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."