"How do I know your gossip's as valuable as all that?" he said.
"Trust my word. I have news of import about King Antane."
Hasselborg shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't make a trade for any secret sight unseen." Seeing her look of pain, he added: "Of course I am fond of you in a way, and if your news were important it might help me to make up my mind about other things."
"Cha! Let's not spar with wooden swords any longer. Will you promise, if it does in truth prove important, to wed me instanter, by the rites of the Established Church?"
"No."
"Oh, you wretched man! So I'm to give you all I know and mayhap you'll consider what to do next, as if that were a great kindness! Am I so ugly? Am I so cold?"
"No."
"What then?"
"Matter of principle."
"Principle! Curse your principles!" She strode up and down in agitation, storming: "I should hire a bravo to put steel through your gullet, to see if you'd bleed or merely run ink from the wound! Never have I known such a man! One would think you—"
Hasselborg found himself disliking this scene more and more. He fought down a temptation either to break off their equivocal relationship finally, or else to accept her offer.
"Well?" she said.
"What I've told you. I'd love to hear your news, and the more you help me the more grateful I'll be. But I absolutely won't promise to marry you. Not at this stage, anyway."
She stood breathing hard. "Look you. I'll tell you what I hear. Then do as you like—go where you will, cast me aside, revile and beat me if you will. I'll ask nought of you, save that you believe that I truly love you and wish you well."
"Okay, I'll believe that. And I won't say I mightn't feel the same—some day. But what's the news?"
"This—King Antane and his queen sail from Zamba for Majbur any day."
Hasselborg sat up sharply. "What for?"
"That I know not, nor my informant. Antane comes betimes to Majbur to buy, both for himself and for his kingdom, or to talk trade with the syndics of the Free City. For aught I know, his present visit's of that kind. But see you not the true weight of what I've told you?"
"How?"
"Why, if you'd accost this sea king with whatever mysterious business you have with him, and him unwilling, you'd have to pick a time when he's ashore. On his island you could never draw nigh without his leave, for his galleys command the seas thereabouts. Now see you?"
"I do, and thanks a lot. The next problem is, how am I to get away from Hershid without having King Eqrar get sore and send his army after me?"
Fouri thought an instant and said: "Perhaps I could persuade him. The old baghan likes me well, though he cares not overmuch for my uncle. I know not if he'd listen or no. Could I prevail upon him, would you change your mind?"
Hasselborg grinned. "No, darling. You're a most persistent young person, aren't you?"
"No joking matter! See you not that you're tearing my liver in shreds? Oh, Kavir, I always dreamed of a man like you—" And she began to weep.
Hasselborg comforted her as best he could, then said: "Pull yourself together. I think I hear your uncle coming back."
In an instant she was the solemnly courteous hostess again. Hasselborg thought, whatever Krishnan finally joins his lot with hers will certainly never have a dull moment.
Next morning, Hasselborg went to the king saying: "May it please Your Awesomeness, my headache's gone—"
"So? Good! Excellent! Then we'll resume the sittings at once. I have an hour this afternoon—"
"Just a minute, sire! I was about to say that, while my headache's gone, I find that my artistic temperament has been so shaken by this duel that I couldn't possibly do good work until my nerves quiet down."
"And when will that be?"
"I don't know for sure; it was my first duel, you know."
"Forsooth? You handled yourself well."
"Thanks. But as I was saying, I'd guess I'll be ready to paint again in less than a ten-night."
"Hm-m-m. Well, well, if that's the way of it, I suppose I shall have to let you hang around ogling the ladies until you make up your mind, or whatever an artist has in lieu of a mind. Most unsatisfactory people, artists. Most unsatisfactory. Can't depend on them. You're like old Haste, always promising but never delivering."
"I'm sorry if I make Your Awesomeness impatient, but we're dealing with one of those divine gifts that can't be forced. Anyway, aren't you leaving soon for Jam's funeral?"
"That is true; I shall be out of Hershid for some days."
"All right then. In the meantime I'd like permission to take a little vacation away from Hershid, too."
"Where away from Hershid?" said Eqrar with a suspicious look.
"Well—I was thinking of running down to Majbur for a day or two. Change of scene, you know."
"No, I know not! You painters are really intolerable! Here I give you a good fat commission, and anybody would agree that a good subject am I, and the prestige of having painted me alone would be worth your time. I don't even bring a charge of homicide against you when you slay one of my retainers in a fight. And what do you? Excuses, procrastinations, evasions! I'll not have it! Sirrah, consider yourself… no, wait. Why come you not to Rosid with me? We might get some painting done on the route."
"Oh, sire! In the ilrst place, Jam's funeral would shatter my nerves utterly; and in the second, I hardly think his people would consider me a welcome guest."
"True, true. Well, if I let you go to Majbur, how know I 'tis not an excuse to get out of my jurisdiction and flee, leaving me with nought but a charcoal sketch for my trouble?"
"That's easy, sir. I'm leaving a good-sized sum of money here, and also that gang of Jam's men who signed up to work for me. There's also the little matter of my bill for this painting I'm working on now. You don't think I'd abandon valuable assets like that, do you?"
"I suppose not. Go on your silly trip, then, and may the gods help you if you come not back as promised!"
"Could you give me an introduction to somebody there? Your ambassador, say?"
"I have a resident commissioner in the Free City. Naen, write this worthless artist a note to Gorbovast, will you? I'll sign it here and now."
This time Hasselborg took pains to stand in front of the secretary's desk as the latter wrote, and to try to read the letter upside down. If written Gozashtandou was hard to read right side up, it was worse inverted. Still, the message seemed straightforward enough, with no deadly words like "spy."
The Krishnan noon therefore found Victor Hassel-borg trotting his buggy briskly down the road towards the Free City of Majbur. He had not even said good-by to Fouri; had sent one of his men to Haste's palace with a message instead, not wanting another scene or demand that he take her along.
He had also been strongly tempted to take one of these burly ruffians with him but had given up the idea. Traveling with a Krishnan would almost certainly result in the native's learning that Hasselborg was an Earthman.
He passed the usual road traffic; overtook and passed the daily train from Hershid to Qadr. It comprised five little cars, three passenger and two freight, pulled along by a bishtar shuffling between the rails. A couple of young Krishnans in one of the passenger cars waved at him, just as children did on Earth. He waved back, feeling, for the first time since his arrival, homesick. Dearest Alexandra— He got out her handkerchief for a quick look at it.
He arrived at the village of Qadr the evening of his second day on the road. As the last ferryboat for Majbur had already left, he spent the night without incident in Qadr and took the first boat across next morning. It was a big barge, rowed by a dozen oarsmen manning long sweeps and helped along by two triangular lateen sails bellying in the westerly breeze that came down the river on their starboard beam. To port, the low shores of the mouth of the Pichide fell away to nothing, leaving the Sadabao Sea sparkling in the rising sun.