ulders and walked down.
     Two valets were  already deferentially  half  carrying half  supporting
Bemish towards  him.  Bemish  resisted and  assured everybody  that  he  was
totally sober.  He  aspired to sing and invited  both valets to fish  in the
Blue Mountains. Valets  quietly and  with  concentration dragged him  up the
staircase  to  the room. They  possibly  couldn't understand him. They  were
probably used to these sights.
     Welsey  felt himself blushing. Bemish was dragging the  high  status of
Earthman and  beacon of civilization right down in  the  mud. Welsey stepped
towards  him, grabbed Bemish  by his tie  and, with the  valets' assistance,
dragged  him to the room. Bemish was rolling his eyes around and opening his
mouth like a karaoke singer with the sound track turned off.
     When Welsey threw Bemish on  the  couch, he  swung his finger drunkenly
and said,
     "Surprise."
     And he fell asleep. A pig. A drunken pig.
     Welsey tore his pants and jacket off, hung them  on the  chair and  got
out. The jacket was too heavy - the chair tipped over and the jacket crashed
to  the floor. Welsey returned  and  picked the jacket to hang  it back. The
jacket  inside pocket was  crammed with  rumpled papers.  Welsey  pried  the
papers   out  and  unrolled   them.  These  were   all   the   requests  and
power-of-attorney forms that  police  in yellow  jackets  confiscated  three
hours ago. Welsey leafed through them and found the right signatures on them
all. More than that, the forms were stamped with personal seals and that was
plain impossible.
     Welsey went downstairs.  He checked the Bemish's car out  and found the
yellow briefcase,  seized by the  police,  in the trunk. Mysteriously, there
was a grilled lamb lying next to the briefcase in the trunk. The lamb held a
thick gold ring in the mouth. The lamb was lying on a silver dish.
     Welsey walked  upstairs and put  the  recovered papers in the recovered
briefcase. He called the spaceport and canceled the reservation. He called a
boy valet and they hauled the lamb, the ring, and the dish upstairs.
     The rest  of the night, Welsey spent next  to the  window  in  his room
looking at the pink eight-columned temple, thoughtfully chewing on a grilled
lamb leg and washing it down with disgustingly warm carbonated water.

        X X X

     The most  bewildering part of that all,  was that  Bemish couldn't even
recall  how the signatures came  to existence.  He remembered perfectly well
the temple, two hundred kilometers away from the capital, that he and Kissur
drove to,  and the  manor, that belonged to a  Kissur's friend, Khanadar the
Dried Date, next to the temple. They  had fun in the manor -  at  first with
weapons, then  at the table, and  then with the  chicks. Khanadar and Kissur
took turns making bets and shooting at a peach on each other's head at first
with a bow  and then  with  a gun. The  trick was to hit it right  in a pit.
Bemish refused decisively to shoot the bow  and, to  assert  his manhood, he
had a horrible fight with sinewy Khanadar, strong like a steam press.
     Khanadar the Dried Date was the most extraordinary man  - he was  on of
the bravest Kissur's commanders and one of the best Empire's poets.
     He  plundered huge  spoils during the civil war; he squandered money as
quickly as he got it and started looking for more. Piracy was the choice and
Khanadar  wrestled  a  smugglers' space boat away  from  them . The boat was
designed with  escape rather than attack  in mind, but Khanadar decided that
the cowardly dogs from the skies wouldn't really notice this trifle if their
pockets were  threatened. Unfortunately, Khanadar  was  not  as  good with a
photon reactor as  he was with a Kharran sword and at the  end of the second
trip the  newly assigned pirate dinghy  dug a three meter deep  ditch in the
ground and was no longer in any shape to fly.
     It  was awfully  fashionable to  assist  Weia then and Khanadar  almost
received a  literature Nobel Prize for his  songs, full of  wild beauty. So,
the  information  agencies are  making two announcements in  one  day - that
Weian poet Khanadar  is  nominated  for  a literature  Nobel Prize  and that
somebody  named  Khanadar  is  wanted for the transgalactic  liner  "Mekong"
robbery. This is how Khanadar did not receive a Nobel Prize first time.
     Then, Khanadar became the Arakka governor  and generously gave money to
the people and tax cuts to the entrepreneurs.  The money was  from the state
budget  and  it was quickly gone; and since the tax  cuts were abundant, the
money  didn't come  back. Khanadar asked a  local  polymetallic  factory for
money;  an Earthman owned the factory.  The Earthman gave money  once,  once
more, and stopped; the people  loved  their  governor and  laid waste to the
factory.
     Meanwhile, the time  for  the next Nobel Prize  approached.  Hence, the
information  agencies are  making two announcements in one day -  that Weian
poet  Khanadar  is  nominated for a literature Nobel Prize and that governor
Khanadar  incited  a  mob and  caused  a  three  billion  denars  damage  to
MetalPMOre company.  This  is how Khanadar  did not receive  a  Nobel  Prize
second time.
