—"

"No, my dear, we Ertsuma must stick together. Can't let the side down, you know."

"But you needn't personally—"

"Matter of Terran honor. If you think I'll sit on my arse while these bloody barbarians mistreat a Terran woman, you can jolly well think again!"

"Oh, you and your silly notions of honor!"

"Now, now, Victoria," said Kennedy. "We don't want another of these public arguments. Bad for our image with the Krishnans." The Comandante indicated a little knot of native guests: Sivird bad-Fatehán, who ran the outfitting shop in Novorecife, and several of his local friends. Turning to Mjipa, Kennedy continued: "Besides, Percy, I don't think you 're just the man for the job." Mjipa opened his mouth to protest, but Kennedy continued smoothly. "You're our intrepid hero, but this job needs diplomatic finesse. Delicacy is not your strong point. You don't really like Krishnans—"

"That's not so at all!" Mjipa broke in hotly. "Some of my best friends—"

"You lump them all together as a pack of benighted 'natives' and bull your way through like a wild bishtar. If you tried that with the Khaldonians, telling these kinglets to go jump in the Banjao Sea, and trying to rescue Dyckman by lowering her from a window with bed sheets, both of you would likely wind up dead."

Mjipa mastered his indignation. "Whom, then, could you send?"

"Let's see ... ibn-Ayub is in Katai-Jhogorai. Kline is on his way to Alvid in Suruskand ..." Kennedy frowned in perplexity. Then his face cleared. "It looks as if Ishimoto were the only one available. Oh, Masanobu!"

As the consul-designate to Dur approached, Mjipa muttered: "If I know Masanobu, he'll have a dozen good reasons why he couldn't possibly go to Kalwm. He's fine for routine work, but for something like this ..."

Mjipa's voice trailed off as Masanobu Ishimoto came up.

When Kennedy explained the situation, Ishimoto bowed, saying:"Oh, I am so sorry, Comandante! You know my ship for Baianch leaves in a few days, and all arrangements have been made. I plan to depart tomorrow; and if I miss that ship,. I might not get another for moons. We must not leave the consulate there closed so long, with Tashian threatening his neighbors. I fear a journey to Kalwm would be impossible."

Kennedy mused: "We might send Percy back to Baianch in your place—" but both consuls protested so vehemently that Kennedy gave in.

"When can I leave, sir?" Mjipa asked.

"Well, there's forms to fill out, and I don't know when Glumelin will be up to it—"

"Oh, bugger Boris! Let's go to your office and fill them now. You still have the authority."

Kennedy sighed. "Such a nice party, too! But let me make one thing clear, Percy. You're not authorized to start a private guerilla war against Khorosh, merely because you don't like how he treats Dyckman. You may defend yourself, of course. If Dyckman has violated their laws, you may use their legal system, whatever it is, to defend her. But so long as they stick to their own system of justice, you must do the same."

"Even if they sentence her to be burned at the stake for using the wrong spoon at dinner?"

"Well—you don't have to put up with absurdities. So long as they follow civilized procedure—"

"Some civilized peoples have burned people for no worse offenses."

"Oh, use your common sense, man! If you have any, that is." As they started off, Kennedy added:"Hadn't you better go Krishnan? The Khaldoni nations aren't used to Earthmen yet. They may fear them."

Mjipa shook his head. "No, I'll go as I am. It would take a barrel of makeup to keep my skin and hair from resuming their natural appearance, and it's not worth it. I should have to spend an hour a day making up, gluing on feelers and false ears, and I shan't have that kind of leisure. Besides, since Krishna has no really black races, my color is useful in getting the upper hand over the blokes. It awes them."

"Be careful one of them isn't so awed he puts a spear through you!"

"I'll watch my step. Have you a set of those gift certificates on Sivird's shop? I may need them. And where's Angioletti? I need some Krishnan cash. Also, he's an American, so perhaps he can give me advice on handling headstrong American women."

-

Karrim, the largest of Krishna's three moons, had thrice circled the planet when the Jafez of Majbur put in to Kalwm Harbor. Roqir shone dimly through a light overcast. The striped sails flapped feebly in a near-calm, and the crew were manning sweeps to row into the harbor. The air was hot, humid, and breathless.

Sweat beaded the shiny black skin of Percy Mjipa, leaning on his elbows on the rail of the forecastle and slowly puffing a pipe. He stared at the low, flat shoreline and the low, dun-colored buildings behind it. Still farther back, a huge structure loomed over the city. It formed a truncated cone with only a slight taper, so that it reminded Mjipa of one" of the cooling towers of a Terran power-generating plant. Irregularities around the top of the structure implied that construction was still proceeding.

Aside from sandals, Mjipa's only visible garment was an abbreviated kilt, checkered in white and purple squares. The Krishnans of Kalwm and its neighbors, when they wore any clothes at all, affected this garment. Around Mjipa's neck hung a rectangular tablet of synthetic jade, the size of a hand, bearing the wearer's name and title in five Krishnan languages.

Nobody would have mistaken Mjipa for a Krishnan. The sailors, being Daryava, went naked save in cold weather. Scurrying about to lower the sails, they were of generally human shape, with light-brown skins of slightly greenish cast and dark-green bluish hair. They differed from Terrans in many minor anatomical details, such as the pointed ears; the external organs of smell, a pair of feathery antennae, like extra eyebrows just above the real ones; an3 the less prominent organs of sex. Whereas most Krishnans averaged as tall as the taller human races, at nearly 200 centimeters Percy Mjipa overtopped them all.

Over Mjipa's right shoulder was slung a baldric of purple-dyed leather, supporting a Krishnan sword in its scabbard. Depending from the other shoulder, its straps crossing the baldric, was a large leather wallet or musette bag, containing the petty possessions that Mjipa would, in a cooler climate, have carried in pockets. The belt that upheld the kilt also supported a formidable dirk. A bulky canvas bag lay at Mjipa's feet.

The triangular sails were down and furled at last. Near the harbor entrance, a rattle of chain announced that the anchor was dropped. The Jafez halted, rocking slightly in the low swell.

Speaking fluent Gozashtandou, Mjipa asked Captain Takhril: "Wherefore the delay?"

Moving his jaw with a chew of salaf root, the Krishnan skipper waved to indicate two other ships anchored in the nearby shallows. He spat over the rail and said: "Customs. We must needs await our turn, as must all other seaborne wights of less than royal rank."

They'll take all day, Mjipa thought, with their damned native inefficiency, and then probably want a bribe to pass us through.

"Captain," he said, "what's that, pray?" He pointed to the tall structure ashore.

"That?" said the captain. "Oh, yon tower be that which the present Heshvavu, Vuzhov the Visionary, doth erect in hopes of storming the very heavens and demanding honored place amongst the gods. Of course, ye and I do wit that the planet be round like a ball, and that the heavens above be but empty space. But once ashore, suffer not the whisper of such an heretical dogma to reach the ears of our moon-struck monarch or his spies, lest you be served as Qarar served the king of 'Ishk in the story."

"You mean he cuts off the heads of those who say the world is round?"

"Aye, sir. Their sacred books have it that 'tis flat, so flat it must be by royal fiat. Throughout his reign hath Vuzhov driven his folk to swink on this tower; but all along of his building, he finds that, no matter how high he build, Heaven still eludes his besotted grasp. So instead of revising his opinions like a man of sense, he waxes tetchy and irascible in enforcing that which already molders in what he clepes his brain, albeit 'twere more likely that his skull doth harbor nought but a porridge of mashed tabid and shaihan milk. Do Terrans e'er fall into the same whim wham?"

"Yes," said Mjipa, thinking that the great vice of the Krishnan peoples was not factiousness but oratory. "We once had a great navigator who, before our planet was well explored, sought by sailing across the sea to find a continent called Asia. He did not know that two other continents, joined together, lay athwart his path. So, when he came upon this obstacle, he made his crew sign a document that they had reached Asia. But that did not change the reality."

"Ah me, 'tis plain as the peaks of Darya that ye have the same faults as we. As saith Nehavend, the gods who made men wise also made them foolish, lest they use their wisdom to seize Heaven and cast down the gods from their golden thrones." Shaking his head, Captain Takhril went off to give orders.

Mjipa opened the duffel bag at his feet and dug out two small books: a Gozashtandou-Khaldoni dictionary, and a Portuguese-Khaldoni phrase book. Sourly he thought, how would you say: "Move your arses, you blithering incompetents"? Or: "Sir innkeeper, there is a lizardlike thing as long as my arm under my bed. What should I do with it"? More realistically, he bent his attention to the polite phrases of greeting and questioning, muttering as he reviewed them.

Captain Takhril came back. Mjipa asked: "You know this town from previous visits, do you not?"

"Aye, sir; Kalwm City and I be old copemates. I ken its alleys and its avenues as I do the lines on my palm."

"Then how does one get to Irants's Inn? Gorbovast in, Majbur referred me to it."

"Best ask a public street car man to carry you thither."

"Street cars?" said Mjipa. "Aye. See ye them yonder?"

The captain handed Mjipa his brass telescope. Squinting through the tube, Mjipa made out a row of man-sized boxes on wheels.

Then the customs officials arrived, to stare at Mjipa's color and look through his bag. They were smaller and darker than the more northerly Krishnan races, and their smelling antennae were conspicuously longer. Mjipa tried out his Khaldoni for "Good afternoon," which brought the Krishnan equivalent of a smile and a rattle of speech in the Kalwmian dialect, too fast too follow.

"Slowly, I pray," said Mjipa.

The man started slowly: "I said, good afternoon. May your liver be light ..." Then the speech became rapid again, losing Mjipa. After further cross talk, Mjipa understood that the man was asking if he were a Terran.

"We get but few in these parts," said the Krishnan. "Betimes they come disguised as natives of our world, with painted skins and simulated smellers. But now any doodle can tell by the timbre of the speaker's voice whether 'tis a truly human being or some alien creature from another world. Be that strange skin and hair ye flaunt your natural parts, or the result of dyes and curlers?"

Mjipa sneaked a quick look at his bilingual dictionary. "Natural," he said gruffly.

"Then answer me another: have ye immortal souls as we have, which, after ye die and are punished in Hishkak for your sins, live on in other mortal bodies?"

Mjipa: "It is disputed question among my fellow Terrans. I not know the answer."

"How many gods have ye?"

"Opinion varies on that, too. Some believe in one, some in three, some in hundreds, and some in none at all."

"Have ye ghosts and demons, as we have?"

"Some believe in them. Look, my friend, I am not learned man; merely a minor official. Some of my fellow Terrans can answer your questions much better."

As the Krishnan turned away, abandoning his theological inquisition, Mjipa breathed a sigh of relief. The customs inspection finished, the officials went away in their boat. The Jafez plodded under sweeps into the harbor and tied up. Sailors departed whooping in search of amusement; longshoremen began unloading cargo.

-

When Mjipa left the ship with his duffel bag slung from one shoulder, he saw what the street cars were. A pair of qong-wood rails, about a meter apart, ran down the middle of the waterfront street. On these stood four boxlike vehicles, painted in patterns of scarlet and blue and gold, contrasting with the drab, uniform beige of the houses. Each car stood on four flanged wheels. Each box contained a forward-facing seat for two. Behind the riders, a crossbar stretched across the back of the vehicle to provide the carman with a purchase.

Mjipa approached the first vehicle, decorated in green with orange polka dots. A naked Kalwmian appeared, to rattle Khaldoni at Mjipa. When the Terran looked blank, the Krishnan spoke slowly, in broken Gozashtandou: "Would—would Your Excellency—ah—like ride?"

"Can you take me to Irants's Inn?"

"Aye, my lord, that I can. Track passes nigh unto door. Pray get ye in."

"How much?" An old Krishnan hand, Mjipa knew better than to accept the offer without a firm advance agreement.

After chaffering, they agreed, and Mjipa climbed in. The carman pushed the vehicle along the track until they came to a side street. Here the track forked, one branch entering the side street. The fork had no movable switch. Mjipa, a railroad buff in his youth, wondered how the carman would make the turn.

The Krishnan put a foot against the cross-member at the lower rear of the body and pulled back on his handlebar, so that the front wheels rose from the track. Then the carman swiveled the body far enough so that, when he lowered the front wheels, they came down on the curved track. The car rumbled peacefully around the curve.

Few pedestrians were abroad. Mjipa guessed that most were enjoying siestas during the heat of the day; as he later learned, this was the dinner hour. An occasional Kalwmian rolled by on a scooter, this simple vehicle being common in all the major cities of the Triple Seas. The few who passed the car glanced at Mjipa, whereupon some of them started, gasped, and stared. To avoid such attention, Mjipa finally pulled the curtains, despite the heat, across the side windows.

When they passed large private houses, spurs of track branched off and entered these buildings. Evidently the richer citizens had their private muscle-powered street cars. Presently another car came round a corner, headed straight towards Mjipa's vehicle.

The cars halted a few meters apart, and the two carmen began shouting. Mjipa stuck his head out of the side to ask what betid.

"I have right of way!" said the carman. "But yonder dolt insists that I, not he, back up to the siding, on fribbling grounds his passenger doth outrank mine. I'll show the losel—"

"Look," said Mjipa, wrestling with the language. "Run car up spur, like this one, and let him pass."

" 'Twere not right!" yelled the carman. "Spurs are private property. 'Twere trespass! Besides, I'll not yield a single yestu to yonder scrowle—"

"Go up the spur!" roared Mjipa, losing-patience. "I'll take—take—" He could not think of the word for "responsibility"; but the carman, intimidated, obeyed. The other car rolled past. Its carman made a rude gesture, which brought a new spate of shouted insults from Mjipa's Krishnan. None objected as Mjipa's man backed out on the main line and resumed his course.

At Irants's Inn, identified by an animal skull over the door, Mjipa paid off his carman and lugged his bag in. An elderly Krishnan sat on the floor behind a low table littered with tally sheets.

"Master Irants?" said Mjipa.

The man looked up, took in Mjipa's height and coloring, started visibly, and shrank back. "Be ye a demon, come to drag me off to Hishkak? I have been a good man! I have not cheated my guests! I have not beaten my wife!"

"I am glad to hear of your virtues, but I am no demon. Here!" Mjipa handed over the emerald-green medallion. "This tells who am."

The man puzzled over the inscriptions."A Terran, ye say? Methinks ye be the first of your kind to honor my establishment. There are those who say all Terrans be in sooth but demons feigning mortal guise, and that the worlds whence these creatures pretend to come are nought but the lamellated hells."

"Look," said Mjipa, controlling his temper. "I want room, understand? Can pay, see? I promise no magical stunts here."

"Aye, sir." Mjipa could have sworn that the Krishnan's teeth chattered. "I'll give you Number Fourteen, an it please Your Lordship."

"I sure it will. Now tell me, who is the Heshvavu's first officer—he who does the daily routine of ruling? I not know your word for it."

"Oh, ye must mean the Phathvum, Lord Chanapar."

"I want speak to him. How to do?"

"Seek ye the Phathvum's secretary and beg an audience."

-

Several days later, Mjipa was ushered into the office of the vizier or premier, Phathvum Chanapar, in the rambling stucco palace. As usual, Mjipa had been required to leave his sword at the entrance to the building.

Chanapar was that rarity, a fat Krishnan, sitting crosslegged on a cushion behind the usual short-legged desk-table and smoking a long Krishnan cigar. Terrans had introduced tobacco to Krishna before the technological blockade took effect. The minister pointed to another cushion, saying: "Sit you, sir." He handed his secretary Mjipa's identification medallion, who in turn gave it back to Mjipa.

Mjipa folded his long legs, imitating the pose of the minister. Having grown up in a house well equipped with chairs, Mjipa found discomfort in kneeling, squatting, or sitting cross-legged; but he endured his pains as part of his job.

"Well, sir?" said the minister. "We get few Terrans in these purlieus. You are in sooth the first in several moons."

"Do they give any trouble?" asked Mjipa, whose Khaldonian had improved. He still stumbled, made mistakes, and groped for words; but few could have mastered the tongue so well in so short a time. If he had not had a natural gift for languages, he could not have held his post.

"Nay, not to speak of," said Chanapar. "So that they go about their business and disturb us not by spreading thwart heretical notions, the tranquility of our administration to disturb, we molest them not."

"Do you know of one, a female named Alicia Dyckman, who passed through here on her way to Zhamanak?"

"Ah, yea; I wondered if you had come that matter to investigate. This golden-haired disturber of the peace was received by my master the Heshvavu, on whom I fear she made not the best impression."

"How so?"

"She sought to convert him, of all people, to the heathen belief that the world was round. As soon as she broached such damnable thoughts, His Awesomeness had her escorted forth.

"Nor was that all. Soon thereafter, spies reported that she was seeking out our learned men and filling them with the same subversive notion. So, wishing neither to see the true faith of our sacred book, dictated to the prophet Shadleiv by the supreme god Phaighost, subverted, nor yet to incur the disfavor of Novorecife, he ordered her out of the realm. Off she went to Mutabwk; but we are informed that she did not long abide there, either.

"Anon, like the seeds of the hyusis plant borne on the breeze, the rumor wafted hither of her distraint in Zhamanak, wherefore I know not. This perturbed us; for none of the Khaldoni nations, whilst their rulers retain their sanity, is fain to stir up a garboil with the Terrans. But we here thought it no duty of ours to mell betwixt the sovran lord of Zhamanak and his importunate visitor. Now, what would you?"

"I am going in after this Terran woman."

"Have a care, good my sir. Lord Khorosh is no dupe, to be flouted with impunity."

"I daresay, but mine duty is to my fellow Terrans. May I hire a few peoples: a guide, couple of helpers, and such, and buy animal and supplies for journey?"

"Certes, good my sir, so that you pay the trilling tax on such transactions. Do but have a care lest you spread false heretical doctrines amongst our folk. I wot that you, as a foreigner, cannot be expected to share all our enlightened beliefs; but keep your heresies mewed up within you and all shall be well. Return you hither in three days, and the needful documents shall be ready."

-

Three days later, Mjipa was back in Chanapar's cabinet. The minister said: "Welcome, good my sir. Alas, I must confess your papers be not yet boun; for affairs of state do press upon my time as did the phantoms evoked by the Witch of the Va'andao Sea press upon the hero Qarar. But your documents shall soon be ready. Meanwhile His Awesomeness, hearing of your presence, commands that you wait upon him. He desires converse with you."

"Oh?" said Mjipa. "I am at his service. When is audience?"

Lord Chanapar heaved his bulk off the floor. "Forthwith, good my sir. Come with me, pray."

Mjipa followed the minister through a maze of halls and chambers. Compared to other palaces he had seen, the furnishings of this one seemed bare and shabby. He asked:"Tell me, please, what is right thing to do when one meets your ruler?"

"Kneel and touch your forehead to the ground. Watch me. Then you will present your gift to the Heshvavu. You have one, I trust?"

Mjipa gulped. Not expecting to be presented to this king, he had not brought a suitable knicknack. Then he remembered the pad of gift certificates in his wallet.

At last they came to a chamber before whose closed doors stood a pair of Kalwmian guards, naked but for spangled loin cloths and gilded helmets, shields, and sandals. Their olive-brown chests bore patterns in gilt paint. To Mjipa they looked more ornamental than useful. Unlike the soldiers of the more northerly nations, they forwent body armor in favor of large shields.

Chanapar spoke to one guard, who bowed and went in through the door. After what seemed to Mjipa an hour's wait, the guard reappeared, saying: "Come, sirs."

They found King Vuzhov sitting on a cushion on the floor of a small chamber, flanked by another pair of guards. A secretary sat nearby with tablets and stylus. The Heshvavu's body paint consisted of austere black stripes, like those of a Terran zebra. Watching the minister, Mjipa sank to both knees and touched his forehead to the floor, suppressing a grunt at the pain in his knees.

"Rise," said the Heshvavu. Vuzhov was a small, elderly Krishnan. These folk showed their age less plainly than Terrans; nonetheless, Vuzhov's hair had faded to jade green, his smelling antennae were ragged, and a close look showed his skin to be covered by a net of fine wrinkles.

The minister said: "Your Awesomeness, I have the honor to present Percy Mjipa, a Terran from Novorecife, on a mission of mercy on behalf of one of his own kind. Master Mjipa, know that you stand in the presence of the Heshvavu of Kalwm and Emperor of the Triple Seas, Vuzhov the Twenty-first." The minister stared at Mjipa, muttering: "The gift!"

"Your Awesomeness," said Mjipa, withdrawing the pad of forms from his wallet, "as you are doubtless aware, the exigencies of travels and dangers of robbery over long journey stop I from bearing gifts suitable for the ruler of Khaldoni nation. Will, however, present—ah—a gift certificate drawn on outfitting shop at Novorecife. It entitle the bearer to any item for sale there."

Mjipa signed the topmost form on the pad, tore it off, and handed it to the king, who passed it on to his secretary. The Heshvavu spoke:

"My Awesomeness thanks you, Master Mjipa. It is an unusual gift, though how we shall ever take advantage thereof, with Novorecife so distant, we cannot at the moment reckon. We hope it can somehow be converted into ruddy gold; for our great, Heaven-storming enterprise devours our coin as the giant Damghan devoured his victims.

"But sit on those cushions, pray. You are the Terran of whom Chanapar hath told us?"

"Yes, sire," said Mjipa.

"And your name—we forget. What is it?"

"Percy Mjipa."

"Puh-see Um-jee-pah. Yeluts!" The king spoke to the secretary. "Fetch these gentlemen something to drink. Now, master—which name go you by in ordinary discourse?"

"The latter, sire; Mjipa."

"Very well, Master—umm—Mujipa. Be this your first visit to our city?"

"Yes, sire."

"What think you thereof?"

"Am—is certainly impressive."

"Observed you our tower? What thought you?"

Mjipa saw that both king and minister were looking intently at him. A wrong answer might get him into trouble; it might even get him killed. "He is a great engineering triumph," he said at last. "I am traveled much, and never have I saw a structure so tall."

To Mjipa's relief, the Heshvavu did not pursue the subject of the tower's purpose, to reach a literal Heaven. Instead, King Vuzhov said: "Now, Master Emjipa—Majipa—how say you that again?"

"Mjipa, sire. Of course Your Awesomeness may pronounce it as you wish."

"Well, Master Terran, pray answer us some questions about your kind. We have seen Terrans ere this, but ne 'er one of your sable hue. How comes it? Were you burnt in a fire?"

"May it please Your Awesomeness, I come from a part of my world called Africa, where folk are thus colored." Mjipa thought of adding an explanation of his color as an evolutionary adaptation to the African sun, but decided not to. Such a discussion might bring up the dangerous topic of the king's flat-world belief.

"And, as we understand, you wish a safe-conduct to Mejvorosh, to learn the place and condition of this Terran female, yclept Dyckman?"

"That is right, sire."

"We shall make no difficulties about that, on one condition. We suppose you will wish to return to Novorecife, through our realm, with this person?"

"Yes, sire."

"We would not have her tarry in Kalwm longer than necessity demands. We found her a disturbing element. So be warned. On your return—if you return—you shall pass through our demesnes with all prudent dispatch. Furthermore, she is forbidden to companion or converse with our folk. We shall hold you responsible for her compliance with this our demand. Dost fully comprehend?"

"Yes, sire."

"And now to a subject more congenial. See you yon chart upon the wall?" The king indicated a large framed sheet of writing material, bearing a spiderweb of lines and tiny bits of writing.

"Yes, sire. What are it?"

"That," said King Vuzhov, "is a chart of our ancestors. It traces the royal line back forty-two generations. For all that time, the heirs to the throne of Kalwm have been alternately named Vuzhov and Roshetsin. Come, let us show you."

Mjipa rose with the others and stood for an hour, while Vuzhov, tracing lines on the chart with his finger, regaled his visitor with tales of the royalties named in the little boxes on the chart. "... now this one, Roshetsin the Ninth, was notable for's lunes, which for sheer moonstrickenness surpassed those of King Gedik in the legend. Becoming convinced that he was a racing shomal for the royal stables, he ordained that he be entered in the annual racing festival.

"But alas, he fell dead of heart failure during the first lap, vainly striving on all fours with the other entrants to keep up. His successor, Vuzhov the Tenth, was a sounder character. His son—what betides, Chanapar?"

"Sire, the envoy from the Republic of Suruskand awaits without."

"Ah, curse it, just when we were coming to the fascinating part! Well, Master Mm—Master Terran, this hath been a most instructive audience. You have our leave."

-

Mjipa and the minister bowed themselves out. Mjipa spent the rest of his day with Minyev, his new factotum, buying mounts and supplies. The sales tax on these purchases he found to be 20 per cent, which seemed to him more than "trifling," as Chanapar had described it. He filed the datum away in his mind, resolving to report to Novorecife that the government of Kalwm was unstable and, because of exorbitant taxation for a futile purpose, in danger of overthrow.

Mjipa had taken his time over hiring Minyev, prowling the city to seek out the previous employers whom Minyev had given as references. Minyev had been one of three Kalwmians whom Irants the innkeeper had recommended. Checking references was arduous, since Mjipa was always getting lost in the tangle of streets. Street maps appeared not to exist. With his limited command of the language, Mjipa had difficulty in persuading passers-by to set him right. Some took fright at his appearance and fled before he finished saying: "Pardon me, sir or madam, but could you direct me ..."

He chose Minyev because Minyev's name brought the most praise and the fewest complaints from the persons named as references whom he could locate. Of one candidate, Mjipa failed to find a single reference. He concluded that the Kalwmian had made the names up out of his head. Another point in Minyev's favor was that, having been to sea in his youth, Minyev spoke fluent Gozashtandou. Therefore he' could help Mjipa out when the latter got stuck with Khaldoni.

With Minyev's help, Mjipa had completed his purchase of ten ayas when the Kalwmian asked: "Wilt depart these lieus forthwith, sir?"

"Just as soon as I can get-the documents from the Phathvum. This is no sightseeing jaunt, and the sooner we arrive the better."

" 'Twould pleasure us both were ye to linger for the trial. A memorable sight that will be."

"What trial?"

"Why, the trial of the notorious heretic, Isayin."

"What is he accused of?" Mjipa asked.

"Teaching his class at the Academy the forbidden doctrine, to wit: that the world be round. Though he be as eloquent as the poet Saqqiz, conviction's certain; for 'tis even said that, like the agitator Khostavorn, he ridiculed our liege lord's great enterprise, his Heaven-storming tower, as a waste of the kingdom's wealth and labor. But this learned doctor is a redoubtable debater, who'll provide the Heshvavu's prosecutors with lively sport. And the execution will be a sight wherof to tell one's children's children. They say the Heshvavu's executioners have devised a quietus as ingenious and lingering as that which overtook Dezful the pirate king."

Mjipa almost burst into a tirade against barbaric ignorance; but he remembered where and who he was and clamped his full lips shut. "I am just as happy not to see this trial," he snapped. "Now come along; we have yet to hire a cook."

II

FRUSTRATION

The road from Kalwm City to Mejvorosh in Zhamanak cut across the territory of another Khaldoni nation, Mutabwk. Here, nine days after leaving Kalwm City, Percy Mjipa and his retinue arrived at the border in a drizzling rain. They had had a long, hard ride on Mjipa's ten ay as. This mount wore its saddle over the middle pair of legs, so that the rider got the full jolt up his spine when the animal trotted. To cover a long distance fast, they had to trot most of the time.

They had escaped adventures save once when, having left the more cultivated parts and plunged into the tropical jungle, they were caught in the path of a herd of wild bishtars. Local hunters had stampeded the animals by fire. These creatures resembled a Terran tapir expanded to elephant size, with a short, bifurcated trunk and six columnar legs. Mjipa's Krishnans seemed on the verge of panicking and running witlessly into the path of the animals. Cursing and threatening, Mjipa gathered them into a clump behind the biggest nearby tree, a buttress-rooted monster eight or nine meters thick, and held them and the ayas while the herd thundered past on either side.

The border was marked by two parallel fences, a few meters apart and extending off into a forest of brilliantly-colored tree trunks on either side. Each fence had a gate where it crossed the road, and each gate was guarded by a squad of soldiers, whose naked torsos bore painted symbols. These, Mjipa supposed, indicated rank and unit. The pattern on the Kalwmians' hides was yellow; that on those of Mutabwk, blue.

Mjipa's party consisted of himself and six Kalwmians, mounted on seven of the ayas. Besides Minyev the factotum, Mjipa had hired two guards, two helpers, and a cook. The remaining beasts carried tents and other baggage.

When Mjipa's party approached, the soldiers of both nations were squatting in a circle in the neutral zone between the fences, playing the local variety of craps. At the sound of sixty hooves, someone yelled a command. The yellow-painted Krishnans scrambled up, took spears and shields from where they leaned against the fence, and formed up at their gate.

Mjipa picked out the Krishnan in command and handed over the passport signed by Minister Chanapar. The officer glanced it over and handed it back, saying: "Pass, sir."

Meanwhile the Mutabwcians had formed up on their side. Their officer blew a whistle, and more soldiers boiled out of a nearby hut.

Again Mjipa proffered his passport; but these Krishnans seemed more suspicious than the easy-going Kalwmians. The officer read the passport through twice, then snapped: "Wait here!"

For long minutes, Mjipa fidgeted on his aya, while the officer conferred in low tones with another. At last the first turned back saying: "By order of the Heshvavu, ye shall accompany us to the capital."

"Why?" said Mjipa. "My business is in Zhamanak."

"That matters not; commands are commands. Wait whilst we prepare your escort."

"Idiots! Masilo!" growled Mjipa in his native Terran tongues.

"What say ye?" barked the officer. "Nothing, General. How far is this capital?"

"Yein lies distant about a hundred regakit."

"What is that in hoda?"

"I know not; 'tis a day's journey at speed." The officer went off to supervise the preparation of the escort, leaving Mjipa and his party surrounded by blue-painted soldiers with spears leveled and crossbows cocked.

Mjipa dismissed any idea of trying to fight his way through. The Mutabwcians had a larger force at the border than at first appeared. These border guards seemed nervous and apprehensive, as did many Krishnans at their first sight of the towering black Terran. Perhaps they, too, thought Mjipa a demon. The consul was careful to make no sudden moves, lest a frightened soldier shoot or spear him in panic.

Krishnans led a string of ayas from some paddock or pasture. With much clatter and chatter, the Mutabwcians got saddled up, armed, and mounted. There were twelve in the escort. Each of Mjipa's party was linked to one rider by a rope around his aya's horns.

At last the junior officer in charge of the escort, named Spisov, shouted, "Go!" and waved his sword. The column set out on the road but soon reached a fork. There stood a battered wooden sign with two arrows, pointing right and left. Each arrow had a word incised in the wood. Mjipa could not read Khaldonian but inferred that one said "Yein" and the other "Mejvorosh."

The column took the left fork and speeded up to a gallop. They kept on until Mjipa worried lest his animals founder. To Spisov he called: "Should you not breathe these beasts?"

The officer, the sun flashing on his silvered helmet, let the column slow to a walk. The ayas plodded ahead, snorting and breathing heavily. Soon the officer brought the column up to a gallop again. When Mjipa protested, Spisov shouted: "We would fain not be on the road all night!"

On they went, with long gallops and short walks and trots. Roqir set; the light dimmed, so that the reds and greens and purples of the tree trunks faded to gray. At the next halt, the officer had some of his men light torches. On they galloped, the yellow flames streaming back with the wind of their passage.

The constellations had been wheeling overhead for hours when they reached the cultivated lands and then, at last, the capital city of Yein. Reeling in his saddle, Mjipa tried without success to memorize the route into the city, in case he should have to run for it. But his fatigue caused the city gates, wall, streets, and buildings to merge into a buzzing blur.

Before Mjipa could figure out where he was, the column pulled up before a large, boxlike building. In a tone a shade less hostile, the officer said: "Here we stop. Since 'tis too late to wait upon His Awesomeness, ye shall pass the night in the barracks."

Whether the accommodations were palatial or squalid, Mjipa did not know. So tired was he that he fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the roll at the end of the pallet. Although a powerful man, he slept the sleep of exhaustion, ignoring the Mutabwcians who came forward to inspect this alien creature dropped into their midst.

-

Mjipa had been through it all before: giving His name and title to startled palace guards; waiting while messengers ran to and fro to confirm his bona fides; being passed from one bureaucrat to another; and at last appearing before the local ruler, or at least his vizier; Most Krishnans, he knew, would turn even greener with envy at his access to such princely circles, but for Percy Mjipa the glamor had long since departed.

Neither did Mjipa flatter himself that such intimacy with the great of this world was the wage of his own beauty or charm. The Krishnans found his appearance strange, alarming, and if anything repulsive. But they knew something of Terran science and Terran weapons in particular. So they usually took Mjipa seriously, whatever mixture of admiration, envy, resentment, or fear a ruler might harbor towards Terrans.

The consul could never be sure of his reception. He might be invited to a royal banquet, complete with dancing girls; or he might be thrown bodily out of the palace, or even wind up in the dungeon.

Mjipa was brought to the palace before sunrise; Khaldonians kept both early and late hours, sleeping through much of the afternoon. He was struck by the contrast between this palace and Vuzhov's. Where the royal abode in Kalwm City was bare and shabby, that in Yein bore the signs of opulence, confirming the repute of Mutabwk as the richest of the Khaldonian nations. This wealth was derived from rich mines of gold, silver, and copper. Everywhere in the palace, servants were scrubbing the floor, dusting the furniture, polishing ornamental vessels of gold and silver, wiping pictures on the walls, and watering potted plants. Kalwm, he thought, should have been equally rich from the trade through its seaport; but its wealth for many years had gone into Vuzhov's tower.

