shirt with his hand. "Everybody, like, is running around with this spaceport," Kissur said, "and they all run to you." "I am the company director." "Who was the director before you?" "A man named Rashar." "Hey, wasn't he your secretary? So, at first you sent him to the director's chair, and then to jail." "You shouldn't steal," Shavash replied, "in busloads." "Come on. He would give you away half a busload and you wanted three quarters. You will waste the country, scoundrels." Shavash finally buttoned up the shirt and pants, propped himself up and poured a cup of wine. "Kissur, one little tank trip of yours over the Coke plant cost more to the country than everything I have ever stolen and I will ever steal." "Why do you all fret so much about this stupid factory?" Kissur exclaimed. "And Terence was just yakking about the same thing." Shavash silently sucked on a straw. "Whatever. Bemish will buy your company and make you all sweat." "He will hardly buy the company," Shavash said. "Mr. Bemish often acquires companies but I haven't heard him actually buying a single one." "What do you mean?" "Mr. Bemish is quite a good financier but he made his money the following way. He would buy a company stocks threatening it by a takeover, and then sell the shares back to the company at higher than market price. It's called greenmail. He worked with very small companies in the beginning, then, he switched to the larger ones but, then, they asked him to get out of the civilized countries. He hasn't really broken any laws but they made it clear for him and his boss that they should go out and have fun someplace else." "His boss?" "His LSV boss. Ronald Trevis. Where do you think he got the greenmail money? Trevis raised money for him and Bemish was just a cudgel. Did you see a gentleman named Welsey, next to Bemish? This is Trevis - a morsel of Trevis." "I see," Kissur said. "LSV is a cool company," Shavash continued, "They find people, ready to get out of their own skins and skin the others to scrape together a dinar, a crown and a dollar, and they set them at large companies. They are not financiers - they are gangsters. They would be shot dead on our planet. They were reproached elsewhere and they decided to move to the places with no strict financial laws and a lot of under priced property." Shavash was silent and, then, added, "This rascal bought 7% of the Assalah shares through the dummy agents and he has been buying them in small blocks for many months to not disturb the market." The girls came back with wine and one of them sat on Kissur's knees and other one crawled to Shavash and started to touch him with her hands under the shirt and Shavash laughed and put the wine glass on the table and reclined on his back again. X X X The next day, the first vice-minister of finance Shavash stood in front of the head of the government, old Mr. Yanik. Mr. Yanik became first minister a year and a half ago after the death of his predecessor's, a certain Mr. Arfarra. Everybody unanimously considered Yanik to be a nonentity and a temporary replacement. Who cares how to plug a hole as long as it doesn't leak? However, the nonentity clung to his position way longer than many people who thought him to be a temporary incident. Yanik and Shavash belonged to different generations, and more importantly, to different parties. Shavash occasionally expressed quite loudly his opinion about Yanik while the latter occasionally and quite loudly used the former, as an example to express his regret about the old times when the overly rapacious officials would find themselves hanging on all four palace gates - a quarter per gate. "Make yourself familiar," Yanik said, handing Shavash a white plastic folder. Shavash opened the folder and concentrated on reading. It was a construction project of a humongous aluminum complex in the east of the Empire, in Tar'Salim, rich in alumina but poor in energy resources. The construction consisted of the aluminum extraction and processing facilities, two power plants - fission and magneto-hydrodynamic ones, and a small plant making composite alloys for gravitonic engines. The total construction estimated expenditure was two hundred million galactic dinars. The company was naturally state-owned. Shavash turned the last page and found what he was looking for - the person nominated for the company general director position was Chanakka - the first minister's twice removed grandson, an empty-headed and debased man who had already failed at at least three projects. Cosmopolitan Shavash, with his impeccable knowledge of the major Galactic languages and stylish suits, especially loathed Chanakka's fanatical nationalism. "This," the first minister said, "is an unquestionably important project. No longer will we drag behind the Civilized