appeared to be fine - it had entered her belly almost all the way to the guard. They examined her snout - the bullet hit the bear right in her eye. Yes, the hunt was excellent, even Dried Date who was not capable of smiling screamed and hooted. He sat at the fire next to Kissur's knees and started singing his songs that Bemish had heard so many times from boom boxes in the workers' barracks that he came to liking them. They rode back in the dusk. The horses walked down the path two abreast, black oily earth crumbled under their hooves, a forested slope rose like a dark wall on the right, the fuzzy sun was rolling behind the faraway mountains covered with gleaming snow like a cake glazed with white. The birds fluttered up from under the hooves and life was wondrously good. "Oh, my God, it's such a great place for a hotel," a thought passed Bemish's mind. He was a practical man and he always sought for ways to adjust nature to money. After the bear cub accident, Ashidan saddened and it happened somehow that Kissur and his retinue raced in front and Bemish lagged behind them and rode next to Ashidan. The latter was pale - either due to the weed that the peasants grew in a local field or because of Cambridge. Bemish leaned to Ashidan and asked quietly, "Does Kissur know that you are a drug addict?" "I am not a drug addict, I am just curious! I can stop this any moment." Bemish sniggered involuntarily. The youth shuddered. Then he abruptly turned his grey eyes to the Earthman. His pupils were unnaturally contracted. It's not my fault, it's yours," he said, "Seven years ago Warnaraine was ruled from this castle, and now it's a dump because there is no eight line highway next to it! You have chased our gods away and what have you given us instead, a Pepsi can?" Ashidan grabbed the Earthman by his hand. "This weed has always grown here! They ate it to speak to the gods! You declared even talking to the gods to be a crime!" "Come on, Ashidan! You don't converse to a god or a demon, you just gobble this weed up to get high and you are afraid of Kissur because he will throw you into a hospital for drug addicts or just chain you." "I am afraid of the sword he took," Ashidan said, "I saw this sword in Khanalai's hand and if people are killed, their souls enter their swords." Khanalai was the rebel that fought Kissur seven years ago. "Khanalai?" Bemish was astonished, "Have you met Khanalai?" "He took me prisoner," Ashidan answered. Bemish stared at the youth - he was young, slim like a snake and incredibly beautiful, with golden hair and grey eyes heavily mascara coated for the hunt. "Oh, my God! How old were you?" "I was fifteen, almost fifteen. Kissur entrusted me with five thousand horsemen and Dried Date and Aldon's uncle - Aldon the Striped - were with me. We should have waited for Kissur in the Black Mountains. But we heard that down there, in the town of Lukhun, merchants had come in for a fair and were bunched all together there because of the war. We decided to seize this town because we would get more loot if we didn't wait for Kissur. So, we approached this town with a guide and when the sun came out we realized that it was a trap - Khanalai's army encircled us. Khanalai was going to catch Kissur." Ashidan rocked in the saddle. I rode forward and challenged Khanalai to a duel. My shield had an image of the White Falcon on it; Khanalai thought that Kissur himself got in his trap. He really didn't want to fight but he had to accept the challenge. He was afraid that his captains would mock him. There is not much to say about this fight - Khanalai split my shoulder and threw me to the ground like a kitten and then he removed my helmet to cut my head off. He was really surprised and he asked me, "Who are you, brat, to wear a White Falcon shield?" I told him that my name was Ashidan and that my brother Kissur would avenge me and why wouldn't he just shut his lousy trap and cut my head off. I was a very cute boy and Khanalai suddenly took pity on me. He raised his sword and then he thought, "I will die - and these words contained all the horror of irreversible, you couldn't sleep at night having heard them. So, would it be worth it to bring the sword down?" At least, that's what he told me afterwards. So he threw me like a wench over his horse's back and rode to his army. And my army was obliterated down to the last man. You see, it was a war very different from a war between two countries. When one country and another country make a war, it's fair to spare the enemy and to make him your vassal. While when a government fights rebels, it's fair to obliterate the rebels completely. "What happened to Dried Date?" Bemish suddenly realized. "Dried Date and old Aldon were taken prisoners." "And what happened next?" They brought me and Dried Date to Khanalai's tent where he was feasting after the battle and Khanalai said that he would like to hear a song about this battle from Dried Date. Dried Date answered that the battle was not finished yet because not everybody, supposed to be executed after this battle, was executed and when Khalai executed everybody who was supposed to be executed, there would be nobody left to sing