The minister to whom Mjipa was finally passed bore the name of Zharvets. He sat on a cushion behind the low desk-table, on which stood an hourglass to remind callers that their time was up. A ray of morning sunshine, through one of the high windows, struck golden gleams from the hourglass, evidently filled with gold dust instead of common sand.

Mjipa cut the usual amenities short, saying:"Sir, I protest this outrage!"

"Outrage?" said Zharvets, his smelling plumes rising with his eyebrows. "Officer Spisov, have you been beating or otherwise tormenting this Terran?"

"Nay, Your Altitude," said the lieutenant.

The minister turned back to Mjipa. "Then, good my sir, wherein lies the outrage?"

"Despite my passport from the Heshvavu Vuzhov," snarled Mjipa, "I have been seized and forcibly taken a day's journey out of my way, thus imperiling my mission to Zhamanak. This mission has taken far too long already, and further delays may prove fatal to the Terran on whose behalf I am traveling." He thrust out the pale-green plaque that hung round his neck. "If there be any doubt of who I am, here is my identification."

The minister gave the Krishnan equivalent of a smile. "You must needs allude to that female Terran, who wandered through these purlieus some moons past. I heard she was clapped up in Zhamanak and wondered how soon Novorecife would send someone to investigate. My sovran lord warned Khorosh, but the frampold scorned the caution."

"How long was she in Mutabwk?"

"A few days only. On her arrival, she had an audience with the Heshvavu. Methinks he offered her an honorable place in's harem, he being a wight of notable virility. What befell betwixt them I know not; but she soon departed the palace. Eftsoons we learned that she was going about telling our folk strange subversive tales of your Terran forms of government. No slight to them is intended; but such systems of governance were quite inappropriate on this world.

"Since His Awesomeness wished not to find his throne rocking beneath him in consequence of these anarch whim-seys, he packed her off to Zhamanak with all dispatch. There she must have fallen afoul of the Heshvavu Khorosh, who holds her in durance.

"And now, His Awesomeness hath been apprised of your coming hither and commands your presence. Kindly accompany Spisov thither."

-

The Heshvavu of Mutabwk, Ainkhist, proved younger than Vuzhov; in Terran terms, a man of healthy middle age. He sat on a pile of cushions on the floor behind his low table and wrote on a long strip of native paper. The subdued light gleamed on his bejeweled necklace, rings, and other gauds. He looked up, saying:

"So you are the Terran official from Novorecife? Welcome to our demesne. How do you?"

Mjipa: "I merely do my duty, Awesomeness, so far as I am able. You know of the imprisonment of Alicia Dyckman by your neighboring monarch, the Heshvavu Khorosh. I mean to find her, learn why she is detained, and free her—by persuasion and reason if possible; by other means if not. Therefore I must protest this needless delay. It means she might be harmed or killed before I could reach her. Why have I been arrested?"

"Because, for the good of the kingdom, we wish to learn what we can about folk from distant lands and other worlds. We intend you no harm, if you will but satisfy our curiosity. To begin: you differ most strikingly from the other Terrans we have encountered. How comes this to be?"

Mjipa repeated what he had told the previous king about his African origin.

"Hmm," said the monarch."Are you of the same species as other Terrans? Or belong you to a different kind, unable to interbreed with the rest? We've disputed the point with a fellow ruler."

"We are all of one kind, sire. We can breed as freely as law, custom, and propinquity allow."

"Now then," continued the Heshvavu, "tell me how this breeding be accomplished. We hear divers tales; but we mean for once to have the sooth."

Mjipa squirmed on his cushion. "You mean, sire, you want to know how the—ah—how the Terran male impregnates the female?"

"That is precisely it. What's the form of their respective organs, and how are they put to use? Amongst the creatures of this world, there's a variety of ways."

Mjipa gulped; he would have blushed if he had been capable of it. "Well—ah—umm—"

"Speak up, man! We cannot hear."

"Our visitor seems ill at ease," said the minister. "Amongst your folk, Master Mjipa, are such affairs a secret dark and dread, that you may not speak thereof?"

"No, sir. As I was brought up—but never mind. I will tell." Mjipa took a deep breath and plunged into an account of human genitalia, copulation, and parturition.

When he ran out of breath, the king and the minister exchanged glances. Ainkhist said: " 'Tis much like our own process, save that our females lay eggs, instead of giving birth to living young as do the six-legged beasts. But tell us, hast ever heard of the female's organ biting off that of the male during coitus?"

Mjipa started, then burst into laughter. "By all the gods, sire, what a gruesome idea! Your answer is no; our females have no teeth or beaks in those parts. Your informant must have confused Terrans of my species with those little creatures called spiders, of whom the female eats the male after he has served his purpose."

"So!" said Ainkhist. "Methought 'twas but a taradiddle.

Let's hope the custom of your spah-ee-dahs ne'er comes to this our world. One more question: be it true that coitus can be done 'twixt Terrans of either sex and normal human beings?"

"I believe so, sire. I have heard of such successful copulations, although I have never tried one."

"So! We are fain to try one of your Terran women. Our harem harbors females from near and far, and we would further broaden our experience ere we wax too old to enjoy it. Me thought we had plumbed the depths when we futtered that wild tailed woman from Fossanderan. Know you, these savages have never learnt the face-to-face position? When we first essayed to mount her ..."

The king launched into a speech on what was evidently, apart from history, his favorite subject. He described his relations with the females of his seraglio in minute detail, causing the straitlaced Mjipa to squirm with embarrassment.

Unused to reading Terran body language, the Krishnans remained oblivious. The Heshvavu droned on until a flunkey came in and whispered in the minister's ear. Zharvets held up a hand and, when the Heshvavu paused in his monologue, said:

"The audience with the leatherworkers' guild, sire."

"Oh, ah, aye, we forget. Pray excuse us."

"Your Awesomeness," said Mjipa, "does this mean I may continue on my way to Zhamanak?"

The Heshvavu gave Mjipa a searching look. "Not so fast, good my Terran. The thought hath stricken me that, belike, we can of mutual service be. See you this?" Ainkhist held up the long strip of paper.

"Yes, sire. What is it?"

"Know that we do indite a history of the Khaldoni nations, our glorious past forever to enshrine in the livers of our folk by means of that useful but dangerous Terran device, the printing press, whereof we have heard tales. It is, we understand, in use in Mikardand and elsewhere. Now, the Heshvavu Vuzhov hath something whereof we stand in need. Had you audience with him?"

"Yes, sire."

"Showed he you that chart of's ancestors?"

"Yes. How did Your Awesomeness guess?"

"Because for years no visitor to his cabinet hath escaped without Vuzhov's showing off his chart and lecturing the visitor on's forebears, back to the first human pair, begotten by Phaighost on a phwchuv at the time of the Creation. Now, we require a copy of that chart for our history, to straighten out dates and synchronism of reigns."

"Can't you ask him for a copy?"

"We have, and the selfish coystril ignores our requests. You see, O Terran, next to that silly tower of his, this chart is the thing in's entire kingdom wherein the pettish noddy takes most pride. Did he but let another have a copy, 'twere no more unique, and he'd take less satisfaction in the showing thereof. He still likes to fancy himself as ruling the great Kalwmian Empire; wherefore that long-outworn title, Emperor of the Triple Seas. Pho! He no longer rules one sea, let alone three.

"When we sent an envoy to Vuzhov to beseech him to let a copy be made, the princox not only renied our civil request but even said he meant to have the chart interred with's corse. He said: 'When I die, this knowledge shall die with me!' Such a wicked waste of irreplaceable knowledge!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"You shall backare to Kalwm City and persuade Vuzhov to give you a copy. Fetch it hither, and your path to Zhamanak shall lie open before you."

"By Dupulán's guts, how am I supposed to do that?" cried Mjipa. "If your envoy, knowing the circumstances better than I ever could—"

"Calm yourself, good my Terran," said Ainkhist, making soothing motions. "After all, you have the prestige of a leiger of Novorecife. Your—ah—unusual appearance, even for a Terran, should lend weight to your demands."

For half an hour, Mjipa argued against this plan on every ground he could think of. But the Heshvavu remained adamant, saying: "That is our offer, Master What's-your-name. Take it or leave it. And think not to start back for Kalwm City but leave the road and circle round the corner of Mutabwk territory. Our border extends many regakit to the west; the border is well guarded; and my men shall have orders to beware of any such attempt.

"And now we must not longer try the leatherworkers' patience. As a gift to you, we shall send a slave girl to your quarters for the night. From what you tell us, your respective organs should be compatible. Thus you, too, shall broaden your experience. We shall welcome your account of the effect upon you, in intimate detail. You have my leave, gentlemen."

Startled, Mjipa could only murmur: "Your Awesomeness is too kind!" He had heard of such customs; but none had ever been practiced upon him. Hence he was at a loss as to how to respond.

-

Back at the barracks, Mjipa told Minyev of his interview. The Kalwmian rolled his eyes and raised his hands. "Thank your Terran gods, sir, that this Heshvavu is a mild, scholarly wight. Had ye sought to argue and bully the Lord Khorosh into something athwart his will, your head would soon contemplate the scene from a rusty spike atop the main gate, Terran official though ye be."

Mjipa grunted and felt his head. "It seems to be still attached," he told Minyev. Privately he thought he had, perhaps, presumed too far on his immunity as a Terran official. Other Terrans had made the same mistake among these high-spirited, hot-tempered Krishnans and ended up dead. He must try to be more careful.

During the afternoon, while checking equipment, Mjipa worried over what to do with the Krishnan slave girl when she arrived. One side urged him to go ahead and use her, and to hell with the consequences. He would be careful not to hurt her, and he could not impregnate her, since Terran-Krishnan hybrids were genetically impossible. The saying among Earthmen on Krishna was: "More easily cross a man with a geranium." After three moons since leaving Novorecife, Mjipa's sexual drive insistently demanded relief.

As the product of a straitlaced upbringing, however, the other side of Mjipa's nature held him back. The baMangwato were a folk of austere standards, further reinforced by the neo-Puritan movement. Besides, Percy thought, the girl would probably be a spy for the palace, if indeed she was not sent to murder him in his sleep. Even if she were not, Victoria might hear of it and raise holy hell.

-

Tired, Mjipa retired after supper. He had barely doffed his sandals when a knock announced the slave girl.

"I am clept Ovanel," she said, gracefully dipping and bobbing. She unfastened the exiguous kilt and tossed it aside, leaving her nude but for sandals and necklace. "Doth my lord wish to come in unto me now?"

"No, Ovanel," growled Mjipa. "Nobody goes in unto anybody tonight. Tell His Awesomeness I thank him, but ..."

While Mjipa tried to think of an excuse, the slave girl burst into tears. "An I fail to pleasure you, they will b-beat me, even as Qarar beat the king of 'Ishk!" she wailed.

"We cannot have that," grumpled Mjipa. "Tell them I am sick with headache."

"I hear and obey." Doffing her sandals, she stretched herself out on the floor beside Mjipa's narrow pallet. "Belike my lord would liefer futter me on the morrow?"

"No!" roared Mjipa. "Put that little garment back on and go back to the palace. Here!" He handed her a silver kard of Majbur, wondering how he should class the expenditure on his expense account. Pierce Angioletti, a very proper Bostonian, was severe in such matters."Tell them I enjoyed you so much I feared another would kill me. Now get along, little one."

For an instant, Ovanel seemed torn between outraged vanity at being sent away untried and joy at the money. At last she said: "Will ye do me one small favor, my lord?"

"What is?"

"Show me that Terran custom clept 'kissing', whereof we do hear rumors in the palace."

Mjipa dug his strong black fingers into his woolly hair.

"Jesus Christ almighty!" he groaned in English, adding, "Modimo wa kgolo!" in Setswana. In Khaldoni he said: "No, Ovanel dear, no can do. I made a religious vow. Now go before I beat you as Qarar did the king of 'Ishk!"

She went at last. Sweating heavily, Mjipa leaned against the door. To himself he said: Well, Percy, you came through with your damned honor intact, although it was teetering on the edge for a while. If you had laid a hand on her, or shown her what a kiss was, or let her stay the night... Maybe I'm just a damned fool. Maybe Vicky is right to twit me on my silly moralism; but she'd be the first to raise hell if I abandoned it. As the Americans say, you can't win. So you might as well face the fact and get some sleep.

-

After a day in Yein to rest men and animals, Mjipa set out for Kalwm. When the party reached the border, Lieutenant Spisov handed a note to the Kalwmians' commanding officer, and the two held a low conversation. Mjipa's people passed the night in a hut of the border guard and set out for Kalwm City next morning, accompanied by another junior officer. Ainkhist must have sent the note, Mjipa thought, urging the Kalwmians to watch the Terran and his party closely.

Back in Kalwm City, Mjipa sought out Minister Chanapar and told him of Ainkhist's demand. The Phathvum threw up his hands. "Gods above! You know the Heshvavu's attitude on that chart. As soon lift a bishtar with one hand as try to change it."

"My lord," said Mjipa, "you know something of the Terrans' power. We have orders not to interfere with the Krishnan states, but that does not mean we must quietly submit to every outrage perpetrated upon our fellow Terrans. "

Chanapar shrugged. "What you do to Khorosh is your affair. We in Kalwm are not responsible."

"But you—or rather, your Heshvavu—holds the key to this situation. Without that chart, I cannot even get to Zhamanak to right Khorosh's wrongs."

"That is unfortunate; but it does not alter the mind of His Awesomeness."

"Furthermore," Mjipa insisted, "you know that Terran influence is bound to increase among the Khaldoni nations, as travel between here and Novorecife becomes more frequent. A wise ruler would make sure of being on the right side 'of Novorecife before the problems that arise from such contacts manifest themselves."

Chanapar sighed. "You're as persistent as Gedik was when he sought to lasso the moons! But I fear me our Heshvavu's mind is not overly concerned with the ilk of future commercial advantages ..."

-

Mjipa returned to the Phathvum's office the next day, and the day after that. He argued, cajoled, and uttered veiled threats. Nothing moved the minister or, presumably, the king to whom he reported.

Between times, Mjipa canvassed the possibilities of more direct action. In theory one could, by leaving the road to Mejvorosh before reaching the Mutabwcian border, make a wide detour through the forest to reach the border of Zhamanak without crossing Mutabwcian territory. Mjipa studied maps, but these brought no comfort. Aside from the single road and the swath between the fences marking the borders, there were no roads through that region. Presumably there were game trails, but it would take years of living in the region to become familiar with them.

Allowing for the sloth of hacking one's way through a trackless tropical jungle, the detour would take several moons at least. Nor did Mjipa see how he could carry enough supplies to keep himself and his escort fed. He knew that few things in such a jungle were edible by Terrans, and it would take years to become adept at hunting or finding them. No, it would have to be the less heroic but more practical journey by road.

-

Mjipa approached his fourth visit to the Phathvum with some apprehension. During the last audience, Chanapar had shown an understandable eagerness to be rid of his importunate visitor. This time, Mjipa feared that the minister would refuse even to see him.

Chanapar, however, pleasantly surprised Mjipa. "Ah there, Master Terran! When you were here yesterday, said you not you would do us any favor within your power in return for that chart?"

"Yes, sir." Mjipa feared that the Phathvum was about to ask for Terran weapons, which request Mjipa would have to refuse. But Chanapar said:

"I have taken counsel with His Awesomeness, and he hath graciously advised me that there is, indeed, one such favor you can do."

"And that is?"

"Hast heard of the heretic, Doctor Isayin, soon to be tried for spreading subversive notions about the shape of the world?"

"I have. What about him?"

"The trial opens on the morrow. Facing a delicate political situation, the Heshvavu is anxious that nought interfere with the orderly conduct of this trial. A rumor hath got abroad that Terrans, whom the common folk credit with exaggerated wisdom, uphold quiddities like unto Isayin's about the shape of the world. We cannot have that sort of thing in an orderly, well-run kingdom."

"Well, sir?" said Mjipa, puzzled.

"To counteract this rumor, His Awesomeness would have a Terran testify at the trial; that he aver that a substantial number of Terrans hold a view like unto the official one here. And here you are."

"You mean," said Mjipa, "that you want me to appear at this trial as a witness and testify that I think your world is flat?"

"You and a substantial number of others of your kind." As Mjipa looked as if he were about to burst into speech, Chanapar held up a hand. "Nay, tell me not whether you agree with that opinion. I had liefer not know. Do but answer 'Aye' to the questions the prosecutor will put, and you shall have your copy of the genealogical chart."

Jaw set, Mjipa stared at the floor. The proposal was intensely distasteful. To swear in court to an absurd opinion was dishonorable, all the more so if his testimony would help convict a brave, enlightened Krishnan servant. At last Mjipa asked:

"If Isayin is convicted, what will be done to him?"

"That is for the justicers to decide. It can be aught from ten years' imprisonment to death."

Mjipa pondered further. If he refused, there was little chance that he would get to Zhamanak, and the gods of Krishna only knew what would become of Alicia Dyckman. While Mjipa tried to be fair to Krishnans, in a question of a Terran's life against a Krishnan's, the Terran would have to be a scoundrel indeed before Mjipa would side against his own species.

"I will do it," he said at last.

"Good! Methought you would," said the Phathvum.

"Has the copy of this chart yet been made?"

"Yerkus, our leading caligrapher, swinks upon it e'en now."

"May I see how far it has progressed? Not that I mistrust you, Your Altitude, but I wish to forestall unforseen obstacles."

"I can make arrangements. Bide you here." The minister left the chamber but soon returned, saying: "Come!"

Mjipa followed the Phathvum through the same maze of corridors as before. This time, King Vuzhov was not in his cabinet. Instead, another Krishnan sat at the royal desk-table, laboriously copying out the lines and names of the chart on another sheet of native paper.

Mjipa looked over the Kalwmian's shoulder and nodded. "I will attend your trial. When and where do you wish me to appear?"

-

When called to the witness's cushion, Mjipa strode across the space before the dais occupied by the three judges. The audience in the courtroom stirred and muttered at the sight of him. Across the room the defendant, a small, wizened Krishnan, stared at Mjipa. The consul thought he read reproach in that look, although it was hard for an Ertsu to interpret Krishnans' expressions.

The prosecutor said: "Master Mjipa, whereas you are a Terran, we cannot expect you to bind yourself by an oath to our gods. If you will swear by the Terran gods, that will suffice."

Mjipa suppressed a smile. "I suppose I can."

"Very well. Swear by these gods—you must needs name them—that you will speak the truth, the entire truth, and nought but the truth."

"I swear by God, Yahveh, Allah, Brahma—ah— Modimo, Odin, and Zeus that I will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"You are Peh-see Um-jee-pah?"

"Yes."

"A native of the world you call 'Earth'?"

"I am."

"And presently domiciled at Novorecife?"

"Yes."

"A leiger of the government of your native world?"

"If you mean an official representative, yes."

"You are familiar with the official belief of Kalwm, that our world be flat and disk-shaped, as set forth in our sacred book, dictated to the prophet Shadleiv by the god Phai-ghost?"

"Yes."

"And you have also heard of the heretical doctrine said to have been taught by the defendant, that the world be round like unto a ball, so that all the water would run off it?"

"I have."

"Is it true that many of your fellow Terrans believe a doctrine like unto the official one of Kalwm, that the world be a flat disk?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. The advocate for the defendant will now question you."

Mjipa swore under his breath. Chanapar had said nothing about his being cross-examined. If Isayin's attorney trapped him into admitting that, among Ertsuma, only a handful of zanies still maintained that the Earth was flat, the effect of his previous testimony would be nullified, and the king would have an excuse to withhold the chart. Grimly he settled himself on his cushion, preparing to fence with this new antagonist.

The defendant's attorney, an intense-looking young Krishnan, said: "You stated, Master Mjipa, that amongst your fellow Terrans many adhere to the flat-world opinion, did you not?"

"I did."

"Do many also adhere to a round-world belief, like unto that attributed to Doctor Isayin?"

"There are some such."

"How numerous are these round-worlders?"

"I do not know."

"I mean, what are the relative magnitudes of the two groups of believers, the flat-worlders and the round-worlders?"

"I do not know that, either."

"Canst guess?"

"No, sir."

"What is your personal belief about the shape of the world?"

"I have none."

"What! A widely-traveled Terran, and you expect me to believe you have never even thought on the shape of the world?"

"I have thought about it, but without coming to a conclusion. "

"Explain that, pray."

"I have heard arguments in favor of both views. The arguments on both sides seem well reasoned, so I await more conclusive evidence before making up my mind."

"Believe you that a learned man, like unto my client, should bear witness to what he believes to be truth, even though those in power disagree?"

"Such a belief is held by many of my fellow Terrans; but that applies only to my native world. As to what this defendant and his government ought to do, that is their affair. I have no opinions on that question."

"Suppose Doctor Isayin were a Terran; would you then think he should speak out his true beliefs?"

"Sir, I cannot answer a hypothetical question. What he ought to do on my native world, if he were of my own species, has nothing to do with what he should do here and now."

"You do not, then, believe in absolute standards of right and wrong?"

"I have no opinion on such profound philosophical questions. I am no priest or philosopher, merely an official trying to perform his duties."

The attorney gave up. "Very well; no more questions. You may withdraw."

The next witness was the High Priest of Phaighost, clad in a billowing robe of black gauze. After preliminary questions, the prosecutor asked: "My lord, what is our religion's official doctrine anent the shape of the world?"

"It is that the world have the form of a flat, circular disk, with the heavens forming a hemispherical dome above it."

"What is the evidence for this doctrine?"

The High Priest put on his eyeglasses and whisked a book from his robe. Like other Krishnan books, this consisted of a long strip of paper folded zigzag between a pair of thin wooden covers. He untied the string that held the book closed and opened at one of the bends in the strip. Mjipa thought the priest must have marked the page with some form of clip or place mark to enable him to find it so quickly.

In a sonorous, homiletic voice, the High Priest spoke: "I have here a copy of the Vetsareph, our sacred book, known to all of you. I shall read from Chapter Fourteen, verse nine: 'And the gods in Heaven sit upon their golden thrones above the dome of the sky; and below, upon the disk of the world, the people thereof appear but as bugs to them.' That is as plain a statement of the form of the world as one can find.

"If, howsome ver, there remain any doubt of the purport of this divinely inspired passage, I shall read from the twenty-second chapter, verse forty-three: 'And the Lord Phaighost, king of the gods and master of the universe, took his servant Shadleiv up to the top of Mount Meshaq, whence he showed him all the lands of the world, with its kingdoms, republics, tribes, and uninhabited wastelands.' Obviously, had the world the form of a cube, sphere, pyramid, or other geometrical solid, the prophet Shadleiv could not have seen all parts of the world at one time from one place.

"Finally, I shall read from the twenty-seventh chapter, third verse: 'And the Lord Phaighost said unto Shadleiv: "Verily, my son, my words shall go out from thee and thy disciples unto the ends of the world, unto the extremest rim and circumference thereof. Plainly, no matter what demon-inspired aliens from the lamellated hells say, a sphere can have neither end nor rim ..."

Mjipa rose and left the courtroom, mopping sweat from his shiny black forehead. Although it was too late in the day to set out for Zhamanak, he did not wish to remain in the chamber for more of this medieval heresy trial. Although he had successfully parried the defending lawyer's questions, he felt ashamed for doing so. He could not bear to linger at the scene where he had been forced into hypocritically proclaiming lies as his true beliefs.

Later, at Chanapar's office, the minister said: "You did not come out so strongly for the flat world as my master, reading a transcript of today's proceedings, would have liked."

"You didn't warn me I was to be cross-examined. I had to evade those unforeseen questions as best I could without preparation."

"True; that was an oversight. The Heshvavu would have withheld the copy of the chart; but I persuaded him that, since the copy had been completed, it were pointless not to give it to you. Here you are."

"Thanks," grunted Mjipa, carefully folding the large sheet until he could insert it into his wallet. "With your kind permission, I shall set out for Zhamanak at daybreak tomorrow."

-

Ten days later, Mjipa and his Krishnans arrived again at the borders of Mutabwk. When the blue-painted officers recognized him, he drew forth the folded copy of the genealogical chart.

"Here!" he said. "This is what your Heshvavu demanded as the price of letting me through. May I now proceed?"

"Not yet," said the commanding officer. "First, this paper must be taken to Yein for the government's approof."

Mjipa groaned. "Do you mean another of those breakneck all-night rides?"

"Ye need not go. Spisov! Take this paper forthwith to the Minister Zharvets. If he approve, return hither post-haste with a written authorization to let his Terran and his escort through." The officer turned back to Mjipa. "Ye might as well dismount and make yourself comfortable, Master Terran. 'Twill be at least two days ere Spisov can return with your permission."

Silently fuming, Mjipa slid from his mount. At last he said:"Is there a good, strong drink of kvad anywhere? I think I've earned it."

III

CONFRONTATION

When Percy Mjipa had called upon the Heshvavu of Kalwm, he had been compelled to leave his sword with a guard at the door, this being a normal precaution in audiences with Krishnan rulers. He did not mind, since he always felt awkward wearing medieval weaponry, as if caught in a fancy-dress party from which he could not escape. When he visited the Heshvavu of Mutabwk, he had been relieved both of sword and of dagger.

The guards at the chamber of Khororsh, Heshvavu of Zhamanak, not only took his sword and dagger; they also searched him, hoisting his kilt and taking an unseemly interest in the details of his anatomy. Hence Mjipa was not in the best of humor when ushered into the presence. Sweat beaded his black skin, not only because of the steamy heat but also from his apprehension of a difficult task.

Like other Zhamanacians, Khorosh was naked but for a belt holding small personal possessions, and for a gaudy array of body paint in scarlet and gold. His scalp was shaven. As an old Krishnan hand, Percy Mjipa was used to nudity. But his Terran prejudices took a poor view of the Zhamanacians' custom of painting their sexual parts in contrasting colors. It was, he could not help thinking, in bad taste.

Mjipa dutifully touched the ground with his forehead. When commanded to rise, he studied the Krishnan before him.

As nearly as he could judge, Khorosh was relatively young, of slender, almost fragile build. Like other Khaldonians, Khorosh's organs of smell, the feathery antennae, were longer and more luxuriant than those of the more northerly races. These appendages were now lowered, so that the Heshvavu peered out from under a dense hedge of eyebrow and antenna. After a long silence, during which Mjipa had the feeling of being X-rayed by the king's piercing eyes, Khorosh said:

"O Terran, what wouldst?"

The tenseness of the voice suggested to Mjipa that this native might prove difficult. Squaring his broad shoulders, he said:"May it please Your Awesomeness, I have been sent by Novorecife to look into the report that you are holding a female Terran against her will."

The Heshvavu kept another long silence, then said: "We hear you. We also smell you. What then?"

"Well, are you holding her?" snapped Mjipa, inwardly seething at the allusion to his body odor.

Up went the feathery smelling plumes. "That is no affair of yours. As sovran ruler here, we hold whom we wish."

"My fellow Terrans," said Mjipa, "take a serious view of such detainments. They have authorized me to ask you formally, are you holding Alicia Dyckman?"

The Krishnan gave the ghost of a Krishnan smile. "What if we are? She came hither of her own accord, without invitation or safe-conduct from us."

Mjipa said: "I have here a letter from the Comandante at Novorecife, protesting this treatment of a Terran citizen. It is in Gozashtandou, because there was nobody at Novorecife competent to translate it into good Khaldoni." He handed over the letter, adding: "Permit me to ask, sire, what has Mistress Dyckman done to merit incarceration, which amongst us Terrans is deemed a punishment for crimes?"

"We have heard of you Terrans' curious notions of justice. We in Zhamanak deal with the matter more cheaply, expeditiously, and effectively. When we catch a felon, we simply smite off a foot, a hand, or in serious cases a head. None of this nonsense of locking him up, feeding him for years, and releasing him to prey some more upon his fellow beings. Were you Terrans not so puffed up with self-conceit, which tells you that you have the right to conquer and enslave the universe, you could learn lessons from us true human beings."

"But that has nothing to do with Alicia Dyckman—" The Heshvavu held up a hand."We tolerate not argument, Terran. We are who we are! So guard that saucy tongue of yours, an you be not fain to suffer one of our forms of justice. But, foe though you be, your talk summons a thought to mind, as the trumpet of Qarar summoned the spirits of the dead to battle the phantoms evoked by the Witch of the Va'andao.

"At the last conference of the Khaldoni kings, we fell into a dispute with Vuzhov anent Terrans. He'd have it that they belonged to divers species, citing differences in size and color amongst them. I refuted this, pointing out equal variance betwixt, say, the Khaldonians and the folk of Dur. But this prolixious ancient maintained that the gap betwixt persons like you and other Terrans was, rather, like unto that between us here and the tailed wild folk.

"Never would we trust Vuzhov's judgment since, like some other monarchs of this world, he's blind to the menace of the Terrans. Still, you come at an opportune time, to furnish us with a key to this mystery. We are fortunate in that the differences betwixt you and the other Terrans we have seen are greater than any we have observed amongst these others. If you can interbreed with these others, then little doubt remains that all Terrans are of one species.

"So you shall presently encounter this female Terran. You shall, moreover, monstrate to our satisfaction whether you and she be interfertile. Seize him!"

Three guards threw themselves upon Mjipa, grabbing his arms. With a bellow of rage he shook them off, hurling one against the wall with such force that the flimsy structure of the palace shook. But others rushed upon him, until several hung on each limb, holding him helpless.

"Novorecife shall hear of this!" he roared.

The slim, youthful Heshvavu smiled coldly. "Put him in the detention chamber with the other Terran. Make sure the door be well secured."

Mjipa found himself carried supine along the hallway by eight or nine Zhamanacians. After several turns and passing through chambers and doorways, he was borne into what seemed a small apartment filled with daylight. He heard a sharp cry in a feminine Terran voice.

The Krishnans holding Mjipa began swinging him back and forth, while someone counted: "Bur ... aka ... wch!" At "wch" they all let go. Mjipa flew through the air, to crash down on the floor in the center.

-

Mjipa scrambled up, to see the Krishnans rush out the door and slam it. He heard heavy bolts shot. Behind him the same voice said in English:

"Good God! Aren't you Percy Mjipa, whom I met in Baianch?"

Mjipa turned, wincing and limping from the bruises. There stood Alicia Dyckman, a slender young woman of a little over average height—just under 170 centimeters. She had honey-blond hair and blue eyes. White men, Mjipa thought sourly, would doubtless find her the most beautiful thing on two legs. Her well-defined cheek bones, her narrow nose with a tiny up-tilt at the end, and her delicately-refined features were just what Caucasoids found attractive in advertisements and on the cinematic screen. These features made little impression on Mjipa, whose ideas of feminine beauty, formed in his youth in Botswana, were different.

Barefoot, Alicia was clad in a short-sleeved khaki shirt and shorts. The garments were not very clean, and a pocket of the shirt was torn to uselessness.

Mjipa looked around. The room was about four by six meters—the interior part of it. A similar area extended out from the house into the palace gardens. Metal bars, upholding a roof, walled in this section. A system of curtains and blinds, now rolled up against the ceiling, divided the indoor and outdoor parts of the apartment.

A low bed with a wooden frame criss-crossed with rope stood in one corner. Another corner was occupied by an inclosure of rough boards, through the door of which Mjipa could see the crude Khaldonian equivalent of bathroom accessories. A simple bench completed the furnishings.

Mjipa's glance around took but seconds. He said: "Yes, I'm Mjipa."

"But how—why—"

"I was sent here to rescue you, but now it looks as if they'd have to send someone to rescue both of us."

"You poor darling! Why should Khorosh throw you in here, too? Mostly they 're pretty careful how they treat Terran officials. Don't you have diplomatic immunity?"

"These blokes never heard of it. For that matter," said Mjipa, "why has he chucked you in chokey? Did you provoke him, as you seem to have done Vuzhov and Ainkhist?"

"I didn't have time to do anything. I had hardly arrived when Khorosh's people seized me and put me in here."

"Didn't they give any reason?"

"Oh, Khorosh visited me. He said he wanted to study a Terran in depth, because he was sure we were his enemies, who would try to conquer and exploit his people."

"Sounds as if he'd been reading Earthly history."

"Perhaps he had. He thinks of us as the same as the European empire-builders of the nineteenth century."

"Or Muhammad's Arabs or Caesar's Romans; it's all the same thing. Neither Bill Kennedy nor I ever had an imperialistic thought; but how do we know what the policy at Novorecife will be a hundred years hence?"

"Well, perhaps. But do you see those holes in the ceiling?" She pointed. "That's so Khorosh or his minions can peer down to watch us. That's why I insisted on a private bathroom and finally talked them into making one." She indicated the inclosure. "It sometimes pays to be a talker; I think they built it so as not to have to listen to my complaints any more. But what about you?"

"If Khorosh were human, I'd call him a bloody paranoid, who can't brook the slightest disagreement. Besides— ahem—" Mjipa stared at the ground. "If I understood him—my Khaldoni isn't very good, and when they rattle it at me I get lost—anyway, I think he said he wanted to learn if your race and mine were—ah—interfertile."

Alicia stared, then burst into laughter. "You mean, he wants to see us fuck and find out what comes of it?"

Mjipa visibly winced. Alicia said: "Oh, come, Percy, don't tell me I've shocked a big, strong, experienced man like you?"

"In Botswana, among my kind of people," said Mjipa stiffly, "ladies don't use such language. But you Americans can do as you like."

"Well, I'll call it coition or sexual congress or carnal knowledge, if it'll make you happier. Anyhow, these people seem to have a glimmering of the distinction between species and varieties. I'm afraid—"

The bolts clanked, and the door opened. A pair of shaven-headed Zhamanacians, backed by armed guards, stepped gingerly into the room. One tossed in a rolled-up pallet; the other, Mjipa's duffel bag. They backed out and slammed and bolted the door.