     Then, the sovereign revoked Khanadar's appointment for overstepping his
bounds and Khanadar peacefully resided in a  manor bestowed to him,  next to
Shechen  river  in Inissa. Why did the head of the planet Gera trade mission
have to buy himself a villa nearby?
     So,  another  year  passes by  and  the Gera chief  trade  deputy  sues
Khanadar for brawling on his land and burning his pig farm. Khanadar attends
the trial and asks the judge  to give him  a small paper  cutting knife. The
judge offers him the  knife and Khanadar attacks the trade  deputy  with the
knife right in front  of the jury.  The trade  deputy escapes from the court
yard and does  not return.  Since it is a personal suit and the plaintiff is
not present in  the court, the  judge cancels  the trial and  Khanadar saves
bribe money.
     Again,  the Nobel Prize time approaches,  and the information  agencies
are  making  two  announcements  -  that the famous Weian poet  Khanadar  is
nominated for a literature Nobel Prize and that Khanadar well-nigh cut  down
a representative of a civilized nation right in a court.
     This is  how Khanadar never  received his Nobel Prize, but it's an  old
story and we should come back to Terence Bemish.
     The  next  day,  Khanadar,  Kissur, Bemish,  and  two  servants  loaded
themselves in a  helicopter  and  flew to the Blue Mountains. They harpooned
large white fishes and had many fistfights. Sun and merriness were abundant.
The helicopter rotated its  winglets  next to a raspberry colored  tent with
silver stakes; the slaves brought horses for the evening. Four days went by.
     Khanadar asked  Bemish  what  brought him to the Country of  the  Great
Light  and  Bemish  told him what he  had already told Kissur.  Khanadar the
Dried Date said the foreigner  would drown in the paperwork, and Kissur said
that they should help him.
     On Friday afternoon they flew to the Kissur's palace - the first guests
were  already  crowding  there.  Kissur introduced Bemish  to the  Shavash's
direct  boss -  minister of  finance - and to  the minister of police and to
many other  respectable  people.  Shavash  was also there.  The minister  of
finance  told  Bemish  that his  -  minister of finance's - friend  had seen
Bemish's friend, Welsey, and he was the fairest and the most honest man. The
minister of police told Mr. Bemish that,  from this moment  on,  the goal of
his  life would  be to do what Mr.  Bemish tells  him to. The  foreign trade
minister invited  Mr.  Bemish to his mansion and told him that he would roll
his Iniss carpet out under the wheels of the Mr. Bemish's car.
     Bemish didn't  remember how exactly  it all  got to the  signatures. By
that time the heads of the Empire were drunk and Bemish was drunk even more.
The minister  of  police called  his secretary and commanded to  find  a man
named Welsey immediately, take the papers from him and  bring them here. The
secretary was probably drunk too and he,  moreover, had with him a girl that
was licking his ear. In an hour, the papers were delivered to Bemish.
     Bemish didn't really remember the rest. He remembered how roses  poured
down  from  the ceiling, how  some  drunk girl jumped  across a  golden ring
entwined with burning paper, how they waded in a  large pond with the girls,
how  he couldn't share  a girl with somebody, in the God's name, how was  it
possible  not to share a girl if there were two of them  per man? Wasn't  he
pissed off at Welsey? He  remembered perfectly well how he got pissed off at
Welsey. Puritan! Pig! He just handed the papers rudely over to the secretary
but he refused to come himself.
     Bemish decided that he would drive to the hotel  and  get  Welsey. They
were probably trying to stop him. But Bemish outfoxed them - he tore through
the grapevines, got  in the  car and went for  the  banker. Yes,  he had the
papers with him and he knew for sure that they were signed.
     But who collected the signatures? For God's sake, he couldn't remember.
Kissur was likely to get them - he was more sober than  others and though he
drank he wasn't getting drunk. Or... No, it was not Kissur, it was Shavash -
Shavash,  smiling gently, was handing a form over to the minister of finance
while Kissur, yowling horribly, was cutting some rag with a sword on a bet.

        X X X

     Bemish was splashing  in the shower, when somebody knocked in the door.
Welsey opened it - a large basket stood by the door and an errand boy looked
from behind.
     "The gifts from  Mr. Ireda for Mr. Bemish, " he declared,  unloaded the
basket and he was off.
     Welsey carried the basket in the room but, before he arranged it on the
table, somebody knocked  in  the door again. Welsey  opened the  door  - the
messenger had a blue  caftan  on instead of a yellow  one and  had  a casket
entwined with bands instead of a basket.
     "Let Mr. Bemish accept these trifles from Mr. Ranik and a portal to the
heaven open in his soul, " the messenger said.
