“Tobacco and alcohol can be evil if their use is abused,” Carmody said. “But moderation is a virtue, too. Usually, anyway.”
“Don’t you believe it, Carmody. When fighting evil, it’s all or none.”
He hesitated, then said, “By the way, maybe I should not bring up the old days. But whatever happened to the Staronif? I remember we all had to take off that night. I just barely escaped the guards and their wego. I heard later that Raspold almost caught you, but you tricked him. I never did hear what happened to the Staronif. You get away with it?”
“I escaped from Raspold because he was treed by a lugar,” Carmody said, referring to a huge felinoid carnivore of the planet of Tulgey. “I almost made it back to our ship, but then I got treed, too. The lugar was coming up after me; don’t believe those stories about their being too big to climb trees. I had only one weapon because I’d emptied all my ammo clips during the running battle with the guards. That weapon was the Staronif.
“I shoved it down the lugar’s throat, and it swallowed the Staronif. The last I saw of the lugar, it was running through the forest, screaming as if it had the grandfather of all bellyaches.”
“God!” Leiftin said. Then, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to use the Lord’s name in vain. But the Staronif! Ten million giffords lost in a cat’s stomach. What a fortune you could have made! And all those months of planning and all that money you spent getting things set up!”
Carmody chuckled and said, “It didn’t seem funny then. Now, I laugh about it. Somewhere in that big dark forest, the most valuable jewel in the Galaxy lies inside the skeleton of a lugar.”
Lieftin wiped his forehead with a handkerchief he took from his sleeve. Carmody looked at it, for he wondered if the handkerchief still had a little steel ball sewed in one corner. Lieftin had been famous once for snapping it in a man’s eye during a fight and often removing the eye. Now, there was no sign of it.
The stewardess announced takeoff. Ten minutes later, ship’s time, the White Mule was in the atmosphere of Kareen. In another ten minutes, it had landed in the light of the late afternoon sun.
Again Carmody went through inspection. He lost sight of Lieftin until he was on the way to the exit from the spaceport. As he passed the door to the washroom (designed for male bipeds of non-Kareenan origin), the door swung open. And he saw Lieftin stubbing out a cigarette in an ashtray.
Lieftin looked up at the same time. He started, then charged out and seized Carmody’s arm.
“Forgive me, Carmody, I lied to you. I do feel temptation now and then. But I usually fight it off with the Lord’s help. Only, this time, I fell. Maybe because this trip is making me very nervous. You know, coming to a place so besotted with evil.”
“This place is no more evil than any other place,” Carmody said. “Don’t worry. I don’t judge you. I won’t laugh at you or tell anybody about this. Forget about it. Excuse me. I think the official delegates are about to greet me.”
He had seen his old friend Tand enter the main room. Tand did not look much older than when he had last seen him. There were a few gray streaks in the feathery hair of his head, and he looked a little heavier than Carmody remembered him. But he was the same happy-looking fellow, his blue-tinged teeth showing in a grin. Nor had his present important position changed his manner of dress. He still wore inexpensive and conservative clothes.
Tand strode toward him, his arms out and called, “John Carmody! Welcome!”
They embraced. Tand said, in English,”How are you, Father?” He grinned, and Carmody knew that Tand was using the title in a double sense.
“I’m fine,” Carmody replied in Kareenan. “And you, Father Tand?”
He used the word pwelch, which was reserved for a Father of Yess.
Tand stepped back and said, “I’m as happy as can be under the present conditions. Oh. . .” He turned to the other Kareenans, behind him. “Allow me to introduce...”
Carmody greeted each with the formal combination of handshake and dipping of both knees. The four were members of the government: a secret-police official, a priest, an enthnologist, and a secretary of the head of the world state.
All seemed interested in what had brought Carmody back to their planet. Abog, the secretary of Rilg, the state head, was a young man, very personable, but he had something in his bearing—or was it his voice? -- that Carmody mistrusted.
Abog said, “We were hoping that you had come to announce your conversion to Boontism.”
“I have come to talk to Yess,” Carmody said.
Tand took charge. “Would you like to go now to your hotel room? Inasmuch as you are one of the Seven, the government has reserved one of the best suites. At state expense, of course.”
Tand suggested to the others that they must be very busy. They took the hint and said good-bye. But Abog, before leaving, insisted that Carmody give him an appointment, that very evening, if possible. The priest replied that he would be happy to talk to him.
After the officials had left, Tand conducted Carmody to his car. The vehicle was a low-graviton unit, as were most of those on the street.
“Change,” Tand said. “It’s everywhere in the universe, even on our off-the-beaten- path planet. Population has quadrupled. New industries, founded on Federation technology and sometimes on Federation loans, have sprung up by the thousands.”
Tand drove; Carmody looked out the window. The massive stone structures with the carved grinning or snarling faces were as before.
There were more people in the streets, and they wore clothes of a style definitely influenced by Federation garments.
“The city you know,” Tand said, “is about the same. But around it, covering what used to be farmlands or woods, is a great new city. It’s not made of stone, not made to last. Too many people too soon. We can no longer afford to take our time in building.”
“It’s like that everywhere,” Carmody replied. “Tell me, are you still connected with the police?”
“No more. But I have influence. Any Father has. Why?”
“A man named Al Lieftin came in on the White Mule with me. Years ago, he was a hired killer. He’s traveling under his own name now, so I presume he was mogrified at Hopkins or a similar institution. He claims now to be a diaconus of the Rockbottom Church of God. His story may be true. If we had time, we could check on him. But we don’t. And there’s a possibility he may be the assassin sent by Earth fanatics to kill Yess. You know of that, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard. I’ll put the police on Lieftin’s trail. But they’ll have a hard time keeping an eye on him, unless they place him under house arrest. Once he’s out in the pre-Night festival crowds, he can easily give them the slip. Or disappear without trying.”
“What’re the chances of house arrest?”
“None at all. He could kick up too much of a fuss. The authorities don’t want to offend a Federation citizen unless they have a very good reason.”
Carmody was silent for a while. Then he said, “There is another man whom I would like watched. But I hesitate to say anything about him. This is such a personal thing, big for me but little in comparison with the plot against Yess.”
He told his friend about the threats from the man who called himself Fratt. Tand was thoughtful. Finally, he said, “You think the Earthman Abdu could be Fratt?”
“Possibly but not very probably. The time element is against it. How would he have learned of my sudden decision to come here?”
“The explanation might be very easy if you knew what he did. I’ll have someone shadow him. The police will be too busy with the crowds to spare anybody. But I’ll get a private operative.”