"Excuse me," said Mjipa, unfastening his bag. He went through the contents with experienced hands and straightened up. "God damn these bloody natives! The beggars took out every piece of metal—everything they think I might use to get out of here. They even took my razor." Mjipa angrily stuffed tobacco into his pipe, started to light it, then waved it at Alicia. "Mind?"

"Not a bit," she said. Mjipa lit the pipe and sent out a vast cloud of smoke. Alicia continued:"Then you'll have to grow a beard, that's all."

"Trouble is, my whiskers are as sparse as a Krishnan's, so they'll look like hell."

"They did the same sort of thing with me. I can't even mend my clothes, because they wouldn't leave me my sewing kit. Do you still have your longevity pills? I'm nearly out of mine."

"Yes, here are my LPs, thank Bákh. So we shan't grow old and die at a mere seventy as our poor forebears did. But about this daft idea of Khorosh's—"

"Don't look at me with the lust light in your eyes, Percy! I don't care for it. I didn't bring any contraceptive pills or devices with me; I knew I was safe from pregnancy while I was alone among Krishnans, even if I got raped. That hasn't happened yet, thank goodness."

"You mean, because you're not interfertile with Krishnans. I must tell you of Fergus Reith's interplanetary romance, which hinged on just that point."

"And I'm certainly not going to bear a stranger's child," she added, "just to please the local raja's curiosity."

"Oh, please, Miss Dyckman—Doctor Dyckman, I should say—"

" 'Alicia' is what you should say, or 'Lish' for short."

"Very well, if you insist, Alicia. I assure you I had no such intention. No reflection on you, my dear; it's just that I try to live up to my own standards."

"Good for you! But how shall we get out otherwise?"

"Better lower our voices in talking about escape."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said. "I've tried these people on all the Terran tongues I know, and none seems to know a word of any. But if you start tinkering with the door or sawing the bars outside, they'll see you through those holes."

"Do they have somebody watching through them all the time? Does Khorosh himself watch?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But when I started poking around to see if there was a way I could dig myself out, they quickly knew what I was up to. They made me go a day without food or water as punishment."

"Bastards," growled Mjipa. Moodily he unrolled his pallet and spread it on the floor across the room from Alicia's bed. "We need some sort of commando raid from Novorecife. But how to get word? By the time they heard, the station will be run by that drunken ass Glumelin, so nothing will be done. If they send one more man, Khorosh'll just toss him into bridewell as he did us. Are we the first Terrans Khorosh has given a rough time?"

"N-no," said Alicia. "I heard a missionary named Hanson or something got into trouble for preaching against the local polytheism."

"His name was Jensen," said Mjipa. "An American like you. Last year a package reached Novorecife via the Mejrou Qurardena. When they opened it, they found a wooden cask and inside that the head of the Reverend Jensen, packed in salt."

"Ugh! How dreadful!"

"One gets used to that sort of thing. We knew Jensen had been missionarying in the South, but there was no return address on the package. Now I see what happened. Serves the idiot right."

"You don't like missionaries?"

"They give us consulars a hell of a time, trying on one hand to keep the fools out of trouble and on the other, when they get into it, to pacify the Terran governments they come from. But I come by my anti-missionary prejudice honestly. Back in the 1880s, a chap named Hepburn came from Britain and converted the baMangwato. That was in the days of Kgama the Great, and the two worked together. Of course, Hepburn and his fellow Christers did some good things, like emancipating the slave tribes and the Bushmen.

"On the other hand, he got Kgama to abolish a lot of harmless and even beneficial things, like our all-night dances and our circumcision ritual, thinking 'em heathen. He made men with more than one wife dismiss all but one, and those poor women had to turn whore or starve. He made us wear coats and ties, in that climate! He stopped the brewing of native beer. That reform hurt our health, because we got our vitamins from the beer. Of course, nobody knew about vitamins then.

"One thing was really funny. The baMangwato had an old tradition that men were descended from monkeys. Then Hepburn told us that was all wrong; men were descended from Adam and Eve, supposedly whites like himself. Many years later, European scientists and teachers came in to say no, we were right the first time. All men were descended from monkeys. From what I've seen, some haven't descended very far.

"So I take a dim view of all these fervent Christians and Muslims and Hindus and Buddhists running around Krishna, outraging the locals by blaspheming their beliefs, and getting their silly heads chopped off. Last year we had a fellow preaching what he called Jewish Shinto."

Alicia said: "Boy, is that a contradiction! But I suppose their ideas are no sillier than Khorosh's breeding experiment, or Vuzhov's tower to Heaven."

Mjipa grunted assent. "My impression is that all Khaldonian kings are round the bend. Vuzhov is crackers on the shape of the planet; Ainkhist is mad over sex; and Khorosh is potty on the Terran menace."

"If Vuzhov makes such a fuss over his flat-world idea, what would happen if somebody came preaching modern evolutionary theory?"

"That would shock them less than the round-world idea. They already believe that Krishnans are descended from the mating of their head god with a female—what's the name of those things that look like monkeys? Sounds like a sneeze."

"In Khaldoni, phwchuvit. So they're sort of semi-evolutionists already ? "

"So I'm told. That professor who was in Reith's first gaggle of tourists explained to me how the Krishnans came from phwchuvit, exactly as men came from apes. We baMangwato had the right idea before your white missionaries came along and muddled us up."

Alicia looked thoughtfully at Mjipa. "Tell me, Percy, are you sure you don't have a general prejudice against the Caucasoid race? With your background, it would be practically inevitable."

"I do not!" said Mjipa, smiting one fist into the other palm. "I don't blame the British for coming in and beating civilization into us. If they hadn't, someone else would have. A couple of thousand years earlier, they were barbarians, too, until the Romans came up from Italy and beat civilization into them. I forget who beat it into the Romans. Besides, I was treated perfectly decently at Oxford."

"But still," she persisted, "all people carry such irrational prejudices in their unconscious, and I don't see why you should be an exception. You couldn't help having anti-white prejudice, even if unconsciously."

"Oh, hell!" grunted Mjipa, remembering from his brief earlier meetings with Alicia Dyckman that she would argue the balls off the brazen image of Dashmok in Majbur. "Same opinionated little snip you were in Baianch! Well, I will admit to one prejudice. Your surname is Dutch, isn't it?"

"Yes, though it goes back several centuries in America."

"Well, I'm prejudiced against one white nation: the Dutch."

"Why?"

"Because, in the days of Kgama the Great, the maTabele twice invaded us and were barely driven off. And why did they invade us? Because the damned Dutch—the Boers, that is—had grabbed their land and kicked them out of it. So if you start talking prejudices, you'll first have to work on mine against your name."

"Were you brought up a Christian?"

"Surely. For centuries the baMangwato have been red-hot Christians. We had our slack periods, when advanced ideas filtered in from America; but then came the neo-Puritan reaction, and now we're as straitlaced as ever. As for me, running around Krishna has made me cynical about all gods. Not to change the subject, but when do they feed us here?"

-

When they had eaten and the wardens had taken their tray, night fell. Mjipa prowled the apartment. He counted on darkness to neutralize the watch the Zhamanacians maintained on their captives.

The massive door of the inner room, which had a small, heavily barred window, was secured not only by a lock but also by two heavy bolts on the far side. If he could drive a wedge between the door and the jamb and had a good hacksaw, Mjipa thought he could saw through those bolts. Otherwise there was no way to get at them. Of course he had no hacksaw, and there was nobody outside his prison whom he could communicate with and persuade to smuggle such tools in to him.

The outer part of the apartment, the porch or terrace, looked out upon the royal gardens. In the light of the two smaller moons, minor buildings of the palace complex loomed behind the shrubbery and fountains. Mjipa could barely make out a piece of the battlemented outer wall, separating the royal compound from the city of Mejvorosh. The night was noisy with the chirps and buzzes of Krishnan arthropods, corresponding to Terran insects.

The bars surrounding the terrace were of wrought iron, square in cross-section and set so closely that not even the slender Alicia could hope to squeeze through. Mjipa's touch told him that these bars were too thick to be bent by even his great strength. Moreover, these bars had been oiled against rust, and running his fingers over them revealed no spots weakened by corrosion. Without a hacksaw and plenty of time and privacy, Mjipa saw no way to freedom there, either.

The floor was of boards, laid over a base of concrete. Around the edges of the terrace, where the boards approached the iron bars, Mjipa detected some rot by digging his thumbnails into the wood. But the cement underneath seemed solid and might go down a meter. Hence there was little prospect for an escape tunnel.

"Don't they even give you a candle?" he grumbled, feeling his way around the inner room.

"No," said Alicia's voice. "I suppose they 're afraid we'd set the palace on fire, hoping to escape in the confusion."

"Well, as some ancient Greek johnny said, what can't be cured must be endured. Good-night, Alicia."

-

The red rising of Roqir saw Percy Mjipa doing push-ups on the floor. When he rolled over on his back, hoisted both legs in the air, lowered them to the floor, the rhythmic thump aroused Alicia.

"Must keep in shape," grunted Mjipa. "We may be here for a bloody long time. If we do get a chance to do a bunk, we shall want to be in top-hole physical form. Here, hold my ankles while I do sit-ups, will you?" When he had finished, he said: "Now you, too!"

Alicia sighed. "I suppose you're right. I was once something of an athlete, too; but I always found calisthenics a bore."

"Sitting around here doing nothing will be an even bigger bore, so go to it!"

They washed up in the primitive bathroom. When it came his turn, Mjipa called out: "By Jove, real soap! Remember how, when we were in Dur, soap hadn't got there yet?"

"You bet I remember how everybody stank! These people import it from that works in the Sunqar."

The wardens, backed by armed guards, brought in a breakfast tray. As she ate, Alicia said: "Did you have any luck when you were fumbling around in the dark, looking for a weak spot?"

"None whatever. Whoever laid out this detention room, as they call it, knew his business. I suspect it's the best-built part of the whole damned palace."

"Then if we can't dig our way out, and we can't count on a rescue from Novorecife, we may be here indefinitely!"

"Precisely, my dear. If the Heshvavu were old, we might at least hope to outlive him; but that's not the case."

"I'm trying to think ahead. Maybe the only way we'll ever get out is to do what Khorosh wants."

"Seriously?" said Mjipa. "I'd call that a last, desperate resort. You wouldn't want to trust a native midwife or medico. Besides, what should we do with the infant?"

"You'd be welcome to it. I don't intend to let motherhood interfere with my career."

"You might change your mind, once you had the little nipper. But my wife would raise bloody hell, especially if I brought home a half-breed baby for her to raise. We baMangwato have a prejudice in favor of pure black ancestry, even though one of the Kgamas married an English girl."

"I heard them speak of you in Novorecife as Percy the henpecked hero," said Alicia with a malicious little smile.

"God damn it!" Mjipa exploded."It's nothing of the sort.

Vicky and I have our differences, like all married couples. But we get along; been doing so for decades. By the way, what's your status? Married, divorced, or what?"

"I've never been married, so you were right in calling me 'Miss Dyckman'."

"Oh, well then, I couldn't possibly consider deflowering a virgin—"

"Who said anything about virginity? I've had experience; not much, but enough to disqualify me."

"Oh?" said Mjipa. "What happened?"

"Percy! I'm no prude; but you're not my shrink, and I don't discuss my personal affairs with everybody."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's all right. Tell me some of your experiences as consul."

"I shall be glad to, but first I've got to get in touch with my Krishnans—the ones I hired in Kalwm City. They'll be wondering what's happened to me."

Mjipa went to the door and pounded. Presently the shutter outside the little window slid aside, and a helmeted Krishnan face looked in. In a loud, commanding voice, Mjipa said: "In the name of the Terran World Federation, of whom I am a diplomatic representative, I demand to see the Heshvavu!"

The shutter snapped back into place. Mjipa returned to the bench, muttering: "If that doesn't fetch somebody in an hour, I'll really raise hell."

"Be careful," said Alicia. "If you get obstreperous, they may discipline you. They wouldn't balk at starving, flogging, or mutilating you."

"You can't let these beggars think you're afraid of them, no matter what," said Mjipa. "While we're waiting, I'll tell you about that French con man, Felix Borel. He ended up shy of a head, too ..."

Mjipa was well into the tale of Borel the swindler when he heard the bolts withdrawn. The door opened, and in came a small, plump Krishnan with green stars painted all over him, followed by three guards with swords drawn. The civilian said:

"Good-day, Master Mjipa and Mistress Dyckman. I am Khateluts, the ..." He gave a long title of whose meaning Mjipa could not be sure; but the consul thought it meant Third Assistant Secretary for Foreign Affairs. "The guard told me ye demanded His Awesomeness to see. That cannot be. The Heshvavu issues demands; he accepts them not from others. If ye have aught to say, utter it unto me."

"I need to get a message to the men I brought from Kalwm," said Mjipa. "They are quartered in the town, awaiting orders."

"Nay, that is impossible. We are commanded to cut you off from the outer world, so that ye shall devote your minds to your part in the Heshvavu's great experiment."

"You have no right to keep an accredited diplomat from communicating with his government! What sort of barbarism is that?"

"Good my sir, your rights here are what the Heshvavu says they are."

"Then tell the Heshvavu his experiment cannot proceed while the subjects are locked up. The Terran sexual act requires freedom and contentment, or it doesn't take place. So Khorosh is defeating his own ends."

"I will pass the word; but I warn you 'twill achieve nought. He avers that, since all Terrans are notorious bars, nought they say shall be given weight. And now I bid you good-morn. May your livers be light!"

The Assistant Secretary withdrew, leaving Mjipa and Alicia staring. The latter said: "Now what? What will your people do when they don't hear from you?"

Mjipa shrugged. "I suppose they'll hang around for a few days, then light out for home. Minyev has enough money to buy food and supplies for the trip. So I might as well finish the sad story of Felix Borel ..."

-

The following night, as dark came on and the bijars swooped through the gardens in pursuit of the Krishnan equivalent of insects, a couple of the Heshvavu's servants set up a pair of lanterns in the garden outside the barred terrace.

They set them far enough from the bars so that Mjipa, even with a pole, could not have reached them. They cast a wan light, crisscrossed with the shadows of the bars, through the detention chamber.

The next day, Mjipa demanded to see Khateluts again. When the official appeared, the consul asked: "Why have you people put those lanterns in the garden? They interfere with our sleep."

"Ye will wax accustomed to them," said Khateluts. 'They were installed for two reasons. First, we heard you moving about in the dark the first night. We could not see, but we suspicioned ye sought a weak spot in our barriers, whereby to escape. Second, in total darkness we cannot see whether ye twain be obeying my sovran lord's behest and copulating."

Mjipa argued, but to no avail. The lanterns remained a constant factor in their captivity, save for one night when the Zhamanacian whose duty it was forgot to light them. Mjipa could hear the swish and crack of the whip and the yells of the culprit as the Krishnan was punished elsewhere in the gardens.

-

Days crawled by. To pass the time, the prisoners told their life stories, and the stories of their friends and kinsmen. Mjipa said:

"There's nothing odd about my speaking English without an accent. We spoke it at home, though they taught us Setswana in school. You know, priceless cultural heritage and that sort of thing. I don't speak Setswana well, because the only times I used it were when we visited our relatives in the back country."

When they had exhausted other topics, the conversation again worked its way around to the prisoners' love lives. Mjipa said: "I hope I'm not a voyeur like our royal host, but you might as well tell me. We have nothing else to do in this damned native borstal."

After a pause, Alicia said: "All right. Under the circs, I suppose ... When I was a freshman, I was engaged to a young man; but he was a neo-Puritan, so we never went further than a little necking on the sofa. Then he graduated and got a job in Burma, and the next I heard he'd married a Burmese girl.

"After a while, I naturally began dating around. After a year of being propositioned on every date and saying 'no,' I thought I'd better find out what I'd been missing—whether it was really as heavenly as the men said. So I let a senior take me to his room. But it was a disappointment. He must have been hardly more experienced than I, because he went off on the first stroke, leaving me all undressed up and no place to go.

"Next morning he went at it again, and this time he did work me up to a climax. But my feeling was, gosh, is this all? It's not unpleasant, but hardly worth skipping a class for.

"There was one more. When I was getting my doctorate, a professor who was to audit my oral let me know that, if I wanted my degree, I'd better 'treat him right', Well, I thought, maybe this guy, being older and more experienced, can furnish some of that ecstasy I hear about. But the old goat was no improvement on the college boy. He had a bad breath and a potbelly, and he went off before I was ready. When he tried a second time, he went limp before he could get it in. So I decided that sex was all very fine to carry on the species, but it didn't interest me."

Mjipa asked: "How about love? From what I hear, you Americans are always falling in love. They're as crazy on that subject as the French are about money and the British about social position."

"Oh, I was desperately in love with Jack, as I remember—the one who went to Burma—and was terribly upset when he broke the news. Since then, I've been in love with my career."

"Would you say you were—ah—I do not know quite how to put it—normal in such matters?"

"You mean, have I lesbian tendencies, don't you?"

"Well—ah—I don't want to embarrass ..."

"Don't worry, Percy darling. As far as I know I don't, and you're the one who gets embarrassed. I guess I just don't have much sex drive of any kind. Maybe a shrink would say I've sublimated it into a drive for professional success."

"How about the natives? You go kiting about the planet by yourself. You're not bad-looking even by their standards, and you 're hardly built like a wrestler. So it would surprise me if none had made advances."

She smiled. "Oh, yes, that happens. I warn them of some horrid disease, and they back away; at least they have up to now. Actually, I've had more advances from Earthmen on Krishna than from the Krishnans. That's one reason I prefer to work alone among the Krishnans."

"Oh?" said Mjipa. '"That's one thing the neo-Puritans never succeeded in stopping. Anybody in particular?"

"Almost every healthy human male I meet! One, for instance, was that Scotch engineer in Dur."

"Yes, I know Ken Strachan's reputation. He tries 'em all regardless of species."

Alicia laughed."Like that legendary fellow they tell about in America, whose first remark to every girl he meets is, 'Hey, let's fuck!' And when someone asks if he doesn't get many rebuffs, he answers, 'Sure, but you'd be surprised at how many say, "Okay, let's!" ' "

Mjipa smiled, suppressing a wince at Alicia's language. "I can just imagine Strachan saying, 'Whisht, man, I wish some hempie would lock me up wi' a beautiful lass, with orders to have sex with her!' "

"Only he wouldn't say 'have sex'; he'd use the Anglo-Saxon. And then there was your Comandante, with the beautiful silvery hair."

"William Desmond Kennedy? Good lord! And him so proper and moral and all!" (Mjipa imitated Kennedy's -brogue, as he had mimicked Strachan's burr.)"So that's why he had an attack of bureaucratic inaction when we discussed what to do with your case!"

"Is that what happened? He wanted to leave me to my fate?"

"He talked that way for a bit, though I don't believe he meant it; at least, I hope he didn't. But the rest of us brought him round. Still, I'm disappointed in Bill. Everybody thinks highly of him, but he has his clay foot, too."

"I suppose I did take some of his hide off with my refusal," she said. "I'm afraid I was anything but tactful. But he shouldn't have been vindictive about it, in his position."

"You're jolly well right, and if I ever see him again I'll tell him so. He's retired now, and in his place we've got a fat, amiable Russian slob with a drinking problem. But see here, you'd better watch yourself! Some day a randy Krishnan won't believe your story about diseases and use force."

Alicia: "I've had some narrow escapes. But that's a risk that comes with the job, just as you take a chance of being eaten by some cannibal chief." She giggled. "When the Heshvavu of Mutabwk got horny—"

"That dirty old satyr!"

"Yes, sir, that one. He was going to detain me, too, to exercise his—well, you can call it his manly charm, if an organ can be a charm. But I fixed him. I said my c—pardon, my vagina had teeth, and at the climax he was liable to have his manly charm bitten off. He didn't dare take a chance I was lying. There's a human psychoneurosis, you know—"

"So that's why Ainkhist asked me about that!" said Mjipa laughing. "I assured him it was a myth." Suddenly serious, he continued: "But I say, this may cause us trouble later! If we ever get free, we shall have to go through Ainkhist's territory to get to a seaport, and he won't take kindly to being ramped."

She shrugged. "Maybe I can get through disguised as a boy, or something. Now I have enough to worry about. But how about you, Percy? You must have had all sorts of remarkable experiences, not only with human women but also with Krishnans."

Mjipa, about to light his pipe with his wooden piston firemaker, gave a snort of laughter. "You may not believe this, Lish, but you see a man of complete sexual virtue. Don't know whether to boast or be ashamed, but I've never committed either fornication or adultery. I married young, and Victoria's given me all I need ever since. Perhaps it's not really virtue, but mere laziness and timidity on my part."

"Don't you have any vices?"

"Oh, I drink a little, and I like my pipe."

"Did you and Vicky have children?"

"We've got a son back on Terra, whom we haven't seen in dog's years. If we went back, he'd be as old as we, because of the Fitzgerald effect."

"Space travelers who go back to their native worlds," said Alicia, "run into a kind of Rip van Winkle effect. I know; I went back once and was appalled at how much had changed in the two years I was gone—only on Earth it was a quarter-century."

Mjipa nodded. "It works in reverse, too. Vicky and I should like to go back to Earth to visit our son and his family. But if we did, by the time we got back here, all my laboriously acquired expertise in Krishnan politics and economics would be out of date. So we have to be satisfied with sending each other holocasettes, telling what we've been up to." Mjipa finished lighting his pipe. "Anyway, you can see why I'm not keen about Khorosh's cockamamie plan. Vicky wouldn't like it a bit, and I should feel guilty even if she never found out."

She frowned thoughtfully. "There are forms of sexual relief that avoid the risk of pregnancy, and they'd confuse the devil out of the Krishnans—"

"Oy!" said Mjipa. "If you're thinking of one of those disgusting perversions, you can forget it as far as I'm concerned. I'll do it the normal way or not at all."

Alicia sighed. "You are a neo-Puritan!"

"So what? I came by that honestly, too. You whites still like to think of us black Africans as jolly, uninhibited sons of nature; but it's not so at all. Even in preliterate days, most southern Bantu tribes had pretty strict codes. Among the amaZulu, the penalty for adultery was death to both culprits.

Of course a lot has changed since then; but there's still a good deal of the old attitudes."

She said: "What I was really thinking—I suppose you know the Krishnans have some knowledge of contraception?"

"Yes, I know; but that doesn't help us."

"If we could get somebody to smuggle—"

"In the first place, it would ruin Khorosh's experiment, so he'll be on the watch. Second, we've got nothing to bribe any of the locals with. If I could get anything smuggled, it would be a hacksaw, if these blokes have 'em." Mjipa sighed in his turn. "Now let's do some deep knee bends."

-

As the slow days dragged on, the prisoners played Krishnan checkers. They played word games. They did endless exercises. They studied the wild life in the surrounding gardens. They coached each other in the Khaldoni language.

Despite all, Mjipa felt increasingly bored and frustrated. From Alicia's behavior, he inferred that she felt the same. They became increasingly irritable, with minor quarrels and explosions of temper. Alicia poked fun at what she considered Mjipa's puritanism and idealistic naiveté. She lectured him on the policies that Novorecife ought to adopt towards the Krishnans, until he burst out:

"Damn it, woman, if you weren't always telling people like these benighted natives what to do, we shouldn't be locked up here now!"

"You're out of your mind, Percy! I told you, I had no chance to lecture anyone in Zhamanak before they arrested me."

"But you did lecture the other Khaldonians. Did you by chance discuss geography with a Doctor Isayin in Kalwm City?"

"Now that you mention it, I believe I did. He'd heard of the theory that the planet was round and wanted my opinion as a space traveler. So I answered his questions truthfully. Why?"

"They've got the poor blighter in jail, awaiting execution for heresy. You evidently sold him so well on the round world that he started preaching it to his students."

"Oh, how dreadful! I don't suppose there's anything we can do for him?"

"Not bloody likely. It's just luck they didn't toss you in quod, too, or chop off that pretty head."

"Oh, come now! I merely answered a straight question, as any Earthling would have done. If Isayin had no more sense than to take a private conversation and spread it abroad—"

"That'll be a big consolation to him, I'm sure, when they impale him or whatever they do to heretics here. In a strange society, you have to learn to weigh each word before you say it."

She insisted: "But when you see a group headed for obvious disaster, it's only decent to drop a word of warning. You don't let a blind man walk off a cliff. Like, Khorosh had just discovered paper money; so I told him what would happen if he flooded the country with it—"

"Hah! You just said you didn't lecture anyone in Zhamanak, and now it seems the first thing you did was to tell the king where he got off—"

She jumped up. "You big male bully! There's no reasoning with you, you ..." Mjipa retreated into morose silence, puffing great clouds of smoke and muttering: "Why in hell did I risk my bloody neck trying to rescue a blasted American female pedant ..."

-

When Karrim had made half a circuit of its primary, the ruler, Khorosh of Zhamanak, appeared resplendent in gold and scarlet body paint in the garden outside the bars of the terrace. With him was another Krishnan, of similar size and build and likewise nude, shaven-headed, and painted. But this was a female. The pair walked in formal fashion, Khorosh holding out his arm and the female resting a hand lightly upon it. A Krishnan tootling on a flute preceded them, while behind them walked another servant holding an enormous parasol over their heads.

"Good-day to Your Awesomeness," growled Mjipa.

Alicia repeated the greeting.

"Are you in comfort, O Terrans?" said the slender Heshvavu. The flutist ceased his tune.

"It could be worse," said Mjipa. "Our real complaint is the loss of our liberty, without just cause."

"We decide what is just and unjust here," said Khorosh. "But tell us: our men have watched you twain night and day. Not once, they report, have you sought the solace of sexual embrace; the which, we understand, is done by Terrans much as amongst real people. Wherefore is this?"

"Our principles forbid," said Mjipa. "We Terrans have rules as to who may make love to whom."

"Aye verily; so have we. But your rules mean nought here, any more than would our ordinances in your world."

Alicia spoke: "Nonetheless, sire, we'll do what we think right. You can make me live with Consul Mjipa, but you can't make me sleep with him."

"Sleep?" The Heshvavu looked puzzled. "What hath sleeping to do with it? Do Terrans then, copulate only in their sleep? We suppose we could get you a larger bed ..."

"No, no. It's a—" She turned to Mjipa. "How would you say 'euphemism' in Khaldoni?"

Mjipa spread his hands. "Good lord, how should I know? They may not even have the concept."

She turned back. "It is a—a manner of speaking, my lord. We Terrans often use one term to mean another."

"Strange! Hath your language no plain, simple word for futtering?"

"Oh, yes, it has one. But I try not to use it around Consul Mjipa. It hurts his ears."

"Stranger and stranger! Canst tell us this word?"

"I can whisper it, if you come close to the bars."

"Nay!" say Khorosh. "We are not so simple as to trust ourselves within reach of your companion's mighty arms. We know! O Yorbuv!" the king addressed his flutist, standing patiently nearby. "Go to the bars, that Mistress Dyckman shall whisper this mysterious word to you; then repeat it to me."

The flutist nervously approached the barrier and presented a pointed ear. Alicia whispered. Yorbuv turned to Khorosh, saying: "Methought, Your Awesomeness, that it sounded like phwkh."

"That's close enough," said Alicia. "The way Goodman Yorbuv says it, it wouldn't cause Consul Mjipa's ears the least distress."

"Very interesting," said Khorosh. "But it gets us no nigher unto the resolution of the problem. My consort, the Heshvava Phejerdel—" (he indicated the female by his side with a small head motion) "—is also eager to behold the consummation of your relationship." The Heshvavu gave the ghost of a Krishnan smile. "She thinks the sight might furnish us with ideas wherewith to better the royal connection."

Alicia asked: "Does Your Awesomeness mean that not all is harmonious in your royal household?"

" 'Tis not a matter for discussion amongst the vulgar; but we'll grant that you've put your shaft in the shaihan's eye. Even monarchs suffer the woes of other mortals."

"I fear," said Mjipa, "Her Awesomeness will be disappointed in her hopes, for reasons explained. Of course if Your Awesomeness would deign to confide your marital problems to us, we should be glad to proffer advice, based upon wide study and experience, in return for our liberty."

"Nay, nay, fellow, that were presumptuous. But tell us: wherefore persist the twain of you in wearing those garments, which in our salubrious clime are quite needless for warmth?"

"It's a matter of custom," said Mjipa. "We think it more seemly."

"Besides," said Alicia, "we need the pockets for our things."

The Heshvavu stood for a while in silence, staring out from under bushy antennae. Then he said: "We are told that, to a Terran, the sight of another Terran, of the opposite sex and nude, so rouses its animal instincts as to compel it to copulate."

"A ridiculous exaggeration!" said Mjipa.

"It may be true of some males," said Alicia. "Most Terran females don't find the men's dangling parts especially beautiful."

"Indeed?" said Khorosh. "We shall see."

He turned to one of his bodyguards and shot an order. The naked king spoke too fast for Mjipa to follow. But Mjipa was not surprised when, seconds later, the door of the inner apartment flew open and a dozen guards and wardens came in. They rushed upon the captives, seized them, and stripped them. They tore off Alicia's shirt and shorts, heedless of how they ripped the garments and popped the buttons.

With Mjipa they had a harder time. Mjipa tore loose, knocked one Zhamanacian flat, broke the nose of another, and sent another reeling back clutching his belly, before the rest fastened on him and held him until he wore himself out struggling. Then they relieved him of his kilt; of the G-string that, in deference to Earthly prejudices, he wore beneath it; of sandals, money belt, and jadeite identification medallion. Two helped the one whom Mjipa had knocked down to stagger out the door; two others bore away the prisoners' garments.

"A pretty show," said the Heshvavu outside the bars. "We are interested to see that you twain are those same curious colors, pale pink and near-black, all over. What are those curious little scars at the center of your bellies?"

"We call them navels," growled Mjipa. "They have to do with our manner of birth."

"Wert not so recalcitrant," continued the Heshvavu, "O Terran, a place might be found for you in teaching our warriors how to fight with the fists. We perceive that you are skilled at that martial art. May your livers be light!"

Preceded by his flutist playing a tune, the king and his queen strolled off. Alicia Dyckman looked at Percy Mjipa; the latter stared at the ground. She said:"Oh, look up, Percy! The sight of me doesn't turn people to stone. Now help me find my bub-buttons."

As she crouched down to search for the lost buttons, Mjipa saw that she was weeping. She found two and Mjipa, one. She said: "I've tried so hard to keep my things in shape, but without even a needle and thread ..." She dissolved in tears.

"There, there!" said Mjipa, sitting beside her on the bench and putting an arm around her shoulders. "We're really no worse off than we were. Before the Reverend Hepburn taught my people that human skin was indecent, they thought nothing of going naked. And you're getting a black eye."

"I got p-punched in the struggle. Where did you learn to use your fists so well?"

"Oh, I once boxed for Oxford," said Mjipa with affected nonchalance.

She wiped her eyes and moved away on the bench. "Thanks, Percy. You're a good man."

Mjipa found himself staring at Alicia's body. It had been a long time since he parted from his wife. For all his good intentions, carnal thoughts flooded into his mind. Suddenly aware of his scrutiny, Alicia colored. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I—ah—wondered if you were still thinking of complying with Khorosh's demand ..."

She laughed. "That's the funniest proposition I've had, and I've had plenty. No, darling, I won't do it."

"Well," mumbled Mjipa, "you were talking of getting contraceptives smuggled in. So I thought that maybe ..."

"As you said, it's a last desperate resort. I thought maybe we could fool Khorosh into thinking we'd obeyed his orders, but without danger of pregnancy; and at the same time I could spare you the pain of unrequited lust. But I hadn't seen what I'd be getting into—or rather, vice versa."

"Okay, forget it." Mjipa took a firm grip on himself and filled his pipe.

"I'm only sorry he wouldn't take you up on your suggestion for marital counseling. That was a brilliant idea."

"I suppose it was a matter of timing. If I'd spoken when he and his Heshvava had had a particularly nasty quarrel... If she complained that he was too fast in his lovemaking, I'd have told him to count four breaths between each stroke and the next."

Seated on the little bench, Alicia burst into a spasm of laughter so vigorous as almost to make her lose her balance. When she could talk, she sputtered: "Why, P-percy, that's not like you! I didn't expect such earthy realism from my Puritan hero! Four breaths to each stroke? That's the opposite of what you do in swimming the crawl."

"Four strokes to a breath, eh?" Mjipa joined his fellow captive in uproarious laughter."If Khorosh had agreed, then when we got back to Novo, we could hang out a sign:

"MJIPA AND DYCKMAN, MARRIAGE COUNSELORS,

BY APPOINTMENT TO

THEIR MAJESTIES OF ZHAMANAK.

"And why should your name come first?"

"Because I've been married, my dear, and you haven't."

"But you haven't had my courses in marital anthropology and sexual psychology, and you don't have a doctorate. Ph.D.s take precedence in such cases. It's just your stubborn conviction of male superiority—"

Mjipa held up a hand. "Let's not start that again! We must maintain a united front. How about reviewing the present optative tense in Khaldoni?"

IV

FLIGHT

Another fiftnight dragged on. The captives became as indifferent to each other's nudity as a healthy man and woman, cooped up together for long, can be. To keep his own lust beaten down, Percy Mjipa did more and more calisthenics, until he spent the greater part of his waking hours at them. He ran in place, shadow-boxed, and chinned himself on the curtain rod until it broke beneath his weight.