Worlds. No other planet has such a facility!" Shavash thought that both Tranar and Dakia had the same facilities. They, however, were not state-owned. "In two year," the first minister said, "we will control the space engines market! Your department has a week to budget seventy million dinars for the primary equipment." "We can't do that," Shavash said coolly. "Why?" "We don't have money. The officials in Chakhar haven't been paid since last year." Yanik looked at the finance vice-minister disapprovingly. Shavash was too young. Yanik still remembered times when the words "We don't have money" just didn't carry any meaning in Weian Empire. If money ran out, more of it could always be printed. None of it influenced the prices, since the merchandise prices were determined not by the amount of money in circulation but by the Bill of Prices for goods and services. "Mr. Shavash," Yanik asked, "what is your monthly salary?" "It is three hundred isheviks," Your Eminence. Is it true that your last toy, a private space yacht of the Emerald class cost four hundred fifty thousand isheviks?" "It was a friends' gift," the official smiled. "Mr. Shavash," Yanik said, "Tas'Salim is the our country's most important construction. We must find money for it. Otherwise, we will take care of your yacht. Do you understand me?" "Quite." X X X Shavash returned to his luxurious office sincerely upset. He snapped at the secretary, flung a fashionable jacket on the chair's back, threw himself in the armchair, and sat immobile for a while. Those, who knew Shavash superficially, would be certain that he was upset by the first minister's open threat - the beautiful yacht clearly aggravated some people. However strange it may sound, Shavash was upset due to totally different reasons. In any case, in the absolute quietude of his office equipped with a dozen counter-tapping devices, he allowed himself to wrap his hands around his head and quietly utter, "What are they doing? Do these fuckers understand what they are doing?" He turned the office speaker on and ordered. "Daren! Could you find Stephen Sigel for me, quickly?" Stephen Sigel was a representative of Naren and Lissa Joint Bank, the twelfth largest bank in this Galaxy sector; he had showed up on Weia a week ago hoping to start joint projects. Stephen Sigel appeared in the first finance vice-minister's office in two hours. "Mr. Sigel," Shavash rushed head-on, "the Weian government would like to obtain a seventy million galactic dinar loan immediately from the Naren and Lissa Joint Bank for six months at a nineteen percent interest. Could we do it?" Stephen Sigel swallowed. 19% interest was a very sweat deal. The Federation bonds had 7% interest rate, the Earth Bonds - 7.5%. Though, the Weian Empire finances were, no doubt, in a way worse state than the Earth's finances, the bank would've considered 16% to be quite a decent number. "Yes," Stephen Sigel said. "Great," the official replied, "the credit agreement will be signed one hour after one half of a percent from the loan appears on my table, in an envelope." Next morning, one hour before the government meeting, the first vice-minister of finance Shavash put on the first minister Yanik's table the credit agreement with the Naren and Lissa Joint Bank. "Here is your seventy million," he said, "I assume there is no point including it in the budget revenue. The money is allocated as an out-of-budget industry support fund. He turned away and left the office. "He is such an incredibly deft man," the touched first minister thought, "How has he managed to procure money so quickly?" Of course, the first minister understood vaguely that there was some connection between Shavash's ability to obtain galactic credits quickly and his buying trinkets like a private space yacht. On the other hand, the first minister enjoyed the thought that the money Shavash grabbed on this deal, paled next to the rake-off his twice removed grandson would make buying the galactic equipment for his company from the front intermediaries at doubled prices. X X X The same day, when the budget problems for the Galaxy's fourth largest aluminum facility were happily solved, McCormick, Welsey, and Bemish drove to another construction - also state-owned and also humongous. Halfway to their destination, they almost drowned in a huge pothole - the road started again in seven meters after the rut. An oldster, living nearby, gathered the people and they dragged the jeep across the pothole on a sledge. They charged so little that Bemish even relinquished his suspicions about the old guy digging the hole himself to make money on it. Later Bemish learned that two districts joined at that point and their heads could not agree on who would fix the pothole. At the ruins, Bemish felt such sadness as