this song. Khanalai grinned and gave his new lute and his sword to Dried Date, and this sword was so valuable that it cost more that Dried Date's honor. He sat and sang a song of praise to Khanalai and I don't think that you'll ever hear it from Dried Date or on a tape recorder. Then, Khanalai turned to me and said that he would like to let me go. I was insolent to him. He paused and said, "All right, they will crucify you tomorrow, brat. At first they will crucify Aldon and then you." "What happened tomorrow?" "They brought Aldon and me out and Khanalai said, `If you let me pardon you, I will let Aldon go.' I spit in his face." Ashidan paused. He face paled completely and Bemish suddenly imagined how cute a boy he had been at "almost fifteen." "Khanalai rocked on his feet for a while and then said, `You are too beautiful a boy to die.' They crucified Aldon and quarreled for a while and then took me away." "And what happened to Dried Date?" "Dried Date sang songs of praise to Khanalai till he was offended, that he, a man from a noble family, was serving a commoner who used to tread cow dung in his childhood. He cut one of Khanalai's aides head off, threw it in a sack and raced to Kissur with this ransom. And he also gave Khanalai's sword to Kissur." Ashidan paused and said, "I also met Khanalai's son there - we were of the same age and the lad was quite gifted. I think that Khanalai took mercy on me because of him. He asked me once, "What if Kissur gets a hold of my son? Do you think he will let him live like I let you?" "Yes," Bemish thought, "Kissur, however, didn't take mercy on Khanalai's son and he didn't take mercy on anybody else." "Hey," Khanadar the Dried Date shouted ahead, "have you fallen asleep? Come here quickly!" Bemish and Ashidan hastened their horses. The road split in two in front of them, the riders grouped at the fork. "We should go left," Kissur said, "We should visit Aldis so that the next hunt would be even more fruitful than the last one." "Well," Ashidan objected, "we won't reach the castle before nightfall." "No problem," Kissur said, "we will sleep over at the old altar house." Ashidan's face fell. "Look," Khanadar said, "you aren't afraid of the old altar house, are you?" And he continued having turned to Bemish, "Aldis the White Falcon is buried next to the old altar and two families were assigned to take care of the grave. But they ignored their duty and Aldis ate them and he liked it - he started climbing out every night, chased passersby with all his retinue and herded them into his place for a feast. A traveler passes by and sees a manor with lights on, and only his bones are left by the morning. People took notice - if on a new moon night there were fire and commotion at the old altar house - then, some family would wail somewhere soon enough. They would have pounded a stake down his coffin long time ago if he had been a commoner but they are afraid of doing it - you know, he is Kissur's great grandfather." Ashidan grinned. "It's not fitting to visit ancestors' graves with an Earthman outlander," he said, "It's enough for a stranger that we took him for a hunt." "I have never hunted here before," Kissur answered, "and not shared my booty with my ancestor." And they rode to the old altar house, having dismissed the servants and having tied the bear cub's body to a saddle. The old altar house sat between a forest and a horseshoe shaped mountain on the very edge of a sheer, as if cut with a knife, gorge. Behind a black carved fence, one could see a roof tied in a knot; yellow light issued forth from a round window, people's voices were coming from behind the fence. Ashidan's face acquired a pallid color of toothpowder. "Oh-ho-ho," Kissur said, "is Aldis getting rowdy again?" The riders quietly dismounted, Kissur petted his horse so it wouldn't neigh and stuck covertly a stubby assault rifle under his overcoat. A pine tree, that had fallen last year, crushed the fence and miraculously spared the chapel - they took a look over the tree log into a wide yard. There, on a stone site, a small space boat Orinoko-22 stood looking like a striped squash. People in body suits were standing in a line and passing sacks from the altar house to the boat. "Heia," Kissur said loudly, "that's called progress! Even ghosts can no longer fly without engines!" He bounced over the log and stepped in the lit circle. Frankly, it was Kissur that looked more like a ghost here - a hunter in an ancient green caftan with a yew bow hanging over his shoulder and his face painted with blue stripes for the hunt - amidst people in flying suits who froze for a moment next to a cargo hatch. The people dropped plastic sacks. Three guys jumped out of an altar house window with long barreled lasers in their hands. A horse quietly neighed - Khanadar and Ashidan stepped out into the light from the other side, leading their horses. "False alarm," somebody said, "these are the landlords." Kissur unhurriedly walked to a short round eyed character whom Bemish recognized to be the local bailiff. "Oh, it's you Lakhor. What are you doing here?" "You know, my Lord," Lakhor said with a certain dignity, "We are loading..." Kissur