Khateluts, the Third Assistant Secretary, appeared again. "Sir and madam, my master is much disappointed in you twain. He hath given you every opportunity and encouragement to copulate, yet ye remain as indifferent as a pair of sterilized rajinit."

"I told him he'd get nowhere with his experiment," said Mjipa, "but he wouldn't listen."

"Wherefore this unwonted coldness? Suffers one of you from some deformity or disease?"

Mjipa thought fast. "Tell the Heshvavu this: as even a Krishnan can see, Mistress Dyckman and I belong to different races. Terrans are sexually aroused only by those of their own race. Persons of the other sex but different races have no effect. Hence Mistress Dyckman and I find each other's appearance repellent. Thus, however willing, I could never impregnate her." Mjipa noted that Alicia seemed to be trying to hold back laughter.

"If ye twain were of the same race," persisted Khateluts, "would ye then conjoin without further ado?"

"Not even then. Among Terrans, the act requires privacy—nobody peering down from holes in the ceiling." (What lies I have to tell in my trade! Mjipa thought.)

In taking his leave, Khateluts said: "If amongst Terrans the generative process be so hedged about with restrictions and conditions, 'tis a wonder to me that your species hath survived."

Two days later he was back saying: "His Awesomeness gravely doubts your story; forsooth, I heard him say 'a pack of lies'. He hath heard of orgies amongst Terrans, who were plainly not dissuaded from flittering by lack of privacy. Furthermore, 'tis notorious that some Terrans take truly human women as their lemans, manifestly not dissuaded by the differences betwixt them, which far exceeded those amongst the races of one species."

Alicia said in English: "You overdid it, Percy."

Khateluts continued: "But, since he finds you a most uncommonly slippery evader and procrastinator, my master will graciously tender you an offer. This is that ye depart forthwith for Novorecife, leaving Mistress Dyckman as hostage for your obedience. Ye shall bear a letter to the Terran commanding the space station. Ye shall say nought of events in Zhamanak; Mistress Dyckman's life hangs upon your strict compliance. A trusty officer will be sent with you to assure your good behavior."

"What's in this letter?"

"It is not yet written, but I can recount the gist. 'Twill aver that Mistress Dyckman remains in Mejvorosh of her own free will,- and that the Heshvavu requests Novorecife to send another envoy. Pray tell: into what races are Terrans divided?"

Mjipa looked puzzled."Well, there's the Negroid or black race, which is mine; the Caucasoid or white, of which Mistress Dyckman is an example; and the Mongoloid or yellow. At least these are the main groups. You don't want to know about all the little intermediate and doubtful groups."

"Hath Novorecife any persons of this yellow race?"

"Yes; there's Ishimoto, the new consul at the capital of Dur."

"Good! The letter will request the presence of this Ish— Ishimoto."

Alicia, listening, said in English: "If he can't get me an interracial mate one way, he'll try another. If Ishimoto came here, Khorosh would chuck him in with me, hoping his experiment would work the second time around."

"Don't worry," said Mjipa. "Ishi would develop a diplomatic impotence. He'd say: 'So sorry, but I am under a curse,' or some such tale."

"Is he really—"

"No; he has a wife. Nice little thing. But Ishi is the most cautious Terran in the service. Not that I'm criticizing. Masanobu's an upright, accurate, and conscientious worker; and at Mishé he showed he was no coward. But I wouldn't pick him to rescue a maiden fair from a vile enchanter."

"Well, I'm not exactly a maiden, and neither is Khorosh much of an enchanter. But go ahead, Percy; take the Heshvavu up on his offer."

"What! And leave you here alone again?"

"I'll probably survive. Just because you can't get me out is no reason for you to waste your life here. Besides, maybe you could organize that commando raid you mentioned."

"Wouldn't think of it!" Mjipa spoke to Khateluts: "Tell His Awesomeness my sense of honor and duty compels me to decline his offer. Either both of us go free, or neither does."

Khateluts vanished, but was back the following day, saying: "His Awesomeness finds you a most contumacious recusant. Belike a touch of the scourge, quotha, would awaken your laggard lusts."

"It would have the opposite effect, if I had such lusts to begin with," said Mjipa.

"Nameless, my master is curious about the workings of the Terran sexual process. He would fain know why a strong, hale male of your kind can sometimes perform the act and sometimes not. Also, he would know the meaning of those curious buttons of flesh in the midst of your bellies. He hath empowered me to inquire into these matters and bear your replies to him."

"Oh, lord!" groaned Mjipa in English. "I gave Ainkhist an hour's lecture on the birds and the bees, and now Khorosh wants the same. But—wait; that gives me an idea." He turned to Khateluts. " 'Tis a long, complex story, impractical for me to give you a snippet at a time. 'Twould take a full revolution of the planet about Roqir to tell the whole tale at that rate. But if His Awesomeness will graciously condescend to visit our cell, I will answer his questions directly."

"Oh, good my sir, my lord would never consent! 'Twere a heinous breach of Zhamanacian royal etiquette."

"Then his curiosity must go unsatisfied."

Khateluts protested, but Mjipa remained adamant. When the secretary had gone, Alicia said: "What do you have in mind, Percy? Something desperate?"

"You 're jolly well right. I'm going to show that bedlamite what being a hostage feels like."

"If he comes in here, he'll have armed guards with him."

"I know. But if I can get within grabbing distance, I'll use our royal voyeur as a shield and threaten to break his bloody neck, unless he gives the orders I feed him. He's a skinny little wart. Now, the instant you hear me say—let's see—I'll say 'Charge!' in English. When you hear that, dive for the loo, leaving the door open."

"The bathroom? But why—"

"You'll see. I'll back into the door of the loo, holding Khorosh as a shield. They won't be able to shoot either of us for fear of killing him. If we can manage that first five seconds, we're in business, as you Americans say."

"It sounds terribly risky, darling. Are you sure it wouldn't be better for you to take Khorosh's offer, go back to Novorecife, and send Ishimoto? He could bring some contraceptive, so we could fool the king into thinking—"

"Nonsense! Ishi's already gone to Baianch, thousands of hoda from here. It would take half a year to fetch him. Besides, he's a peaceable, routine-minded bloke who skillfully avoids predicaments like this. Summon up the sinews and stiffen the blood, old girl, and we'll do Khorosh one in the eye yet!"

-

Leaving his flutist outside, the Heshvavu entered the detention room with two swordsmen and one arbalester. He said: "Master Mjipa, hast given us great vexation with your riggish contumely. Your explanation of the Terran sexual process had better justify your insolent behavior."

Mjipa gave a servile bow. "I beg Your Awesomeness's pardon for any offense I have caused. Will my lord sit on our humble bench while I expound these mysteries?"

The Heshvavu sat. Alicia moved towards the bathroom inclosure. Mjipa launched into a colorful account of sex among Terrans: "...As Your Awesomeness appreciates, all large land-dwelling life forms require internal fertilization. For this process there must be a suitable organ to introduce the male sex cells ..."

As if carried away by his own oratory, Mjipa moved rapidly about, gesticulating. The three guards, standing behind the king, seemed as fascinated by Mjipa's account as the Heshvavu. As he passed within reach of the king, in the midst of a description of the female organs, Mjipa suddened cried: "Charge!"

Simultaneously he shot out long black arms and seized the seated Heshvavu. He jerked the ruler to his feet, whirled him round and round as if doing a Viennese waltz, and on the third whirl backed into the open bathroom door, clasping the Heshvavu to his naked bosom.

The king yelled and struggled, but his strength was nothing compared to Mjipa's. The swordsmen rushed around the ends of the bench, blades agleam. The crossbowman danced about, trying to get a clear shot at Mjipa without hitting his sovran.

"Order them back!" shouted Mjipa in Khorosh's ear. "Or I'll break your neck!" Mjipa had wrapped one arm around the Krishnan's head and twisted the head until the neck vertebrae creaked.

The arbalester shot his bolt, which thudded into the wood of the bathroom inclosure. He had evidently hoped to shoot either Mjipa or Alicia through the wall, but the planking proved too thick.

"Back! I command!" shrilled the Heshvavu. The swordsmen backed away. The crossbowman, reaching for another bolt, lowered his weapon.

"Tell those guards to drop all weapons!" said Mjipa.

"Drop your weapons, men!" Down on the floor clattered swords and crossbow.

"Daggers, too!" insisted Mjipa. "Now tell the one on the right to kick his dagger towards us ... Alicia, can you squeeze past my legs? Grab that dagger and hand it to me. Don't get within reach of these coves, or they'll grab you for a hostage, too ... Thanks, old girl." Mjipa pressed the point of the dagger against the Heshvavu's painted hide until a tiny trickle of blue-green blood flowed.

"Now listen carefully," continued Mjipa. "Tell those three guards we want the rest of our possessions—those taken from our baggage and not returned to us, such as my money belt, with the money in it, and my sword. They shall all leave this room. When they fetch our things, only one at a time shall enter. Tell them!" Mjipa emphasized his words by a dig with his dagger.

When the gear had been brought, Mjipa said: "Tell the guard to go out and stand by outside ... Lish, will you go through our things, check the contents, and pack us up for leaving? We can use an extra sword and dirk."

While she was thus engaged, Mjipa said: "Now, tell the guard outside that we demand two of the best riding ayas from the royal stables, saddled and bridled, with campaign rations for a fiftnight in saddle bags. Bring the animals to the front entrance, and let us know as soon as they are ready. Otherwise, tell all your other guards, lackeys, and other people to keep out of my sight when we leave. No delays, now!"

Alicia: "Who's going to carry all this stuff?"

"You are. I can't let go of Khorosh to pick things up."

"But Percy! I'm not strong enough to bear fifty kilos, including these swords and daggers. Why don't you make the Heshvavu carry them?"

"Too risky; he might get away. Besides, I suspect you're stronger than he is. We'll make that guard carry the bags, while you tote the cutlery."

-

A quarter-hour later, the palace saw a curious naked procession. First came a royal guard laden with two heavy canvas bags; then the slight Heshvavu in Mjipa's viselike embrace, with a dagger pressed to his side; and lastly Alicia Dyckman, festooned with swords and daggers, following Mjipa and looking about to guard the consul's rear. Mjipa kept saying to the Heshvavu:

"Order them away! Order them out of sight! Tell that archer to drop his bow and disappear! Unless he killed me with his first shaft, you'd be dead before he could nock a second."

They found a groom holding the bridles of the ayas in the courtyard. Mjipa said: "Tell the guard to help Mistress Dyckman to lash the bags to the animals; but if he lays hand on her, you're dead! ... Now, Your Awesomeness, you're coming for a ride. Up you go!"

With a tremendous heave, Mjipa boosted the slight monarch up to the back on one aya, setting him astride the animal in front of the saddle. Mjipa instantly took the dagger in his teeth, vaulted into the saddle, and again placed the point of the dagger against the king's painted skin. Khorosh turned his head to say:

"If you plan to carry us out into the country and murder us there, you may as well slay us now. Our men will avenge us."

"No, sire, I won't kill you, on my word of honor. I'll merely drop you off a few regakit from the city, to make your way back afoot. But if, while we still have you, we see a pursuit coming after us, then you shall die. Tell them so... Ready, Alicia?"

"Ready, Percy."

"Off we go!" Mjipa put his aya into motion. At the forced command of the Heshvavu, the gate of the palace wall swung open; so did the Kalwm Gate of Mejvorosh. The fugitives lashed their mounts to a gallop and disappeared up the northern road in a whirlwind of dust.

-

"Time to breathe these animals," said Mjipa, dropping to a walk. "We must be at least ten hoda from Mejvorosh. It'll take Khorosh hours to walk back, unless someone gives him a lift."

"You 're not going to let the little louse go?" cried Alicia. "Certainly. That's what I agreed to."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm serious."

"But he won't appreciate your mercy!"

"I know, but I promised."

"Oh, you idiot! He'll send his whole army after us, to hunt us down. We'll never get out of Zhamanak alive!"

"Calm down, young woman. We shall have to stop for a bit of sleep some time. We can't have him with us then; if we both dozed off at the same time, we might wake up with our throats cut. What's your idea?"

"To keep him as long as we can, then kill him."

"What a bloodthirsty little lady! Sorry, but I gave him my word of honor."

"Oh, you silly anachronism! It's our lives you're. risking, with your ridiculous ideas of honor! And just when we've almost escaped. You're being childish and stupid!"

"You sound like my wife. Let me tell you, my popsy, that if it hadn't been for my ridiculous ideas of honor, I'd never have come to Zhamanak in the first place."

Mjipa grasped the Heshvavu's slim waist in both hands, hoisted the Krishnan, and dropped him into the dirt. "Farewell, Your Awesomeness—no you shan't, Alicia!"

The girl was wearing Mjipa's baldric, the strap passing between her bare breasts. When she started to pull out the sword, Mjipa seized her arm. Then he pulled the purple baldric off over her head and put it on himself. "Come along, now!"

Not understanding English, the Heshvavu backed away in alarm. When he saw that he was not to be sworded to death after all and the ayas were moving off, he turned his back and began the long hike back to his capital.

-

Mjipa and his companion had already passed beyond the cultivated lands around the city and entered the tropical forest, with its boles of crimson and gold and emerald and purple. For another hour they alternately walked, trotted, and cantered, as a long-distance rider does who wishes to save his mount from collapse. Then Mjipa halted his aya, turning his head and laying a finger to his lips.

"Somebody's following at a gallop," he said. "I didn't think they could organize a pursuit so soon ..."

"It's your own stupid fault, for not killing that tyrant when you had the chance. You and your scruples!"

"Not at all. They'd have set out from Mejvorosh soon after we left, whether or not we let Khorosh go. Now shut up! I'm tired of your carping. Gallop!"

They ran on, while Roqir neared the horizon and the shadows deepened. When Mjipa pulled up again, he said: "I still hear the hoofbeats. Sounds like a single rider. Best thing is to turn into the trees and let him go past."

They found a dense grove and guided the animals in among the red and green and violet trunks, whose colors were fading with the end of the day. The hoofbeats waxed in volume. Presently an aya appeared down the road, running hard, with the rider hunched over the saddle. As the rider raced past, Mjipa uttered a stentorian yell:

"Minyev! Ho there, Minyev!"

The rider drew rein uproad and stood his aya, whose head hung and whose sides heaved. Mjipa trotted out from the trees, exclaiming: "By the nose of Tyazan, what in the fifty-nine hells are you doing here? Alicia, this is my factotum, Minyev of Kalwm City. Minyev, this is she of whom I told you, Mistress Dyckman. Now tell me what you do here. I thought you would all have gone back to Kalwm."

Minyev said: "My lord, I sent the others back, with pay and aliment for the journey. But I abode, hoping ye would somehow contrive your escape; and behold! so ye did. Mejvorosh buzzed with the news at once; so I saddled up and set out in pursuit, ere they arrested me as a fautor of your treason against the Heshvavu."

"But why? Why did you stick?"

"I was fain to toil for you further. 'Tis plain as Phaighost's whiskers that Terrans will play a growing part in my world's future. So it behooves a man of ambition to know them and their ways. An ye'll have me, I'll swink for you all the way back to Novorecife. Besides, alien though ye be, ye are a wight of punctilious honor, so one ever knows where one stands with you. Be all Terrans like unto you?"

Mjipa sighed. "I fear we have the same proportion of scoundrels and lack wits as you. But we must move on, lest Khorosh's searchers come up to us." He glanced sidelong at Alicia. "See? My silly scruples do pay off sometimes. Minyev, did you pass the Heshvavu on the road, walking back to Mejvorosh?"

"Now that ye speak thereof, my lord, I did behold one little pajock, besmeared with dust, who looked somehow familiar. But I galloped on without pause to scrutinize the lob."

-

They rode most of the night, until the exhausted mounts refused to move at more than a walk. At length the riders, equally fatigued, drew off and halted to make camp. Alicia said:

"Help me down, please, Percy. I'm so stiff I can't move."

"I'm not much better off myself," said Mjipa, painfully lowering himself from his saddle. "We shall have a pair of sore bums tomorrow."

He helped Alicia down. Both opened their bags and took out the clothes they had been wearing when they were stripped. "After what's happened," said Alicia, "I won't ever take clothes seriously again."

As he wolfed his traveler's rations, Mjipa mused: "Another day should bring us to the Mutabwcian border. I don't know if Ainkhist's men have orders to stop you; he can't have heard of our escape yet. But I don't like unnecessary chances. Damn, if I'd brought along a Krishnan disguise kit, I could make a Krishnan out of you. But there was no point in my trying to pass as a native, so I left the stuff in Novo."

"Why not pass me off as a Terran boy?" said Alicia.

"We must hide your bumps, old girl, better than that little shirt does. And if they're on watch for someone with golden hair, they might take a second look at you. There are no blond Krishnans."

"Not quite true. The last time I was in Majbur, the barbers were advertising blond dye jobs in imitation of Terrans like me. It's a new fad. But we'll wrap my hair in a scarf, like a turban." She searched her bag and brought out a length of translucent polyester with a striking pattern of blue and emerald and gold. "Here; it's almost the last decent thing I have that I brought from Earth."

-

The following morning, before dawn, Alicia called in a small voice: "Percy! Help me up; I can't move my legs."

"Same here," grumbled Mjipa, hobbling over to where she lay on her blanket. "I'm stiff, too, though I've been riding more recently than you. We should have asked Khorosh to give us daily rides to keep in practice—as if he would have let us."

When it came time to mount, the girl could not bend her leg enough to put a foot in the stirrup. Mjipa and Minyev had to boost her into the saddle, bringing a yelp of pain.

"A little riding will take the stiffness out," said Mjipa, wincing as he painfully swung into his own saddle. "It's the best kind of massage for what you've got."

They did not reach the border the next day. Fatigued from long hours in the saddle and little sleep, they made camp in the late afternoon, well away from the road. Alicia went to work with her sewing kit on the remnants of the shirt from which she had been stripped in Mejvorosh, mending tears and replacing buttons.

Looking up, Mjipa said: "What's the matter with the ayas?" The animals were pricking their ears, distending their nostrils, and acting uneasy.

From the depths of the forest came the sound of some large body moving. The ayas began to prance and tug at their tethers.

"Something's coming," said Mjipa. "Maybe a yeki. Put away your sewing things, Lish." Already on his feet, Mjipa picked up his scabbard and drew the blade.

Behind him, Minyev muttered: "My lord, I am gallowed with f-fear!"

The noise came closer; the ayas became frantic. Something bulky was moving; Mjipa caught glimpses of striped green-and-buff hide through the shrubbery.

"A shan!" screamed Minyev, and ran. His footsteps died away.

Mjipa picked up a large stick from the fire and waved it to fan its glowing end into flame. Alicia crowded up behind him. Mjipa snapped back over his shoulder.

"Damn it, woman, don't grab my arms!"

Among the branches appeared a head as large as that of a horse, but crocodilian in aspect. Behind it appeared a long neck, and then the rest of the creature. A Terran might have described it as a dragon-sized, long-necked, six-legged lizard, if on Krishna the mammals were as sharply divided from the reptiles as on Earth.

The shan had its eyes on the tethered ayas, who now strove frantically to break their bonds. Mjipa moved quickly between the approaching shan and the riding animals. He thrust his torch at the shan, which drew back the fanged head on the long neck, then shot it forward in a snap. The jaws clanged together centimeters from Mjipa's face. Before the head could withdraw, Mjipa slashed the muzzle with his sword. The gashed skin opened; blue-green blood flew. With a fearsome bellow, the shan drew back its head, ambled forward a pace, and lunged again.

Mjipa thrust the burning brand into the predator's gaping jaws. The jaws slammed shut; the stick was torn from Mjipa's hand as the animal jerked back its head. It gave a muffled scream of pain and shook its head violently, but lacked the wit to drop the stick. Grunting and squalling, it backed away from Mjipa, turned on its six legs, and hastened off out of sight, still shaking its head with the stick in its jaws.

Mjipa let out a long whoosh of breath. Alicia sat down at the base of a tree and leaned back, saying: "At this rate, I'll be an old woman in spite of your LPs. Why did you stand and fight? We could have run off like Minyev did, and the thing would have eaten the ayas and left us alone."

"And then we should have been plodding along afoot when Khorosh's merry men caught up with us. For that matter, why didn't you clear out with him? From the way he was going, he must be halfway to Kalwm."

"I don't know. I guess I couldn't let a mere male show he was braver than I. Will the monster be back?"

"Possibly. I think we'd better saddle up and shift camp, if we can find Minyev."

"Serve the coward right if we went off and left him."

"Oh, come," said Mjipa. "You musn't be intolerant of these natives. Some are brave enough; but I never hired Minyev as a fighting man. The chap's honest and able as Krishnans go, and you mustn't expect all the virtues in one package."

"But you're the one who's always belittling the 'natives,' like an old-fashioned Terran imperialist."

"I don't have illusions about them, that's all. In a few more centuries, they may catch up to where we are now. Meanwhile I have to deal with facts, not theories." He wiped the blood off his blade, saying: "At least, I've now had some practical use out of this snickersnee. Never did like the damned things."

"How can you be a hero on a medieval planet and not like swords?"

"In the first place, I'm not a hero, just a bloody bureaucrat trying to earn his keep. In the second, I don't suppose you've ever worn one?"

"No."

"Well, let me tell you, they're an effing nuisance, always pulling your clothes out of shape, or poking you in the soft parts, or tripping you up, or banging the furniture. We'd better start yelling for Minyev."

Shouts finally brought the factotum back, much subdued. In- moving camp, he insisted on doing all the heavy work, even when not asked to, as if to atone for his flight.

-

At the Mutabwcian border, Mjipa produced the passport from Vuzhov of Kalwm, explaining: "I came through here a couple of moons ago, you may remember. I am now on my way back to Kalwm, my mission accomplished."

The Zhamanacian officer nodded approval; news of the kidnapping of the Heshvavu had evidently not reached the border post. But then the officer indicated Alicia, with her scarf wound around her hair and the rest of her muffled in Minyev's cloak. "Who is that?"

"A Terran slave boy I found in Mejvorosh and bought," said Mjipa airily. "He calls himself Mustafa."

The officer stared briefly at Alicia but then handed back the passport, saying: "Pass through."

The three walked across the neutral zone, leading their ayas. At the second gate, Mjipa was asked the same question about Alicia and made the same reply. All went as before until one of the soldiers closely scrutinized Alicia's scarf.

"What pretty stuff!" he said. "Where can I get one?" Taking a dangling end of the scarf between thumb and forefinger, he gave a little jerk. Alicia uttered a small shriek as the turban fell apart, leaving her head exposed and the scarf in the Mutabwcian's hand.

Instantly alert, the officer said:"Wait here, O Terran!" To the duty squad he said: "Watch these three closely. Take charge of their animals."

The officer walked quickly to the command hut. Soon he was back, saying: "I thought we had word from Yein to watch for a yellow-haired Terran female. Do you, sir, insist this be a male?"

"An immature one," said Mjipa.

"Yeghats!" shouted the officer. A lieutenant appeared from another hut, buckling on his sword as he ran.

"Look at this!" said the officer of the guard. The two officers conferred in an undertone, of which Mjipa caught only the words "... built much like human women, on the outside at least ..."

The officer of the guard turned to Alicia, untied the string that held Minyev's cloak about her, and swept off the garment. As he did so, Yeghats stepped up and fumbled with the buttons of her shirt.

"Ho!" said Mjipa. "What are you doing? Terrans allow not such familiarities!"

The lieutenant continued to struggle with the buttons until he had them undone. He flipped the edges of the shirt aside, exposing Alicia's indubitable mammalian femininity.

"I protest!" shouted Mjipa. "This is a violation of diplomatic courtesy!"

"Protest to the government in Yein," said the officer. "Yeghats, you shall escort these Terrans to the royal palace."

"You do not understand," insisted Mjipa. "Those bulges will disappear as he gets older—"

"Save your breath, Terran," said the officer. "Yeghats, take the Kalwmian along, too; and turn them over to Minister Zharvets."

-

In the palace in Yein, Minister Zharvets said:"You again, Master Mjipa? Mistress Dyckman, you are under arrest. Seize her, men!"

The ubiquitous guards surrounded Alicia in the chamber of audience. Mjipa cried: "What are you doing, my lord? She has done nothing. I protest—"

"You are ever protesting," said Zharvets. "Know, O Terran, that this alien female had the insolence to utter a bare-faced lie to my sovran lord, the Heshvavu Ainkhist. That is a violation of the seventh ordinance of the reign of Verjapist the Third, section five, subsection thirteen. In fact, you are he who exposed this covin."

"I know not whereof you speak," said Mjipa.

"Oh yea, you do indeed. It hath to do with the anatomy of Terran females." The minister turned to his secretary. "Go bear word to His Awesomeness that the Terran female's within his grasp." As Mjipa, glaring with fury, made a threatening step. Zharvets added: "No unseemly brabble, now, Master Mjipa, or I'll have the guards smite off her head along with yours."

Mjipa thought the minister was bluffing, at least as far as Alicia was concerned. He was hardly likely to have Alicia killed before the king arrived to decide her fate. Still, Mjipa dared not take a chance, with drawn swords all around.

The swelling sounds of a Krishnan flute were heard. The Heshvavu appeared, saying: "Aha! Here is she who sought to cozen Our Awesomeness! Naughty, naughty! What's the penalty, Zharvets?"

"Five hundred lashes, sire. None survives."

"A pity to mar so well-favored an ensample of Terran femininity. Ah there, Master Mjipa! May your liver be light. Certes, we have the power to pardon; but it goes without saying, Mistress Dyckman, that we expect an equal measure of generosity from you. How say you?"

"God damn it!" growled Mjipa in English. "How can I get you out of here? Perhaps they'll leave you alone long enough for me to snatch you away—"

"Don't try anything, Percy," said Alicia. "We wouldn't have the chance of a snowball in Hishkak. And maybe it won't be so bad. I'll see you tomorrow, I hope."

"Come, good my Terrans," said Ainkhist, " 'tis a gross discourtesy to speak together in a tongue unknown to us."

"I beg Your Awesomeness's pardon," said Alicia in Khaldoni. "Master Mjipa and I had business to settle ere we parted. We didn't know your tongue well enough for the purpose. What do you wish of me?"

"Ah, that's better. You shall company with us to the private quarters, where our women shall prepare you for a night of pleasure."

"Do you promise to let me go tomorrow?"

"We had not thought on the matter—"

"I assure you, my lord, you will find the occasion pleasanter if you do promise. Among Terrans neither I nor my work is altogether without importance, as I shall be glad to explain."

"Oh, well, why not? Not that I hold every word you utter as a revelation from Phaighost, in view of your proven mendacity. But all too well I recall your talent for argumentation; so you shall be free to go tomorrow.

"Zharvets, we see no cause to hold Master Mjipa and his servant. We will overlook his feeble attempt to smuggle Mistress Dyckman through our demesne undetected. Since we would not wantonly offend Novorecife, enlarge them."

Looking pleased with himself, the Heshvavu signaled his flutist to strike up a tune and strolled out of the chamber. Alicia, surrounded by guards, followed. Mjipa begged a brief laissez-passer from the minister and left for the inn he had stayed at before.

-

"Be not in such a rage, my lord," said Minyev. Mjipa was back in his room at the inn, pacing the floor, growling curses, smiting his palm with his fist, and even grinding his teeth. Minyev continued: "These great lords do as they list, as a bishtar doth amongst the lesser forest creatures, and we common folk can but keep out of their path. Not that I'd call you common, sir."

"I'm dishonored!" snarled Mjipa. "I'm disgraced for life! To have a Terran woman trust herself to me, and then let her be snatched by a royal rapist, without striking a blow ... I should have grabbed a dagger from a guard and skewered this king with it."

"Not so loudly, pray," said the factotum, "lest others hear your treasonous talk. Had ye essayed any such temerarious folly, the guards had cut you down in the blink of an eye, and belike they'd have slain me and the lady besides."

"I ought to have brought my Krishnan disguise kit, even though I could foresee no use for it. Or I ought to have detoured through the jungle and crossed an unguarded section of the border at night. Or I ought—"

"My lord, cease blaming yourself! An we could all live our lives o 'er, in the light of experience, I'll wager we should all do it differently."

"You're a bit of a philosopher, Minyev."

"Aye, sir; I try to memorize the maxims of Nehavend and guide my course thereby. But however wisely we plan our actions, the vagaries of chance can still bring our efforts to nought. Suffer me to fetch you a bottle of kvad from the shop!"

Mjipa growled an unintelligible noise, which Minyev took for assent. Soon he was back with a bottle and two mugs. "Here, sir!"

Several goblets of kvad later, Mjipa found his rage subsiding into gloom. The liquor, about as potent as a Terran fortified wine, seemed not to affect him otherwise. He did, however, discover that he was hungry. Again, Minyev fetched their dinners. By the time he had finished eating, Mjipa felt almost human. Then came a knock.

It was Ovanel, the slave girl who had been sent to him on his previous visit to Yein. She said: "My lord, when I companied with you before, ye commanded me to tell my masters that ye had joyed in our night, albeit ye sent me away unplumbed. Recalling this, they've sent me back for another visit; the Heshvavu himself, they said, so ordered. What shall be my fate this time?"

Torn by conflicting urges, Mjipa heaved a sigh. His self-control and self-respect had been sorely tried of late. During his incarceration with Alicia Dyckman, his lusts had driven him frantic. Although he did not greatly like Alicia as a person, her femininity still aroused his male instincts; she found amusing his embarrassed efforts to hide his frequent erections.

He also recalled his amusement at some of the missionaries' disputes over the moral status of sexual intercourse with Krishnans. Since there was nothing about it in Leviticus or Deuteronomy, they argued whether to class it with adultery, onanism, or bestiality, or simply to ignore it. At last he said:

"Minyev, here's a kard of Majbur. Go out and find yourself entertainment for the night, and don't come back till breakfast time."

Minyev went. Smiling broadly, Ovanel tossed off her kilt.

V

PURSUIT

With dawn, Ovanel departed. Minyev appeared, so promptly that Mjipa suspected he had been waiting outside until his master's guest left the premises. To Mjipa's surprise, the Kalwmian greeted him: "Goot mo-nin, suh! You sleep goot?"

"Eh? Where did you learn English, Minyev?"

"I have listened to you and Mistress Dyckman. Now I know a few words. Some day I shall learn good English and Portuguese and be a man of rank, belike an interpreter or even an ambassador."

"Good-oh!"

After breakfast, Mjipa went to the palace, leaving Minyev to guard their possessions. He impatiently waited an hour for Zharvets. When the minister at last ordered Mjipa's admission, the consul said:

"My lord, I pray that you send word to Mistress Dyckman, that I stand ready to escort her forth."

The minister sent a page to the king's private apartments. Soon the page returned, saying: "My lords, Mistress Dyckman wishes to remain in the seraglio for several hours more. She will rejoin Master Mjipa this afternoon." Mjipa bristled, supposing that Alicia was finding the king's embraces too delectable to part with. After growling curses under his breath in English and Setswana, he said: "Could I have a word with His Awesomeness?"

Mjipa did not really wish to see the Heshvavu, but this seemed a likely way to smoke the bastard out. To Mjipa, for a Krishnan male to force sexual favors from a Terran woman was absolutely unforgivable, an insult that could only be wiped out with blood. He made a private resolve to kill King Ainkhist, if he ever had a chance to do so without involving the other Terrans on Krishna.

"Nay, not this morn," said Zharvets."Know that my lord hath gone with some of his gentlemen oh a yeki hunt and will not return ere nightfall."

Mjipa wondered, if Alicia were not bedded with the Heshvavu, what on Krishna she was up to. He would not put it past her to lecture the haremites on the evils of polygamy, or to foment a strike, on the model of Aristophanes' Lysistrata, against their royal master. He said:

"Very well, sir. I shall return anon. May your liver be light!"

Mjipa spent the morning strolling about Yein, looking in the shops. He had to keep moving, because every time he stopped, the Mutabwcians gathered about him, staring. Although experience had hardened Mjipa to the role of exotic curiosity, he still found it irksome. Besides, all it needed was for some anti-Terran fanatic, a local version of King Khorosh, to stir up an otherwise peaceful crowd ...

-

Mid-afternoon found Percy Mjipa sitting on a cushion on the floor in a corner of Minister Zharvets's chamber of office, filling the air with pipe smoke. At last the minister, coughing, said:

"Master Mjipa, if you will cease smoking that thing, I will send for a flagon of good falat. Belike you'll find drinking it as pleasurable to you and less asphyxiating to me."

"I beg Your Altitude's pardon," said Mjipa, removing the pipe from his mouth. "You said you would not mind."

"Aye, but little I knew what hellish clouds your instrument would give forth."

The native wine proved good. But Mjipa, what with his impatience to begone from Yein, his shame at having failed to preserve Alicia's residual virtue, and his puzzlement over what could be holding her in the seraglio, was in no condition to appreciate its bouquet.

Roqir was low in the west when Alicia appeared. She wore her usual khaki shirt and shorts, but Mjipa could see that beneath the clothes she had been decorated with Khaldoni body paint, the pattern of which appeared on her bare arms, legs, and neck. In one hand she clutched a long rolled strip of native paper, and a necklace of gems gleamed round her slender neck.

"Percy darling!" she cried. "How nice of you to wait all this time! Farewell, Your Altitude," she said gaily to the minister; then to Mjipa again:"We must get back to the inn. I have work to do tonight."

"Eh? What?" said Mjipa as they walked out of the palace, with Alicia holding the black man's arm. "You seem remarkably cheerful for one who has been through a degrading experience."

"Degradation is all in the mind of the degradee. If I feel I've done the right thing, nobody can degrade me."

"Well, how was it?"

