He took up the reins again. Since her costume was inadequate protection against the coolth of the long Krishnan night, he wrapped his cloak around both of them. She snuggled up to him, tickled his face with her antennae, and presently kissed the angle of his jaw.
So, sex was raising its beautiful head? How nice that the Krishnans had adopted this Terran practice! And how nice that one could take one's eyes off the road and trust one's steed to find the way! O quente cachorro!
The sun was well up before Fouri awoke and stretched. "Where are we?" she asked. "Somewhere on the road to Hershid."
"I know that, man of little wit! But where?"
"I can only guess that we'll arrive some time this afternoon."
"Well then, stop at the next farmhouse. I would eat."
This sharp, imperious tone was something new. He thought, some of the hero-worship must have already worn off, and gave her a silent, wooden look.
Thereupon she was all contrition: "Oh, did I wound my hero? I crawl! I abase myself! A foul-tempered and selfish witch am I!" She seized his hand and began kissing it. "You break my liver! Bear unkind-ness from you I cannot! Say I'm forgiven, or I throw myself from your carriage to my doom!"
"That's okay, Lady Fouri," he said, wishing she would not be so theatrical about it. Life was complicated enough without superfluous histrionics. He patted her and kissed her and cheered her up, while his mind ran far ahead, thinking of plans for his arrival in Hershid.
Presently she said: "We must be well into the dour's territory. Passed we not his bourne in the night?"
"You mean that place with a gate across the road and a sentry house? You were asleep."
"How about the sentries? Did they admit you?"
"Matter of fact, they were asleep too, so I just got out and opened the gate myself. Seemed a shame to wake the poor guys."
They stopped at a hamlet for a meal, during which Hasselborg asked: "What's a good respectable inn in Hershid? I landed in some Thieves' Rest in Rosid and don't care to repeat the mistake."
"Oh, but Kavir, you shall stay at no inn! What think you of me? Chambers of the best in my uncle's palace shall be yours, where I can see you every day!"
Although the last item made it plain that more than simple gratitude was involved in this offer, Hasselborg suppressed a smile as he protested: "I couldn't accept such unearned hospitality! After all, I'm a mere nobody, not even a knight, and your uncle doesn't know me from Ad— from Qarar."
"Who Ad may be I know not, but accept you he shall; he'd welcome his niece's rescuer in any event; and should he not, I'd make him wish he'd never been hatched."
He did not doubt that she could, too. "Well… if you insist—"
She did, of course, which fact pleased Hasselborg mightily, despite its threat of future complications, because it gave him a free and perhaps luxurious lodging right in the midst of things. While, despite his fear of germs, he could cheerfully put up with the worst in the way of accommodations when he had to, he still enjoyed the best when he could get it.
The rest of the journey proved uneventful. They failed to overhaul the caravan, which must have been making good time to get away from the perils of the Kodum Hills.
Hershid, as befitted the capital of an empire, was a larger and more splendid city than Rosid. As expected, they were halted at the gate. The guards recognized Fouri before she had said two words, jumped to present arms with their halberds, and waved the carriage through.
Fouri guided Hasselborg through the city until they stopped at the gates of a palace. The gates were adorned with geometrical gimmicks, which Hasselborg recognized as Krishnan astrological symbols.
The inevitable gatekeeper stepped out, cried: "Mistress Fouri!" and ran across the court shouting. A whole swarm of people thereupon erupted out of the palace and crowded around the carriage, all trying to kiss Fouri's hands at once.
Then a tall Krishnan in a long blue robe appeared and the crowd opened to let him through. He and Fouri embraced. The latter said: "Uncle, this is my rescuer, the gallant Master Kavir—"
Hasselborg had his hand shaken—another borrowed Earth custom—and tried to follow the conversation with everybody talking at once:
"What happened?"
"Sandu, run to the barracks and tell the commander not to send out that squadron—"
"Aye, the caravan arrived but a few minutes past with their tale of woe—"
"Whatever befell your ladyship? You look as if you'd been trampled by wild ayas!"
An exaggeration, even though Fouri's flimsy costume did look beat-up as a result of her ride and hike through the Kodum Hills in the dark. As he was led to his room, it occurred to Hasselborg that if anyone needed valet service, it was himself. He could see that his suit was torn and mud-splattered, and could feel the whiskers sprouting on his chin and the weal where a branch had lashed him across the face on that wild ride into the hills. He'd have to shave soon, or it would be obvious that his bristly beard was reddish-brown instead of Krishnan green, unless he emulated the gent who
and was, moreover, of Terran luxuriance.
All that was taken care of by Haste's household, which ran with un-Krishnan efficiency.
An hour later he was shaved, bathed, perfumed— something he had to endure for the sake of sweet verisimilitude^—and his clean suit had been laid out for him. After a short nap, he dressed and went down to meet his host, whom he found awaiting him with what appeared to be a cocktail shaker.
Haste bad-Labbade was unusual among Krishnans in having lost most of his hair and all the color from the rest, which was silky white. His wrinkled, parch-mentlike features were also sharper than those of most of the race. In fact, had it not been for the organs of smell sprouting from between his brows, he might have passed for an Earthman.
"My son," said Haste, pouring, "there's little I can say to impress upon you my gratitude, save this: Feel free to call upon me at any time for aught I can do for you."
"Thank you, Your Reverence," said Hasselborg, warily eyeing his drink. However, so skillfully had it been mixed that the taste of alcohol could hardly be detected, and he got it down without gagging. He reminded himself that, as a habitual nondrinker, he would have to be careful and count his drinks, stretching them out as long as possible.
When Fouri joined them, Haste said: "Tell me all about this extraordinary feat of rescue."
When they had told, Fouri asked her uncle: "Think you the dour will finally take action against Jam on your representation?"
Haste smiled thinly. "I know not. You know ,how little weight I have with the dour these days."
" 'Tis only because you lack courage to face down the old aqebat!" she snapped. "I could do better with him myself."
"Why, so you could, the reason being he likes you, looking upon you as a sort of daughter, while he holds me in despite."
"No matter of liking at all; but that he's a hard man and a clever one, who's gained his ends by struggle and expects those about him to be equally hard and clever. Best him and he'll respect you; yield to him, as you've done, and he'll trample you into the mire. Would that I were a man!"
Hasselborg felt a suppressed tension between these two, too strong to be accounted for by a simple difference of opinion on how to manage the king. This might bear looking into. He said: "I—uh—perhaps you could explain this to me, Your Reverence? I've never been in Hershid and so don't know the local situation."