he had never felt in his life before - from the inconceivable waste of nature and construction equipment. The black gate on the landing field lonely stuck out on the blue sky background like a victory arch, it was decorated by various appeals to gods and demons. Ponds, yellow and round like owl eyes, bloomed in the landing chutes. The giant overpass had fallen apart, grass and flowers grew on the poles and the blocks, ants dashed back and forth on the road designed for multi-ton trucks. An even and incredibly thorny hedge with little blue flowers and half inch barbs covered exactly half the space field making it look like a forest surrounding the Sleeping Beauty's castle. Alas, the thorns didn't disappear with Bemish's arrival. The spaceport administration wing was cleaved at the first floor level and an elevator chute pointed right in the sky. There was no way, somebody could work here but Bemish remembered clearly an office expenditures entree in a company report and it was about this building. There was something horrifying in this place that ceased to be a part of nature but didn't become a part of the industrial world. "However, the construction' expenses will be twice lower here," Bemish noted. The sun was hurrying up to noon, when Bemish and McCormick left the building for a small bamboo grove rattling in the background of the bright stainless steel hangar. Bemish saw that they were not the only ones here - a helicopter stood on the fanned out paws behind the bamboo grove and the wind, raised by its wings, entangled gentle green grass stuck to the landing field. Bemish walked down to the helicopter. Under its belly, a man, in washed out jeans, laid out a napkin and was eating a ham sandwich. Having recognized Giles from IC, Bemish smirked. Another man stood nearby, petting on the back a red horse with white stockings - Kissur. "Good day," Bemish said, approaching. "Did you fly in together?" "No," Kissur said, "I am riding." And he pointed to the side, where two more riders were circling - Khanadar the Dried Date and a servant. "Did you ride here from the capital?" Welsey was shocked. "I have friends nearby, and they have a private airport," Kissur explained. "Yeah, they know how to build here," Welsey said, "they juiced five billions in and nobody even mows the hay down. Why don't they, do you have any idea?" "They are afraid of ghosts," Bemish supposed. "Exactly right," Kissur said, "Do you know how a witch gets born?" None of the Earthmen was a witch genesis specialist and Kissur explained. Sometimes, a temple or even a simple house is built at a road intersection and then the world changes its masters, the temple gets forgotten or a house owner moves away, God knows where to. The house cries, grows older, grass grows on the roof and a hat of moss covers the gate poles. Water starts to cut doodles and lines on the pole and a crow builds a nest there. In the evening, the locals get frightened passing by the pole - they think, somebody is standing guard in the dark. The fear grows into the pole, covers its features and seeps in its soul. The pole's soul gets born of fear and wind, it starts to watch the moon and walk in the rain and slush - that's how a pole witch appears. Kissur pointed at the wide open gate on the summer field and added. "Who knows, maybe these poles also stroll around at night?" Giles chortled. Kissur turned to Bemish and asked. "So, does it cost a lot?" "You should ask McCormick," Bemish replied. "I am not a specialist here. My field is finance." "They abandoned the construction to sell it cheaper afterwards," McCormick said. "They built it for a while and abandoned in three years." "Why was it exactly three years?" Kissur wondered. "Because, accordingly to your laws, a start-up company is salary tax-exempt and can import equipment with half the custom tariffs for three years," Bemish replied. "Ahh," ex-minister drawled, "and whom are they going to sell it to?" "Not to me," Bemish noted. Kissur turned around and stared at Giles. The IC representative feigned a yawn. "It's time to go," Giles claimed. "I can give a ride to the capital to anybody except the jeep." "Terence will stay here," Kissur said. "We will ride horses together." Kissur nodded to one of his companions and he jumped of the horse. They walked the horse closer to Bemish and he stared in a large brown eye. The horse chewed on its mouthpiece and her sides rose and lowered. The horse watched Bemish and Bemish watched the horse. "This is the tail," Kissur said, "this is the head and the driver's seat is in the middle. What are you waiting for? Get in." "I don't like," Bemish replied, "that it moves before I turn the ignition on." Kissur and his servants laughed agreeably. Bemish, however, had to climb on the horse and trek through a crazy