"The Heshvavu? No worse than a gynecological examination. It didn't really hurt, though I can't say I liked it, either. Maybe that's what made Ainkhist quit after the first time. Or maybe he expected some strange, exotic experience and was disappointed to find that one orgasm feels much like another."

"Some day I'll kill that son of a bitch," muttered Mjipa.

"Oh, calm down, Percy. He merely acted according to his lights, and I'm none the worse. After he'd done his thing, he insisted on reading aloud the beginning of his great Khaldoni history. But I fell asleep in the third chapter. I guess he took that as a literary criticism, because when I woke up he'd gone hunting."

"But what the hell are you so cheerful about? And what have you been up to all day?"

"Calm yourself, Percy; you're acting childish."

"God damn it, woman, I ought to know—"

"I'm trying to tell you, if you'll just keep quiet. See this?"

She held up the roll of paper, which he saw was covered with tiny inked symbols. He got out his spectacles to peer at them and asked: "What is it?"

"I've spent the day interviewing the inmates of the harem, and these are my notes. I'll have to spend the night writing them up in my notebooks, while they're still fresh."

"What language is that stuff written in? It looks something like Gozashtandou but isn't."

"English, but in shorthand. It's an almost forgotten art, but I find it handy in my profession. I have material here for a dozen papers and at least one whole book! Nobody has published a study of this milieu! Now do you see why I'm happy?"

"I'm glad it makes up for the other thing. I'll never forgive myself—"

"You mean the Heshvavu again? That was nothing."

"But don't you feel somehow unclean—violated?"

"Not really. I'm sure there's nothing about it in the Bible. If I remember, in the Apocrypha, Judith got high marks for giving her all to some enemy general, so she could murder him in his sleep.

"Understand, Percy, this king and his member mean no more to me emotionally than some mechanical gimmick. For a chance like this, I'd let myself be screwed every hour on the hour, so long as it didn't hurt. Don't look so shocked; I'm just being practical and realistic.

"And speaking of sex, these notes include Ovanel's remarks about you, so you needn't scorn me as a fallen woman. She was telling everyone who'd listen how you rang the bell four times in one night. I suppose there are Krishnans who'd feel about you the way you do towards Ainkhist."

Mjipa hung his head and kicked a pebble. "I've been continent a hell of a long time, you know; and she seemed ready, willing, and eager. But I'm still ashamed of myself."

"Oh, cheer up, Percy dear. You merely proved you 're not wearing an invisible halo."

"I'm just sorry I blotted my copybook, after holding out for so long."

"It's not a record anybody'll give you a medal for in these promiscuous days, no matter how virtuous you've been. In fact, Ovanel praised your virility till some of the haremites wondered if they couldn't persuade the Heshvavu to give or sell them to you. Apparently Ainkhist isn't in the same league with you in that department."

"Good God! We'd better get out of Yein before he tries something like that. Or, more likely, he'll have me liquidated in a fit of jealousy. He thinks himself the kingdom's number one lover, and he wouldn't take kindly to competition."

"He's more talk than action," said Alicia. "But that's usually the case with these self-styled great cocksmen on Earth, and I suppose here, too."

Mjipa sighed. "You 're in a position to know, though I'm still kicking myself for not somehow preventing it. I say, what's that fancy necklace? It looks like the one I saw Ainkhist wearing."

She pulled the necklace off over her head. "It's the same one. He gave it to me; he's basically a kindly soul aside from his sex complex."

"Huh! Kindly by his lights, perhaps; but if you hadn't given in to him, he might just as well have had you flogged to death. I know these blokes."

"You may be right." She held the necklace up to let it glitter in the sunshine. "I think the big green one's a real emerald. But I don't want the damned thing." She drew back her arm, as if to fling the necklace away.

"Oy!" cried Mjipa. "Don't! That's valuable!"

"I know; but it makes me feel like a whore." Alicia held up the roll of paper. "This is my real payment."

"Well, we ought to figure out something more practical to do with that bauble. I know! Sell it to me at a price I can afford, and I'll give it to Vicky as a homecoming present."

"I'll give it to you; here! No, I won't take payment. Either you accept it as a gift, or I'll drop it in a rubbish bin."

"And you're the one always accusing me of impractical sentimentality!"

"Never mind; I mean what I say. But perhaps you'd better not tell Victoria how you came by it."

"Oh, rather! In fact, we'd both better keep quiet about the events of last night. Vicky would be furious; and as for you, you might yet meet a man whom you'd prefer not to have know about these bêtises."

She shrugged. "I doubt that. No use trying to play Cupid for me, Percy. You don't know what it's like to be a highly qualified woman scientist. Most of the men I meet seem hopelessly dull, and those on my educational level run away because they prefer a female they have the psychological bulge over. So I've settled for marriage to my career."

"Haven't you any maternal instincts?"

"You can't tell whether you have them until you have a . child to trigger them. I've seen too many of my women colleagues, with excellent professional prospects, get married. Then the guy wants kids; so they have them. They have to quit work to raise the brats, and by the time they go back, , they've lost fifteen or twenty years of professional advancement and can never catch up."

"Oh, come off it! With modern longevity, that can't be the factor it used to be."

"Yes it is; I've seen it. Then sometimes these women get desperate and run out on the family, which leaves everybody miserable. Sometimes the man tells them one day, so long, old girl; I've decided to trade you in on a newer model. Not for me, thanks!

"But about your suggestion: you're quite right. You keep my shameful secret and I'll keep yours."

"You won't put anything about me and Ovanel in those books and articles you're going to write, even though they're in your notes?" said Mjipa with a note of apprehension in his voice.

"Of course not! Now, when can I use the bathhouse? I can't wait to get this sticky paint off. It was the haremites' idea of making me as beautiful as Sivandi in the legend."

-

Mjipa dropped Alicia off at the bathhouse, identified by the large sea shell over the door. He paid her fee and went back to the inn. As he mounted the stairs, Minyev popped out, frantically beckoning. When the two were alone, the Kalwmian said: "My lord, ye be in dire peril! We must fly!"

"Eh? What now?"

"Whilst ye were at the palace, I was in the common room below, enjoying a flask of falat with the taverner. In came a ging of bully-rooks to demand if we wist of a brace of Terrans, one small and yellow-polled, one tall and black as the smoke of Hishkak. Taverner Thathord opened his mouth to reply, but I hastily interposed a stout denial that either of us had laid eyes upon such monstrous aliens. Thathord's no ninny, so kept's peace whilst these coystrils sniffed about, swearing they sensed the Terran odor. But at length they departed.

"Now, these rudesbies spake Khaldoni with the Zhamanacian accent. So what think ye? That Lord Khorosh hath sent them to avenge the slight ye put upon him?"

"I think you're right. Master Thathord will expect a reward for his silence. Pack up your stuff and help me with ours; we'll pick up the lady at the bathhouse."

When Mjipa had paid their bill and added a generous tip to the taverner, they led the saddled ayas down the street to the bathhouse. Mjipa cursed himself for not having remembered sooner what he had once, long before, read in a W.F. report that the Krishnans living near the equator, such as the Khaldoni nations, not only had larger olifactory antennae than those living farther from it but also keener senses of smell. Hence it would be hard for him to throw off these humanoid bloodhounds, once they got on his trail.

The bathhouse was advertised by a sign, which Minyev translated: GENUINE SOAP FROM THE TERPAHLA WORKS OF THE BANJAO SEA. Not long before, the Interplanetary Council had relaxed the technological blockade to allow knowledge of soap-making into Krishna. After the suppression of the pirates of the Sunqar (the vast mass of floating terpahla weed in the Banjao) and of the manufacture of dangerous drugs centered there, a Terran named Barnevelt had set up a soap factory in the derelict ships of the Sunqar. Knowledge of soap was just beginning to penetrate the nations around the Triple Seas.

Mjipa threaded his way around pools and tubs in the bathhouse, where Mutabwcians swam, splashed, soaped, scrubbed, dried, played games, and sat to have their body paint renewed. As he walked past one pool, a Krishnan female, shrieking with laughter, ran past him pursued by a male. She banged into Mjipa, who fell into the pool with a great splash.

As he came up sputtering, the other Krishnans in the pool, thinking the Terran wanted to play games with them, began splashing him. Ignoring the horseplay as best he could, he climbed out the shallow end and continued looking for Alicia. He found her toweling herself after washing off her paint. Seeing the consul approach dripping, she said:

"Why, Percy! Have you been taking a bath with your clothes on?"

"Never mind that; come along right away! Don't put your clothes on; in Nude City you'll be less conspicuous without em.

"What's the matter?" she asked, drying an arm. "I'll explain later. Hurry up, damn it!"

"I won't move until you explain! I have a right to know—"

"God damn it, come along or I'll drag you! This is a life-and-death matter!"

At Mjipa's menacing aspect, Alicia, with a frightened look, snatched up her garments and followed him, still dripping, out of the bathhouse. At the sight of the saddled and laden ayas, she started to say: "What on Krishna—"

"Into the saddle!" snapped Mjipa. "Lively, or I'll spank that pretty pink arse!"

During the ride to the Kalwm Gate, Alicia plied Mjipa with questions: "What's this all about? What danger is there? Has something happened? How did you get wet?"

The consul kept silence until they were outside the city wall. Then Alicia said: "At least let me stop long enough to put on some clothes. You don't want me chafed raw again."

"Very well," said Mjipa. While she dressed, he told about the band of ruffians from Zhamanak who sought them. "If I know these natives, Khorosh sent them out with orders to bring back our heads, without the rest of us. Now you see why I didn't want to stop to dither at the bathhouse? It's bad enough to risk your own head by stopping to argue every step, but you're risking mine as well."

"What do you expect?" she flared. "You burst in and start bellowing at me as if I were one of those poor tailed slaves. All you had to do was ask politely, and I'd have come. You're a hell of a diplomat!"

"God damn it, woman, at such times you've got to forget fine manners ..."

The quarrel raged on for a quarter-hour, at the end of which Mjipa said: "Tais-toi! Il ne faut pas chicaner en anglais, parce que notre bonhomme-là le comprend un peu."

Warned from quarreling in English before Minyev, Alicia fell silent. The two spoke to each other no more that day.

-

They rode half the night. When they finally made camp, Mjipa posted watches, taking the first watch himself. Alicia had the last. When Mjipa awoke, it was daylight. Across from the remains of the fire, Alicia sat hunched over one of her notebooks, writing furiously. She looked up, saying:

"Hello, Percy! I'm sorry, but I can't help with breakfast. I've got to use every minute to get this stuff down before it fades. If you don't think I deserve any food, don't give me any; this is more important."

"Nonsense!" growled Mjipa. "You know we wouldn't let you starve. But I can see why you scare off the men. Nobody as dedicated to her science as you would have room for the softer feelings."

With a slight smile, tinged with melancholy, she replied: "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an aspersion." She returned to her writing.

-

At the Kalwmian border, Lieutenant Spisov was duty officer. When he saw Mjipa, he exclaimed: "You again!"

"Yes, I," said Mjipa, teeth showing whitely against the black of his skin. "Here are the papers. And I should like to send an important message back to your government."

After a conference among the officers, one said: "Master Mjipa, we will see that your message is despatched with the next fiftnightly report. Hast written it?"

"No; I don't write Khaldoni. Can someone write it for me?"

"Certes!" said the officer. "Spisov! Fetch paper and pen. "

Spisov departed, muttering: "Why must it always be I?" When he returned, Mjipa dictated:

MAY IT PLEASE YOUR ALTITUDES, THE HESHVAVU KHOROSH HAS SENT TO YEIN A BAND OF MURDERERS TO SLAY ME AND MY PARTY. WE FLED THE CITY, BUT SUCH A BREACH OF INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS SHOULD BE BROUGHT TO YOUR ATTENTION. PERCY MJIPA, TERRAN CONSUL.

The message completed, Mjipa turned to Alicia. "It may not do much good," he said, "but we want to put every obstacle we can in these larrikins' way."

-

It had taken nine days for Mjipa to get from Kalwm City to the border post, but they made the opposite journey in eight. The trip went faster, albeit in far less comfort, because a small party wastes less time than a larger one in getting started mornings, arguing over where to stop to pitch camp, and disputing about who shall do which chore.

On the afternoon of the eighth day, the sky was overcast, with a drizzle, as on the first day that Mjipa had seen the city. Mjipa and his two companions looked like disaster victims.

Mjipa and Minyev wore their Kalwmian kilts; Alicia, her shorts and shirt. So covered with dust and mud were they, however, that a beholder would have had trouble telling where cloth ended and hide began. Dirt lessened the differences in color between Mjipa and Alicia, so that they presented merely different shades of brown. The drizzle had eroded runnels in their coatings of dirt, giving a zebra effect.

Beneath the dirt they all looked gaunt, worn, and weary. They had been lashed by tropical rains, baked by tropical suns, and bitten by Krishnan arthropods, some of whom seemed to find Terran blood as attractive as did insects on Earth. As a result of their hurried departure from Yein, without time to gather supplies, they ran out of food and traveled the last two days on empty stomachs. The Terrans' tempers, never phlegmatic, were shorter than ever.

One of the fiercest quarrels between the Terrans had erupted when they crossed a river, and the girl demanded that they halt while she bathed. Mjipa had vetoed the plan on the ground that some of these rivers harbored dangerous life, comparable to the crocodiles and piranhas of Earth. He refused to take a chance on a dip without a better knowledge of the local fresh-water fauna.

Vuzhov's tower loomed out of the mist, standing high above the city wall. Frowning, Mjipa said: "By Jove, I believe they've added another story to that thing! It's time for God to step in and cause a confusion of tongues, as in the Bible."

"Percy, you don't really believe—"

"Good lord, no! At Oxford they told me the Tower of Babel was merely the Ziggurat of Babylon."

"Somebody ought to stir up a revolution against this crazy king and his obsolete government," said Alicia. "I'd like a chance—"

"Now look here! You tried that once and got kicked out of the country. If you do it again, the results may be more painful."

"I have a right to point out a plain fact—"

"And get yourself killed doing it? Not while you're with me, lassie! Remember, we've got agang of Khorosh's killers on our spoor. If you make a bloody nuisance of yourself, Vuzhov's people would be happy to turn you over to this crew, thus ducking responsibility—"

"Bloody nuisance, am I? Damn you, Percy Mjipa, why did you bother to come after me? All you care about is your bureaucratic rules and your fitness reports ..."

By the time they reached the Mutabwcian Gate, the quarrel had subsided into grim silence. The officer of the duty squad looked at Mjipa's papers, saying: "Welcome back, Master Mjipa! The city buzzes with a rumor of a brabble 'twixt you and the mighty lord of Zhamanak, with no two tales alike. Canst give the sooth of it?"

"Nothing of consequence, sir. He and I had words in a minor argument, wherefore our parting was less amicable than its usual wont."

They passed into the city. Mjipa went to Irants's Inn, where he had stayed aforetime. When he led his companions in, Irants looked up from his cushion, saying sharply: "Begone, ragamuffins! No beggars or vagrants in here!... Oh, 'tis ye, Master Mjipa! Phaighost save me, but ye ghasted me sore, appearing like a ghost from the past. What befell you, that ye bear an aspect so tristful? What would ye? A room? Can ye still pay?"

"I can pay," said Mjipa. "I want two rooms, with one and two beds respectively."

-

Mjipa gave Alicia the single room. When she was settled, she said: "Percy, I want to interview the taverner. I'm sure I could get a paper on the economics of Krishnan innkeeping."

" 'Fraid not," said Mjipa. "One of the conditions under which they let me through was that, if I returned with you, I should keep you under wraps, as you Americans say, while we were in Kalwm. That means no interviews."

"But that's terrible! Here I have a virgin field, anthropologically speaking, and I'm not allowed to ask one little question! I may never get back here again!"

"The beggars are afraid you'd start setting 'em right on the shape of the planet." Mjipa saw from Alicia's expression that she was about to fly into one of her rages. "Now calm down, my dear! I don't like these restrictions any better than you, but if we want to get back to Novo with our heads still attached, we'd jolly well better pay them heed.

"Now I'll order our dinners from Irants. I don't know about you, but I could eat enough for three. Meanwhile there's a bathhouse down the street, which we could all use.

After dinner we shall be too tired for anything but sleep, even though it'll still be daylight."

-

Next morning Alicia overslept. Mjipa breakfasted with Minyev in Irants's common room. As they finished, Mjipa told his factotum:

"Minyev, I want to know the sailing dates of the next ships to Shaf, or Jazmurian, or Majbur. Shaf's at the end of the rail line, so we would go from there to Majbur." (A Krishnan railroad consisted of a pair of wooden rails, on which tame bishtars pulled strings of little wooden cars.) "But either of the other ports would do as well. Can you do it?"

"Aye, master."

"Then go to it. Make sure the ship has quarters for the three of us, and reserve our places."

Minyev departed. A couple of local breakfasters also finished and went, leaving Mjipa alone in the common room. Irants came over and sat in Minyev's seat, saying:

"My lord, tell me some things anent Terrans. Amongst the breed whence ye spring, is't usual for the males to be tall and black, whereas the females be of medium size, pale of skin, and yellow of hair?"

"No. Mistress Dyckman and I come from different parts of our world. Hence the racial differences between us."

Irants digested this information. Then he said: "Another thing, sir, if I may speak of familiar matters. I could not help observe that ye placed the female in the single room, whilst ye and Goodman Minyev took the double. Amongst us, a male and his mate cohabit in the same quarter. Or could it be that ye suffer what we call the curse of the gods, that ye know not which sex ye appertain to?"

Mjipa felt a passing wave of anger but then burst into laughter. "No, my friend, you have it wrong. First, I have no urge of that sort towards another male; the idea revolts me. Second, Mistress Dyckman is not my mate, or anyone's else, but a learned lady of respect and authority in her own world. I am but her guide and helper—ah there, Lish! Thought you'd sleep all morning. I've been disabusing Master Irants of illusions; tell you later. While Minyev's out finding us a ship, why don't we take a dekko at Vuzhov's tower, if you're up to it? You could write a learned paper on that."

-

The sky, for once, was clear. Vuzhov's tower rose at the west end of Kalwm City, amid an open area. Mjipa, who had examined the tower on his previous visits to Kalwm City, and Alicia came out from the narrow streets into this cleared space. Alicia was quick to say that this plaza had formerly been a mass of dwellings of the poor of the city. She pointed to lines of walling amid the rubble.

"You can see the house plans," she explained. "Small houses of mud brick. I'll bet the Heshvavu simply ordered the space cleared, and his people told the inhabitants to get out pronto. Then they knocked over the houses and hauled away the debris; but they never finished the job, so you can still see traces of what they did. Do you suppose they ever paid the people whose property they expropriated?"

Mjipa shrugged. "Don't know. Some of the more advanced states, like Zamba, might; but I doubt if the idea would occur to these chaps. After all, we have countries on Earth, quite advanced, who confiscate the property of anyone they dislike."

They strolled across the plaza, skirting piles of rubble. Around the base of the tower, the ground had been properly leveled. A pair of tracks of the man-powered street-railway system made a loop around the tower. A small crowd of Krishnans stood craning their necks to look up. From their appearance, Mjipa decided that they were mostly visitors from other parts of Kalwm and from the other Khaldoni kingdoms.

Sounds of construction came from the tower, and little figures could be glimpsed moving around the top. At ground level, Krishnans were bringing heaps of red-brown bricks in hand carts. Others stacked these bricks in a couple of large baskets, from which ropes soared upwards.

Mjipa followed these ropes up with his eyes, squinting against the glare of Roqir, until they reached a pair of brackets jutting from the wall at the top. These brackets supported pulleys, over which the ropes were laid. As Mjipa watched, one of the ground crews sang out. Two Krishnans of this crew turned cranks, and the basket rose as the other leg of the rope was reeled in on a large spool, connected by gearing with the crankshaft. When the basket reached the top, one of the crank men belayed his crank by slipping a leather loop over it.

Alicia said: "Do you suppose, if we acted important enough, they'd let us inside?"

"We might try." Mjipa approached the monumental entrance to the tower, guarded by a pair of Vuzhov's gilded soldiers. The massive valves of the door, of squared timbers bound with bronze, stood open, and workmen went in and out.

"Good morning," said Mjipa to one guard. "We are Terrans from Novorecife. May we speak to the chief of construction?"

The guard went in and presently returned with a small, elderly Krishnan in a black kilt, who said: "Chief Engineer Arraj, at your service!"

Mjipa made a ceremonious introduction of himself and Alicia, adding: "Having heard of the wonders of this tower, we should be much obliged if you would permit us to view the details of construction."

"Certes, my dear Terrans! A thousand times aye! 'Twill be bliss inexpressible to show you round myself. We hear so much rumor of the might of Terrans in such matters that I would fain monstrate to you that we Khaldonians, too, can perform feats of dought in building. Come hither, pray."

They followed the affable engineer into the building. The interior, cluttered with construction materials, had a great spiral stair, which went round and round and up and up. Every five or six meters of height, the stair pierced a broad circular gallery bracketed out from the tower wall. Windows on each level admitted light.

Their host rattled on: "Since Kalwm has but little good stone, being in essence a plain of alluvial mud, stone is costly. Hence the bulk of the structure is of brick. Ye wite that I used stone for the foundation and for the lowest course, despite the expense, to withstand the superincumbent weight. For the rest, the outermost layer and the next within are of kiln-dried brick, lest rain water soften it and bring the tower over the years to collapse."

"Why not kiln-dried brick all the way through?" asked Mjipa.

"Why, sir, not e'en the wealth of Dakhaq would suffice to pay for the fuel such baking would devour. Now, would ye behold the finest overview of Kalwm City that life affords? 'Tis an exigent climb, I'll warrant you."

Mjipa turned to his companion. "How's your heart, Lish? I shouldn't care to have you drop dead in the middle of this climb."

"My heart's fine, thank you. I was an intercollegiate tennis champion." As they started up the stairs, she spoke to the engineer: "Good Master Arraj, tell me when you expect to reach—ow!"

Mjipa had pinched her arm. He said in English:"You were going to ask him when he expected to get to Heaven, weren't you?"

"What if I was? That hurt!"

"Didn't I tell you not to converse with the natives? I promised the government you wouldn't, and you were about to bugger it up again. The next thing would have been an argument over the shape of the planet. Want to get us killed? Damn it all, forget you know a word of Khaldoni! If you have something to say, tell me and I'll translate."

Mjipa thought if human eyes could really emit sparks, Alicia's would have done so. But she clamped her lips together in a thin, tight line and said no more.

They reached the third gallery from the bottom. While catching breath from the climb, Mjipa opened the door of a chamber built into the tower wall, which was several meters thick. The room was empty and without furnishings save for rows of pegs protruding from the wall. "What's this, Master Arraj?"

"Merely a chamber for the storage of tools. There's one on each level. The tools have been moved to the fifth story. Ye will observe that we are completely flooring only every fifth level, to save weight."

At last they reached the fifth level, which unlike those below was completely floored. The floor was open to the sky. Here construction made a din. Workmen hammered and sawed, moved scaffolding about, mixed mortar with hoes in troughs, laid bricks, and shouted orders back and forth. Arraj beckoned them to a window. Raising his voice above the noise, he said: "Here's your view, sir and madam."

Mjipa stared down at the sea of red-tiled roofs. After some minutes of trying to identify the roof of Irants's Inn, he gave up. He thanked Arraj effusively for the tour, and he and Alicia returned to the ground. They took a man-powered street car back to the inn, where Minyev awaited them in the common room.

"My lord!" said Minyev. "I have bespoken three berths on the ship Tarvezid, leaving for Majbur seven days hence."

Mjipa frowned. "Was that the earliest sailing?"

"Aye, sir. The next was a ship for Jazmurian, leaving a fiftnight later. I hope ye be satisfied, sir."

"I'm sure I shall be, though I'll go to the docks tomorrow to look the Tarvezid over."

"If she meet not your requirements, is't likely ye'd defer departure?"

"I don't know yet. Why?"

"Because, may it please Your Lordship, the execution of the heretic Isayin is set for two days after the Tarvezid's sailing. 'Twere a spectacle well worth beholding."

Mjipa grunted. During the last moon, other thoughts had crowded the fate of Doctor Isayin out of his mind. Now he felt a rush of contrition for having helped to condemn the savant, although he told himself, what else could he have done? At last he said:

"Where is Isayin kept?"

"In the Old Prison, sir, I do believe."

"Is that part of the palace?"

"Nay; 'tis westerly of the palace, near the waterfront. An ,ye'd like to see it, I'll guide you thither on the morrow."

"I'll consider that, Minyev. How long before dinner?"

"Eftsoons, my lord. Wouldst that I broached the matter to Irants?"

Before Mjipa could answer, the street door flew open, and in marched a squad of King Vuzhov's soldiery, spangled loin cloths and all. "Enter first murderers," muttered Mjipa.

The officer in command headed straight for Mjipa, halted with a click of gilded sandals, and said: "Pen-see Um-jee-pah, ye are summoned to the palace to answer a legal process against you. Ye also, A-lee-shah Dah-eek-man. Come!"

Surrounded by Kalwmian soldiery, Mjipa and Alicia were herded out and along the street. Minyev had somehow managed to vanish, as if by a magical spell, as soon as the soldiers appeared. Mjipa tried to question the officer but was rebuffed.

-

They were taken to Chanapar's office. The minister said: "Ah, Master Mjipa and Mistress Dyckman! Whereas I am pleased to see you again, I regret that our meeting be under these litigious circumstances."

Mjipa: "I seem, Your Altitude, to have spent most of the last moon being arrested on one false charge after another. What is it this time?"

"It is no violation of our Kalwmian laws that fetches you hither, but a request from the Heshvavu Khorosh for your extradition, to face charges in his own demesne." The minister turned to a Krishnan holding a scroll. "Proceed, Master Verar."

The strange Khaldonian, a Zhamanacian from his total nudity and body paint, unrolled the scroll and read: "Whereas two aliens from the alleged world called Terra, namely Percy Mjipa and Alicia Dyckman," (he mangled their names) "while guests of the Heshvavu Khorosh, may he live forever, did conspire to lay impious hands upon his sacred person, and kidnap, abduct, and carry off by force the said Heshvavu, leaving him many regakit from the city of Mejvorosh, we therefore call upon our brother Heshvavu of Kalwm to return these inhuman creatures to us, to face charges of lèse majesté, threat, assault, hostage taking, and kidnapping ..."

The scroll went on and on, citing various laws and legal precedents; but the opening paragraph gave the gist. When the envoy had finished, Chanapar said: "How say you, Master Mjipa?"

"I say that in the first place, we were not guests of the Heshvavu but his captives. Neither had he arrested us for violation of his laws, but seized us arbitrarily and locked us up as part of a bizarre experiment for which he hoped to use us as subjects.

"In the second, we did indeed lay hands upon his sacred person, since that was the only way we could regain the freedom from which, in defiance of civilized custom and diplomatic immunity, he had bereft us. We took him into the country and let him go. He should be grateful; had we wished him harm, we could easily have killed him."

"Ye see!" cried the envoy. "The alien admits his guilt! He says his assault upon His Awesomeness was justified; but nought extenuates so foul a deed. Do but once breach the sacredness of the ruler's person, and the land falls into anarchy and rapine!"

"How say you, Mistress Dyckman?" said Chanapar.

"I agree in every particular with the statement of Master Mjipa."

Chanapar stroked his antennae. "Good my sirs, a case of this weight must needs be tried before the full court. Since their calendar be crowded, I misdoubt they'll take it up in less than a full moon hence. 'Twill give the Terrans time to find an advocate and prepare their defense.

"Now, as for the interim: Master Mjipa, were you twain but common scrowles, you'd await the hearing in one of our prison cells. But since you come from Novorecife and be persons of rank and repute, we'll suffer you to remain in your present abode, on condition that you post a bond and promise never to go beyond the city walls."

"I protest!" cried Verar. "These aliens will slip away, no matter how closely watched. They're said to have mysterious powers. Who knows that they'll not sprout wings and fly away? Or make themselves invisible? My master were better pleased if ye put them in the deepest dungeon, laden with the heaviest gyves."

"Your protest is noted," said Chanapar. "Well, Master Mjipa?"

"How much bond?" said Mjipa.

"One hundred khichit of gold."

Mjipa turned to Alicia. "What's that in karda? Mental arithmetic was never my strong point."

The girl frowned. "About a hundred and seventy."

"I think we can make it, though it'll leave us a bit short." Mjipa pulled out his money belt and stacked ten-kard gold pieces until he made his bond. "May I please have a receipt, Your Altitude?"

-

Mjipa and Alicia hastened back to the inn. Alicia said: "It ought to be smooth sailing, since the ship leaves long before the hearing comes up."

"Huh!" said Mjipa. "You mean, smooth sailing if the government doesn't get wind of our plan to leave, and if they don't post guards over our ship."

"The minister seems friendly. He sounded as if he really wanted us to jump bail and skip."

"Maybe, but the Heshvavu might have different ideas. Policy in an autocracy is subject to change without notice. Also, if Vuzhov's gang doesn't do us in first. They'll have no trouble finding us. Verar will write a letter, saying: 'I've located them here in Kalwm City! Send the gang, and I'll lead you to their lair."'

"Oh, dear!" Alicia. "What shall we do, then?"

"What we can. And I have a debt of honor to pay to Doctor Isayin."

"What do you mean? I hope it's not something that'll get us all in the soup."

"You'll see, old girl."

"You're not thinking of trying to rescue him—"

"That's my business! The less you know about it the better. If I do, I'll see that you 're on the ship when it happens and won't be involved."

"Oh, Percy, there you go with your crazy notions of honor and chivalry again! We'll be lucky if we can get ourselves away with whole skins. Haven't you any common sense?"

"You 're nobody to talk. You 're to blame for poor Isayin's trouble in the first place, for selling him the idea of a round planet."

"But he already had a suspicion. I merely confirmed—"

"If you'd kept your little pink mouth shut, you could have done all the research you wanted, right here in Kalwm."

"Oh, you're impossible! That's no reason for risking a couple of valuable Terran lives—"

"Oh, so our lives are more valuable than those of the poor bloody natives? And who's always ragging me about looking down on the blighters? ..."

The quarrel escalated into a shouting match, at the end of which Alicia retired to her room and slammed the door. The pair spoke no more to each other that day.

VI

HYPOCRISY

Next morning, Alicia said over breakfast: "Percy, I'm sorry I blew my top yesterday and said things I didn't mean."

"Hear, hear! I'm sorry I got my monkey up, too. Let's forget it; we have a job to do this morning."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to try to persuade the Phathvum to let me visit Isayin in his cell."

"Oh, Percy, don't try any Scarlet Pimpernel stunts! If they catch you at it, what'll become of me?"

"You've got your berth on the Tarvezid, and you're experienced at knocking about by yourself."

"What shall I do while you're wheedling Chanapar?"

"Oh, you're coming with me. You can use some of that feminine charm on the minister."

"Feminine charm!" she sniffed. "A lot of hypocritical nonsense the men have forced women to learn because they're not big enough to get what they want by force. It's unfair!"

"Nonetheless, my popsy, you'll jolly well have to learn it. Our lives may depend on it. And wasn't it some American politician who said, life is unfair?"

After a silence, Alicia said:"All right, I'll come along and simper at the Phathvum, on one condition. But I draw the line at offering him my fair body. One Krishnan lover is too many."

"Good lord! I never thought of such a thing. I wouldn't let you anyway."

"What do you mean, you wouldn't let me? It's my body. I'd offer it in a flash if it were a matter of saving your life or mine."

"Mjipa: "Very well, let's not quarrel over something that won't happen anyway. Is that the condition you spoke of?"

"No; I meant I'd go if you'll take me shopping after dinner."

Mjipa exploded in a gust of laughter. "And I doubted if you were a truly feminine female! Righto, shopping it is; but remember, we don't have the wealth of Dakhaq to squander."

Leaving Minyev to guard their possessions, they rode a street car to the palace. The carman, pushing from behind, plied them with questions as he plodded: "How far away is this Terra?" "How many Terrans be there?" "Have ye two sexes, even as we do?" "Is't true that ye live forever?" "What of this belief that ye be demons, and your world one of the hells?" "My wife hath just laid her ninth egg. That's more juvenals than I can afford to rear; how can I staunch this ceaseless flow of little ones?"

"Here's one who hasn't caught up with Krishnan birth-control methods," said Alicia. She and Mjipa gave brief answers.

At the rambling, stucco palace, they had to wait most of the morning in the anteroom, because the Phathvum was busy with the government-in-exile of Suria, now overrun by the steppe-dwelling nomads of Qaath. When at last admitted, they found the stout Chanapar puffing a cigar and saying:

"Good morrow, sir and madam. What hap?"

Mjipa made a long speech, full of flattery and circumlocution. He finally got around to his request: "... and so, good my lord, 'twould greatly pleasure us to visit the unfortunate Doctor Isayin in his cell."

"Nay," said Chanapar. "Though I grieve as King Sabzavar did when his daughter was abducted, I must refuse. 'Twere clean against our legal procedures."

"We might even convert him to the true belief, the official doctrine geographical of Kalwm. If he were so converted, would he then be released?"

"Nay. Let a heretic think he hath but to recant to be enlarged, and who would stay convicted to furnish an ensample wherewith to terrify other sinners into the ways of virtue? I am truly sorry, my friends, but you strive to weave a rope of sand."

"Oh, Your Altitude!" said Alicia. "Will nothing persuade you? We are not without influence at Novorecife, and we might be able to do the kingdom favors on our return thither."

"Nay, 'tis stark impossible. And now I must beg your indulgence, for the Treasurer's report, about to arrive, will command my full diligence."