placed his foot on a sack, dragged a hunting knife from his belt and ripped the plastic cover from top to bottom. "I swear by god's goiter," Kissur said, "Everybody around says "Lord," "Lord" to you, kisses your knees while you don't even know what it is that you lord over. What are these oats you are hauling to the boat? Nothing but oats has ever grown around here, if my memory doesn't fail me." Kissur scooped up a bit out of the sack with his hand and sniffed it. "No," he shook his head, "no way, oats could smell like this. Khanadar, do you know what it is?" Khanadar also picked a sack, tore it apart with his whip's claw, picked some weed up and stuck it under his horse's nose. It neighed and turned its head aside. "No," Khanadar said, "I don't know what it is but it's not oats. Look, Striped is putting its nose up and it doesn't want it." At this point, Aldon the Lynx Cub joined the conversation. "Hey, it's hemp," he said, "wolf's whisk." Weian zealots and local serfs have used it since old times to visit the skies and now people carry it to the Sky in plastic bags. I heard, they pay a lot of money for this weed on the sky. Earthmen always pay a lot of money for what a horse put its nose up away." The only thing that Bemish couldn't understand was why they were all still alive. Here, Ashidan's breaking voice sounded. "Kissur," he said, "it's my fault. I failed to ask your permission." Kissur span around. "Are you trying to say," he spoke with a phony astonishment, "that you allowed my serfs to trade weed grown in my lands without asking for my consent?" "But I was not sure..." Ashidan started. "Tell me," Kissur inquired, "who is the senior in our clan, you or me?" "You are." "And who owns the land and everything above it and below it, the senior or the junior?" "The senior does." "Then, why are you breaking the law and pocketing the profit from this business?" "I was afraid that you won't understand..." "Of course, I won't understand," Kissur thundered, "my serfs on my land start a business and don't pay me two cents! Who should feed me, the sovereign or my own holding?" "My Lord, my Lord," round eyed Lakhor hurried, "We didn't know that master Ashidan paid you nothing, I'll turn into a frog if we wanted to break the law!" At this point, a man in a flying suit ducked out of the cargo hatch. "I bring my apologies, Mr. Kissur," he said in Interenglish, "We really didn't know that you were not aware of our modest business." Kissur looked him over from head to toes. "How much do you pay my brother for a sack?" "Ten." "You will pay me twelve. I want money now." "Do you think I have so much?" the pilot snapped. "Don't cross him," Lakhor peeped in horror. "I am waiting," Kissur said coldly, "or I will rip all the sacks apart." "Don't pick a fight with him," another Earthman said, "he is livid." "You would become livid here," Khanadar the Dried Date objected, "when your own serfs don't pay you their taxes fairly and you brother cheats you - hasn't Ashidan promised you Kissur's protection?" Kissur and the pilot disappeared in the hatch opening. Ashidan sat on the log not raising his pale face. Bemish's mind was reeling. If Kissur hadn't known whom he would meet at the old altar house, why had he brought the assault rifle that he was now carefully hiding under his hunting coat? And if he had known, why had he dragged Bemish with him? Did he think that Bemish would keep silent? No, damn it, did he think that Terence Bemish would swallow even that? Or would he suggest landing these boats in Assalah spaceport? Kissur and the pilot stepped out of the hatch again. The pilot was smiling. It was clear that in his opinion he got away cheaply and found himself such a protector that all Weian police would not be able to lay a finger on him. Kissur stuck the money in his pants pocket and, having bent his leg, placed it right in front of the pilot on a boarding ramp's aluminum stair. The latter started looking around confusedly. "Stupid," old Lakhor hissed, "Kiss the foot, the Lord's foot." The Earthman shrugged his shoulders and bended down to the dusty boot. At this moment, Kissur kneed the pilot under his chin. The pilot squealed. His body flew upwards and Kissur's joined hands crushed his neck - his backbone crunched. Out of the corner of his eye, Bemish barely managed to see how Aldon plucked Ashidan and threw him into the bushes. Kissur went flat behind a steel landing support, whipped his gun out and started firing at the confused people, Aldon and Khanadar joined the fray. Three Earthmen with guns went supine, the fourth one, unnoticed by Kissur, leaped out of the altar house. Bemish jumped at him and kicked his gun away; both of them went to the ground. The gunman seized Bemish's throat and started choking him. Bemish rolled on his back and quite nimbly kicked the attacker in the place where legs grow from. The latter said "ouch" loudly and let Bemish go but he immediately recovered and butted him in the stomach and then punched him with the right hand. Bemish intercepted this punch, seized the gunman's sleeve with his left hand and, with fingers spread apart, hit him in the eyes. One eye burst and oozed down