     Welsey put the casket on the bed and noticed something leaking from the
basket. He hurried to the basket. Right then, wet and  sad from the hangover
Bemish looked out  of the shower. The phone rang and somebody knocked in the
door the same moment.
     "Come in," Bemish said and picked up the receiver.
     "Yes."
     "Mr.  Bemish,"  a  soft caressing  voice said  in  the receiver,  "it's
Shavash speaking, vice-minister  of finance.  I would  be happy if you could
visit me at 2pm."
     "Of  course,  " Bemish  said and put  the  receiver down. The door slid
open.
     "Let me introduce you, Welsey, " Bemish said, "to  Kissur. Kissur, this
is Welsey. As I have told you before, he is represents LSV bank here."
     Kissur  and  Welsey looked  at  each other.  Kissur  saw a skinny young
Earthman with  a face white and  round like  a  headache pill. Welsey  saw a
blue-eyed rascal, a bit  above thirty, with a real golden  chain on his neck
descending  all the way down to the belt on the narrow washed down jeans. In
the  open  shirt neck there was a tattoo  - a bird of prey crossed by a pink
scar. Welsey learned later that this was a  falcon and this way of tattooing
was an old  custom of  the barbarian aloms. If they cut a war chief head off
in a  battle and  undressed him,  how else would it be possible to recognize
the body?
     Kissur looked at Welsey and said,
     "Listen,  Terence, you  want to  buy  the  spaceport but what  is  this
whey-faced fish doing here?"
     "I explained it to you,"  Bemish replied, "I don't have money. LSV gets
money for me."
     "Will they loan it to you?"
     "They will underwrite the bonds."
     Kissur pondered it and asked then,
     "What interest do these usurers charge you?"
     "The interest on the bonds will be sixteen percent."
     "Why is it so expensive?" Kissur was aggravated.
     "Because  there  is  no collateral," Welsey gave voice, "if the company
goes  bankrupt,  it won't have any  property  it could sell off to cover the
debts."
     "Shut  up, leech," Kissur  recoiled,  "nobody is  asking  you.  By  the
sovereign  Irshakhchan  laws,  usurers  were boiled  in oil  and the  Golden
Sovereign forbade interest rates higher than 3%"
     "What was the inflation rate at the Golden Sovereign?" Welsey inquired.
     "I don't know what the heck the  inflation is," Kissur declared, "but I
do know that the Golden Sovereign would hang the first  official, who  tried
to arrange it, so high that nobody would even dream of it afterwards."
     Welsey kept a shocked silence.
     "Well, let's go? Kissur told Bemish.
     "Stephen?"
     "I would rather take a  nap," Welsey uttered nervously - he didn't want
to get himself deeper in a capital market discussion with Kissur.
     In a moment, Kissur and Bemish were downstairs, missing  another basket
of gifts on the way.
     They  got  in  a car and Kissur  dished out  a wad of  money to Bemish.
Bemish was dumbfounded,
     "What the heck?!"
     "We, " Kissur said, "are going to Mr. Ireda. The man was nice to  you -
you should express your gratitude."
     "But..." Bemish started.
     They arrived to Ireda's palace in half an hour and gave him money.
     Ireda's palace  was located right next to the  sovereign's palace wall.
The wall was huge and thick; wooden silvered geese stood on the top lowering
their heads  and looked down with  disapproval.  Coolness  flowed  from  the
yawning gate in  the middle of the  wall oozed like  from a well and all the
space in front of the gates was crammed with multi-hued cars.
     "The Gate of the Barbarians," Kissur said.
     "Eh?"
     "In the ancient times, there  were four gates facing four sides of  the
world.the  Gate of  the  Emperor's  Paramount  Appearance, the Gate  of  the
Officials, the Gate  of the Commoners, and the Gate  of the Barbarians. Dumb
illiterate chiefs in  loincloths entered the palace through the Gate  of the
Barbarians.  I was ten  year old  when they brought me to the palace via the
Barbarians Gate and all my friends teased me and laughed at me."
     Kissur was silent for a moment.
     "Now, only Earthmen enter the palace through the Barbarian Gate."
     Their car was slowly crawling by a colorful crowd of parked vehicles.
     "What about the present  sovereign? How  did  he feel when our presence
ended the war?"
     "An insignificant  Emperor's  subject  does not dare  to  consider  his
sovereign's thoughts," Kissur answered. Bemish jerked.
     "What about you?"
     "I was quite impressed," Kissur answered after a pause.
     Bemish couldn't  help but smile - during the  day that Kissur first met
the Earthmen, he called them vultures, hijacked a military plane and, having
massacred the rebel camp, finished the civil war.
     "What impressed you? Our weapons?"
     "No,  your weapons didn't faze  me.  I thought  that in  six months our
sovereign would buy the same stuff, maybe  slightly older and cheaper. Then,
I saw the houses your commoners reside in and the vehicles they  drive and I
thought that  there was  no way our sovereign would buy our  people the same
houses and cars either in six or in sixty months.
