Nasrullah II was the first world that Dante touched down on. He stayed only long enough to trade in his stolen ship for another one and to have a drink in a local bar, which was where he heard about MacBeth. He didn't write the poem until he had landed on New Tangier IV in the neighboring system, where he proceeded to recite it in a couple of taverns.
He spent a couple of days on New Tangier, a dusty, ugly reddish world with nothing much to recommend it except one diamond mine about ten miles east of the planet's only Tradertown. There was one hotel—a boarding house, actually, since not enough people visited New Tangier to support a hotel; one casino, which was so obviously rigged that the humans gave it a wide berth and the only players were the Bextigians, the mole-like aliens that had been imported to work the mine; and the two taverns.
Dante was standing at the bar in the larger of the taverns, sipping a beer and idly wondering how Orpheus had been able to spot colorful people when they weren't doing colorful things, when a slender man with sunken cheeks, dark piercing eyes, and braided black hair sidled up to him. Everyone else instantly moved away.
"Hi," said the man, paying no attention to anyone but Dante.
"Hi," replied Dante.
"I heard your little poem yesterday. Have you written any others?"
"Some," lied Dante. "Why?"
"Just curious. I like poems. Especially erotic ones. You ever read anything by Tanblixt?"
"The Canphorite? No."
"You should. Now there's someone who truly understands the beauty of interspecies sex."
"If you say so."
"I also like epic poems of good and evil, especially if Satan himself is in them." He smiled. "It gives me someone to root for."
"You have interesting taste in poetry."
"I have interesting taste in everything." The man paused. "What's your name, poet?"
"Dante. But people call me the Rhymer."
"They do?"
"They will."
The man smiled. "I think I'll call you Dante. We were made for each other."
"Oh?"
"I'm Virgil Soaring Hawk." He paused, waiting for the connection to become apparent. "Dante and Virgil."
"Virgil Soaring Hawk—what kind of a name is that?"
"It's an Injun name."
"Okay, what's an Injun?"
"It takes too long to explain. But once, when we were still Earthbound, white men and Injuns were mortal enemies—or so they say."
Dante frowned. "White men? You mean albinos?"
"No," replied Virgil with a sigh. "The Injuns were redskins, except that our skins weren't really red. And the white men weren't really white, either—they ranged from pink to tan. But a lot of people died on both sides because of what they thought their color was."
"You're making all this up, right?" said Dante.
"Yeah, what the hell, I'm making it all up." Virgil signaled to the bartender. "Two Dust Whores."
"What's a Dust Whore?" asked Dante.
"You're about to find out."
"I don't understand."
"You've got Democracy written all over you, poet," said Virgil Soaring Hawk. "Virgil was Dante's guide through Heaven and Hell. I figure a new Dante needs a new Virgil to show him the ropes. Right now I'm going to introduce you to one of our local drinks."
"What the hell, why not?" agreed Dante.
"Let's go sit at a table," suggested Virgil.
"What's wrong with standing here at the bar?"
"I don't like turning my back to the door. You never know what's going to come through it."
"Whatever you say," said Dante, walking to a table in the farthest corner of the tavern.
"Glad you agree," said Virgil, sitting down opposite him. The men at the two nearest tables immediately got up and moved to the other side of the tavern.
"Why does everyone move away from you?" asked Dante.
Virgil sighed deeply. "They don't like me very much."
"Have they got some reason?"
"Not any that I agree with," said Virgil.
"What the hell did you do?" asked Dante.
"I don't think I'm going to tell you."
"Why not?"
"I don't want you making a rhyme out of it and reciting it in bars all over the Frontier."
"I can always ask someone on the other side of the tavern," said Dante.
"You'd do that to the only friend you've made on the Frontier?" asked Virgil.
Dante stared at him in silence for a long moment. Virgil stared right back.
The bartender dropped off the drinks and left immediately.
"What goes into them?" asked Dante, staring at the purple- green liquid that was smoking as if on fire. "They look like they're going to explode."
"It varies from planet to planet," said Virgil, taking a long swallow of his own drink. When he didn't clutch his throat or collapse across the table, Dante followed suit, and promptly grimaced.
"Jesus! This stuff'll take the enamel off your teeth!" He paused. "Still," said Dante at last, "it's kind of warming. Got an interesting aftertaste." He frowned. "I don't know if I like it."
"After you've had a few more, you'll know," said Virgil with conviction.
"All right," said Dante. "Now the drinks are here and I've had half of mine. So why did you approach me and what do you want to talk about?"
"I want to talk about you."
"Me?" repeated Dante, surprised.
"And me."
"So talk."
"What are you doing out here?" asked Virgil. "Why have you come to the Inner Frontier? You're no settler, and you don't strike me as a killer. No human comes to New Tangier IV to play at the casino, so I know you're not a gambler. You haven't offered to trade or sell anything. So why are you here?"
"Did you ever hear of Black Orpheus?"
"Everyone out here has heard of Black Orpheus," answered Virgil. He grimaced. "He was probably about as black as you are white."
"I'm here to finish his poem."
Virgil Soaring Hawk stared at him expressionlessly.
"Well?" said Dante.
"Why not choose something easy, like going up against Tyrannosaur Bailey?"
"Who's Tyrannosaur Bailey?"
"It doesn't matter. Black Orpheus was one of a kind. He was unique in our history. What makes you think you can be another Orpheus?"
"I can't be," admitted Dante. "But I can follow in his footsteps." He paused, then added with conviction: "It's time."
"What do you mean?"
"I take it Tyrannosaur Bailey is a formidable figure?"
"He's about fifteen formidable figures all rolled into one ugly sonuvabitch."
"You make him sound fascinating—but I've never heard of him until just now. No one in the Democracy has, and probably ninety percent of the Inner Frontier hasn't either." Dante took another sip of his drink. "The Democracy is so damned regimented! All the really interesting characters are out here on the Frontier. It's time someone wrote them up the way Orpheus did, before they're gone and we have no record of them."
"You don't think the Secretary of the Democracy is interesting? What about Admiral Yokamina, who has six billion men under his command?"