forest where the power line poles entwined by lianas grew instead of the trees. Bemish tired out, battered his butt and finally almost drowned in a lawn which in reality proved to be a swamp inside a landing chute. Kissur said, that he would cripple the horse riding this way, and Bemish said that he would like to observe Kissur driving a car ten years ago. Then, Kissur sent his people off with the horses and walked on foot next to Bemish. Bemish enquired, where they were going, and Kissur explained that the future owner of the spaceport should better get acquainted with the local villages. "In ancient times, a good official always arrived to his appointment region incognito, to learn the problems and difficulties of the oppressed locals," Kissur said with admonition. Bemish wanted to point out, that he was not an official and he was not going to solve the locals' problems, but he was afraid of overdoing it and he shut up. By the evening, they both departed from the spaceport through a hole in the wall and walked in the dusk down a beautiful beaten dusty road, winding by the neatly planted gardens and rice paddies. They were both unbelievably dirty. Kissur braided a water lily wreath for himself and dashed around the road, laughing. "Kissur," Bemish said, "I have a request for you." "Yes?" "The spaceport is built on the peasant land, even though there is a lot of state land around. But it was built on the communal land and the families were handed shares in the way of compensation. I could buy them out." "How much will you pay them?" Bemish hesitated. He would happily buy them for a rice vodka jug but he could still see the whip marks on the Krasnov's shoulders. "These shares aren't liquid, Kissur. They cost no more than three hundred isheviks each. I am ready to pay this money." "And, when you build the spaceport, will each one cost three hundred thousand? You will swindle this money out of the peasants." "They will not cost three hundred thousand if I don't build the spaceport." "Shavash told me that you are not even going to build it." Bemish shuddered. "Shavash said," Kissur continued, "that you make money, buying a company stocks, and then threatening the company management, till they buy the stocks back at triple price, and that you are reputed to be such a man, a greenmailer. Is it true?" "Yes," Bemish said. "So, are you going to buy Assalah?" "I am." "Why haven't you bought the other companies before?" "I wanted to buy them. Only, the stock price increased so much during the fight, that it would be stupid to buy them. As Shavash maybe told you, two companies, whose management bought me off, went bankrupt." "Has it happened because of you?" "It was their choice to set a ludicrous stock price." "The same will happen to Assalah, won't it? The price will seem too high for you, you will sell the stocks and the company will go bankrupt." I don't think so. You see, enormous amount of money was sunk in Assalah and, despite all this view around us, - Bemish here gestured with his arm encompassing the bamboo growth far away and the semicircular administration center hulk, looking like an empty watermelon rind- despite all this, the spaceport is more than three quarters built. If we try hard, the first ships will start landing practically in six months. You heard, why it was abandoned - to cost very cheap. Also, everybody has heard, that it's dangerous to invest in a market like yours, but not everybody understands that spaceports and, also, interstellar communication systems are the only safe parts of your economy. This item will not be abandoned at any government and it depends on the local communications, in the least, because its main profits come from the sky. Assalah costs now less than two eateries in the middle of Toronto but, really, it is impossibly under priced. So, the stock price may increase tenfold but it will still be a good acquisition. Kissur was silent for a moment. "Are you buying the Assalah stocks now?" "Yes." "How much do you have?" "The Empire Fund Committee requires registration of any company stock acquisition of more than 5%. I have more now but I would ask you to keep it confidential. I haven't registered it." "How is it possible?" "Several companies act as the dummy agent stockholders for me." Kissur paused and asked then, "What is this investment auction of yours?" "Ffty one percent of government stocks will be divided in two blocks - 20% and 31%. As you see, I will have a controlling block of shares even if I get only a 20% block at the auction." "Wouldn't it be better to offer a good price at the auction?" "I am not entirely satisfied by the tender conditions. They are defined so cleverly that they allow, for instance, the government to raise the price after the winner is selected." "What, if