his cheek. "Aaahhh!" the gunman screamed. In a tight embrace, they rolled down to the abyss over boulders and hummocks. Bemish banged a rock with his back badly and he fainted for a moment. The gunman whipped an arrow out of the quiver, hanging behind Bemish's back. The arrow was sharp and firm, with white icy feathers. A hexagonal titanium tip gleaned in the moonlight above Bemish. "That's it," Bemish thought. The smuggler dropped the arrow, however, and then he sighed and fell on Bemish's chest. Bemish shook himself up and climbed from under his enemy's body. A long knife was stuck in the guy's back and Khanadar the Dried Date stood over the knife. Date extended his hand and helped Bemish get up. They climbed the loose rocks uphill to the lighted altar house and space boat. Everything had already been done there. Bemish counted the corpses - sixteen people, five wore body suits or jeans and the others were locals. The gunpowder smell of shots mixed with the smell of fresh hemp and blood. Ashidan sat on a rock holding his head in his hands. Following Kissur's orders they gathered the corpses and the sacks next to the altar house walls, poured gas over them and lit them on fire. "I feel bad about the grave," Khanadar said. "It's desecrated now, what can we do?" Kissur responded. Still, he untied the bear cub off the saddle and threw it in the fire. Afterwards, Kissur tore off the emergency control seals, turned the safety block off and started clicking the switches till the main screen swelled red and screamed in an ugly voice. "Mount," Kissur yelled, running out of the space boat. Khanadar had already leaped across the broken fence and he was prancing on his horse next to the forest. "Should I repeat it for you?" Kissur screamed at Ashidan, "It will blow up in a moment." Ashidan raced following the others. It blew up in such a way that the moon almost dropped off the sky and fire imps leaped out of the mountains and danced over the altar house left behind; when people in the village found the remnants, they said, with astonishment, that old Aldis had dragged stupid travelers from the sky to him and nothing good, of course, had come out of it. With his head low, Ashidan rode between Aldon and Khanadar and Khanadar held his horse's reins. Bemish rode behind everybody. He didn't feel all that good. A dull pain walked up and down where his spine had banged against the rock and his side was skinned in places. Kissur suddenly slowed his horse a bit and waited for his friend. Kissur jabbed Bemish with his elbow and said, with a laugh, "So, Earthman, admit that your feet got cold? Admit that you decided I would ask you to land this boat next time in Assalah spaceport?" "You should have called police in." "I," Kissur said, "am the master over this land's taxes and courts. What would have happened if I had called police? Firstly, I wouldn't have found this boat, because our justice is worse than a whore and they would be warned away. When the justice sells out, a man should take it in its own hands. Or do you think that I acted wrongly?" "Yes," Bemish answered, "I don't think that you acted right. It was not justice you cared about but rather shame besmirching your clan's honor. If you had executed people accordingly to their guilt, Ashidan would have been executed first since he knows perfectly well that selling drugs is a crime, unlike a stupid old serf who did what his master told him to and anyway he had no clue that it's illegal to eat this weed, since all the shamans in this village have been eating it for the last thousand years and so what? You would have given him couple lashes and sent him away." They rode down a broad dark path between the abyss and the cliff and the sky on the other side of the cliff was red and crackled. "Ashidan," Kissur quietly called out, "do you hear what Terence is saying? He is saying that your guilt is larger than that of people who are dead already and it's not fair." Even in the light brought by the moon and by the faraway fire one could see the youth's shoulders shaking. "Get off the horse, Ashidan," Kissur ordered. Ashidan dismounted. Kissur also jumped down and pulled the sword with the intertwined snakes handle out of the sheath fastened to the saddle. "Get on your knees," Kissur ordered. Ashidan wordlessly kneeled next to the abyss. The wind started playing with his golden hair and it glistened in the moonlight. Ashidan lowered his head and pulled his hair off the base of the neck with his own hand. "It would have been better," Kissur spoke, "if you had died of his sword eight years ago and not now," and he raised the sword over the brother's bowed head. Bemish jumped off his horse and seized Kissur's hand. "Isn't enough for today, Kissur? You are drunk with blood." "You said it yourself," Kissur objected, "that I acted unfairly. I don't want people to say that about me." "Damn it," Bemish said, "you did everything correct. Let the lad be." "Get in the saddle, Ashidan," Kissur spoke quietly. X X X In a week, Bemish returned to the capital. He was buried up to his neck in work, he had to attend a benefit dinner, a risk strategy and investment conference, a Fall Leaves celebration