     "Haven't  anything  shocked  you?" Bemish asked, "our  pop culture, our
commercials... A lot of people say that Earthmen have too much material life
and not enough existence. They use Weia as an example."
     "If somebody is unhappy, they can visit us. I 'll send them to my Iniss
mines and they will have a lot of ... existence."
     He grinned and added,"
     "Good-bye  for now, Terrence.  I need to go to the palace and it's time
for your visit to Shavash."
     Bemish appeared at Shavash's place right on time.
     Mr. Shavash received the Earthman in the Red Office.
     The  host and  the visitor  bowed  each  other  ceremoniously. A polite
servant  poured  tea  in  the  porcelain  cups and  disappeared  behind  the
gold-gilded doors.  Bemish  noticed  no  paintings  drawn and  signed by the
Emperor  hanging on the office  walls, otherwise  decorated with  the utmost
grace.  Bemish  didn't know  yet  that a roll  signed  and bequested  by the
Emperor costs more than a rank  and a title, and that Shavash offered half a
million to the Emperor's suckling  brother, Ishim, to persuade the sovereign
Varnazd  to bequest him a gift. Ishim, however, had  to return  the money  -
somehow, the sovereign did not like Shavash.
     "I am very grateful to you," Bemish mentioned at  the desert, "that you
signed all these papers yesterday and agreed to help me."
     Shavash smiled gently,
     "Verily, everybody at the court can only talk about your great success.
How can such an insignificant person as me, assist you with anything."
     Bemish lowered his eyes.
     "Are you and Kissur old friends?"
     "We met just before the end of the civil war."
     "Where?"
     "In a duel," Shavash said calmly, "Kissur rushed at me with a sword and
I shot at him with a revolver."
     Bemish thought for a moment and wondered
     "What revolver? The Earthmen hadn't..."
     "It's a  long  story,"  Shavash  waved his hand,  "and  a revolver  was
jury-rigged."
     "What happened then?"
     I almost missed and Kissur's friends charged at me and started to teach
me how to conduct duels. Then, they tied me to a rope and dragged me all the
way  through the  city. My back and  ribs were broken...  Then, the Earthmen
appeared and managed to heal  me. I've  been limping  slightly since. And my
hand...
     Bemish noticed a while ago  that Shavash  was holding the cup  with the
left hand while his  right  palm was shriveled and the fingers were slightly
twisted.
     "What were you fighting about?"
     "A  woman. Lady Idari, Kissur's main wife  had  been  my fiancee before
Kissur  became  the first minister and I became  a  roadside pebble.  Kissur
arrested  a man that I owed my  carreer to and obtained his position  and my
fiancee."
     Shavash suddenly followed Bemish's glance and  hid the right hand under
the table, but Bemish managed to notice his twisted fingers shaking.
     "Now we are married to two sisters. My wife is the Lady Idary's younger
sister."
     "Why is he telling me this?" Bemish was horrified.
     Shavash put a peach  morsel, soaked  in honey, in  his mouth  and  said
after a brief hesitation,
     "Mr.  Bemish! I would like  to  warn  you as a  friend.  Kissur  is the
sovereign's favorite. He can obstruct you  easily, but he can't really  help
you. A lot of officials hate Kissur for being Kissur. For the disdain Kissur
has towards bribers and entrepreneurs,  while he  lives  by  the sovereign's
benefactions. For  the  Kissur's opinion that no fortune is more disgraceful
than a merchant's profit. For the feasts he throws for the  people; for  the
zealots  and  heretics  calling him the sovereign Irshakhchan reborn...  Mr.
Inada promised to roll Iniss carpet under your car's wheels when a friend of
Kissur  visits his villa... Mr.  Inada will  roll Iniss  carpet  under  your
wheels  and he  will  plant a plastic  bomb  under  the  Iniss  carpet.  The
offiicials  will be signing  your papers  and playing foul behind your back.
Kissur will  praise you  to the sovereign - they will prove to the sovereign
that Kissur is mistaken. My advice to you is to keep your distance from him.
     Bemish chewed on his lip.
     "Mr.  Shavash,"  he said,  "I would like to remind you  that if  LSV is
interested in acquiring  your company, we will just buy it at an open-access
auction. I guarrantee you that we will offer higher price that  IC will, and
that  nobody will be able to kick us out of the auction due to some invented
technicalities.  Regarding the  access to the financial  documentation, I am
sure that without Kissur  I would have spend two more years obtaining it and
I know probably the reasons for it. Also, if I may advise you, when you fake
the  reports, pay  more  attention to secondary indicators. You  know,  it's
impossible that the construction  rate increased by  300%  while  the energy
consumption stayed the same.
     The official was silent for a moment and he closed his eyes.