you don't come out as a winner, and Shavash sells the company to somebody else, will you sell these stocks with a multiple-fold profit?" "I will buy Assalah." Kissur was silent. The birds fluttered out of the grass, a lost cow mooed far away in the field, and the sun, round like a pumpkin, rolled above the Earthman's and the Empire ex-first minister's heads. "What did the clerks do? The ones bankrupted by you?" "What clerks?" "Well, these..." Kissur clicked his fingers, "general directors." "Nothing. They are civilized people." "Now remember this, Bemish. I will help you. But, if you do as Shavash said, I will shoot you." Kissur got up and walked down the road. X X X Richard Giles, the IC company representative, found the finance vice-minister, Shavash, performing a ceremony. Shavash walked stately around the new building of Adako bank carrying in his hands a golden basin, with a burning candle floating on a splinter, and two dozen children in the identical silk clothes followed him with the same candles in their arms. Numerous gapers enjoyed the view. Shavash entered the building, sluiced water on the marble floor and, with the proper words, handed the basin to the new bank's president - his good friend's nephew. When the ceremony finished in five minutes, Shavash withdrew to the future director's office. Giles followed him. Shavash dropped the billowing silk vestment and an impeccable white suit underneath revealed itself. "Oh, that's you, Dick," he said. "Welcome here, how didn't I see you at the ceremony start?" "I flew to Assalah," Giles replied dryly. "Bemish was also there." "He is in his right," Shavash shrugged his shoulders. "You have to agree, if the company wants to participate in the auction, its general director can visit a spaceport." "We had an agreement that he would not take part in the auction." "A man can't fulfill all his promises," Shavash explained, "especially, if the other offer is better." Giles swore glumly and said. "Damn it, if we pay a dinar per share, we can't afford somebody else applying for the auction!" "I regret, but you will have to raise the price. Terence Bemish is offering seven point seven dinars - just raise the price." "I didn't pay you, Shavash, to pay for the shares. Kick Bemish out." "I am sorry," Shavash said, "but Bemish is a Kissur's protg. If we show him the door, Kissur will complain to the sovereign. Do you want a second Kaminsky scandal?" "Enraged Giles silently slammed the door. His friend was waiting for him in the corridor. "So?" "The damned briber!" the enraged Earthman hissed, "Kissur's protg, my ass! Do you know who got the officials' signatures on the papers when they were all drunk? Kissur? Devil's spawn! Kissur was lying with a wench - Shavash was getting the signatures! He will now harry us with this Bemish till we pay three dinars for a share." X X X By four o'clock, Bemish was fatigued. The road was dusty and covered with potholes, the spaceport disappeared a long time ago behind the endless flat fields and the rows of olive trees, planted next to the road so that the dust settled on olives and they ripened faster. They made at least twenty five miles, not including the morning spaceport trip. Bemish was tired as a dog and was slowly getting nuts - what is Kissur trying to prove? That he walks on foot better than Bemish? It comes as no surprise in a man who fought in a country with motorized divisions consisting of one horsepower units! The temptation to make it all clear to Kissur was pretty strong. But Bemish still kept silence and dragged himself after the ex-minister like a dog's tail. By the evening, Bemish and Kissur reached a local village and came in a tavern. Both wanderers were dirty up to their ears and looked so unprepossessing, that the host didn't even move seeing them at the entrance. Only, when Kissur sat at the table and bellowed, did he amble to the visitors. Kissur inspected the geese the host offered, demanded to grill one of them and ordered, additionally, mushroom sauce, appetizers and wine. The goose soon appeared in front of the travelers in the grilled state and it was impossible to recognize - such an appetizing crust covered it and so cheerfully did the goose fat drip down in the steaming rice plate. The travelers embarked on the food and, though Bemish was very hungry, he soon realized that he had no chance holding his own with Kissur. They conversed in English. Bemish noticed suddenly that Kissur was trying to not to bang his spoon on the plate and was listening to the conversation between two poorly dressed peasants - they were scraping rice quickly out of their plates with their heads down. Finally Kissur couldn't hold it, he bid them come to the table, handed over some goose and started to ask questions. Bemish, being barely able