Alicia suppressed a snicker. "Poor Fergus, who always hated shopping so!"
The line began to move, like a sun-warmed serpent. As the Terrans inched forward, Reith saw that, inside the salon door, Dasht Gilan stood smiling the distinctive Krishnan smile at the head of a string of beaming officials. The Dasht, splendid in a flashing cuirass of gilded metal scales and scarlet tights, stood beside a handsome, mature Krishnan woman wearing an emerald gown and a gem-encrusted tiara in her dark-green hair. To Reith she looked uneasily familiar.
As each guest approached, a servitor repeated his name to the Dasht, who proffered his bejeweled hand to be kissed. The guests bowed to the Dasht's companion and greeted the remaining notables with the usual Krishnan thumb-grasping handshake. When at last the Terrans approached, the Dasht beamed. In English he cried: "Dear friends! It is good of you and your clients to honor our small gathering on such short notice! Permit me to present my affianced bride, the widow Vázni bad-Dushta'en. My dear, these visitors from across the nighted gulfs of space are Mr. Reith ... Doctor Dyckman ..."
As White and Ordway filed past, bowed stiffly, and were likewise named, Gilan's bride-to-be scarcely noticed; she and Reith were staring at each other in tardy recognition. Alicia looked sharply at both, her azure eyes widening.
"Are you in sooth Sir Fergus Reese?" said the fiancée in accented Gozashtandou. "My Fergus?" She pronounced it "fair-goss."
"That is my name," said Reith, struggling to control his features. "And you are ...
The smile of the Dasht evaporated, and his face became intent. To his betrothed he said: "Meanst that this Terran be he to whom you once—I had forgot—" Nearby officials stared, and a susurration of murmurs spread outwards like ripples in a pond.
"May it please Your Altitude!" interrupted Alicia in English. "Permit me to suggest that such matters were better discussed in private."
With a sigh of relief, Gilan drew himself up and forced a smile. "Your quickness of wit, dear madam, testifies to your right to the honorable tide of 'doctor.' I withdraw my remark of this afternoon; even I have been known to err." With the aplomb of a practiced courtier, he spoke graciously to the Terrans. "Mr. Ordway, Mr. White! I have reserved the third hour tomorrow for our conference. It shall take place upon the drill field, where later a parade and other entertainment will mark the opening of the fair."
The Dasht nodded a dismissal and turned to his next guest. Reith and Alicia continued down the reception line, grasping thumbs with the Dasht's treasurer; with the commander of the army, a weather-beaten old officer called Sir Bobir; and with several minor bureaucrats, who stared at Alicia with ill-concealed curiosity about this alien female of such evident if unexplained importance.
At the end of the line, Reith and Alicia found a handsome, powerfully-built Earthman with wavy brown hair, wearing a tartan kilt complete with sporran. As Reith gave him a Terran handshake, he cried: "Haw, Fergus! And do ma een deceive me? If it isna ma ault jo, Alicia Dyckman!" He seized Alicia and gave her a hearty kiss. "Now how in Hishkak did you come to fall out of the sky?"
Reith introduced White and Ordway to Kenneth Strachan, old Krishnan hand, professional Scotsman, mighty lover of women of both species, and engineer now turned toymaker for the Dasht. "How goes it, Ken?"
Strachan lowered his voice. "As well as with any hired clown. That's all this building of mechanical beasts for His Altitude's amusement amounts to. Man, what I could do with modern technics!"
Reith shepherded his party towards the buffet. Ordway said: "What was that all about, Fergus, between you and Big Bwana's girl friend?"
"It seems," said Reith, picking his words with the care of a bomb-disposal expert disarming a thousand-pounder, "that the Dasht's fiancée and I knew each other long ago. Let's move on; we're blocking the way."
Reith and Alicia, each carrying a drink and a snack, found an empty spot behind a potted plant. Alicia giggled. "Poor Fearless, cornered by two ex-wives at once! First you looked as if you'd seen a headless woman walking in a graveyard at midnight. Then you turned red as a beet!"
"Can you blame me?" muttered Reith, draining his goblet of falat. "You'd be aghast, too, if a pair of ex-husbands popped out of a trapdoor at you, like the Devil in that opera. The etiquette books don't cover the situation."
"Not having two ex-husbands, I wouldn't know. One ex is one too many."
Reith's eyebrows rose. "You mean you'd rather not have me around?"
"No, no, of course not! I love having you with me. I'm delighted that you're here. I just mean—oh, never mind."
Reith glanced towards Ordway, preparing to act if the production manager got drunk and made a disturbance. But Ordway, talking to the Dasht, seemed on his best behavior. Reith said: "I hope Gilan doesn't decide to cut off my head—or some other important part—lest Vázni be lured back to my lecherous embraces."
"You poor darling! If he tried that, I'd offer him my virtue to save you."
Reith swallowed his arthropod on a stick and gave Alicia's arm a little squeeze. "You're the best friend I've ever had," he said, feeling his eyes watering.
"And always will be," said Alicia. "You're the only ex-husband I'm ever likely to have, so I've got to take care of you. Here comes the trumpet call for dinner!" She set down her goblet and clapped hands over her ears.
Reith was directed by an usher to a seat along the horseshoe-shaped table. He found himself between two Terrans, a middle-aged man and woman, in decent but sober Terran dress. The Dasht had placed Vázni on his right and Alicia on his left, and Reith observed that Alicia now had a gauzy scarf tucked into her bosom to cover her breasts.
White and Ordway sat among Krishnans, with whom they could communicate but little for want of a common language. Pulling himself together, Reith donned a glassy smile and a synthetic suavity, and introduced himself to his dinner partners.
"I'm Trask," said the male. "Edmund Trask; or, if you must be formal, the Reverend Edmund Trask. This is my wife, Melissa. We are pleased to meet you, Mr. Reith. We have heard of your exploits."
"The tales exaggerate," said Reith. "You are missionaries?"
"So they call us. We think of ourselves as friends of those in need."
Reith nodded. "What denomination, if I may ask?"
Trask made a deprecating motion. "We set no great store by denominational differences. All are brothers in Christ. But if you really wish to know, we are Polyecumenal Baptists."
"Oh. What success have you had in Ruz?"
"Less than we'd like, but more than we might have. Fortunately, the Dasht protects us from the malice of the misguided."
"Who are they?"
Trask lowered his voice. "The priests of this benighted astrological cult, like that fellow over yonder." He nodded towards an elderly Krishnan wearing a purple robe embellished with symbols embroidered in gold thread. "They try to stir up the fears of the ignorant against us; but that is to be expected. I assure you, Mr. Reith, we do not dwell in idle parasitism."
"Have you converted the Dasht?"
Trask chuckled. "Not quite. He tries to carry water on both shoulders. I suspect his plan is to wait until he is old and infirm and submit to a deathbed conversion, just in time to avoid the flames of Hell. Of course, the sainted Constantine—or so some call him—did much the same."
"Tell me more," said Reith. The Trasks launched into a voluble account of starvelings fed, abandoned infants rescued, and other virtuous deeds. By their lights, at least, the Trasks were the salt of their adopted planet.
"We also persuaded the Dasht," said Melissa Trask, "to abolish that barbarous method of executing criminals, by putting them in a pit and releasing a yeki or other predatory beast to devour them, the way the Romans did with lions and Krishnans—I mean Christians. Now he hangs or beheads them before just a few witnesses. We should prefer no death penalty at all, but in this medieval world I daresay that's too much to expect."