-

They walked slowly back to Irants's Inn, Alicia bubbling over the prospect of a shopping spree, Mjipa sunk in frowning thought. At the afternoon meal, Mjipa ate a whole ambar. This item of sea food bore an uncanny resemblance to a Terran cockroach enlarged to lobster size. Its appearance made some Earthlings nauseated at the thought of eating it, but Mjipa was hardened.

During this dinner, Mjipa queried Irants about the shopping districts. Armed with this knowledge they set out, Alicia sprightly, Mjipa feeling martyred. He lost track of the number of shops they stopped at. In each one they listened to the unctuous sales talk of the merchant, while Alicia looked over countless items and rejected them. Mjipa found standing around in shops more fatiguing than a fifty-kilometer gallop. His feet began to hurt.

In the end, Alicia bought a Kalwmian kilt with horizontal stripes of red, yellow, and blue. She also bought a wide-brimmed straw hat, such as they had seen otherwise naked farm workers wear. "I don't tan well," she explained. "I just burn and peel."

"It's the same with Fergus Reith, our permanent tour guide," said Mjipa. "You must meet him. Here, a pale skin's a badge aristocracy, just as it once was in Europe. A deep tan means you work out of doors, say on a farm, so you're a proletarian. That distinction never applied to us Africans, since we stayed black no matter what."

Her last purchase was a necklace of semi-precious stones in silver settings. This took as much time as several previous stops together. She studied the jeweler's offerings, tried them on, pirouetted before a mirror, and seemed unable to make up her mind. At last Mjipa growled:

"Look, my dear, if you'll just buy one of those bloody things and get it over with, I'll pay for it out of my own meager salary."

"Don't be silly!" She fumbled in her musette bag. "I've got money enough. It's just that they're all so divine."

When, having bought the necklace, they reached the street, Roqir had disappeared behind the buildings. The greenish blue of the sky was deepening towards twilight; small bijars flitted in pursuit of flying arthropods.

In starting back for the inn, they took a wrong turn and found themselves in a district poorer than any they had yet seen. "Looks like a tough neighborhood," murmured Mjipa.

"Oh, you needn't worry, with your size and your—oh, my! You don't have your sword!"

"I haven't been wearing the damned thing around the city. It would be a comfort now, I admit. We'd better hurry."

They strode on past doorways in which members of the Kalwmian underclass lounged, smoked, drank, and played piza on the pavement. One such group looked up simultaneously as the Terrans passed. Mjipa heard a shout that sounded like "Chaispis vatsw eqhav khos ash tserku!"

"What did he say?" asked Alicia. "I can't quite follow the extreme city dialect."

"It sounded like a sexual insult, directed at you." Mjipa slowed his stride and looked around.

Alicia pulled his arm. "Ignore them, Percy! We don't want a brawl, here of all places."

"When I'm with a lady, I don't let hooligans insult her—"

"Never mind! These thugs have the numbers and the swords. Now come along, Don Quixote!"

They continued to the next crossing, when footsteps and a repetition of the opprobrious sentence warned them they were followed. They crossed the intersecting street into a more prosperous neighborhood, where Mjipa halted and faced about.

He confronted four Kalwmians. One, with a scar on one cheek, bore a sword; the other three had daggers only.

"Were you speaking to me?" Mjipa addressed the swordsman in Khaldoni.

"Nay," said the Krishnan. "We care nought for you. We gape for the Terran doxy. Come with us, sweetling, and we'll show you a more frolicsome time than ever this black Terran shomal could."

"Never!" exclaimed Alicia and Mjipa together.

"Keep out of this, O Terran," said the swordsman, grasping his hilt, "unless ye list to be eunuchized."

"Alicia," said Mjipa,"hand me that kilt you bought." As she opened her mouth, he added sharply: "Don't argue!"

She gave him the folded garment. He said: "The lady is going nowhere. Now run along about your business."

The swordsman spat and bared a span of his steel, saying: "Ye seem not to know who I am."

"I admit my ignorance," said Mjipa.

"My name is Khostavorn."

"So?" said Mjipa. "That means nothing to me."

"It means that those who are wise belay not my path." Out came another few centimeters of blade. "Now go about your business!"

"I am minding my business right now," said Mjipa.

"Then ye'll have brought the fruits of your folly upon yourself," said Khostavorn, sweeping out his sword. "Will ye yield, or must your foul Terran blood be upon my hands?"

"Go to Hishkak!"

Khostavorn plunged forward in an extended lunge, with his point aimed for Mjipa's chest. As he did so, Mjipa unfurled the kilt and whipped it around the blade, spoiling its aim and for the second immobilizing it Before the swordsman could recover, Mjipa sprang forward, past the sword's point, and brought his right fist up in a seeping uppercut. It landed with a crack, sending Kostavorn staggering.

A second punch caused the Krishnan to drop his sword. Mjipa bored in, pounding the gangster with rights and lefts. Khostavorn fell back against a house front and toppled to the ground, unconscious.

Drawing his dagger, Mjipa whirled as one of the other three moved towards him. At the consul's formidable aspect, the three backed away, turned, and fled.

Nursing bruised knuckles, Mjipa muttered: "You never know where to hit these blokes for best results, because their internal anatomy is different. I think I'll help myself to Master Khostavorn's sword."

"Hadn't you better kill him while you have the chance? Nobody's in sight."

Mjipa gave Alicia a sharp look. "For a pretty, delicate-looking little thing, you surely have the bloodiest ideas."

"Well, will you? It's only common sense."

"No, I won't."

"Why not? He's not human, and he'd have killed you."

"I won't because I've seen how native justice works. A bloke's attacked you, and you've killed him in self-defense—a clear case. But they take one look and say, 'He's an alien monster from outer space. He's obviously guilty; boil him in oil!' "

While Alicia recovered her new kilt from the dirt, Mjipa unhooked the scabbard from the swordsman's belt, slung it to his own belt, and picked up and sheathed the sword. "Now let's move!"

Between the gathering darkness and the lack of street signs, the two got completely lost. They were wandering aimlessly, trying to steer by one of the moons, when they stumbled upon a squad of the night watch. This consisted of a group of Kalwmian civilians tramping along with torches in their hands and halberds on their shoulders. When queried, these readily gave directions to Irants's Inn.

As they neared the inn, Mjipa saw a group of men lounging in front of the building. Something told Mjipa they were waiting for him. He whispered:

"Get behind me, Alicia! Now, when I say 'go!', run to where we saw the night watch. Find them and tell them to come as fast as they can. Don't get lost, and don't argue!"

He took a few more strides. The loungers straightened up alertly. Mjipa muttered, "Go!" and heard Alicia's footsteps patter away.

One of the loungers stepped towards Mjipa, the moonlight gleaming on his bared blade. The light of two moons, together with that from a cresset blazing in a wall bracket at the next corner, enabled Mjipa to recognize Khostavorn, who came steadily on. The Krishnan's face was mottled from Mjipa's blows.

The other gangsters spread out to surround Mjipa, but Khostavorn snapped: "Keep back! This alien's mine!"

Mjipa drew the sword he had taken from Khostavorn, and they engaged. They made passes—thrusts, cuts, and parries—cautiously at first. Mjipa wished he had paid closer attention to the fencing lessons that Ivar Heggstad had tried to pound into him.

The basket-hilted swords hissed, scraped, and clanged. Both were of similar pattern, substantial cut-and-thrust weapons not unlike the swords that officers in some Terran armies still wore for parades. They had straight blades a little under 80 centimeters long and four wide and weighed about one kilo. Khostavorn handled his blade with greater assurance and adeptness.

Mjipa barely parried a sudden lunge; another forced him to step back. He felt the sting of a cut as Khostavorn's point scraped the skin of his chest. Again, he got his blade against the Krishnan's barely in time. Back he went another step. His own lunges, cuts, thrusts, remises, doubles, and one-twos the Krishnan easily knocked aside.

The hilt of Mjipa's sword became slippery with sweat. Mjipa had a horrid feeling that the Krishnan was toying with him and could kill him any time he wished.

The action slowed as the fighters began to pant. Mjipa was relieved to see that his antagonist became short of breath just as he did; Khostavorn was not, after all, a tireless fighting machine. Perhaps, with Mjipa's superior height and reach, he could offset the Krishnan's greater skill—but then a sudden attack forced him to back up again; his foot slipped and for a flash he thought he was going to fall. But he recovered.

For an instant they stood motionless, blades engaged in sixte. Then Mjipa snatched his sword hand back and his blade up in a coupé. His lunge went under Khostavorn's blade before the latter even tried to parry. Apparently the coupé was unknown in Kalwm.

Mjipa's point went home with the slight jerkiness of a blade penetrating layers of organic tissue. Mjipa pulled the blade out and stepped back.

Khostavorn's sword wavered and fell to the street with a clang, as Khostavorn folded up and sprawled in the dirt.

The rest of the gang, five of them, were quietly surrounding Mjipa. Two had swords, the others knives or daggers.

With tigerish speed, Mjipa leaped at the smallest of the dagger men. With both hands on his hilt, he brought his sword down in a whistling cut at the Krishnan's shoulder. The whistle ended in a meaty sound; the gangster shrieked as his arm fell into the dirt. The others sprang at Mjipa, but the consul got his back against the wall of the inn. With his left hand he drew his dagger.

Although they were four to one, the remaining gangsters hesitated, muttering. From the words he caught, Mjipa gathered that each was urging the others to be the first to rush upon Mjipa's bloody blade.

At last the two swordsmen summoned courage to make a simultaneous advance. For a few seconds there was a wild meleé. Mjipa could do little but make desperate right-and-left parries to knock the two blades aside before they reached him. He felt the sting of another cut as one of the dagger men got close enough to nick his left arm. He replied with an awkward slash of his dagger, which laid open the Krishnan's cheek.

Then a clatter of footsteps and the light of bobbing torches down the street distracted the attackers. "The watch!" cried one. In a trice, the four still on their feet scampered off into the darkness.

The night watch arrived, puffing, with Alicia. All asked questions at once. They turned over Khostavorn's body, exclaiming his name. They peered at the gangster whom Mjipa had maimed. The Krishnan sat on the ground with his back to the wall, with his remaining hand clutching his wounded shoulder. Krishnan blood, looking black in the dim light, poured out between his fingers. He murmured:

"Aid me! Bind me up, pray, ere I die!"

"I know that one," said one of the watch. " 'Tis the cutpurse Yav. I'll tend to him. Stand back, hearties!"

The watchman swung his halberd. The ax blade crunched through the wounded Krishnan's neck. Yav's head fell into the dirt; the body toppled.

"Ye must come with us, Terran," said the commander of the squad.

"I understand," said Mjipa.

The watch set off. Two carried Khostavorn's body; two more that of Yav; another watchman bore Yav's arm in one hand and his head in the other. The remaining watchmen shouldered the halberds of the burden-bearers in addition to their own.

They entered a small building. A Kalwmian whose body paint indicated official status sat on the floor behind a low desk. Those bearing the remains of the dead gangsters dumped them in a corner. When the watchmen had given their story, the seated official said:

"The magistrate hath gone home for the night, so we must needs hold this Terran till morning."

"What of's leman?" A watchman indicated Alicia.

"Whereas she took no part in the affray, I see no cause to hold her. We shall find her at Irants's Inn when we wish. Ye, Terran, hand over your sword. Now, what's your name?"

Mjipa answered a long list of questions. When the official had noted the answers, Alicia said: "I ought to stay with you, Percy."

"Thanks, old thing; but no. If you want to be helpful, go back to the inn and fetch some disinfectant and bandages. Then go back and stay there, to keep an eye on Minyev and our gear. If they don't let me out tomorrow, go to Chanapar about it."

-

Next morning the magistrate had no sooner appeared and summoned Mjipa when a page arrived from the palace, out of breath. "My—my—my lords!" the lad burst out. "Word hath come to my masters of Master Mjipa's slaying of the agitator Khostavorn. They command that he be escorted to the palace forthwith!"

After the officials of Kalwm City had scurried about, Mjipa found himself marched to the palace by an escort of eight gilded soldiers. One of these bore the consul's sword and dagger; Mjipa supposed they were uncertain what treatment awaited him.

Mjipa was taken to Chanapar's office. The minister said: "Give Master Mjipa back his weapons. Great Phaighost, you are wounded!"

"Mere scratches," said Mjipa.

The Phathvum continued:"Word hath come, good my sir, of your deed of dought against that unsavory pack of rogues yestereve. Your slaying of Khostavorn is held in especial gratitude by His Awesomeness and myself.

"Know, Master Mjipa, this malefeasor is one whom all knew to be an evildoer, yet never have we truly laid him by the heels, for want of evidence. Oft hath he been arrested; but his fautors have so terrified all witnesses with threats of murder that none would speak up.

"Furthermore, he was more than a mere swasher. Acquiring ambitions political, he sought alliance with some of our disaffected magnates and led an agitation against my master's greatest enterprise: his heaven-soaring tower. This rascal had fautors in unexpected places."

"Couldn't you just order him killed on general principles?"

"Nay, not under the charter which the rebellious commons extorted from Roshetsin the Fifteenth. Furthermore, the dastard had protectors amongst the magnates. Twere well for you to be erelong on your way home, lest Khostavorn's secret supporters send hired bravos to slay you in revenge."

"Why didn't you hire some bravos of your own to do him in?"

"We did, to no avail. Khostavorn was the deadliest swordsman in the realm, and the members of his band were not far behind him. It amazes me that you could dompt him; belike we might employ you in our army as an instructor in bladesmanship."

"Thank you, but I hope to keep my present job. My victory was mostly luck." Privately, Mjipa thought that if a tyro like himself could spit the deadliest swordsman in Kalwm, the local standard of swordplay could not be very high.

In fact, the minister's tale sounded thin to Mjipa. The full story of alliances and enmities among the powers of this kingdom, he suspected, was much more complex than appeared on the surface. Could it be, for instance, that the local garrison was controlled by one of those 'disaffected magnates' of whom Chanapar had spoken? That might explain Khostavorn's long immunity. But Mjipa had neither the leisure nor the will to investigate these mysteries. If he were ever appointed Terran representative to Kalwm, that would be time enough for snooping.

"Phaighost only knows," continued the Phathvum, "what might have befallen had you not brought the wretch to a timely cease. The kingdom is not ungrateful, sirrah. Do but name a reasonable reward, and it shall be yours."

After a moment, Mjipa said: "I thank Your Altitude. I should like, first, the return of my bond money; and second, another audience with His Awesomeness. Kindly tell him that I was so fascinated by his account of his ancestry that I yearn for more of the same."

The minister gave Mjipa a sharp look. "That is curious. Of the other visitors whom my lord hath regaled with accounts of's forebears, all professed themselves satisfied with a single discourse. But it shall be as you list."

An hour later, Mjipa found himself closeted with Vuzhov the Visionary again, listening with an affectation of intense interest to the king's ancestral anecdotes: "... and this is Vuzhov the Seventeenth. Finding the routine of ruling irksome, he sought the advice of a holy man, Sailuts the Selfless, on how to gain eternal fame by some great quest or feat of heroism.

"Sailuts inhaled his magical smokes and went into a trance. When he recovered, he told Vuzhov that his spirit, ranging far and wide, had discovered in the land of Garam, on the shores of the Maraghé Sea, a smith who knew the secret of making helmets of invisibility. If my ancestor would sail thither to procure such a helm, Sailuts said, he would give great satisfaction.

"So Vuzhov set sail, and coasted the shores of Peihné, and ascended the river Konela to the Maraghé. But whilst his ship was searching the shores of this sea for the dwelling of the marvelous smith, the king was snatched from's deck by a saferir, which as you doubtless know is the large cousin of the 'avval, and devoured in one great gulp.

"Terrified, the survivors of the crew turned about, sailed back down the Konela, and returned to Kalwm. When some of Vuzhov's loyal supporters taxed Sailuts the Selfless with having sent their Heshvavu to an untimely death by a false rede, the holy man, no whit abashed, replied that his prophecy had proven true to the letter. For Vuzhov had indubitably given satisfaction to the saferir, to whom he furnished an ample repast."

The king cleared his throat. "We fear our old voice grows weary, and the hour of dinner draws nigh. Will today's recital suffice, Master Mjipa?"

"Of a surety, Your Awesomeness," replied Mjipa. "I am inexpressibly grateful that you have afforded me so much of your priceless time to expound these fascinating tales."

"Ainkhist would like them for his book, I ween," said the king with a nasty little chuckle, "but he shan't have them. Well, this hath been a pleasure. Your Khaldoni hath vastly improved since last we met."

Mjipa shrugged. "I strive for excellence, sire."

"Good! When our tower reaches Heaven and we take our rightful place amongst the gods, we shall ordain a system of rewards for worthy mortals like your good self."

"One small matter, sire!"

"Aye?"

"I beg permission to visit the unfortunate, deluded Doctor Isayin in his cell. At Novorecife, they wish to know the wrong side of public issues as well as the right; and they count upon me to report them at my return thither. Perhaps I might even convert him to Your Awesomeness's correct views."

"That were a virtuous deed," said Vuzhov.

"Suppose I did; would it mitigate his penalty?"

The Heshvavu pursed his lips. At last he said: "To some degree. We might ordain that his death be made quick and painless, e'en though it would thwart the hopes of the vulgar for a gory spectacle."

"Could you direct the Phathvum to give me a pass?"

"Aye. Uzhegh!" The king spoke to his secretary. "Indite us a note to Chanapar, bespeaking him to issue Master Mjipa a pass to Isayin's cell."

-

As he left the palace with the pass in his wallet, Mjipa encountered Minyev on the steps. The factotum sprang up, saying: "My lord, Mistress Dyckman sent me forth to find you this morn, saying that I, knowing this city, could better do it than she. Like Hwrar pursued about the maze by the demon-kargán, I traced you to the local magistrate's chamber and thence hither, where they told me you were closeted with the great ones. I've waited, uncertain whether I should see you next in one piece. Do your wounds pain?"

"Not much," said Mjipa. He started back for the inn.

When he arrived, Minyev trotting to keep up with the consul's long strides, Mjipa found an agitated Irants awaiting him. "Sir!" said the taverner. "A new matter hath us wimpled. Know ye a wight clept Kuimaj, from Mutabwk?"

"No; I never heard of him. Why?"

"He claims to know you. Says he hath come as a herald from the Heshvavu Ainkhist himself, with a missive to Mistress Dyckman. But she refuses to hear it and hath bolted herself in her chamber. Now this one stands without the door, praying audience. I like not to pitch a gentleman, which I take this fellow to be, out on's arse without due consideration. Canst untangle this coil, sir?"

"Let's see him." Mjipa mounted the stairs to Alicia's room. Before it stood a Krishnan, a Mutabwcian by the cut of his kilt and the pattern of his body paint. In a loud, peremptory voice, this person was reading from a scroll.

"Pardon me," said Mjipa, approaching, "but I am with the lady to whom you are trying to speak. What's your business?"

The Krishnan looked angrily at Mjipa. "Know, O Terran, that a herald of His Awesomeness, the mighty Heshvavu of Mutabwk, is not to be entreated in such scurvy fashion. After all, I am who I am!"

"What scurvy fashion?"

"Why, Mistress Dyckman renies to hear the message I bear from my mighty master."

"We'll come to that. Meanwhile you may read me your message."

"Aye," said Irants, crowding up behind Mjipa. "He speaks sooth, Master Kuimaj, and is moreover a personage in high favor at the court of Kalwm. We'll not longer suffer you to roil the tranquility of our hostelry."

Kuimaj looked from Mjipa to Irants to Minyev. Outnumbered, he grumbled: "Where, then, would ye fain have this royal missive read?"

"My room will serve," said Mjipa. "Irants, get Master Kuimaj a drink of falat, and put it on my bill. In here, good my sir."

Settled in Mjipa's room, the Mutabwcian at last began to read, in a voice that could have addressed a thousand:

KNOW YE, MISTRESS ALICIA DYCKMAN, THAT HIS AWESOMENESS THE HESHVAVU AINKHIST OF MUTABWK IS SMITTEN WITH A BURNING PASSION FOR YOUR FAIR SELF. HE CURSES THE DAY WHEN HE SUFFERED YOU TO DEPART FROM HIS PRESENCE AND HIS KINGDOM. NOW HE WOULD FAIN WOO YOU BACK, SINCE YE SURPASS ALL HIS OTHER WOMEN AS ROQIR SURPASSES SHEB. DO BUT RETURN TO HIS LOVING BOSOM, AND HE WILL MAKE YOU HIS FIRST WIFE OR QUEEN. FAVORS UNTOLD SHALL BE YOURS: FOOD, DRINK, RAIMENT, JEWELS, SLAVES, ENTERTAINMENTS, THE HEADS OF YOUR ENEMIES. YE HAVE BUT TO ASK AND IT SHALL BE GIVEN, SO THAT YE RETURN TO THE EMBRACE OF THE MIGHTY MONARCH, WHOSE LIVER BURNS WITH DESIRE AS ARDENT AS THE FLAMES OF HISHKAK. COME BACK TO YOUR TRUE LOVER AND HE WILL BE YOUR OBEDIENT SLAVE.

"End of missive," said Kuimaj. "Well, when comes she?"

"We shall see," said Mjipa. He went to the door of Alicia's room, calling: "Open up, Lish! It's Percy. I'll see this cove doesn't drag you off against your will."

Alicia came out, casting a scornful glance at the herald. "He read me his message once. When I said no, he read it again. When I still said no, he started to read it a third time, with gestures. I told him what he could do with his scroll and went to my room."

"You might as well give up and go back to Yein," Mjipa told the herald. "The lady has no intention of complying. Since this is not Mutabwk, Ainkhist's writ runs not here."

"But she must come!" cried Kuimaj. "For a maiden to refuse the suit of a king were unheard-of! 'Tis a thing impossible! Especially when he offers to make her his official consort. Is't that she understands not Khaldoni, which she speaks with an accent? Or is't but a zany lune, by one of unsound mind, wherefore she should be committed to the care of learned doctors of physick?"

"I understand well enough," said Alicia. "It is you who fails to understand plain Khaldoni. When I say no, I mean no."

"So," said Mjipa, "kindly go about your business and cease to trouble us."

"I'll not move until yon joltheaded jade agrees to my master's hest!"

Mjipa sighed. "One damned Donnybrook after another," he said in English. "Minyev, you and Irants take his legs; I'll manage his arms."

"Fang him, bullies!" cried Irants. The three pounced upon the herald and picked him up. They carried him, kicking and yelling threats and defiance, down the stairs and out the front door. There they gave him a heave-ho that tossed him into the middle of the street. As he got up, Kuimaj shook a fist at the group in the inn door, shouting:

"Ye carls shall rue your insolence! None flouts the commands of my mighty master with impunity! Ye have not seen the last of me, and Mistress Dyckman shall yet reign as queen in Mutabwk!"

He limped off, patting dirt from his person.

-

Over dinner, Mjipa told of his interviews with the Phathvum and the Heshvavu. Alicia exclaimed: "You mean, it turns out that this underworld bigshot is the one opposing the king's crazy tower? The one on what we'd consider the right side? And you did us good with the government by bumping him off?"

"Exactly, my dear. Life is full of ironies, isn't it? Of course, I didn't set out to put paid to anyone on either side of the tower dispute; but if some johnny attacks me, I must defend myself."

"Thank the Krishnan gods you came through! I was sure they had you this time."

"They would have, if Khostavorn's vanity hadn't made him hold the others back, so he could have the glory of killing me single-handed."

"So you see what happens to the guy who plays the fearless hero! If you'd only taken my advice and killed him after you knocked him out—"

"And then we shouldn't have got our bond money and a pat on the back from the government. You never know how these things will turn out."

"Why wouldn't we have gotten our money back, etcetera?"

"Because, not knowing how the government felt about the fellow, we should have kept our mouths tightly shut."

Alicia sighed. "I give up. How was your night at the station house?"

"Not bad. I had two cell mates. One was drunk and wanted to show he could thrash the biggest man in the place, and guess whom he chose for the honor? But one straight left put him to sleep. The other was an admirer of the late Khostavorn, who praised the blighter's virtues for an hour before he fell asleep. I thought it more tactful not to tell him what had befallen his hero."

"And now you're going to visit Isayin like you said?"

"Yes indeed."

"If that doesn't work, you'll be sorry you got on such chummy terms with the king. It'll only get us in more trouble—as if we didn't have enough already, with King Khorosh out for revenge and King Ainkhist smitten with love."

"Sorry about that, but with me it's a matter of obligation. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least have a go at it."

She continued to argue against Mjipa's trying to free the condemned heretic. At last Mjipa burst out:

"Look here, you wouldn't like it, would you, if I told you to take Ainkhist up on his offer and go back to Yein? It would certainly simplify life for me."

"Of course not! That's a ridiculous comparison. Anyway you're the one who was ready to fight the whole Mutabwcian court to save my so-called honor."

"Oh, I wouldn't think of asking you to do such a thing; I merely cited it as an example. The mere idea of a human woman giving herself to one of these—these aliens gives me the bleeps. Well, I feel the same way about leaving Isayin in the lurch, after I helped to convict him. You 're partly responsible, too, for selling him the round-planet idea."

"But he's only an alien, and you said yourself ..."

The argument grew into another quarrel. They finished the meal in silence, and Alicia retired to her room and slammed the door.

-

Mjipa took Minyev with him to the Old Prison, to show the way. The head warden scrutinized the pass, returned it to Mjipa, and led him down a corridor lined with barred cells, leaving Minyev in his office. He unlocked the door of one cell and waved Mjipa in, remaining outside the bars.

The small, wizened Kalwmian in the cell looked up. His antennae rose and his eyes widened as they took in Mjipa's towering height and sable coloring.

"You!" said Doctor Isayin. "What in Phaighost's name brings you hither? To gloat over my fate?"

"Not at all, Doctor." Mjipa then asked: "Do you speak Gozashtandou?" in that language.

"Aye," said Isayin in the same tongue. "Wherefore ask you?"

"Because we can speak more freely thus, since that jailer watching us probably understands it not." Mjipa shot a glance at the warden, to see if he reacted to the words; but the Krishnan gave no sign of interest.

"If you come not to sneer, then what?"

"First, tell me how you got into this plight."

"Discovering from a Terran female, a person of forceful spirit and deep learning, that the spherical planet was universally credited by the space-traveling Terrans, I let myself be convinced of the truth of this doctrine. Its verity I had long suspected from small indications; for ensample, the hull of a ship vanishes o 'er the horizon whilst one can still perceive the masts and sails; so the surface of the sea must bulge upward. After all, space travelers have in sooth viewed this and other worlds from afar and thus beheld their true form.

"I sought to present my heretical views to my class with discretion, cautioning them that 'twas but a theory, however cogent the arguments therefor. But one student, a thrasonical young cuttle on whom the higher learning is wasted, resented my failing him in the course. His revenge was to denounce me to the powers of the palace. The rest you know."

"Now," said Mjipa, "if you'll allow me, I'll explain my part in this sad affair." He summarized the obstacles he faced and the things he had been forced to do in his dealings with the Khaldonian rulers. Isayin asked:

"Be this female whom you've rescued from peril dire, as Abbeq rescued Dangi, the same as she who vouchsafed the Terran round-world doctrine to me? Alesha—Aleesha something."

"Yes; Alicia Dyckman. She and I sail five days hence for Majbur and Novorecife. If I could smuggle you out of this cell, would you wish to come with us?"

The Kalwmian spread his hands. "What can I say? Love I my native land ne'er so much, I'd liefer not stay to enjoy the entertainments of the Heshvavu's executioners. How will you effect this extrication?"

"I'm not certain, but I have ideas. Act doleful and discouraged, as if I had quenched your last spark of hope. I shall be back."

-

Over the next day's breakfast, Mjipa said: "Lish, I've got another problem. Can you write good Khaldoni?"

"Is this something to do with your crazy idea of springing Isayin?"

"Never mind; can you?"

"No, I can't. I've studied the written language and can read it a little, but I never got very far past the signs. It's very irregular."

"Then I shall have to try Minyev. He reads and writes, which is pretty good for a person of his class."

"Oh, God, Percy! Don't you see, that will put us at his mercy? What makes you think he wouldn't turn us in for a reward?"

"It's taking a bit of a chance, I admit. But it won't affect you, because you'll be safe aboard ship. Minyev is a good risk, because he wants to come with us to Novo. He can't do that if I'm in pokey here."

"Percy, you 're the most bullheaded idiot I've ever known. There's no reasoning with you. You make me mad!"

"No, my dear; your madness was well established long before I met you. Now excuse me, please."

Mjipa hunted up the taverner, saying: "Master Irants, have you a rule or scale for measuring, that I could borrow?"

Irants produced a length of wood marked off in Khaldoni units. Mjipa took it and found Minyev, saying:

"See you this?" He showed the factotum the blank back of the pass to Isayin's cell. "Look closely, noting the quality of the paper. It is four and a half by six yestit. I want you to buy me twenty sheets of paper of exactly the same size and quality. Take Master Irants's rule along to make sure. This is strictly confidential. If you give me away, you'll never get to Novorecife."

"Wherefore not, sir? I understand not."

"Because in that case I shan't be alive to take you. Now get along."

Hours later, Minyev returned with the package, saying: "The quality is not exactly that of the original, my lord. It was the closest I could find."

Mjipa unwrapped the package and compared the sheets with that of his pass. The paper differed slightly, but Mjipa hoped that the difference was too slight to be noticed by lamplight.

"You did well," said Mjipa. "Now sit down. Here are pen and ink. Write me out, in your best Khaldoni, the following:

YOU ARE HEREBY DIRECTED TO RELEASE THE PRISONER ISAYIN IN THE CUSTODY OF THE SAID TERRAN MJIPA. FOR REASONS OF STATE, THIS ENLARGEMENT SHALL BE KEPT IN STRICTEST SECRECY.

CHANAPAR, PHATHVUM

After dinner, Mjipa retired to his room and spent the rest of the day laboriously forging a new pass. Although he had no experience in forgery, after several attempts he produced a plausible imitation of the opening sentences of the original pass. Instead of the final sentence, authorizing him to visit Isayin in his cell, he copied the passage that he had caused Minyev to write, following the style of lettering of the original pass.

The following day, Mjipa killed time by taking Alicia to a revival of Harian's The Ancestors, given in Khaldoni. He offered her a choice of a poetry reading by Shetsin, a local bard; a concert by the Royal Band; and the play. All of these were advertised on the bulletin board in the main square. She chose the play.

The plot concerned an aristocratic young couple whose first egg, when hatched, produced a baby Krishnan with a tail. The question was: which line, his or hers, bore the taint of the ancestry of a tailed Krishnan? The presence of the tailed species in one's family tree was deemed a deep disgrace.

Mjipa whispered: "I thought the tailed and tailless species weren't interfertile?"

"Not quite true," Alicia whispered back. "They can produce offspring, but most are sterile. Not all, though."

In the end, it transpired that the couple were remote cousins, their common ancestor being the same tailed forebear. They were about to commit suicide to atone for their disgrace, when an envoy from distant Günesh invited them to his country. There, he assured them, their "drop of tailed blood" would not be held against them.

"At least," murmured Alicia, "it's sound genetics, assuming the tail is a Mendelian recessive."

Later, near the end of visiting hours, Mjipa paid another call at the Old Prison, to warn Isayin of his plans.

"Oh!" said Isayin. "You purport to liberate me three days hence? Alas, 'twill be too late."

"How?"

"The day after tomorrow, 'tis said, I shall be taken to the Examining Room in the palace. You wite, methinks, what that means. They'll seek to wring from me, by means no whit gentler than those of the giant Damghan in the legend, news of other heretics. They fancy to crush what they misprize to be a vast conspiracy of round-worlders against the god-ordained rule of His Sacred Awesomeness. Whether the late Khostavorn headed such a cabal, I know not, never having met the rogue."

Mjipa sat in thought. At last he said: "Then I must deliver you tomorrow. I've been wondering where to keep you between then and sailing time; but I think I know a safe place. Can you play the part of a—let me think—a Zhamanacian, say?"

"I could shave off my hair, adopt their style of body paint, and speak a fair simulacrum of their dialect."

"Then be prepared to do so. Phaighost willing, I shall return after the dinner hour tomorrow."

-

For supper, Mjipa took Alicia to a Kalwmian night spot. They listened to a trio playing strange music on instruments resembling a set of bagpipes, a balalaika, and a xylophone. A female Krishnan sang wailing songs.

Struggling with a dish of live spaghetti—actually an edible worm that continued to wriggle after being boiled—Mjipa looked across at his companion. She was scribbling notes on a pad. "Lish!" he said. "Don't you ever stop gathering data and just enjoy life?"

"You don't understand. You know how it is in Majbur and other cities nearer Novorecife. You try to sample native entertainment, and you get Krishnan attempts at Guadalajara and The Star Spangled Banner and Die Lorelei. Terran arts and fashions are becoming the rage; so if you want the authentic Krishnan flavor, you have to go out in the boonies, like here. That's why I want to record it, before it disappears the way distinctive local cultures have on Earth."

A dancer, wearing a hugely voluminous dress, with a wide skirt over many petticoats and puffed sleeves, pirouetted. Mjipa remarked:"Where people are used to wearing clothes, they get their jollies out of seeing some bird dance naked. Here, where they go more or less naked, they get them from seeing her practically smothered in clothes."

When the dancer retired, the trio struck up a lively tune.

Some Kalwmian couples got up to dance. Alicia said:"Let's dance, Percy!"

"Christ, woman, how could I possibly do one of these native minuets and gavottes and things, whatever they call 'em here, which I've never learned? I should need instruction and practice. All I could do would be the Ngwato war dance, which I learned in school."