to understand a few words, inquired what the problem was. "These are the peasants from the second village," Kissur said, "and they are going to the manor's headman. Two years ago, their father became sick and they borrowed money from the headman for medical treatment, at first, and then for the funeral. In two years, the interest grew to match the original loan size. At that point, the headman sent his servants to the village and took their sister as a loan payment. The guys went to their relatives to borrow money but it didn't work out and they are going to the headman again." They were silent for a while. "What about the shares," Bemish wondered. "Did you ask them about the shares?" "They don't know what shares are," Kissur replied, "if you mean the red paper pieces they were issued for their land, they gave it to the headman as a name day gift." "But they cost ten isheviks a share even now!" Bemish exclaimed involuntarily, totally forgetting a vodka crock. The peasants swung their heads nervously, listening to two bums talking - they were clearly speaking some thief's argot - the peasants couldn't make a single word out! Kissur pulled a wad of money out of his pants, counted two hundred isheviks and gave them to the older guy. "Hold it," he said, "that's for your sister's bail." The peasant's eyes bulged out at the bum, he fell down on his knees and started kissing the earth in front of Kissur, till Kissur threw him outside. "Where are we going now?" Bemish asked when the peasants left. Kissur opened his dirty coat's flap, making sure that the gun was still there, and said, "Let's spend a night in the manor where the sister was taken to." By the late evening, tired as a dog Bemish slogged after Kissur to a hilltop crowned by a toothy tarred fence. Upon the travelers' arrival, a gate appeared in the fence and a servant with a flashlight and an assault rifle appeared in the gate. "Talk," Kissur elbowed Bemish. "I... our... sleep," Bemish started. The servant raised his flashlight a bit, realized that he was dealing with the foreigners that understood the human speech worse than dogs and let them into the manor with hardly a word. X X X It's should be pointed out, that the headman, in the manor they came to, was an awful man. He fleeced the peasants mercilessly, traded in girls, purchased stolen goods and ruled a racketeering gang. He had a great relationship with the regional authorities. At the same time, he attempted to look honorable. Fleecing the peasants, he always referred to the manor owner's merciless orders. Since the local peasants were really dumb, it had never even come to their mind to complain to the manor's owner, living in the capital and totally ignorant of all these depravities. In such a simple way the headman persuaded the peasants that he was their protector. So, Kissur and Bemish found a place in a hay bale inside the cattle yard and watched the peasants come to the meeting hall. The headman even came out to meet them. "I am so sorry about this," he declared, "but I have already sent your sister to the lord in the capital, so there is no way to get her back. If the lord likes her, you are lucky - maybe he will agree to forgive you the rest of your debt." "But we managed to get the money," the peasant said happily and handed the banknotes over. Who could guess that the headman had quarreled with one of his servants yesterday and bashed his head in with a stick? He stuck the body into the trunk afterwards, got it out of the manor and threw it into the bushes next to the construction. In the morning, he said that he had sent the servant to buy some stuff in the capital. He was going to report the servant as having deserted afterwards but an incredible idea came to him, when he saw the money. He leafed through the bank notes again and, suddenly, he pulled one of them out - it was a twenty isheviks note with a "200" ink bank mark. "Hold them," he cried to the servants. "I gave this twenty isheviks note to my servant Anai when I sent him out yesterday. Anai should have returned this morning; they must have robbed and killed him. Otherwise, where would they get the money?" The servants grabbed the bewildered peasants. "Where did you get the money?" the headman attacked them. "Your grace," the elder begged, "a bum gave us the money; it looked like he followed us here - he is sleeping now on the hay bale! How would we know if he robbed somebody?" The headman ordered the servants to take a look and they reported in no time that, truly, one sturdy bum was sleeping on a bale and another one had dug himself in it. The headman was pleased. "The prey comes to the hunter on its own," he thought, "I will arrest these bums and accuse them of the murder!" But then he changed his mind. "Who knows where these bums came