Barnevelt dismissed the question of the Yars with an airy wave. "He shall get his ship back. Meanwhile I'll pay him rent for it. Have you a draft blank?"
After puzzling over the strange printed instrument, arranged quite differently from an Earthly check, Barnevelt wrote out a draft to the Republic of Suruskand, on Ta'lum and Fosq for five hundred karda. "Send him this and tell him I'll settle the balance later."
"I trust he'll take your—uh—rather cavalier treatment of the matter in good part," said the Chief Syndic. "I have here another letter that concerns you, sir. It arrived but this morn, in diplomatic cipher—from Zakkomir bad-Gurshmani, a ward of Queen Alvandi. After the usual preamble he says: 'Since our return to Ghulinde, I have been doomed to grisly death, to wit: chosen by this false lottery as Princess Zei's first consort, to wed her on the day of her accession, on the tenth of Sifta.' (That, as you'll perceive from yonder calendar, is six days from now.) 'You know, Master Syndic, the fate awaiting one on whom that honor falls at end of year. Nor is Zei happier than I in this predicament, but we are helpless puppets in my guardian's royal grip, for she will keep all the leading strings in her own fists even after she has nominally resigned. There is one, however, who might us rescue: the mighty Earthman traveling under the pseudonym of Snyol of Pleshch.' That, I take it, means you, sir?"
"That's right," said Barnevelt.
The Chief Syndic made a deprecatory motion. "Fear not to acknowledge the fact in the privacy of our chambers, for Gorbovast and I are enlightened men who strive against the prejudiced disfavor, in which Terrans are by many held. Some of ovir best friends are Earthmen, for we take the view: Because some of the louts act with unseemly arrogance, insolently boasting of the superiority of all things in their own fear-some world, should the whole enseamed race be damned unheard?
"Howsomever, let's to our embroidery return. I quote: 'I did not know this hero was an Earthman till Zei told me after my rescue from the Sunqar, though I did before suspect it. Here's the kernel. He is a Terran, and so is Zei—a fact I have long guarded as a courtly secret. She is no chick of Queen Alvandi, who is barren as the rocks of Harqain, but an Earthly waif procured from slavers and reared as the queen's own, being taught from early years to disguise herself as a native of this planet. For Qirib's law not only dooms the consort yearly. It likewise damns the queen who within five years of her accession fails to lay a fertile egg.
'The princess tells me she did learn this pseudo-Snyol's true nature during the rescue and assumed he likewise learned of hers. And therefore was she all the more perplexed by the inconsistent sentiments he manifested towards her.
The Syndic looked up. "I presume you know to what he refers, sir? To continue: 'Since he is an Earthman, it seems likely that he would direct his course towards Novorecife and his fellows. We therefore beg you with all the ardor we command to watch for him. Should he reach Novorecife without your interception, essay to get a word to him in the stronghold of the Terrans. For thus you may save, not merely my own worthless life, but the happiness of my lady princess. 'I add that Queen Alvandi also knows of Snyol's true nature and was therefore all the more eager to obtain him as a consort for her daughter, for she would rather have foreign rule in this Qirib than jeopardize her matriarchal principles. Failing to hold him, she has chosen me as second best—a choice I should find flattering did not the vision of the chopper spring uppermost in my thoughts. Since Zei—for whom my feelings are of sib - affection only—could not be fructified by one of my species, I ween Alvandi plans to smuggle in another waif to carry on the line.'
"There you have it," said the Syndic. "What you do now is up to you. I beg you, if you turn your back upon this world, not to reveal these matters, which contain most dire subversive possibilities."
Gorbovast said, "I suspect who Zei really is."
"Who?" said Barnevelt sharply.
"Know you that Earthly missionary for a cult of more than normal incoherence, Mirza Fateh? Whose wife was slain and daughter carried off by robbers in the Year of the Bishtar?"
The Syndic made the affirmative head motion. "Zei would be of the right age and type, though my information was the child was sold in Dur and there did die. Where's Mirza Fateh now?"
"He was in Mishe," said Gorbovast. "It transpires, General Snyol, that you may be in a position to bring about a most affecting family reunion."
"We'll see," said Barnevelt, whose mind had been whirring like a generator. "I sort of think young couples are better off without too many parents cluttering up the landscape."
Tangaloa said: "If you want to check, say to Zei: Shuma farsi harf mizanid?"
"What's that?"
"That's 'Do you speak Persian?' in Persian. I lived in Iran once. But you won't have a chance, because I don't see how you will see the sheila before we push off for Earth."
Barnevelt was still practicing the sentence when Sishen came in. The Osirian, resembling a man-sized bipedal dinosaur, took one look at Barnevelt and leaped upon him as he had upon Tangaloa that time in their room in Angur's Inn.
"Hey!" yelled Barnevelt, trying to wriggle out of the reptilian embrace.
"Oh, my dear rescuer!" hissed the Osirian. "How good to see you again! Not for a minute has my gratitude wavered in the time since we parted in Jazmurian! I love you!"
"Let's not be so demonstrative about it," said Barnevelt, detaching himself by force. "If you really want to do me a favor, here's an Earthman under Osirian pseudo-hypnosis who's forgotten his life on Earth and thinks he's a pirate of the Morya Sunqaruma. Can you cure him?"
"I can try. May we have a room to ourselves?"
While the reptile led Shtain out, Barnevelt inquired after the Shambor. The little Marconi-rigged smuggler, however, seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Barnevelt suspected that the mutineers had probably capsized or otherwise wrecked her as a result of their unfamiliarity with the rig. At least that would save him from trouble with the Viagens.
Half an hour later Shtain came out of the room, shaking his head and rubbing his bristly scalp. He wrung the hands of Barnevelt and Tangaloa.
"God!" he said, "it's good to be normal again! It is the damnedest feelink, to have part of your mind that knaws perfectly well what's goink on, but can't do a damn think about it. You boys were fine, wery fine. I could not have done batter myself. When do we shuff off?" Shtain's thick Russian accent was as dense as ever.
"I don't know about you two," said Barnevelt, "but I'm going back to Ghulinde with my Pirates of Penzance."
"What?" shouted Shtain. "Dunt be ridiculous! You're coming back to Earth with us…"
"I am not!"
"Wait, wait, both of you," said Tangaloa. "Let me handle him, Igor. Look here, cobber, don't take this business about Zakkomir and Zei seriously. We've got our film. We've had our adventure; and now you can return to Earth to live on your laurels…"
"No," said Barnevelt. "In the first place my mother lives on Earth, and in the second I'm going to rescue Zei."
"There'll be another sheila along in a minute!"
"Not the one I want."
"If you do rescue her, will you bring her to Earth on the next ship?"
"I think not. I've about decided to make my fortune here on Krishna."
Shtain had been hopping about with clenched fists in an agony of suppressed emotion. Now he burst out: "Are you crazy mad? What will Igor Shtain Limited do without you? Where would I ever get soch a ghawst-writer again? I'll double your salary! You can't walk out on us like that!"
"Sorry, but you should have thought how valuable I was sooner."
Shtain began to swear in Russian.
Tangaloa said, "Ahem. Dirk, you know these Earthly adventurers who run around backward planets exploiting the natives are inferior types who can't compete with their own kind back home. They take advantage of Earth's more sophisticated culture, which they themselves have done nothing to create…"