in the palace, and a negotiation round with the management of a Chakhar company that Bemish had plans for. Ronald Trevis was also at the conference, he gained some weight since they had met last time and, as Bemish learned, he had exchanged his third wife for a fourth one. Shavash invited both friends to join his retinue and visit Chakhar and after the vice minister had introduced the two Earthmen to the company director, the negotiations were concluded surprisingly quickly. In the evening, Bemish and Trevis suddenly found themselves at a villa with Shavash while the rest of his retinue hung out at another hotel. The guests were served an incomparable dinner but, when the girls that had circling around the guests left and a waiter from the security department brought a counter surveillance device with the desert, Bemish realized that the serious conversation was just starting. "I would like," Shavash said, leaning back in his armchair and putting an empty bowl for the glazed fruits aside, "to discuss with you our state debt. We are stuck all the way to our ears. The interest payments alone are bigger that one third of our GDP." "I wouldn't say that you have a large state debt," Trevis mentioned, "You just have a very small GDP." "That's what I have in mind," Shavash nodded, "when I suggest restructuring the debt." Trevis bounced in his chair about to protest against this idea but Shavash's next words caused his eyes to pop out. "I think that it would be possible to create a private company that will be responsible for paying interest on certain state debt tranches and this company will obtain Chakhar." "What do you mean, Chakhar?" Trevis was astonished. "I mean Chakhar or any other province where this company would be able to collect taxes, make laws and build factories. If a province frightens you, you can limit yourself with some mining deposits." A long silence ruled the table. "Shavash, aren't you afraid that someday they will arrest you for treason?" Trevis finally inquired. The small official shrugged his shoulders. "Why? It's just a way to decrease budget expenses. If a company doesn't pay the state debt out, it will, of course, loose the license. I've already talked to Dachanak and Ibinna and they are ready to be the company's co-founders. Mr. Bemish will fit perfectly there and as for you," here Shavash smiled charmingly at the banker, "I would like you, Ronald, to handle the negotiations with the bonds' owners." Ronald Trevis leaned forward - his eyes reflected the lights from the candles burning on the table and the green illumination coming from the counter surveillance device. "He will never stop," a thought passed Bemish's mind, "He will handle the most fantastic deals for Shavash because Shavash can offer him what nobody has ever done in the Galaxy yet. He will be a consultant if Shavash asks him to privatize the ministry of finance." Three days later, Bemish dropped by Assalah, for a couple of hours - he was accompanying a Galactic Bank committee. The committee was shown a new section of finished launching pads, numbers seven to seventeen, and was escorted down the unfinished but already working spaceport building with twelve underground service floors and a fifteen story tower that housed Bemish's office on its very top. Bemish entered his office with the bank vice president and contemplated, smiling slightly, his table covered with a barely perceptible layer of dust. After the committee had left, Giles walked into the office. "How is Kissur's castle?" the spy inquired. Bemish mumbled something vague. "By the way," Giles said, "satellites observed a space boat explosion in this area. It was something like a Colombine or a Trial with a boosted up engine - they use them to traffic drugs. By any chance, have you heard about it?" "I witnessed it," Bemish said. "Kissur blew up the boat. Before that, he torched ten million worth of drugs and killed sixteen men. Afterwards he almost cut his own brother's head off. Ashidan was involved in the business." "Did you memorize the space boat's license plate number?" "It was D-3756A Orinoko, if the plate wasn't a fake." Giles paused. "Do you think that Kissur took you with him on purpose? Did he know that we suspected him in drug trafficking and that they had refused his application to the military academy exactly because of this?" "Yes. Only, Kissur is a proud man and he will die before he says it out loud." Giles was biting his lips. "Where is Ashidan now?" he asked finally. "Ashidan stayed in the castle. More precisely, he stayed in the castle's cellar." Bemish specified. He paused and added, "You said that you had proof of Kissur's connection to drug dealers. Where did you get this proof?" "Make a guess." "Shavash?" Giles nodded and spoke, "But he could just be mistaken." Bemish blew up and banged his fist on the table, "There is no way this bastard could be mistaken!" he screamed, "You can fool the Earthmen from a sky far away and tell them that Kissur traffics in drugs! You can't fool Shavash! He has better spies that all the local gangsters combined! He knew for sure that Kissur had nothing to do with it! But he also knew that Kissur, if