     "Of course. Good-bye, Mr. Bemish, and I wish you the best luck."

        X X X

     Bemish has  barely  driven through the Shavash's mansion gates,  when a
white limousine, long  like a  sturgeon,  slid a  millimeter away from  him.
Kissur's stuck his head out of the window and waved a hand. Bemish will-less
swerved to the curb. They got out of the cars and embraced.
     "Let's go drive," Kissur demanded.
     Bemish glanced at his Urun indecisively.
     Kissur clicked his tongue - a small servant in  linen pants got out  of
the back seat. Kissur pointed a finger at him.
     "Give him the keys and he return the car." Bemish gave him the keys and
sat next to Kissur.
     "There is a great pub nearby," Kissur said, "let's go there."
     The  pub was low  and  damp;  a fountain  splashed in the  middle  of a
octagonal yard.  Next to  the  fountain, a flat dancing  god  stood, with an
colossal-sized penis and four breasts.  The  god was generally naked  except
for a huge advertisement boards covering him  on three sides. The  ad called
to buy 3D-sets by the Corund company.
     A  nimble  chief appeared  next  to Kissur and placed a  great  grilled
goose, sprinkled with lime juice and covered with a golden crust, and a palm
wine jar in front of  the guests. Kissur noticed that Bemish was ogling  the
god and asked the host,
     "How much did they pay you for putting the boards up?"
     "Two."
     "Here is four. Go and scrape this offal away." Bemish lowered his eyes.
He felt  crappy  after  the yesterday's  binge,  he didn't  eat  anything at
Shavash's place - he couldn't even look at the goose! What should he do now?
Bemish  realized that, when Shavash  mentioned the offiicials hating Kissur,
he meant  himself first of all - that's why he told Bemish about his fiancee
and  his  shriveled  hand... Should  he  tell Kissur that his brother-in-law
hates him? But they are friends. It would look  like an Earthman dropped by,
did some fishing with Kissur and quickly contrived to sow a discord  between
him  and  his  brother-in-law.  Should  he not say anything? What  if Kissur
considers Shavash his friend and will be snared sooner or later?
     Though, Kissur is  hardly  all that  innocent.  Bemish remembered  how,
despite being totally stoned, he was shocked by one of  the Khanadar's songs
about a battle with Akol people. A local tribal king  dispatched his brother
and other highly  placed  war chiefs to Kissur asking him  not to attack the
tribe. Kissur said, "So it will be," and showered  the envoys with the gifts
way more luxurous than customary. They couldn't refuse the gifts, of course,
without insulting  the Empire's most  powerful  military commander. So, they
returned to the king and Kissur sent them letters  in  such a  way that  the
king intercepted them. Kissur reminded in the letters that  he  promised not
to touch their land in exchange for their king's head and he asked them when
they were  going  to fulfill  their part of agreement.  The  rich gifts were
presented as a bribe for the king's head.  The king, naturally, ordered  the
butchering of his brother  and war chiefs, beheading the army leadership and
arousing  the  tribe's discontent. After  that, it took  Kissur  two days to
finish him off.
     And  even though  everybody agreed that Kissur  was not even  close  to
deceased  Arfarra with the tricks of this sort - he still didn't  resemble a
guileless lamb.
     Kissur,  meanwhile,  poured  wine in the cups,  covered  them with  the
lacquered tops with straws going through, and offered Bemish a cup.
     "You are driving," Bemish reminded him.
     Kissur grasped the straw  imperturably  and,  seemingly, gulped all the
wine  in a minute. Anyway, he opened the cup immediately and started to pour
more wine.
     "Why  are you so sad?" Kissur asked, "was the  bribe,  Shavash demanded
from you, too large?"
     "No. It's just that I've never found myself in such a position. I don't
know what to do."
     "You  are  doing  great,"  Kissur laughed, "you  have  already  fleeced
Shavash for six million."
     "What?" Bemish was astonished.
     "Didn't you  know?  The IC company gave  Shavash six million so that it
gets the spaceport. Shavash has to return money now as an honest briber."
     "It's  impossible," Bemish said, "the auction takes  a precedence  over
bribes."
     "How do you know that it all depends on the auction?"
     "I  came  here," Bemish said  drily,  "only  after  I  had  learned the
experts' names  and  met  the other companies' representatives, for example,
Eseko.  None  of  them  had  any  difficulties  obtaining  a  permission  to
participate in the auction."
     "What about you?"
     Bemish got a bit embarrassed.
     "Well... small officials wanted small gifts..."
     "It has nothing  to  do  with gifts," Kissur said, "IC paid Shavash six
million dollars so that not a single company, that could really compete with
it,  took part in  the  auction.  This  Eseko of  yours  could get  all  the
permissions with no sweat, while you and some other folks were blacklisted."
     "Shavash  is really afraid  this Trevis  of  yours. He is nervous  that
Trevish will devour him whole."