from? Only bandits carry this kind of money on them and they won't be overjoyed, if I accuse an acclaimed gang member of murder and robbery! I will meet my end this way. To the opposite, the bandits will appreciate my tact if I don't get them mixed in this business." And he assailed the peasants. "It's such nonsense! Where would bums get this money? You don't even stop at accusing innocent fellow travelers." And he ordered to bring whips and canes. X X X Kissur was by no means sleeping in the bale at that time. He aspired to see his philanthropy's results. To avoid attention, he took the boots off and stuck them in the hay, so that they looked like a sleeper's legs, noiselessly climbed on the barn roof and jumped from there to the main house. He took off his belt with a hook on the end, snatched a post on the roof with a hook and lowered himself down the belt, to a cornice encircling the house. He walked down the cornice to the entry hall. Hanging down there, he heard the peasants being accused of the servant's murder and he heard them breaking down at the torture and confessing their guilt. In a while, the prisoners were taken away, the headman locked the money in the small metal safe in the corner and everybody left. Having waited for half an hour, Kissur carefully pried the wooden frame open with a knife and climbed inside. X X X Bemish woke up in the middle of the night - Kissur was missing. "Where is he hanging his ass out?" Bemish got angry. The moon shined and the roofs of wing houses and utility shacks were clearly outlined on the night sky background. Just then, Bemish saw a man's silhouette sneaking along the main house rooftop with a sack under his armpit. Bemish shuddered and rubbed his eyes. The man jumped over to the garage roof and disappeared inside. "Hold the thief!" a scream issued, and something glistened in the house. Bemish jumped. Something boomed in the garage, its gate was thrown wide open and a truck rushed out puffing. "Jump!" Kissur screamed. Bemish leaped on the truck, tore the door open and fell on the seat. The truck scurried around the yard, kicked out the gate and sprinted down the slope. Awaken servants rushed after it but, since everybody was afraid that the robbers could start firing and make some holes in the lackeys' hides, - they limited their activities to the loud screams and flashlight hustling. The headman silently contemplated the stripped safe. "These robbers are crummy people," he thought, "in my benevolence, I didn't prosecute them for the murder and they thanked me in such a way!" X X X The truck swerved down the night road and, inside the truck Bemish castigated the Empire ex-first minister. Bemish finished and Kissur asked, "Terence, have you killed anybody at the construction?" The Earthman only flapped his hands at such a question. "I also think that you haven't killed anybody," Kissur agreed, "then, how did the headman recognize this note?" and he started recounting, what happened between the headman and the peasants. "I think," the Earthman said, "the problem is, that the headman has already sent the girl to his lord and he is afraid to call her back. That's why he kicked this hoax with the money off; the servant ran away somewhere or he will come in a week." "You think well," Kissur said, "and the peasants likely think the same way. Keep it." And to the financier's horror, the Empire ex-minister handed him over a wad of square notes that Bemish immediately recognized to be the Assalah bearer stocks. "My God," Bemish moaned, "what is this?" "These are your stocks. Do you remember the peasants' story, how the headman requested them as a gift?" "Why?!" "You said it yourself, that if you have these shares, you will be able to control Shavash." "Kissur! Firstly, I can buy low and sell high but I've never acquired securities yet with a bandit's lock pick. Secondly, exactly five minutes after this story comes out, not a single bank will agree to finance me. Thirdly, this story will surely come out, since the headman will complain about one of the robbers being a foreigner and there are not that many foreigners..." "He won't run to complain," Kissur said, "or he will have to explain, how he got the shares as a gift." Bemish gestured with his hand and became silent. It took them an hour to drive back to the beginning of the destroyed overpass, where Bemish and McCormick had abandoned the car in the morning - the car was still there. Kissur got out of the truck, threw the stolen stuff on the back seat and took the clean clothes out of the trunk. "Change you clothes." Kissur drove the car and Bemish grouched, kept silence and, looking at Kissur, thought, "He is not a man, he is a walking scandal." They arrived at a crumbly town and stopped in front of a red lacquered gate. Bemish realized