"Ah, not entirely," Brim replied, "but she may pick up once she has something to eat."
"She sure hasn't eaten much so far," Quince observed with his mouth full. "Look at the good soup she's wastin'."
Brim tried a spoonful of his own-it was excellent although a bit cool by now. "Well," he added, "perhaps the main course will do it."
While they waited for Margot to return, Hagbut and Quince droned on without letup. The General was just hitting his stride in a noisy discourse on military discipline when he idly glanced toward the foyer, stopped in the middle of his sentence, then suddenly turned a chalky shade of white. "EGAD!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows hoisted to a state of caricature.
Simultaneously, the entire dining room lapsed into utter silence-except the orchestra.
That was squelched a moment later by a stupendous crash when one of the waiters dropped his tray of dishes. Brim whirled in his chair just in time to see Margot stride regally across the floor in the blue dress with a look of triumph on her face.
She looked terrific! No wonder everyone in the dining room was staring.
Close in her wake scurried the major-domo-who for some reason had a positively distraught look on his thin face. He caught up just as she arrived at the table. "P-princess..." he , stammered, clearing his throat nervously, "ah...."
Margot stopped behind her chair and looked down at him. "Wilf" she asked imperiously.
"Um.. .your.. .um..." He nodded-apparently at her bosom. "Um... Your Highness's... um..."
He nervously pinched the fleshy part of his hand. "Um... nothing, Your Highness."
"Then what, may I ask, are you waiting for? Help me into my chair," she commanded haughtily. "Clearly, none of my companions seems to remember his manners this evening."
On the instant, all four men scrambled in a comic attempt to reach her chair, but Margot slid into place by herself as if they hadn't moved, "Too late," she said, surreptitiously winking at Brim while the major-domo beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of his foyer. Moments later, their main course was served.
. During the next few cycles, it rapidly became apparent that something had mysteriously inverted everyone's roles' at the table. Now it was Hagbut and Quince who only picked at their food-silently. For the most part, they sat with their heads pulled in like turtles, staring uneasily at their plates as if they were unwilling to meet the eyes of others in the room.
Margot, on the other hand, was feasting as if she hadn't eaten for a week. Clad in her seductive blue dress, she was chattering ebulliently to everyone at the table. "Excellent fare, General!" she exclaimed happily. "And a wonderful choice of restaurant. I shall certainly return here again and again."
"Harrumpf...."
"Why, General!" Margot said, peering at Hagbut's plate, "my stars, you have hardly touched your supper. And you, too, Captain Quince. Perhaps we should have new plates brought from the kitchen." She pushed her chair back. "I shall call the major-domo...."
"Egad! Harrumpf. Ah, no, Princess," Hagbut stammered. "Indeed, that will not be necessary. Captain Quince and I must be leaving upon the moment." He rubbed his nose lightly.
"Ah, yeah," Quince affirmed, squirming in his seat. "P-pressin' matters an' all. You know."
He nodded toward the foyer, where a tired-looking soldier with a driver's arm band leaned against the wail talking to Ambridge and another green-liveried embassy chauffeur.
"General Hagbut!" Margot asserted with a pout. "That cannot be! I am here, after all, at your invitation. Can these pressing matters be so important that you will not favor me with at least one dance set? Must I report to my Uncle Greyffin that you abandoned us after Captain Quince attacked my limousine?"
Hagbut's face turned a bright red again, and his eyes looked as If he had just been shot with a high-energy blaster. "D-dance set?..." he stammered.
Margot giggled. "Of course, General," she said, flaunting her bosom from the low-cut dress. "Certainly the great General Hagbut would not deny a poor princess the pleasure of dancing to such an elegant orchestra." She angled her bead and fluttered her eyelashes. "I have often heard you tell my associates that you are a superb dancer." She turned to Brim with a look of victory in her eyes. "Lieutenant Brim," she ordered, "my chair, please!"
Perspiration beading his forehead, Hagbut got to his feet like someone facing a firing squad. His face had taken on a mottled effect: part angry crimson, part chalky white. "A-at your service, Princess," he said in a clipped, squeaky voice.
"Oh, thank you, General," Margot twittered, grabbing his arm and practically dragging him onto the dance floor. Brim had never before realized what a perfectly erotic walk she had. Of course, he'd never seen her in such a dress before, either-almost better than without one....
It was clear that Quince had also noticed Margot's charming way of walking. He was sitting with his jaw hanging open and shaking his head in clear disapproval. "Universe," he whispered under his bream.
Brim frowned. "What seems to be the matter, Captain?" he demanded. "Both you and the General appear to be awfully upset over something."
"Xaxtdamned good and right we're upset," Quince sulked. The very idea. I can sort of imagine a lowlife Carescrian like you thinkin' something like that's all right-but holy Gort, you'd expect a princess would have a little more pride."
Brim felt his race flush with anger. He considered the source, then shrugged it off-Carescrians could easily spend ill their spare time dueling with dimbulbs like Quince. "I don't understand," he said evenly. "What does pride have to do with anything?"
"Huh?" Quince said, turning his full face toward Brim for the first time. "You sound like you really don't know what's goin' on."
"I wasn't aware that anything was going on, Captain," Brim said, "especially concerning the Princess. But if there is, I want to know about it-right now."
Quince frowned and nodded toward the dance floor, where Margot and Hagbut-who didn't look any too sure of himself-were moving to a complex, and quite energetic, version of the Zubian triple-hop. "Well, how about that whore's dress, for starters?" he asked resentfully.
"Whore's dress?"
"F'xaxt sake, yeah. Who else in this joint is dressed like one of them Ornwald prostitutes?"
Brim felt himself stiffen. He was about to grab the Captain by his lapels when a chilling thought hit him like a thunderbolt. "What's an Ornwald prostitute?" he asked, heart in his mouth: He was suddenly afraid he already knew the answer....
The Captain made a face and shook his head. "Well, you sure must of seen a few of 'em on the street outside tonight. They're all over the place-lookin' just like the princess does.
The Ornwald Bureau of Health makes the girls wear them blue dresses any time they're workin'-an' all the women's shops in the district has to carry 'em by law. Keeps the neighborhood nice an' clean." He shook his head sourly. "Still can't figure what a royal princess is doin' with one on, though-but it's sure steamed the General some. I mean, he's a proud man."
Brim felt his heart sink. Margot and Hagbut were now virtually alone on the dance floor-everybody was watching them and applauding. He squeezed his eyes shut in mortification. "Blue dresses like that are uniforms for prostitutes?" he asked, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
"Xaxtdamned right."
"Oh, thraggling WON-der-ful...."
"Huh?"
"Nothing, Captain," Brim said. "Just clearing my throat."
After that, Quince began wolfing down the remains of his supper and only stopped when Hagbut hove into view, towed by a grinning, triumphant-looking Margot Effer'wyck. By now, the General looked as if he'd lost some vast territorial campaign. His eyes had taken on a gaunt, hunted look and his face was even redder than his epaulettes.