     "What's he raving about?" a thought passed Bemish's mind. "Where  could
this IC, a small  and practically unknown  company,  scrape up such a bribe?
And why? It's local mythology and tabloids."
     "I am sure," Bemish said, "that's you are not correct."
     Kissur burst out laughing and waved his hands.
     "Yeah!  Shavash has already started  digesting these six millions and -
kabloom! You get the company!"
     Kissur laughed, happy with Shavash's failure.
     "Hold on," Bemish exclaimed, "firstly, I didn't get the company, I just
obtained a permission to take part in the auction. Secondly..."
     Bemish wanted  to  say that,  secondly, he  wasn't all that  hot  about
quarrelling with Shavash...
     "But you will win the auction!"
     "If my offer is better than the others,"
     Here,  Kissur slid his hand in the  pocket and pulled  out, to Bemish's
astonishment, a small white box.
     "What is it," Bemish asked.
     "It's  a  plasma  bomb,"  Kissur answered, taking  it  amiss  that  the
Earthman has never seen such a commonplace invention of his own culture."
     "What?!! Why?!!!"
     "Why what? We'll leave it under the IC representative's door and, if he
doesn't get out of the planet then, we'll stick it under his pillow."
     Bemish was dumbfounded for a while and, then, he said drily,
     "I will not do that."
     "Why? Are you afraid to get bagged?"
     "Kissur, listen," the Earthman asked, "is it true that you engaged in a
personal combat  during  your  wars, with the  enemy's commanders before the
battles."
     "So?"
     "Why  wouldn't you, during the fight, order your  archers to shoot your
opponent?
     "Are you  nuts?" Kissur was  astounded, "all my troops would abandon me
after such a base trick."
     "Was it the only reason?"
     Kissur lowered his eyes. Of course, it was not the only reason.
     Bemish sighed,
     "You  know, Kissur,  we grew up  in different worlds  and,  if I  was a
military commander, I wouldn't engage in a personal combat before a  battle.
But, when I participate in an investment auction, I will not slip a  bomb to
my opponent. You should have some decency."
     "I've always thought, " Kissur said, "that, when money comes into play,
there is no place for decency."
     "It may be true on Weia," Bemish said, "but it's not true on Earth."
     Kissur put  the  bomb  back  in  his pocket as  casually as a  pack  of
cigarettes.


     The Third Chapter

     Where Kissur opens the Emperor's eyes to a foreign briber while Terence
Bemish received a gift of a luxury villa.

     The next morning, Kissur  was desperately bored.  He called  Bemish but
Bemish was running  around  somewhere like  a chicken with his head cut off.
Kissur could find him but what was the point?  The man  is rushing from  one
office to another - you can screw  a slut together - but bribing an official
is a private matter; why  would  Bemish need Kissur  as a witness? The other
guy, Welsey, said that tomorrow they would go to the spaceport.
     Kissur beat a servant with no reason -  Kissur  didn't beat him really,
he just pushed  him a bit, but the  servant slammed  into a bronze vase  and
hurt  himself  badly with  the vase.  Kissur ate goose  and  marinated liver
pirogi  for  breakfast  and  went  to  a   pub   and,  after  that,  to  the
fortune-tellers. All the damned fortune-tellers were familiar, however, with
the sovereign favorite's mug and Kissur didn't learn anything interesting.
     Finally, Kissur  returned  home,  undressed  and  dived in a huge pond,
inlaid with heavily veined Chakhar  marble and surrounded by blooming trees,
with an altar in the Western Gazebo hanging over the water.
     Kissur was leisurely swimming in  the pond, when a  faraway car rustled
behind the carved lattice. A door  banged, voices  clamored excitedly, a man
from the car evidently shook the  servants  off and stomped  down the garden
path.
     Kissur dived. When he got  to  the surface, shining leather shoes stood
on the pond's marble edge. Excellent quality  grey pants  ascended above the
shoes.
     "Ok, how much do you want?"
     Kissur raised his  head - an unfamiliar Earthman, with a red and round,
like a street light, face stood in front  of  him. The  Earthman's eyes were
crazed and his chin stuck out aggressively.
     "How much do you need?" the Earthman repeated. Kissur got  out of water
unhurriedly and shook himself like a dog. The  water drops  from  his  blond
hair  splashed  the  Earthman's  expensive  suit.  The Earthman  was clearly
uncomfortable - Kissur bathed naked, out of an old Alom habit, and he didn't
even  try to cover himself with a towel, demonstrating his  contempt for the
visitor.
     "Who are you?" Kissur asked, "And what has happened to you?"
     "You know perfectly well who I am!"
     Having  planted his  feet against the pond's marble edge, Kissur  moved
his bare toes. Reddish Weian  sun danced  on Kissur's  wet hair and  on  the
water drops stuck in the cracks between his powerful muscles.