that it was a district precinct. It was probably the same precinct where Krasnov was whipped for an attempt to acquire the shares. "Are you going to rob another precinct head?" Kissur, not responding, knocked in the gate. The district head, having learned about the Emperor favorite's visit, put the clothes on and went out to meet them. Kissur introduced Bemish to him. "We were inspecting the construction till the nightfall and we were barely able to get out," Kissur explained. In the morning, even before Kissur and Bemish walked downstairs, a bustle issued in the house. The official reported, bowing. "Mr. Kissur! Your manor is located nearby, and a modest man named Khanni is the headman there. Yesterday night, two bums robbed the house and stole four hundred thousand! Probably, these two guys also killed his servant and lifted his money - the servant's body was found today in the riverside bushes! Bemish understood some of the official's talk and froze. They drove to the headman - a dozen Kissur's servants, that he called that night from the capital, joined them on the way. The district head entered the yard, with a large crowd already assembled, and Kissur stayed in the crowd screened by his servants. The murdered servant's body was delivered, two peasants were brought in and the headman accused them. "Everything is clear. These two made a deal with the bandits and robbed and killed my servant - they didn't expect me recognizing the money. You were going to rob the manor together next but, since you were arrested, the bums went ahead on their own. Answer me - where did you bump into them? Imagine it, I was trying to protect you before your lord, turned your sister over to him, so that he would become lenient." Here, the crowd moved and Kissur moved out of it surrounded by three sturdy chaps. "Hey, Khanni! What was this girl you turned over to me?" The headman went gray in the face with horror. The crowd reacted. "How much, are you saying, they stole from me?" Kissur continued. "Four hundred thousand," the headman fretted. Here Kissur took the sack of his shoulder and emptied it right out for everybody to see. "Khanni," Kissur stated, "when I gave you this manor, I said, 'Don't oppress the people, only take one tenth.' Yesterday, I was passing by, with a friend, and I decided to check, how you obey my orders, and when you arrested the people I gave money to, claimed this money for yourself, and told them that I dishonored their sister that I haven't even met, it looked to me, that you obeyed my orders like a pig you are - that you sucked on the people's marrow and drank their blood. I decided to look in your safe and I carried away from it not four hundred thousand but, rather, six and half thousand and, secondly, I carried away from it the loan agreements signed with my signature - and this is a fake signature. Then I realized that I didn't waste my time poking into this safe, because you would doubtfully have shown me these faked agreements!" The headman could not speak - he bleated and crawled at Kissur's feet. "Spit it out," Kissur barked. "How many girls have you sold to the whorehouses in my name?" "Twenty of them, at least," somebody in the crowd responded. Here, Kissur leaped at the headman and crushed his nose and many other parts, and then ordered to "hang this fucker on the gate" - Bemish could barely persuade him to call the lynching off. They still stuffed the headman in the stocks at the punishment pole. By mid afternoon, hundreds of peasants drifted into the manor. "That's what happened," the peasants were saying, "the damned headman lied to us and cheated the master! Thanks to the master for coming here and sorting things out!" Kissur ordered to set a table across the pole, sat down at the table and started to hand the loan agreements out to the peasants while the district head, happy to still have his nose whole, was certifying that the deeds were fake. By the evening, the headman was taken away in the stocks and the satisfied crowd dispersed. X X X Kissur and Bemish stayed in the orphaned manor overnight. "So, how was I?" Kissur inquired Bemish at the dinner. He reminded Bemish of a victorious fighting cock. "If a society's fairness," Bemish said, "depended on the number of squashed noses, then your Empire would be the fairest place in the Universe. However, the situation is reversed." Kissur frowned. "The objective is," the Earthman said instructively, "not to break the corrupted officials' noses. The objective is to position the officials in such a way that they couldn't harass the people." "How do you like this place?" "Wonderful place," Bemish said, "one could build a heaven here or, at least, a wondrous chicken farm." Kissur burst out in laughter and slapped him on the shoulder. "It's all yours, the