Barnevelt looked blankly at his questioner. The real Snyol of Pleshch must have been a Nyami general who had fallen afoul of the official religion of that country. After some thought he said:
"I'm sorry, but I can't tell without endangering those who helped me."
At that instant the court astrologer came in. Barnevelt sighed with relief at the interruption of another embarrassing line of conversation. The astrologer, an old codger introduced as Qvansel, said:
"You must let me show you the horoscope I have worked out for you, General Snyol. Long have I followed your career, and all has come about as predetermined by the luminaries of heaven, even to your arrival today at Qirib's capital and court."
"Very interesting," said Barnevelt. If only, he thought, he could tell the boy how wrong he was!
The astrologer went on: "In addition, sir, I should a favor deem it if your teeth you'd let me scrutinize."
"My teeth?"
"Aye. If I may so say, I am the kingdom's leading dentist."
"Thanks, but I haven't got a toothache."
The astrologer's antennae rose. "I know nought of toothaches or the cure thereof! I would tell your character and destiny from your teeth: a science second in exactitude only to the royal ology of the stars itself."
Barnevelt promised himself that if he ever did have a toothache he wouldn't go to a dentist who examined his patients' teeth to tell their fortunes.
"Master Snyol!" barked the queen. "Your turn, as in truth you'd know were your eyes upon the game and not upon my daughter. Has she not the usual number of heads?"
They were invited back two nights later, and again the night after that. On these occasions Barnevelt was pleased to find that they did not have to put up with the morose king and the ferocious queen. It was just Zei, Zakkomir, and their young friends. Cautious questions bearing on the janru traffic and Shtain's disappearance elicited nothing new.
Barnevelt wondered why he and George should be taken into such sudden favor at the palace. He was under the impression that royalty was choosy about its intimates, and he did not flatter himself that with his modest command of the language he had swept them off their feet by force of personality alone. Although George was socially more at ease than he, nevertheless they gave Barnevelt more attention than they did his companion.
Barnevelt finally concluded that it was a combination of factors. The social leaders of this remote city were bored with each other's company and welcomed a couple of exotic and glamorous strangers, arriving with impressive credentials, whom they could show off to their friends. They, especially the hero-worshipping Zakkomir, were impressed by the achievements of the supposed Snyol of Pleshch. And, finally, Zei and Alvandi were serious about hiring him.
He found the gilded youth of Ghulinde pleasant on the whole; idle and useless by his sterner standards, but friendly and charming withal. From the chatter he gathered that there were wild ones of this class as well, but such were not welcomed at the palace. Zakkomir, in his anomalous position as ward of the throne, seemed to pick the social list and to serve as a link between the outside world and Zei, who gave the impression of leading a somewhat shut-in-life.
Barnevelt noticed that the princess became much livelier when her mother was not around—almost boisterous in fact. Perhaps, he thought sympathetically, she had a problem like his own.
Then something else began to worry him: He caught himself more and more stealing glances at Zei, thinking about her when he was away from the palace, and looking forward to seeing her again on his next visit. Moreover, they seemed to mesh spiritually. During the frequent arguments, he more and more found her and himself on the same side against the rest. (Tangaloa disdained to argue, regarding the whole spectacle with detached amusement and making sociological notes on the conversations when he got home at night.)
After several visits, Barnevelt even felt close enough to Zei to fight with her openly, and to hell with protocol. One night he beat her by a narrow margin at Chinese checkers, having nosed her out by a blocking move. She said some Gozash-tandou words that he did not suspect her of knowing—unless she had learned them from Philo.
"Now, now," he said, "no use getting riled up, my dear. If you'd watched what I was doing instead of gossiping about the spotted egg Lady Whoozis has laid, you'd…"
Wham! Zei snatched up the game-board and brought it down smartly on Barnevelt's head. As it was of good solid wood, not Earthly cardboard—and as he had no hair to cushion the blow—he saw stars.
"So much for your criticisms, Master Know-it-all Süyol!"
Barnevelt reached around and gave her a resounding spank.
"Ao!" she cried. "That hurt! Such presumptuous jocosoty, sirrah…"
"So did your game-board, mistress, and I'm in the habit of doing to others as they do to me, and preferably first. Now shall we pick up the little balls and start again?"
Seeing that the others were more amused than indignant, Zei cooled off and took the slap in good part. But, when Barnevelt had bidden her a ceremonious good-night at the door and turned to go, he got a swat on the seat of his shorts that almost knocked him sprawling. He turned to see Zei holding a broom and Zakkomir rolling on the rug with mirth.
"The last laugh is oft the lustiest, as says Nehavend," she said sweetly. "Good-night, sirs, and forget not the way back hither."
Dirk Barnevelt had been in love before, even though his mother had always managed to spoil it. He was not altogether foolish about such matters, though, and saw that nothing would be more tragically ridiculous than to fall in love with a female of another species. And one, moreover, who disposed of successive mates in the fashion of an Earthy spider or praying mantis.
CHAPTER XIV
Barnevelt worked hard on his crew, molding them into an effective unit. Knowing that his own shyness sometimes made him seem aloof and cold to those who did not know him well, he made a point of being chummy with the sailors, who seemed delighted that one of his rank should admit them to such unwonted familiarity.
After a day of training the crew in the harbor, the Earth-men's next visit to the palace found only Zei and Zakkomir visible, though the queen looked in once to bid a curt good-evening. The king appeared not at all.
"He's drunk, poor abject," said Zakkomir. "So should I be in his buskins. Of late he spends all his time in his chambers swilling and pottering with his collection of cigar cases. A rare assortment has he, too—marvels of jeweling and fine inlay work, and trick ensamples like one that plays a tune when you open it."
"Could I see them?" said Tangaloa.
"Certes, Master Tagde. 'Twould pleasure the old fellow greatly. Showing off this accumulation is nearly his only joy in life, and few chances he gets. The queen scoffs at his enthusiasm and visitors, to flatter her, cloak themselves in similar agreement with her attitude. You'll excuse us, sir and madam, unless you also with to come?"
"Let's not and say we did," said Barnevelt. The other two males strolled out.
"How soon do you sail?" asked Zei.
Barnevelt, feeling oddly breathless, replied: "We could be off day after tomorrow."
"You must not leave ere the kashyo festival be over! We have reserved for you a pair of choicest seats, next in honor after our royal kin."
Barnevelt answered: "It may seem uncouth of me, but watching your poor old stepfather butchered is a sight I could bear to miss."
She hesitated, then said: "Is it true we're criticized in other lands because of it, as says Zakkomir?"