     "Ok. My name is Kaminsky.  Five months ago, I bought the land and  they
promised me  to  classify  it as  industrial  zoning.  I started to build  a
garbage processing  plant.  Now,  thanks  to the complaint you filed  to the
sovereign, it is classified as business zoning. If I want to keep this land,
I have to pay the difference in price - two hundred million. If I don't want
to pay the difference, I can get my money back and the land will be resold."
     "What's my part here?"
     "Khanida demanded one million and three hundred thousand more; how much
do you need?"
     "I don't sell my country."
     Kaminsky burst out laughing.  His  stout face shook  - he  was probably
starting to get hysterical. He stuck his fat finger at Kissur.
     "All  Weian  officials  can be  bought  and  they can  be  bought  at a
clearance price. I have never seen people who want to sell  so much of their
motherland at such a low price."
     Kissur paled and his eyes narrowed a bit.
     "These words," Kissur said, "are not like the land in Godfather's Dale.
You will pay full price for these words."
     Kaminsky  burst  out  laughing  and  he  suddenly  pulled  out a  large
crocodile skin wallet.
     "Of course,"  he said. "I'll  pay. How much should it be per word? Will
ten thousand  be enough? Just don't  tell anybody,  please, that I pay money
for every spit or people will be waiting in line to spit at me..."
     Kissur grabbed the Earthman by  his broad tie with one hand and twisted
his arm and pulled him towards  himself with the other. The Earthman flipped
over  in the air, drew an  arc and, with a thundering  splash, landed in the
pond.  Kissur  wrapped  a towel  around  himself and, not interested  in the
least, whether or not his pestering visitor drowned, walked to the house.

        X X X

     Bemish  spent  all  night   studying  the   company  reports   (clearly
fabricated) and he spent all day dashing around the precincts.
     He spoke to Earth three times. They told him that Werner McCormick, the
LSV expert on industrial construction,  would arrive at  the spaceport, next
to the capital, in the evening.
     At three o'clock, Bemish drove to DJ Securities. One of the best broker
firms in the Empire resided in a tiny place in a distinguished neighborhood.
It  was  located in  the  palace  pavilion's western wing  -  previously the
building had housed  the Cheese Bureau.  All  these  bureaus were dissolved,
along  with  the  palace  administration  that  used to duplicate  the state
apparatus. The Earthmen moved in the former palace officials' pavilions. The
small building,  crammed  with  super modern hardware,  greeted Bemish  with
wondrous flower smells and a silver fox snout jutting out of the bushes.
     The broker, he came to talk to, was  a fat young man with eyes, merrily
jumping,  like the numbers on a  money  counter  display,  and smooth golden
skin. His name was Alexander Krasnov.
     Krasnov led Bemish to an  office, closed the window facing  the garden,
turned the air  conditioning on, and they started to talk about Assalah. The
approaching investment auction rumors  slightly raised  the Assalah  shares'
prices. Almost nobody was, however, willing to sell them. The Assalah stocks
could still be  considered non-liquid  assets  - the difference between  the
buying and selling price had reached 20%.
     Bemish  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  fine emanations of success,
coming from the small office, excellent employees' cars and cute long-legged
secretaries.
     Before coming  to  Weia,  Bemish  had carefully studied  various  Weian
companies' conditions and prospects; he had  chosen Assalah  and acquired in
advance quite a significant block of shares- more than 80% of the stocks had
been acquired through Krasnov. These were  bearer stocks, but  an owner of a
block of shares larger than  5% was supposed  to register.  Bemish currently
owned 6% of the Assalah shares but he had not intention of declaring it.
     Bemish and  Krasnov discussed  their financial dealings and, then,  the
young  broker  plunged  into  his  reminiscences of  the  Weian  securities'
fabulous  cheapness. The brokers had literally paid  cents buying securities
but  it would  not  happen again unless the  "Followers of the  Path" gained
power.
     "It was such a  margin," Krasnov described. "Imagine, they sold  stocks
for a  rice  vodka crock. Do you  know  how  much  I paid for  twenty  seven
thousand shares of Ossoriy nickel concession? A vodka barrel for the village
and a  Hershey chocolate bar! Do you know how much  I sold them  for? I sold
them for four hundred thousand dinars!"
     Bemish grinned,  "How much did  you pay the  peasants  for the  Assalah
shares?"
     The broker was silent, pondering. Then he  did something unexpected. He
started to undress. He took off his jacket  and wide wine colored tie; then,
he  took off a fashionable shirt with a vertical collar  and turned his back
towards Bemish.  Horrified Bemish  loudly  exhaled. The Krasnov's  back  was
covered with pale, but still  noticeable  pink welts,  from the neck  to the
tailbone.
     Krasnov put the shirt on and coolly explained.
