"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.