"Percy, you're going to dance! You can do a simple two-step, I'm sure."

Mjipa rose with a sigh. "By God, if I don't apply for extra hardship pay on account of this, my name's not Percy Kuruman Mjipa ..."

VII

DELIVERANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was only kidding."

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you plan to get him out?"

"Better that you don't know."

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

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

"When does this happen?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aye, my lord?"

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Certainly. Where's a form?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not now."

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

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

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

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

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

"Have you seen her since?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Inside!" hissed Mjipa.

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

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

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

"Why wended we not to the ship directly?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

"How many?" asked Mjipa.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The understatement of the Krishnan year."

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

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

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

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

"That still leaves our hair."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about my ears?" asked Alicia.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The same. You are—?"

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

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

"Where's your third passenger?"

"He'll be along."

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

VIII

ENTRAPMENT

Mjipa softly closed the valves of the portal behind him. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, relieved only by faint light from openings higher up in the thick brickwork. As his vision cleared, he made out the foot of the spiral stair, a series of geometrical shapes in the dimness. He started towards the stair, stumbled on some unseen obstacle, and cursed a bruised toe.

Reaching the stair, with all his senses keyed up, he ascended, step after cautious step. He kept a hand on his hilt, lest the silence conceal an ambush. Somewhere in the darkness, a Krishnan arthropod trilled its mating song, much as do crickets and katydids on Terra.

Reaching the third floor, he groped along the gallery until he came to the door of the tool room. He rapped with his knuckles, saying softly: "Doctor Isayin! Open the door!"

There was no response. Mjipa rapped harder and repeated his call more loudly. Still silence. Mjipa wondered if the Krishnan scholar had been discovered and dragged away or slain, or whether he had succumbed to some sudden ailment.

Still hearing no response, Mjipa drew his dagger, pounded on the door with the pommel, and raised his voice to a near-shout: "Doctor Isayin! Open up!"

The tower remained silent. Mjipa cocked his head, listening. Below, the arthropod still chirped. From afar the consul could detect faint urban night sounds: a distant cry, the rumble of a laden wain, a few notes of music. But nothing implied the presence of other intelligent life within the tower.

Mjipa began feeling around the edges of the door for a clue. Along the bottom, his fingers encountered the thin edge of the wooden wedge he had given Isayin to secure the door. Isayin had evidently driven the wedge between the door and the floor, and the point of the wedge stuck out on the other side. So the Krishnan must still be within.

After thinking, Mjipa began whittling away at the edge of the wood with his dagger. By removing nearly a centimeter of wood, he achieved a flat vertical surface. He sheathed his dagger, unhooked it from his belt, and applied the chape at the end of the sheath to the end of the truncated wedge.

By tapping the pommel of his dagger with the hilt of his sword, Mjipa at last detected a slight movement of the wedge. When the end of the wedge disappeared beneath the door, he withdrew the dagger again, inserted the point beneath the door, and pushed. The wedge gave way. Mjipa got up, grasped the handle near the latch, and opened the door.

He slipped inside, throwing a glance around the bare chamber. The dim light showed a huddled figure in one far corner. Mjipa hurried over and grasped an arm of the naked body. It felt warm.

The body stirred, and Isayin opened his eyes. "What— where am I?" he mumbled. "Oh, ah, aye; now it comes back. You are the Terran who hath brought me to Vuzhov's tower."

"Didn't you hear me banging and shouting outside your door?" grated Mjipa.

"Nay, good sir; I was fast in the arms of Varzai." The scholar got up slowly and creakily. "Sleeping on bricks goes ill with my years. A tricksy irony, is it not, that I, condemned for upholding the world's sphericity, should find refuge in a tower dedicated to the contrary belief? Now set we forth to your ship?"

"Yes indeed. Let's waste no time." Mjipa started for the door, Isayin wobbling sleepily behind him. Then he halted so suddenly that the scholar bumped into him.

Through the door, which stood ajar, came the sound of men moving. Footsteps drummed on the spiral stair, mingled with the creak of harness, the clatter of weapons, and the murmur of voices.

Mjipa leaped to the door and peered through the crack. His eyes caught movement in the direction of the stair. Believing that retreat from the tower was already cut off, he seized the doorknob and pulled the door closed. The sounds quickly grew louder until they came from just outside. A stentorian voice rang out:

"The Terran stink stops here; he must needs be in this chamber! Open it, my bullies; but with care. This Terran's no feeble recusant." Mjipa recognized the Zhamanacian dialect of Verar, King Khorosh's envoy.

A sudden pull from the other side opened the door a crack. Exerting his strength, Mjipa slammed it shut again, cursing the lack of a bolt or other fastener. Again and again, stress was applied to the outer handle. Mjipa's muscles strained and sweat ran down his torso, as he braced himself to keep the door closed.

"What shall we do? What shall we do?" moaned Isayin, dancing about in an agony of apprehension. "If they hold us here till morn, the soldiers will come; but they'll arrest us along with them!"

"Drive that wedge under the door with the hammer again!" growled Mjipa. When Isayin seemed dazed, he repeated the instruction. He wished for his Webley and Scott 6-millimeter; that would soon have routed the miscreants.

A babel of voices outside seemed to discuss some method of access. Mjipa caught the phrase: "... thrust it under the handle, thus ..."

As Isayin at last collected the hammer and the wedge and approached, the door was forced open again. Mjipa braced himself and strained to keep it closed, but this time the force was beyond even his strength. Little by little the gap between door and frame widened. Through the gap, Mjipa saw a vague blur of faces and painted bodies in motion.

Then he perceived what the Zhamanacians were doing.

The outer side of the door bore a handle in the form of a vertical wooden bar attached by two thick bolts, instead of a knob. Someone had thrust the shaft of a pike beneath this handle. Then two of the group, pushing on the far end of the pike, exerted such leverage that not even Mjipa could hold the door.

As the gap widened, a Krishnan outside thrust a sword through the aperture and made a slash at the arm by which Mjipa was trying to hold the door closed. Mjipa released the knob and snatched his arm back; to have held on might have cost him his hand.

Instantly the door flew open. Mjipa whipped out his sword and dagger. Without pausing to parley, he threw himself into a violent attack on the Krishnans crowding the doorway. In the dim light, Mjipa's sword darted like a serpent's tongue. The nearest opponent, who swung a hatchet, was run through. Before he could even fall, the sword found the belly of the Krishnan on his left.

The one on his right, seeing the blade coming towards him, brought a sword up to parry; but Mjipa doubled and turned his thrust into a savage cut at the Krishnan's leg, which buckled under him. In a few seconds, three of the attackers were down, one dead and the others groaning and trying to crawl away though their comrades' legs.

Another stepped forward in a fencing lunge. Mjipa hit his sword with a force that shattered the Krishnan's blade and ran his point into the fellow's open mouth. The Krishnan fell back, making gargling noises and drooling blood.

A Zhamanacian called: "He's no Terran, but a monkey!"

"Fool!" shouted Verar. "Any noodle knows that reeky Terran stench. He's but disguised. At him!"

The door was narrow enough so that Mjipa, being larger than most Krishnans, comfortably filled it. So long as he stood in the doorway, they could not get past him to attack from side or rear. Although he was not a skilled fencer, his strength and reach, together with the darkness, made up for his deficiency. Furthermore, most of his assailants were armed only with daggers or knives of other kinds.

"In!" yelled Verar. "What pack of craven knaves have I hired? He's but one and we are many. All together now, charge!"

Again the Krishnans pressed forward. The light was too poor for accurate fencing, since a combatant could barely see his antagonist's blade. Mjipa hewed and thrust and brought down two more; but he felt the sting of a cut in his thigh, pierced by a blade he never even saw. He, who had never worn Krishnan armor, now mentally cursed the lack of it.

His leg turned weak, so that it seemed barely able to support him. He leaned against the left side of the door frame, still filling most of the door.

"At him!" shouted Verar. "See ye not he's wounded?"

A Krishnan tried to slide between Mjipa and the right side of the door frame. Mjipa caught him in the neck with a vicious backhand, which would have taken the Krishnan's head off if Mjipa's blade had not been stopped by the door frame. As it was, his neck half severed, the Krishnan fell forward. Another tried to lunge, but his foot slipped on the blood that now lubricated the floor. As he staggered, Mjipa hewed off his sword hand; hand and blade fell with a clang.

Another came forward bent double, as if to run in under Mjipa's sword with a dagger. Mjipa caught him in the throat with his own dirk in his left hand.

Dead and wounded bodies had piled up in the doorway, so that attackers had to step and stumble over them to get at the Terran. As if appalled by the harm he had wrought, the Krishnans pulled back out of reach of Mjipa's sword, now bloody to the hilt. They stood in a semicircle before the door, breathing heavily. Verar shouted:

"Hath no one a bow or crossbow? What idiot failed to bethink him of fetching them?"

"Ye did, my lord," said a voice in the darkness. There was a snicker of laughter.

"Well then, get ready to cast those pikes as javelins."

There was movement among the Krishnans, and two pikes appeared in the front rank. Mjipa, also gasping for breath, suspected that these were the pikes borne by the watchmen, who must have been either killed or, if they had recovered consciousness, chased away. A criminal gang would not carry such conspicuous weapons.

One pikeman drew back his arm and let fly. The heavy spear, ill-adapted to such use, flew past Mjipa as he leaned aside and clattered on the floor behind him.

"Fool!" came the strident voice of Verar. "Ye could not hit the side of Mount Meshaq!"

"Why try ye not handstrokes with this Terran giant yourself?" came another voice in the darkness. "Ye be very brave at ordering others into the fray."

Mjipa said: "Doctor, pick up that pike! Come forward here. The next one who tries to get past me, jab him in the guts."

"But I know nought of fighting! I was never trained ..."

"You know which end of a spear to poke with, don't you? Grab it and stop bleating!"

Isayin hesitantly picked up the pike. For an instant, the only sounds were the scuff of footsteps, the swish of heavy breathing, and the groans of wounded Krishnans. Some of these, having drawn back out of the fight, were trying to bandage one another's wounds. Then Verar's voice boomed:

"Ten golden khichit of Zhamanak to him who brings me the Terran's head!"

During the early stages of the fight, Mjipa had exerted himself beyond normal human capacity. He had strained his bodily powers harder than ever before in his life. Now his heart raced, his breath came in shuddering gasps, and the strength seemed to be leaking out of his sword arm. He muttered over his shoulder to Isayin:

"I know not how much longer I can hold, with this wounded leg. It may collapse beneath me."

"What can I do?" said Isayin.

"Come forward. I need your help for the next rush."

"I'll do what I can," mumbled the scholar.

A shuffling in the dark implied that the Krishnans were preparing to rush again. Then sounds from farther away were heard. There came a patter of feet on the stair and Alicia's voice crying: "Percy! Where are you? The Mutabwcians came to the ship ... Oh!"

"Run, Lish!" roared Mjipa. "It's Khorosh's gang!"

She gave a little shriek. Then came the sound of more feet on the stair. A ruddy-yellow, flickering light grew. Alicia called: "I can't go back; they're behind me!"

"Hold all!" shouted Verar. "Who be these? Guard the Terran, ye five before the door; the rest face about. Why, 'tis the Terran female! Another ten khichit for her head, too!"

Alicia, caught between the two gangs on the narrow gallery, gave another shriek as one of the second group seized her from behind. This band included one Krishnan with a torch. By leaning, Mjipa could see over the heads of the nearest Zhamanacians. The newcomers included the Mutabwcian herald Kuimaj, whom Mjipa and his allies had thrown bodily out of Irants's Inn.

Verar shouted:"The female Terran is ours! Give her to us, that we may take her head to my master, the mighty Heshvavu Khorosh!"

"Never!" shouted back Kuimaj. "She is destined for the harem of my master, the mighty Heshvavu Ainkhist!"

"Will you give her peacefully," yelled Verar, "or must we slay you to get her? Methinks we have the advantage of numbers."

"We fear you not. We'll fight you any when ye list; but the female ye shall not have."

There was a muttered consultation among the Zhamanacians. Verar said: "We'll offer a compromise. We have the male Terran trapped and shall take his head in due time. Ye may have the female's head, provided ye give us some other part of her, say her hands, to carry back to my lord as attest of her death."

"Ye grasp not the nub, dolt! Our master demands her whole and unharmed. 'Tis not her head that chiefly interests him."

"So that's it? I piss on your master, the cunt-besotted old fool! We'll have the dame's life, an it mean slaying every last villain of you!"

"Come and get her, caitiff churls!"

"Eaters of dung!"

"Mother-futterers!"

"We'll fry your testicles for breakfast!"

"Doctor," said Mjipa, "we must try to break through these hirelings, seize Mistress Dyckman, and get away."

"How can we, when there be two of us and twenty or thirty of them?"

"If their quarrel goes from words to blows, we may have a chance. I'll give the word. Pick up that hammer; it might be good for cracking skulls."

"I'm old for derring-do," sighed Isayin, "but I'll do what I can."

The envoys, Verar and Kuimaj, continued to trade threats, accusations, and demands. As their voices waxed louder and their threats more lurid, the attention of the Zhamanacians before Mjipa became more and more distracted towards the leaders' slanging match. Two of the five drifted away from the semicircle guarding the door. Verar screamed:

"Offspring of a monkey and an ambar! We'll flay you alive and make condoms of your hides!"

"Walking turds!" replied Kuimaj. "We'll turn you loose without eyes, hands, or yards!"

At last Verar cried:"Enough of these pleasantries! Have at you, scurvy cullions!"

He and the Krishnans around him moved along the gallery towards the Mutabwcians. Swords clashed; a wounded man yelled.

"Come, Doctor!" said Mjipa. "Spear that fellow on our right!"

Drawing on all his reserves of strength, Mjipa feinted towards the left-hand Krishnan and then thrust the middle one through. At the same instant, Isayin jabbed the right-hand one in the belly with his pike.

The left-hand Krishnan staggered back from Mjipa's attack, and Mjipa stumbled over the pile of dead and wounded after him. The Krishnan aimed a thrust; but Mjipa caught it in a bind and sent the sword spinning out of the thruster's hand. The Krishnan, thrusting Mjipa's blade aside with his hand, threw himself forward into a clinch. Mjipa dropped his sword, seized the Krishnan, and tossed him over the rail of the gallery. A diminishing shriek came up from the stair well, ending in a slam as the Krishnan struck bottom ten meters below.

For an instant, Mjipa saw the backs of the Zhamanacians, beyond whom swords and other weapons flickered in the torchlight, and beyond these the faces of the Mutabwcians. He could not see Alicia, who must have been taken to the rear.

"Give me that hammer," Mjipa ordered Isayin. When the scholar complied, Mjipa added: "When I throw this, we attack. Keep behind me and try not to spear me by mistake. Ready?"

Mjipa drew back his arm and let fly. The hammer, turning over and over, soared over the heads of the Zhamanacians and struck the torchbearer in the chest. The blow so startled him that he dropped the torch. At once the flame went out, leaving only a glowing stub.

In the sudden darkness, Mjipa, limping forward with his recovered sword, thrust two Zhamanacians through from behind before they realized he was among them. All the fighers appeared to have drawn back from one another, fearful of killing men of their own gang in the dark. All shouted, trying to establish identities, while Verar and Kuimaj screamed confused commands.

Among them moved Mjipa, half invisible, his passage marked by the yelps and groans of the Krishnans he sworded. Without this damned brown paint, he thought, they couldn't see me at all. Not having to worry about hurting someone on his own side, he thrust at every dim form he passed.

"Alicia!" roared Mjipa. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" came the high-pitched reply. "Two are holding me."

As Mjipa's eyes once more began to adjust to the dark, he found Alicia, standing between two Krishnans behind the general ruck of fighters. These Mutabwcians had their weapons sheathed in order to free both arms for holding their captive. As Mjipa advanced upon them, one released Alicia's arm to reach for his weapon, a half-sword; but Mjipa spitted him before he had it out.

Alicia pivoted and kneed her other captor in the crotch. He doubled over but retained his hold. Isayin, coming up behind Mjipa, aimed a thrust of his pike at the Krishnan but managed to hit Alicia instead. The point raked along her bare ribs, bringing a yell of pain.

Mjipa swung his sword for a cut at the bent-over Krishnan; but this foe released his hold and scuttled backwards out of reach. Mjipa seized Alicia's arm. "Let's go!"

"They flee!" cried someone in the darkness. From somewhere a hand caught Mjipa's tail, which came loose with a sound of ripping cloth.

"Run!" said Mjipa. The three loped and staggered around the gallery, Mjipa hopping on one leg and dragging the wounded limb. They reached the stair landing, where the spiral stair came up through the floor of the gallery from below and, further along, continued on upward.

"Down stairs!" panted Mjipa. As the three took the first steps, more light and sound came from below. Around the curve of the stair appeared another group of Krishnans, a couple bearing lanterns. The sparkle of the lamplight on gilded equipment and body paint identified them as King Vuzhov's soldiery. They were clattering up the stairs towards the fugitives.

"Up stair!" Mjipa gasped, turning about and limping painfully upward. By the time the Kalwmians reached the stair landing on the third story, Mjipa and his companions were out of sight on the spiral stair above. A Kalwmian officer yelled:

"What's all this? Drop your weapons, rapscallions!"

-

The spiral stair continued on up to the fifth story, which was completely floored. Since construction had only begun to rise above the fifth level, the floor of this story, open to the sky, was closed against the weather by a wooden hatch over the head of the stair. A vigorous push by Mjipa dislodged it and allowed the three to come out on the floor.

For an instant Mjipa listened, but there was no sign that they had been followed up the stair. From below, sounds of combat still came up, though in that confusion it was anyone's guess who was fighting whom.

Mjipa replaced the hatch. Examining it, he gasped: "I think I can wedge it shut. Wish I had that hammer. Where's your pike, Doctor?"

"I dropped it," croaked Isayin, gasping for breath. "I had—not strength—to bear it—up all those steps."

With a grunt, Mjipa placed the point of his dagger in the crack between the edge of the hatch and the opening into which it fitted. With the pommel of his sword he pounded the butt of the dagger until the blade was driven in as far as it would go.

"That'll hold them for a while," he said.

"But where can we go now?" said Alicia. "We can't fly, like Prince Bourujird in the legend, with his aqebat-chariot."

"A couple of Prince Ferrian's rocket gliders would be more practical. But I think I know a way. I say, did you get wounded, too?"

"Painful but not serious," she said. "Your professor friend did it by accident."

"Let's have some bandages. This leg is killing me, and that cut in your side is still bleeding."

"Lend me your sword," said Alicia, slipping off her kilt. Soon she had two strips cut from the lower edge of the garment.

I—I'm sorry I hurt your lady," gasped Isayin. "I said—I was no warrior."

"Never mind that," said Mjipa. The shorter strip of cloth, Alicia tied around Mjipa's wounded leg. He in turn bound the other strip around her body below the breasts.

"Now how shall we get down?" said Alicia, resuming the remains of the kilt.

"As soon as I get a little strength back, we'll go down by the hoist over there."

Mjipa limped to the edge, where he had seen brackets projecting from the outer wall to support pulleys, over which ran the ropes of the hoists. A tug on the ropes laid over those pulleys showed that the ropes had been made fast below.

"What I'll do," he said, "is to go down one of these ropes hand over hand. Then I'll hoist the basket up to your level. You and the doctor can climb in, and I'll lower you to the ground."

"Will the rope—hold the weight?" asked Isayin. "If it'll hold a couple of hundred kilos of bricks, it'll hold you two."

"Are you sure you can lower yourself so far?" said Alicia. "It must be twenty or thirty meters down. If your arms give out ..."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Here goes!"

Mjipa climbed out and, gripping one of the ropes, backed off the top of the unfinished outer wall. Down he went, hand over hand.

Halfway down, his arms began to weaken with fatigue. A few more meters, he thought, and he would lose his hold and fall the rest of the way. He halted his descent, clamped his legs around the two legs of the rope, and rested his arms.

When he thought he was up to it, he resumed his descent. His strength began to leave him again before he reached the bottom. But now he had a mere four meters to go; so he released his hold and dropped, landing in a crouch.

Mjipa took a moment to recover his breath. The clash of arms and the shouts of the combatants, muffled by the thick brickwork, came to his ears. Then he unstayed the windlass and began cranking up the basket. The apparatus squeaked loudly, causing Mjipa to think dark thoughts about "these blasted natives," who did not properly maintain then-equipment.

When the basket reached the top, he called: "All aboard! Lively!"

Sounds from above and the quivering of the rope indicated that his passengers were boarding the basket. Alicia's voice came thinly down: "Okay, Percy!"

Mjipa turned the crank in the reverse direction. The crank wanted to run away with the weight of the passengers in the basket, but the gear ratio enabled Mjipa to control it.

In a few minutes, the basket touched ground. Alicia stepped out, saying: "I practically had to drag your professor aboard. He's afraid of heights."

"Aren't you?"

"Yes, but I know a lesser evil when I see it. Are they still fighting in the tower?"

"The noise seems to have died down. Let's go before they come out looking for us."

They started back towards the Tarvezid's pier, but they had not yet left the cleared area around the tower when sounds of pursuit brought them round. Turning, Mjipa saw a host of dark figures erupt from the tower. Some shouted and pointed at the fugitives.

"Run!" said Mjipa, hobbling along and using his scab-barded sword as a walking stick. They entered a narrow street. To throw off pursuers, they turned at the first crossing, and again at the next, and again at the next. Behind them the sounds of pursuit grew louder, albeit there was no way to tell which of the three contending parties was after them, or whether any two or all three had joined forces.

"Can't do this much longer," said Mjipa."My bloody leg ... Oh, look what we've got!"

One of Kalwm City's man-powered street cars was coming along its track towards them. "Here's our coach-and-four!" said Mjipa.

"But," said Alicia, "there's room inside for only two!"

"Never mind; watch me. Give me that cloak, Doctor!"

Mjipa slipped the cloak over his head and approached the vehicle. As he passed it, he spread his arms and the cloak with them. With a menacing grin, he roared: "Ah, carman, I am a demon come to drag you down to Hishkak! Ahhhgh!"

He lunged at the carman who, with a scream of terror, released his handlebar and bolted.

"Lish!" said Mjipa. "Get in and pull the curtains across. Doctor, you shall push us."

"But," quavered Isayin, "the car is headed back towards the tower and our pursuers!"

"So much the better, it's the last place they'll expect us."

Mjipa heaved himself into the car and put an arm around Alicia. He said: "Pretend we're a Krishnan couple out for a bit of a smooch. Don't worry; I shan't take advantage."

A few minutes later, a mob of pursuers appeared ahead, pouring down the street. Soldiers and gangsters mingled, they ran past the street car proceeding sedately along its track in the opposite direction, pushed by a small, elderly Kalwmian. They did not stop to investigate but raced past, their equipment clattering. They disappeared, shouting: "This way!"; "Nay, they must have gone that way ..."

Mjipa released his hold on Alicia, saying:"Can you direct the doctor back to the ship?"

"I think so. Doctor Isayin!"

"Aye, Mistress Dyckman?" came the reply from behind.

"Turn right at the next switch. That'll bring us to the waterfront, and there's a continuous track all the way to the ship."

"I hope you 're right," said Mjipa. "What happened after I left you on the Tarvezid?"

"I was eating my supper in the cabin when I heard a lot of tramping and shouting outside. Kuimaj and his men had come aboard and were demanding that Captain Farrá turn me over. He was telling them to go to Hishkak. Then some of them seized him by the arms and legs and held him while the others began a search of the ship.

"I slipped out of the cabin on the side of the deckhouse away from the pier. When they were all busy looking into the cabin or the hold, I went ashore and ran. But someone saw me, and soon they were all pounding after me.

"I was a pretty good runner in college, but I was all in by the time I reached the tower. I zigzagged through the streets to throw them off, but they followed me anyway by smell. We keep forgetting the marvelous sense of smell of these tropical Krishnans, like human beings with dogs' noses. Doctor Isayin! I think we turn right again here."

"I know how you felt," grumbled Mjipa. "I haven't been so whacked myself since the night I knocked out the Cambridge heavyweight, Rajendra Singh." He sighed and shook his head."We've got too damned civilized. In the old days, a Ngwato warrior could run fifty kilometers and fight a battle at the end of it."

-

"We 'll leave the car here," said Mjipa. "The carman can find it tomorrow."

The three walked out on the pier and aboard the Tarvezid. The sailor on watch said: "Ho! Who goes there?"

"Your passengers," said Mjipa. "How soon can we sail?"

"Not for a couple of hours yet, to catch the offshore dawn breeze."

"Wake the captain. I must speak with him."

"He'll not like it, sir."

"That can't be helped. Wake him up."

When Captain Farrá had been roused from his bunk, Mjipa said: "Captain, we must sail at once. Are all your people, aboard?"

Farrá shook his head groggily. "I ween so; all should have been on ship by midnight. But what's this folly of sailing forthwith? We sail when I say so, not at the whim of some landlubber."

"We may all have our throats cut if you don't. That gang that came aboard looking for Mistress Dyckman is on our trail."

"Oh, so that's it? Ye be a monstrous troublesome lot of passengers. Rather than be sucked into another such garboil, I'll give you back your passage money, put the lot of you ashore, and sail without."

"Captain," said Mjipa, "once we're clear of shore, I'm certain there'll be no more trouble. Is it worth a hundred karda of Majbur to advance your sailing by a couple of hours?"

"Hmm," said the captain. "Now ye talk sense. Make it two hundred and the deal's yours."

"I don't have that much; but I can manage a hundred and fifty."

"Done. Let's see your coin. Kutáhn!" He spoke to the sailor on watch. "Rouse me Master Ghanum and stand by to cast off. Pass the word, albeit quietly, all hands on deck."

Soon after, the Tarvezid, her cables coiled on deck, pushed off from the pier. Six stalwart Majburuma thrust out the sweeps through oar holes in the bulwark to work the ship out of the harbor. There had been no sign of Minyev.

A group appeared on the pier. One shouted: "Half, in the name of the Heshvavu! We have warrants for the arrest of your passengers."

Mjipa's heart skipped a beat. Although the figures were too distant for details, the sparkle of lantern light on their gilding proclaimed them King Vuzhov's soldiers. If Captain Farrá obeyed the command, Mjipa did not see how he could escape again. He was too exhausted and his leg was too painful for effective fighting. He might threaten the captain as he had Khorosh; but he could not keep that up for a whole voyage. The other officers and the crew would pounce upon him, disarm him, and probably pitch all their bothersome passengers into the Banjao Sea.

"Captain!" said Mjipa. "My last fifty karda say you cannot hear him."

The captain grinned slightly. Raising his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he shouted shoreward: "I cannot hear you!"

By now the ship was far enough from shore so that the royal officer's shouts could no longer be distinguished. As the ship reached deep water, the two triangular sails were hoisted. The dawn breeze was just beginning, in little puffs, to waft the Tarvezid northward.

As the sky lightened, Vuzhov's tower took form from the darkness. Then, it slowly dwindled, as the stuccoed houses shrank to a row of little beige boxes, and the shore became a single dark line between sea and sky.

IX

RANCOR

"When do we reach the Sadabao?"

Answering Percy Mjipa's question, Captain Farrá said: "If this wind holds, we should sight Fossanderan by tomorrow night. With the best winds, Kalwm to Fossanderan can be sailed in four days. With winds adverse or calm, it may take a fiftnight."

Following departure from Kalwm, Mjipa and Alicia Dyckman had spent the following day and night either sleeping or lying about resting. Their exertions had left them dishrag-limp, and their wounds made movement painful.

Now they began to perk up. Using a wooden tub hauled out on deck, the three passengers bathed and scrubbed off the Khaldonian body paint. The Terrans resumed their khakis. The paper antennae had been discarded; but there was no way to speed the growth of hair on their shaven pates.

Mjipa prowled the deck, limping and using a boarding pike from the ship's small armory as a walking stick. On the fan tail, Isayin in borrowed sailor's garb dissected a fish he had caught and made notes about its anatomy. Overhead, rank after rank of clouds marched past, with an occasional glimpse of Roqir between them. The light southerly breeze that had taken them away from Kalwm had changed to a brisk northeaster, into which they sailed full and by.

Alicia, wearing her Kalwmian straw hat against the sun on her nude cranium, sat on deck with her back to the bulwark, writing in a notebook. As Mjipa passed, she said: "Percy, when we get to Majbur, you must take me shopping again. I want another of those divine kilts!"

"What's wrong with the one you have?"

"I cut so much off .the hem for bandages that now it hardly covers me decently."

"Couldn't you sew the bandages back on, once the blood's been washed out?"

"It would look simply awful. And by the way, what'll we use for money from Majbur on? Captain Farrá's about cleaned us out."

"Gorbovast will cash a draft on Novo. What's that you 're working on?"

"My report on the economics of Krishnan innkeeping."

"You mean you interviewed Irants after all? I thought I told you—"

"Sure you did, but you didn't think I'd let that stop me? I figured if you didn't know, they couldn't hold you responsible."

"Oh, yes they could! You don't know these blighters."

"Anyway, I told Irants it was against orders and swore him to secrecy. He enjoyed being part of a conspiracy. I worked with him late at night, while you were asleep."

Mjipa let out a long sigh. "Lish, you're incorrigible! I suppose I ought to grab your notes and tear them up; but you'd only think of some other dodge, and what's done is done." He peered aft off the stern and spoke to Farrá: "Captain, what's that sail behind us?"

The captain glanced aft, where the triangular tooth of another lateen sail pierced the horizon whenever a wave boosted the Tarvezid aloft. "Can't tell at this remove."

An hour later, Mjipa said: "Captain, I'll swear that ship is closing upon us."

The captain leveled his spyglass. After a long look, he said: "Fry my guts, but methinks that's the Yur, of Kalwm City. When we left port, she was still up for sale by the government. I know her well; she's been lying in her dock for a couple of moons. 'Tis no wonder she gains upon us!"

"Why? Is she a fast sailer?"

"Aye, having more sail and less beam than we. She came from the Sunqar when the allied Sadabao powers destroyed the nest of pirates there, her people avowing they were reformed and pardoned and enlarged by the leaders of the attack on the floating citadel.

"The Phathvum took them at their word, since the Kalwmian navy hath gone to rot since the Heshvavu took to spending all the kingdom's revenues on his tower fantastical. Kalwm, thought the minister, might need seamen and ships some day when this visionary monarch goes to Heaven, whether by his tower or, more likely, at the hands of a mob of insurrectionists. Belike ye heard rumblings of revolt whilst ye sojourned in the kingdom.

" 'Twas not long, howsomever, ere these ex-pirates proved not so ex after all. As Nehavend hath it, once a fruit goes rotten, neither piety nor prayer nor weeping nor wit shall restore its former ripeness. Slipping out of Kalwm Harbor, they began to seize the ships of Peihné and Suria and to raid coastal towns in those lands.

"Receiving complaints, the Phathvum, to maintain friendship with neighbors, seized the Yur and such of her crew as he could catch. Their heads presently adorned the spiked wall around the palace grounds. To raise more gold for his folly architectural, Vuzhov the Visionary insisted on offering the Yur for sale. Not being designed to turn a profit, she hath stood in her berth, unsought, unloved and un-wooed."

Captain Farrá bent a scowling visage on Mjipa. "Now, Terran, riddle me this. Ye departed the shore in utmost haste, fleeing not only King Vuzhov's soldiers but also a ging of rogues. Hath the government put the Yur back into service, with a crew scraped up anywhere, to settle accounts with you and yours? Or hath this band of knaves bought the ship and set out .after you?"

Mjipa shrugged. "I don't know yet. May I see your spyglass?"

Farrá handed over the instrument. Mjipa got the pursuing ship in his view and held it there. He could not distinguish individuals, but to judge by her bow wave the ship was making good speed.

"They're using oars," he said at last.

"Then 'tis certain it be ye they're after. The water's too rough for sweeps in any but an exigent cause."

"Can't we use oars, too?"

"Aye, and so we shall." The captain called to his first officer: "Sweeps out, Master Ghanum. Two men to each." He turned back. "But think not they'll not catch us long ere we sight Fossanderan and the Straits of Palindos, unless Bandur smites them with's thunderbolts. We have but six oars; they, twelve or fourteen. The Yur is no proper commercial craft, being wrought to Serve as a pirate, smuggler, rich man's yacht, or royal patrol vessel. She's shrewdly crafted to give her points of speed o'er honest merchantmen like this whereon ye stand. My glass again, pray."

After staring some more, Farrá said:"She gains hand over fist. She rides high in the water; they must have put to sea too hastily to ballast her." He shut the telescope with a snap. "I tell you, Terran, if this be Vuzhov's gilded popinjays, I'll not resist. 'Twould but get my ship seized or sunk and, belike, me and my bullies slain in the bargain."

"I paid you—" began Mjipa.

"Aye, but not to race clear to Majbur against a ship with twice the speed and twice the crew of ours. And whither they'll hale you, ye'd have no use for money. I'd ne'er have taken you and your folk had ye not sworn that once out of the harbor, that were the end of't."

"Suppose it's one of the kidnapping gangs instead of Vuzhov's men? Then if they boarded you, they'd probably kill everyone on general principles. So you might as well fight; they might pull back if they saw you determined to take a few with you."

"Aye, mayhap." The captain cast a glance at the lowering sky and the rising waves. Down in the waist, the twelve oarsmen were having a hard time with the oars. A wave would catch them in the midst of a back stroke and send them staggering. "Master Ghanum! In sweeps! And brail up the mainsail a trifle. I like not this blow."