     "When I  arrived  in  Assalah, a  local  official met me.  "Broker?"  -
"Broker."  - "Buying  stocks?" - "Yes." -  "Let's get to the  precinct, I'll
weigh you the goods." We came to the precinct, and he put me in a manure pit
overnight, gave orders to whip me with a whip  soaked in brine, and told me,
"I wouldn't like to see you in Assalah again."
     "Oh, my God!"
     "By the way, he kindly explained his actions to me. He claimed that the
people  are  like  children,  selling  stocks for  a  vodka crock,  and  the
officials should take care of the people's welfare. While he is alive, not a
single foreign hyena will dare show its face in Assalah. Not that I couldn't
appreciate his  welcome,  really. You  know, I  hadn't  been whipped with  a
brined whip before."
     "Haven't you sued him for the whipping?" Bemish wondered.
     But Krasnov just looked at him in such  a way that Bemish realized what
a stupid thing he just blurted out.
     Having  returned to the  hotel, Bemish felt  hungry and  ambled to  the
restaurant.  Galactic  dinar  prices were  the  only  civilized part  of the
restaurant. Bemish  randomly tapped  couple  of  entries.  In a  moment, the
waiter brought him a  full bowl  of steaming  soup  with dumplings,  several
small plates with appetizers and an object that reminded belatedly to Bemish
about the locals' favorite - dog meat burgers.
     Bemish had just finished  the appetizers, when a guy took a sit next to
him.  Bemish  raised his eyes - it was a  middling tall man with stern eyes,
transparent like gasoline, and with a  body that local peasants described as
"a really  inept god hewed  him out." However, upon more careful inspection,
the guy's face didn't  go together  with the  overall  crude image -  it was
hard, as if made from the twisted together wires.
     "Good day,  Mr.  Bemish," the  man said, "My  name is  Robert Giles.  I
represent  IC  company  -  you know,  we  are participating in  the  Assalah
spaceport investment auction.
     "What a coincidence," Bemish said, "I am participating also in it."
     "But you are not in good standing with Mr. Shavash."
     "It's not a reason for disappointment."
     "I recommend you, Mr. Bemish, to leave this planet before they kick you
out of here."
     "And I recommend you to get out of this table before I bathe  you in my
soup."
     "Believe me, Mr. Bemish. A company's hostile takeover is intended for a
civilized  country.  While, if  you try  to buy  a  local company,  when its
director  doesn't  want it... do  you  know that  this  director has his own
jail?"
     "I know," Bemish  said, "that this  director can be  dismissed  by  the
sovereign  if somebody  close  to  the sovereign proves  that  this director
doesn't act in the company's best interest. Have you heard what  happened to
Joseph Kaminsky thanks to Kissur? Have I made myself clear?"
     "Quite. So, Kissur stands behind you and  Shavash stands behind me. Who
will flatten whom into the ground?"
     Here, the waiter brought Bemish the  dessert and, elongating  his neck,
inquired Giles if he liked to order anything.
     "No," Giles said, "I am leaving. And if you, Mr. Bemish, knew the local
cuisine well, you wouldn't have ordered a guinea pig burger."

        X X X

     Kissur spent the rest of the day  with Khanadar, the Dried Date, and  a
couple of close friends in the pubs. Kissur lost twenty thousand in dice and
he didn't really drink much,  though  he did thwack somebody's  mug. In  the
evening, Kissur got in his car and drove to Shavash.
     Shavash was in the Cloud Gazebo and he had an Earthman as a visitor.
     The  Earthman  had to be a close  enough  associate  because,  firstly,
Shavash received him  in the gazebo for the Weian guests and, secondly,  two
beautiful girls were also there. They were more  undressed than dressed; one
girl sat  on the Earthman's  knees  and  another  one,  breathing zestfully,
licked  that particular object sticking its  bloated head  out  of Shavash's
unzipped  pants. Shavash reclined,  leaning backward,  on the carpet and his
jacket  and shirt sprawled nearby. The table was filled with  appetizers and
fruits - the friends had finished the business part were starting to relax.
     The Earthman shook the wench off and got up.
     "Robert Giles," Shavash said, "the IC representative."
     Kissur silently took the Earthman's chair and sat astride it.
     "I  guess,  I should  go,"  the  Earthman  said, glancing  at  the girl
regretfully."
     "Go,"  Kissur said,  "these girls  cost five isheviks per pair  next to
Trans-Gal, don't be greedy."
     The Earthman left. Shavash pulled the girl on himself, half closing his
eyes, and the girl mounted him. Shavash breathed heavily and greedily.
     "Lie  on  your back," he  told  the  girl.  She  followed  the  command
obediently.
     Kissur waited till Shavash came.
     "Why don't you go, bring a jar of Inissa  wine," Kissur told the girls.
"Both of you."
     The girls left the  gazebo. Shavash  lay on the carpet  groping for the