-

Mjipa told Alicia of the development. "Oh, damn!" she said. "Every time we think we 're in the clear, something else happens. I've been working on Krishna for years, and I've never had so many menaces to cope with. Could we escape in the ship's boat?" She pointed to the dinghy atop the deckhouse.

"I doubt it. That cockleshell would barely hold the three of us."

"We needn't take Isayin. He's been nothing but a nuisance, first seasick, then complaining about the quarters."

"Even without him, a ship like the Yur could overhaul us in no time."

"Could you grab Captain Farrá and hold a knife to his throat, like you did with Khorosh?"

"What good would that do? Those blokes chasing us wouldn't give a damn if we killed the captain and his entire crew. It's us they're after."

The pursuing ship was now close enough so that Mjipa could appreciate her rakish lines. The water had roughened to the point where the Yur, too, had taken in her oars.

Mjipa went back to where the captain stood. "May I have your glass again, Captain?"

Through the tube, Mjipa could now make out figures on the deck. After a long look, he said: "They're nothing but naked Kalwmian sailors. Not a spangled loin cloth in the lot. So they must be one of the gangs of kidnappers. Couldn't you put the helm up and run for Malayer? It should be almost due west."

"Nay; they'd still sail rings around us. The Yur cannot bear enough honest cargo to pay costs; that's how they get such a turn of speed out of her."

Alicia came .and stood at the rail beside Mjipa. On the fantail Isayin, oblivious, continued to study his fish.

-

Time oozed past. The Yur was coming up on their starboard quarter. The captain said: "They'll blanket our sails and so retard us that we shall be easy prey."

"You could turn down-wind and gain some distance ..."

"Terran!" snapped the captain. "By the six teats of Varzai, yet be an interfering busybody, a tyro at seamanship, and a bringer of ill luck. Now shut your gob! I wot what my vessel can and cannot do!"

The bow of the Yur now drew abreast of the Tarvezid's stern. A Krishnan shouted through a speaking trumpet: "Heave to! In the name of my master, the mighty Heshvavu Khorosh, I command you to halt!"

"Oh, hell!" said Alicia. "It's Verar. He's the worst of the lot."

"What saith she?" asked the captain, since she had spoken English.

Mjipa explained: "There were two of these bands. One sought to seize Mistress Dyckman for King Ainkhist "s harem; the other wanted our heads. Those on the Yur are the latter."

Farrá grunted. "Cutthroats like that are wont to have a mort of sport with their victims ere dispatching them. I can rob them of that pleasure. If ye'll lend me your sword, and if ye twain will kneel down and bow your heads, I'll have them off in a twinkle, ready to give yonder carls when they come aboard. There'll be no pain, I promise. Just whisht! and 'twill be all over."

"Thanks," said Mjipa, grasping his hilt. "If my sword is drawn, it'll drink blood other than mine, I assure you."

The captain turned away. The wind had freshened still further, so that Mjipa and Alicia had to grip the rail to keep their footing on the tossing deck. Water foamed along the port edge of the deck. Mjipa saw the captain in vigorous argument with the first officer and the boatswain, but he could not hear what was said over the roar of the wind and the waves.

A cloud blacker than those before loomed up to starboard. A flash of lightning lit up the dark scene, and thunder mingled with the sounds of the angry sea. Both ships rolled until their people could barely move about their decks.

The captain concluded his argument, and several sailors emerged from the hold with armfuls of boarding pikes. One carried swords, which he passed out to the captain and his officers.

"At least," Mjipa shouted in Alicia's ear, "he seems to have decided to put up a fight. Go get Khostavorn's sword from the cabin."

"Why? You already have—"

"Not for me; for you! You might get a chance to let the stuffing out of one of those bad lots."

As Alicia staggered towards the deckhouse door, another cry came from the Yur: "Heave to, or we'll run you down!"

A sailor was inching up the slanting yard of the Tarvezid's mainsail. He untied the brails he had previously tied up and took them in his teeth, so that the sail resumed its full area. The sailor was halfway back down to the foredeck when another clap of thunder heralded a terrific gust, bringing a blinding sheet of rain.

"Hold on!" shouted Mjipa as the ship heeled further. He wondered if they were about to capsize. A glance aft showed that Doctor Isayin, holding his sheets of notepaper in his teeth, was also gripping the rail.

A loud cracking resounded over the tumult. With a snapping of stays, the mainmast broke off at deck level and fell away to port, taking the mainsail with it. That left the smaller mizzen standing; but the loss of sail, together with the drag of the mass of rigging in the water, brought the Tarvezid to a halt.

At almost the same instant, a chorus of screams from the Yur competed for the Terrans' attention. The Yur rolled over to port until her sails were in the water. She kept on rolling, slowly, until she showed her keel, like the back of some sea monster. All around the barnacled bottom, the heads of swimmers and pieces of debris bobbed in the merciless waves.

"Captain!" shouted Mjipa, pointing."Did you see that?"

Farrá exchanged a brief glance with Mjipa, gave a curt affirmative head motion, and turned stolidly to the repair of damage. A sailor threw a rope to the one who had been on the yard when the mast went over, and hauled the mariner back to the deck. Others climbed out along the broken mast in the water, to chop away the parrel holding the yard to the mast. Still others belayed ropes to the mainsail and its yard.

The squall blew itself out. The rain died away; Roqir broke through the clouds again. The wind dropped to its former level, although the sea still heaved and tossed the Tarvezid.

To starboard, the raft attached by light lines to the roof of the Yur's deckhouse had broken loose when the ship capsized. Now, one by one, the Yur's people climbed aboard this raft, which bobbed in the lee of the inverted hull.

For the next hour, the crew of the Tarvezid worked to get the fallen mainsail and yard back aboard. They cut the sail loose from the yard and folded it up. The yard they laid atop the deckhouse. Since it was as long as the whole ship, its end projected far out over the stern.

With the cutting of the last lines to the floating broken mast, the Tarvezid, urged on by the mizzen sail, began to move. Then came a yell from starboard: "Ahoy! Leave us not! Take us aboard!"

The mizzen yard was lowered, so that the Tarvezid again lay dead in the water. Captain Farrá, with a worried look, came to where Mjipa and Alicia, the latter now wearing Khostavorn's sword, stood by the rail. He said:

"Master Mjipa, here's a puzzle. These knaves be rogues of dye as deep as Dupulán's; that I'll allow. Yet 'twere clean against the code of the sea to leave them to perish amid the waste of waters. The mate and I have spoken on the matter and decided to put the choice to you. How say ye?"

Mjipa hesitated, then said: "I'd rescue them, but with precautions."

"Percy!" cried Alicia. "Are you out of your mind? Or are you having another of your idiotic attacks of chivalry?"

"I shouldn't feel right about leaving them," said Mjipa.

"I can kill them with a clear conscience when they attack me, but this—no."

"You 're stark, raving mad!" shrilled Alicia."The minute they get a chance, they'll cut off both our heads!"

"They shan't have a chance. I didn't say to take them aboard. Leave them on the raft, and we'll tow them. I'll also see to it that they have nothing to cut off heads with."

Captain Farrá accepted Mjipa's decision without demur. Through his speaking trumpet he bellowed to the Khaldonians to paddle, with their hands if need be, close enough to seize a line.

As the raft, bobbing on the swells, inched near to the Tarvezid's stern, Mjipa said: "Before we throw you a line, drop all your weapons into the sea. I said all—swords, knives, everything."

Three of the dozen raft riders wore swords; the others had knives or dirks. They expostulated:"How shall we cut up our meat?"

"How shall we defend ourselves?"

"Mean ye to slay us once we're disarmed?"

Mjipa waited silently until, at last, the weapons were dropped over the side of the raft. Then Mjipa threw the rope, which a Khaldonian secured to the raft. The Tarvezid's mizzen yard was hoisted again, and the ship got under way. Between the reduction in her sail area and the drag of the raft, she moved sluggishly. Mjipa said:

"Captain, if I may be an interfering busybody again, I suggest you post a couple of sailors with pikes aft to watch the raft. If it got close enough, they might try to climb aboard and rush us."

"Ohé! For a Terran and a landlubber," said the captain, "ye be not altogether wanting in sense." Soon the sailors were posted as Mjipa had proposed.

When Mjipa went to the cabin, he found Isayin bemoaning the ruin by the rain of his notes on the fish, and Alicia spoiling for a fight. She shouted:

"My God, don't you ever learn? Even a flatworm can learn; but once you get one of your silly notions of honor, you'll die before you change it, and probably take me with you. Anybody who knows psychology can see that Verar's a fanatic about obeying his king's commands. He'll get you yet or die trying.

"Those bastards were all born to be hanged anyway. So what's the harm in advancing the date a bit? What would they do to you if they had you? For a grown man, you have the craziest lot of small-boy attitudes ..."

After several minutes of this tirade, Mjipa snarled: "Oh, shut up, you bloodthirsty bitch!" He left the cabin and spent the rest of the day morosely leaning on the rail, watching the waves and the Khaldonians on the raft and enjoying the ruby, golden, and emerald glory of the Krishnan sunset.

As Roqir neared the horizon, the consul stood by the two sailors on watch on the fantail. The twelve rescuees, huddled miserably on their tossing raft astern, stared sullenly up at him. He called:

"O Master Verar!"

"Aye?" said one of the twelve. "What wouldst?"

"I want news.

"Why should I give you any, ye insolent princox?"

"Because if you don't, I shall cut this rope." Mjipa placed the edge of his dirk against the tow rope where it was looped around the rail. At once the other Khaldonians set up an outcry, urging their leader not to send them to certain death.

"Very well, ask your questions," grumbled Verar.

"Who are the men with you?"

"This one and this one and this one are all that be left of those who came from Mejvorosh with me. The others are local lads, mostly former pirates of the Sunqar, who escaped the Phathvum's purge. We had an equal number more, but they perished when the ship overset."

"Where's the rest of your gang?"

"Some dead in the fighting in the tower; some too sorely hurt to travel; some captured by Vuzhov's gendarmes. 'Twas a cruel, merciless scathe ye dealt my poor men, the sort of thing to be expected of a vile alien."

"Where are Kuimaj and his Mutabwcians?" asked Mjipa.

"Most dead or in Vuzhov's prisons, I ween. One, now drowned, shifted allegiance from Kuimaj to me. For the rest, I know not. We saw them not when we bought the ship and fitted her for this voyage."

"How came you by the ship?"

"I know a dealer in goods got by not altogether honest means, clept Stipvuv, in Kalwm City. He advanced the money for the ship and bought it from the government in's own name, trusting my mighty master to repay him with a profit. We swinked day and night to fit her for sea and cast off but little more man a day after ye did."

"You forgot ballast, which is why you capsized."

"Aye, even as ye forgot to bar the door in the tower against our entry."

"There was no bar. Why didn't the Kalwmian government send a ship after us?"

"I know not for certain. But Stipvuv avouched that the Phathvum persuaded the Heshvavu that, with ye Terrans and the heretic gone from the kingdom, ye were as good as dead to Kalwm, and 'twere folly to squander gold in vain pursuit. When may we have food and water?"

"Ask the captain." Mjipa walked away to lean on the rail and puff smoke into the easterly wind. The Khaldonians at last persuaded the captain to have a loaf and a jar of water lowered to them on cords. Mjipa asked:

"Captain Farrá, what's your plan now? Do you expect to sail to Majbur with this rig?"

"Nay; 'twould take a fiftnight or more, wherefor we 're not provisioned. It will be quicker to anchor off Fossanderan, cut a tree, and make a new mast. Methought I saw a crack in the old stick, but my astrologer assured me 'twould hold for one more voyage. At least, Bandur answered my prayer to cripple the Yur.

"I'll not, howsomever, tow those villains beyond the island. If we struck a calm, they'd eat up our reserve of aliment ere we raised our home port."

"You don't fear the tailed men of Fossanderan? They're very primitive."

"Methought they'd been pacified by some Terran."

"Yes; I was that Terran. After slavers had raided them, they took to killing and eating any strangers who landed. The problem is to get them to distinguish between slavers and honest traders."

"Slavers are honest traders!" said the captain. "To say otherwise were brutish prejudice. At least, they're as honest as other merchants, provided they pass not a sickly slave off on you as hale."

Mjipa turned away. The idea that slavery was wrong had not yet achieved much currency on Krishna. It was merely a speculation by a few of the more radical philosophers, whom few Krishnans had heard of and fewer still took seriously. Although as vigorously opposed to slavery as any Terran, Mjipa did not consider it expedient to press his views upon the Krishnans. He found enough risk and hardship in the ordinary discharge of his consular duties without arousing more antagonism than he had to.

When Mjipa went to the cabin, he found Alicia and Isayin already in their bunks. He stretched out on his own—or rather tried to, because it was centimeters shorter than he. Then he heard a sniffle from Alicia's bunk. After a while a small voice said: "Percy?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I was beastly again. I don't know why I do those things. You 're a better person than I am. You make me look like an amoral opportunist."

"Oh, forget it!"

"I can't. I—I'd like to make it up to you—if you wanted me ..."

"With the professor in the next bunk? Who's crazy now? Anyway, we shall soon be home. So go to sleep!"

-

The wooded hills of Fossanderan at last inched up above the horizon. The shores of the Banjao Sea narrowed down to the Straits of Palindos, in the middle of which rose the island. Of the two channels between the island and the mainland, the eastern was normally used by ships. The western was too shallow, save at certain conjunctions of the moons, for anything larger than a dinghy. Beyond the straits, the Sadabao Sea opened out.

"Methinks there's a beach off to eastward," said Captain Farrá, "where we can safely anchor."

Hours passed, and the Tarvezid hove to in a bay, embraced by a broad crescent of beach. The anchor was dropped, and the sailors climbed down a rope ladder into the breast-deep water to wade ashore.

On the fantail, Mjipa untied the rope that held the raft to the stern. He called down: "You can paddle ashore."

"But what then?" asked Verar. "Won't ye tow us to Majbur?"

"Not on your life! You're on your own. You can easily reach the mainland, east to Ziada or west to Rakh, which belongs to the Republic of Suruskand."

"But we shall starve!"

"That's your problem. You might beg Captain Farrá for a couple of fishlines."

"Takh! Ye be a cruel, unfeeling monster!" yelled one of the Khaldonians, dancing up and down and shaking a fist.

"After you rascals wanted to cut off my head? Ha!"

"That was merely obeying orders," said Verar. "We're not to blame, that our lawful sovran be filled with unforgiving rancor. 'Tis our sacred duty to serve him unto death."

"Well, perform your sacred duties elsewhere." Mjipa went forward to see how the repair work was going.

The ship's carpenter, now the most important person aboard after the captain, went ashore in the dinghy with a box of tools. Mjipa could see him in the distance, prowling the beach with a pair of sailors carrying axes, as he examined trees near the beach.

The Khaldonians paddled their raft with their hands to the western end of the beach. They pulled the raft up on shore and disappeared into the trees.

At Mjipa's elbow, Alicia said: "I don't like to see those guys on the loose. I'm sure they'd do us more mischief if they could."

"You're probably right," said Mjipa. "So it's up to us to see they don't get a chance. When we go ashore, you'd better wear one of the spare swords."

"Then you'd better give me lessons in how to use it. I never set out to be Alicia the sword-maiden."

"All right, here's mine. Take the first guard position, like this ..."

-

Next day, Mjipa told Alicia: "I must admit that these coves know their business. Look at that mast, taking shape before our eyes!" He pointed shoreward, where the trunk of the felled tree, laid out on trestles, had been quickly stripped of branches and bark and was being planed down to size.

Doctor Isayin asked: "Mister Mjipa, could you accompany me to shore? I would fain make a study of local plants."

"Why can't you go yourself?"

"I—I am fearful of the tailed men and other creatures that lurk in the woods. You are far stronger than I, so with you and your trusty blade I should feel safe."

"Let's all go ashore and eat a picnic lunch!" said Alicia. "It'd be fun to get off this ooky tub for a change."

Mjipa at first demurred. But Alicia kept at him, begging prettily. Eventually Mjipa allowed himself, against his better judgment, to be persuaded. He, too, was tired of the Tarvezid's rocking deck and frowsty smells, and Alicia's proposal allured him.

"All right," he said. "Lish, get a sword. I'll borrow another pike for you, Doctor."

They went in the dinghy. When they had climbed out and waded ashore, Mjipa could have shouted with pleasure at feeling solid, unmoving ground beneath his feet.

"Don't get in the sailors' way," he said, as they walked past the Krishnans working on the mast. Mjipa still used the pike as a stick, for his leg was not yet altogether healed. They found a grassy hump in the forested strip above the beach, climbed the bank, and sat down to open their lunch basket. While Mjipa and Alicia ate, Isayin prowled, picking twigs and herbs and making notes. He said:

"Nay, I like not dining so early. Why could you not have waited till a civilized hour?"

-

Below, work on the mast continued. Eventually a whistle blew. The Krishnans stopped work and betook themselves to their own midday meal, which among Majburuma was eaten earlier than in the Khaldoni nations.

Suddenly a disturbance broke out. Four Khaldonians rushed out of the woods to where the sailors ate. As they ran, they snatched up anything edible as they passed.

Yells of anger arose from the sailors, who scrambled to their feet. Some searched for sticks, stones, or anything else to attack the raiders with. Others ran after them with knives. A few had been posted with pikes, against a possible attack by the tailed Krishnans. Some of these pursued the Khaldonians; one hurled his pike but missed.

"By Jove, look at that!" said Mjipa. "They'll—"

At that instant, a heavy blow descended on Percy Mjipa's head. The world spun before him; his eyes were filled with shooting stars; and he fell to his knees. Hearing a shriek from Alicia, he knew in a vague way that she, too, was being borne off, and that Isayin had fled. Mjipa tried to shout, but so muddled were his wits by the blow that nothing came out but a croak.

-

When full consciousness returned, Mjipa was sitting on the ground in a small natural clearing, deep in the forest of Fossanderan. His wrists were bound behind him, and his ankles were tied by a length of rope. He thought he recognized the rope by which the Tarvezid had towed the raft, and which he had carelessly tossed to the raft when he untied their craft from the ship.

Looking around, despite the shooting pains that the movement caused him, he saw that Alicia sat beside him likewise bound, with a tear streaking a runnel through the dirt on her face. Around the clearing stood or sat the Khaldonians, hungrily gnawing the scraps of food that the raiders had snatched. Several had rude clubs made of broken tree branches. Mjipa surmised that a blow from one of these had felled him.

"Well!" said Verar, standing before Mjipa with Mjipa's purple baldric crossing his naked torso. "So the mighty, all-wise Terran proves not invincible after all! He comes ashore with's cronies, bristling with arms. Yet so simple is he that a slight diversion, furnished by our raid on the sailors' provender, so distracts his attention that any ninny can steal up and rap his pate!"

"What do you want?" growled Mjipa.

"Why, the same thing as before, namely and to wit: that which your neck conjoins to your trunk—at least at the moment—to bear back to my mighty lord, along with your leman's noggin."

"She's not my leman. What earthly good would our heads do your Heshvavu, save to bring upon him endless trouble with Novorecife?"

"Ye understand not, having no proper sense of honor. The slight ye put upon my master is such that 'twere a defilement did he let you live. Were we to return to Mejvorosh without these trophies, our own heads might answer for't; whereas, an we fetch these mementoes home, we shall be rich for life.

"Understand, Terran, I have nought against you personally; but the commands of one's natural lord must be obeyed. And your deaths were but a just requital for the cruel wounds and deaths ye dealt us in Vuzhov's Tower."

Verar drew Mjipa's sword and thumbed the edge. " 'Twas generous of you to furnish us with the means of achieving this honorable end. Would we had had such a blade when we cut the rope into lengths; sawing with a sharp stone is tedious work. Now bow your head, that the deed shall be accomplished without needless pain."

"There must be something Khorosh wants more than my head!" cried Mjipa. "Let's discuss the matter in civilized fashion ..."

"Nay, we Zhamanacians know better than to let you Terran knaves entrap us in your webs of lies and subtle equivocations. Will ye bow your head, or must I have my men hold you in suitable posture?"

"I—" persisted Mjipa. But then came an interruption. Out of the woods erupted a horde of tailed Krishnans, naked and hairy and carrying stone-bladed axes and spears, together with a few metal weapons. With yells of surprise and alarm, the Khaldonians snatched up their clubs and backed into a clump.

The leader of the tailed Krishnans had fitted over his head an artificial head resembling that of a huge Terran baboon. He pointed to Mjipa and shouted something in a language full of grunts and clicks.

Verar had joined his men. Another Khaldonian held the sword that Alicia had been wearing; two others bore the pikes that Mjipa and Isayin had carried.

Mjipa was astonished to hear the same language of grunts and clicks coming from Alicia. The leader stepped forward and took off his artificial head. Holding it under one arm, he addressed Alicia, who replied.

After several exchanges, the tailed man turned and shouted to his followers. Instantly they rushed upon the twelve Khaldonians. Mjipa glimpsed a sword waving in the air for an instant; then it vanished. The Khaldonians disappeared beneath a mass of hairy bodies. Presently one dead Khaldonian, with blue-green blood pouring from jagged wounds inflicted by stone weapons, was dragged out of the mass by his-ankles; then another, and soon until all twelve, including Verar, had been dragged away.

Carrying one of the swords, the leader came to Alicia and spoke. She replied and bent her head forward. For a horrible moment, Mjipa thought the Fossanderaner was going to give her the treatment Verar had promised. But the tailed one wanted only to saw the rope that bound her wrists. When it parted, he severed the rope on her ankles and then Mjipa's. There was more talk in the tongue of the tailed men. The chief put his artificial head back on and stalked away after his men. They took the Terrans' swords and spears with them. Mjipa dismissed the thought of demanding these weapons back. He probably would not get them, and anyway they were a cheap enough price for their lives.

He let out a long breath. "I'm not due for retirement for another hundred years, but sometimes I wonder if it's worth it ... Tell me what happened, Lish."

"They suspected Verar's gang of being slavers. On the other hand, they recognized you as the Terran who tried to pacify them in return for stopping the slavers. They think well of you because of your square dealing with them. Didn't you learn any of their language?"

"No; I didn't have time. I took a tame tailed man from Koloft as interpreter. How did you learn it?"

"By a book and a set of tapes, as usual."

"But what happened?"

"I explained that you had come to investigate rumors of slaving raids, and that Verar's gang were slavers about to kill us to prevent exposure. I said they were welcome to take the Khaldonians away and barbecue them."

Mjipa made a face. "I have a strong prejudice against cannibalism; but I suppose Verar's gang might as well serve some practical use." He got up and extended a hand to help Alicia, but she bounced to her feet without assistance.

They set out along the trail that ran parallel to the sea, which they could glimpse through the trees. Finding himself limping badly, Mjipa cut himself a walking stick from a branch with his dirk, of which he had not been deprived. In the distance he heard the boom of log drums, heralding the feast that the tailed men would soon enjoy.

"I told you not to rescue those guys when they were helpless on the raft," said Alicia. "They 're just as dead now as they would be if you'd left them at sea. All your magnanimous gesture got us was another hairbreadth escape, by dumb luck. And why didn't you—"

"Lish!" said Mjipa in a tone so stern that for once she paused in her catalogue of criticisms. "Let's not start the game of if-you-had-only-done-this, and that-was-your-fault-not-mine. We've both made enough mistakes to go round; you're the one who insisted on the picnic, for instance. But you made up for it by knowing the caudates' language. Still—" He held up a hand as she seemed about to burst into angry speech. "I'm older than you, and I can tell you one thing. Anyone who has never had occasion to say to himself, 'How could I have been such an idiot?' just hasn't lived. If you'll keep mum about my shortcomings and blunders, I'll do likewise for you. Agreed?"

She gave him a sour little look. "Okay; agreed."

-

Back at the beach, Mjipa learned that Isayin had returned to the ship. He and Alicia went aboard and found the scholar in his bunk.

"Ah me!" moaned Isayin. "I am unstrung by all this excitement! I need rest and security. Master Mjipa, why didst let those varlets steal upon us undetected? 'Twas stupid of you."

"No more than you," growled Mjipa. "You could have watched our rear as well as I. Why didn't Captain Farrá arm some of his men and send them to find us?"

"Because he holds you to be bringers of bad luck. Caring nought for Terrans, he'd have been happy to see the last of you."

"And why did you run, leaving your weapon, without the least effort to defend us?"

"I am no vulgar swashbuckler, but an intellectual. 'Tis not my part to engage in such affrays, whereas you are hardened to them. As the philosopher Kurde points out—"

Mjipa clenched his fists. "The gods of Krishna give me strength!" he roared. "And to think I risked my hide to save you from Vuzhov's justice! If I could, I'd send you back to Kalwm."

He slammed out of the cabin. When Alicia, who had followed the exchange, gave him a smirk, he said: "And if you say, T told you so!', you'll get an impromptu bath in the Banjao Sea!"

"Percy darling! We just agreed not to say such things, remember?"

"So we did. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

X

REUNION

Towards evening, Percy Mjipa and Alicia Dyckman appeared on the north shore road along the Pichidé River. They trotted a pair of ayas bought in Majbur, with their bags strapped on behind the saddles. They rode in high Krishnan boots, also from Majbur. A new sword clanked against the ribs of Mjipa's mount, while Alicia wore that which they had taken from the guard when they escaped from the detention chamber in Mejvorosh. Mjipa had bought a new blade because the hilt of the Zhamanacian sword was too short for his big hand.

Alicia wore her Khaldoni straw hat. The hat was tied under her chin, and the wide brim flopped with the motion of the aya. The hair of both travelers had grown out to a length of perhaps a centimeter, so that when bareheaded they appeared to have short crew cuts.

As they approached the East Gate of the Novorecife compound, Mjipa shouted up to the man in the watchtower: "Aberta! It's Terrans Mjipa and Dyckman!"

There was a scurry within the wall, and the gate opened. As they rode in, people poured out of the buildings until the travelers found their way blocked by the crowd. All Novorecife turned out as word of the travelers' arrival spread from building to building.

"Get down, Percy!" shouted someone. "We'll take care of the animals and baggage!"

When Mjipa dismounted, the bearlike Boris Glumelin seized him in a hug and kissed him loudly on both cheeks. Then he did the same to Alicia, saying: "Bozhe moy, what happened to your pretty hair?"

"It's a long story," she said. "We'll tell you as soon as you let us get presentable."

"Good! Go take bats. If we had champagne, I would say take bats in champagne, but we don't got any. Listen, everybody!" Glumelin held up both arms. "Is holiday for rest of de day. We have a party to celebrate, wery big party. Hokay? See you in a hour, maybe two. Oh, Fergus!" Glumelin addressed a lean, youngish man with a weathered look, carroty red hair, and freckles. "I don't tink you know Alicia. Doctor Alicia Dyckman, dis is Fergus Reith, our resident tourist guide to de whole damn planet. You can call him Sir Fergus; de Regent of Dur made him a knight."

"I've heard of you," said Alicia, shaking hands. "Percy told me about your adventures in Dur. I think we were at Baianch at the same time but didn't meet."

Mjipa boomed: "Hello, Fergus! Were any of your trippers swallowed by a saferir?" They shook hands vigorously.

"No, thank Bákh." Reith grinned. "The Orientals behaved better than that nutty gang of whites I took before. How about you?"

"Victoria, darling!" said Alicia. "Your Percy was absolutely wonderful; a real hero." She stepped forward, rose on tiptoe, and planted a quick kiss on Mjipa's chin. "I'll see you all later."

Victoria Mjipa seized Percy in her own bear-hug, saying: "Come with me, darling. I know what you want."

"Better let me have that bath first," he said. "I must stink like a bloody stable." They walked off.

-

Hours later, exhausted from food, drink, singing, and dancing, and hoarse from repeating his story, Mjipa leaned back in his seat in a booth in the Nova Iorque Bar. Wearing King Ainkhist's necklace, Victoria sat across from him. She asked:

"What became of your professor?"

"We left him in Majbur. He'd have liked to come to Novo with us, but we'd had enough of his whining. I asked Gorbovast to try to find him a job. He may be a martyr to science, but to me he was a bally nuisance."

Across the room, another couple sat in a booth. One was Alicia Dyckman, wearing a frilly, transparent blouse with nothing beneath it, and the Khaldonian kilt she had bought in Majbur. The necklace of silver and semi-precious stones vied, but not very effectively, with her bosom for attention.

The other was Fergus Reith. Mjipa stared quizzically in their direction.

"Look at that!" he said."They've scarcely met; and she's the woman with no interest in sex, who's married to her career."

Alicia and Reith were so absorbed in each other as to be oblivious to all else. They leaned forward towards each other, talking, laughing, and holding hands under the table.

Victoria Mjipa smiled. "It looks as if our willowy blond icicle were melting all of a sudden."

"How about that Krishnan wife Fergus is supposed to have left in Dur? The princess?"

"That's out, at least under Terran law. Ram gave Fergus an annulment on-ground of coercion."

"Well," said Mjipa, "if Fergus takes the bait, he'll have his hands full."

"What's she like?"

"Lish? A marvelous person in some ways: brilliant, courageous, energetic, shrewd, and practical. She could give Machiavelli lessons in realism, and she bears up under hardships that would kill most women. But she's also a pain in the arse: bossy, opinionated, argumentative, hot-tempered, and always wanting to set everybody right about everything. We fought like cat and dog much of the time. I respect and admire her no end, but I thank all the gods of Krishna I don't have to live with her."

"How much of the friction was due to her being a woman? I mean, if a man had had exactly the same qualities, would you have found him more congenial?"

"I don't think so, and I don't think it was male prejudice. After all, darling, you're a person of pretty decided opinions yourself; but we've put up with each other's faults for a long time." Mjipa smiled. "But how much are we ever aware of our own prejudices? To us they seem like realistic views. Still, I'm apprehensive for young Reith."

"Fergus seems a pretty able, self-confident fellow."

Mjipa shrugged. "I don't know how the chap would stand up under one of her tongue-lashings. Anyway, it'll be interesting to watch."

"She's beautiful by white standards, in spite of that ghastly hair," said Victoria. "Perhaps, before it's too late, she'll learn there are some things you just can't do to another person and get away with it."

"Maybe, but I shan't hold my breath. Mere beauty never balanced a cheque-book or helped a spouse through a spell of illness or unemployment. Not," he hastily added, "that you're not beautiful in my eyes."

"Thanks; a good try." Victoria leaned forward. "Tell me one thing, Percy. Tell me the exact truth, and I swear I won't hold it against you. no matter what the answer. I know you men, so I wouldn't blame you. Did you have an affair with her?"

"No, dear, I did not. I admit it was a damned near thing, as the Duke of Wellington said about Waterloo, because circumstances forced us together so long. It might have been different if we had really liked each other; but we didn't.

"A couple of times I was willing, and a couple of times she was; but the times never coincided. Just luck. It's more good luck than good management that we 're here at all." Thankful that Victoria had not asked questions leading to his night with Ovanel, Mjipa patted a yawn. "Party's over. Let's go to bed."

"Poor thing! You must be asleep on your feet."

"Who said anything about sleeping? I said bed."

"What, again already? Oh, very well." They rose, Mjipa observing that Alicia and Reith had already slipped out.

On their way across the compound, Mjipa caught sight of Alicia and Reith, walking slowly hand in hand under the light of Karrim, the nearest moon. Speaking in low voices, they paid no heed to the Mjipas. As the latter turned away towards their own quarters, Mjipa said:

"Speaking of beds, wonder whose they'll end up in?"

"Evil to him who evil thinks. It may end in nothing more than a chaste good-night kiss."

"I suppose you could be right, but from what I've seen ... Oh, well, none of our business anyway. But I can't help wondering how long it'll last."

"Not many couples stay together so long as we have," said Victoria.

"True. The institution of marriage wasn't designed for a two-hundred-year life span. But we baMangwato take our obligations seriously ... I say, has Glumelin got the Balhibo approval for my consulate at Zanid yet? Well, why not? Some day that ass will say Nichyevo! to me once too often, when I've got an urgent matter, and I'll throttle him ..."

The End

Book information

"Look at this!" said the officer. "Built much like human women, on the outside, at least."

The officer untied the string that held the cloak about Alicia, and swept off the garment. As he did so, Yeghats fumbled with the buttons of her shirt.

"Ho!" said Mjipa. "What are you doing? Terrans allow not such familiarities!"

The lieutenant flipped the edges of the shirt aside, exposing Alicia's indubitable femininity.

"You do not understand," insisted Mjipa. "Those bulges will disappear as he gets older ..."

L. SPRAGUE de CAMP

THE PRISONER

OF ZHAMANAK

A

ACE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKS

NEW YORK

All characters in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

is purely coincidental.

This Ace Science Fiction Book contains the complete

text of the original hardcover edition.

It has been completely reset in a typeface

designed for easy reading, and was printed

from new film.

THE PRISONER OF ZHAMANAK

An Ace Science Fiction Book/published by arrangement

with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Phantasia Press edition/1982

Ace edition/April 1983

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 1982 by L. Sprague de Camp

Cover art by Paul Alexander

This book may not be reproduced in whole

or in part, by mimeograph or any other means,

without permission. For information address:

Ace Science Fiction Books, 200 Madison Avenue,

New York. New York 10016

ISBN: 0-441-67937-4

Ace Science Fiction Books are published

by Charter Communications, Inc.

200 Madison Avenue,

New York, N.Y. 10016.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Content

The Prisoner of Zhamanak
L. Sprague de Camp

THE KRISHNA STORIES

I HONOR

II FRUSTRATION

III CONFRONTATION

IV FLIGHT

V PURSUIT

VI HYPOCRISY

VII DELIVERANCE

VIII ENTRAPMENT

IX RANCOR

X REUNION

Book information