cornered, would sooner or later break his head!" "But Shavash is Kissur's friend..." "Friend? The only thing he wants is to get into Idari's bed! If Kissur keels over, before a year goes by, Idari will have a choice - either to go bumming or to marry Shavash!" Giles looked at Bemish and said suddenly, "I think that Mrs. Idari will also have the third alternative - to marry the Assalah spaceport director. Not that a barbarian from the stars could really allure her..." The Eleventh Chapter Where Terence Bemish's assistant goes to the sectants' meeting in Imissa while Kissur the White Falcon looks around the Galaxy for abandoned warheads. Two days later, Ashinik returned to the spaceport and he didn't drop a word about the Inissa meeting. It could not be ruled out that the zealots had made certain decisions and that these decisions could include an order for Ashinik to plant a bomb for Bemish or to throw it down a launching chute. But Bemish didn't have time to think about it. Three days later, Bemish wandered into his office for half an hour to dictate a whole pile of documents, Ashinik interrupted him calling from somewhere in the port. "Mr. Bemish, could you find an hour for me? There is a man here who would like to meet you. " "What man?" Bemish asked. "It's an... old man." Bemish was quite impressed. He cleaned up his office and changed his jacket, just in case; he hung his regular one in the closet and picked out a light grey jacket that had one very useful feature - it could resist a laser burst at a three meter distance. Ashinik led into the office an eighty-year-old man in peasant clothing, with white and bushy eyebrows, straight back and a square cap on a seemingly bald head. The old man looked at the Earthman with scary bulging eyes. "You," the old man said, "are the boss of this place. And who am I?" "You are probably," Bemish said, "the boss of the people who don't like this place." "We don't have bosses," the old man declared, "We have students and teachers." Bemish had nothing to reply, so he asked, "Would you like some tea?" Strangely, the old man agreed. Bemish ordered it and soon Inis entered the office carrying a tray with a teapot, cups, and several baskets filled with sweet cookies. The old man disapprovingly stared at Inis' skirt. It was exactly one meter shorter than what he would consider decent. Even Bemish, in the back of his mind, disapproved of Inis strolling in this skirt anywhere outside of his bedroom. But what could he do? Inis enjoyed very few things besides skirts and earrings and Bemish felt sorry for her and never contradicted her about her skirts. The main demon and the arch foe of the demons silently drank tea for a while. "How are you going to scamper from here to the sky?" the White Elder asked. "I walked around your construction and I saw holes going down but I haven't seen any ladders going to the sky." "We don't use ladders," Bemish explained patiently, "to go to the sky. We use space ships. Before starting, these ships stay in underground chutes, like pigeons resting in a pigeon house between flights." The White Elder looked at him with interest and Bemish started explaining where to and why ships flew. He tried very hard. He even got to the concept of an escape velocity when the old man interrupted him and asked, "Ok, I believe that you fly to the sky and not underground. But why wouldn't you still build a ladder so that people don't get confused?" Bemish suppressed a desire to burst into hysterical laughter. Then he recalled the stories about the zealots' cunning and how they enjoyed placing a man in absurd situations and watching his actions. What if the old man understood everything about space ships? He knew exactly that Bemish would be able to explain to him what an escape velocity was but he didn't know what Bemish would do after such a question. Bemish hadn't exactly shown himself in the best light and he stuck his nose in the tea cup. "Listen," the old man said, having realized that he wouldn't get an answer, "you talked to this puppy and to Kissur and to the great sovereign and even to this briber Shavash and you managed to find the common ground with everyone. How have you managed it?" "I don't know," Bemish said. "It probably happened because I always try to speak truth. People rarely tell the truth to each other. They either flatter each other and think that they are lying or they are rude to each and think that they are telling the truth. But they tell the truth very rarely." "What truth will you say about yourself? Will you admit that you are a demon?" "No," Bemish said, "I will not lie and say that I am a demon and I will not say that you are wrong. You see, I grew up in a country where they think that the people are always right. If so, many people feel themselves slighted, they must have reasons for it. If so many people hate Earthmen they must have reasons for it. I think that the main reason is that you are poorer than Earthmen. And I think that the only way to change it is to help you to become as rich as Earthmen. That's why I am building this spaceport." "You are connected to some very bad people," the old man said, "For instance, to a man named Shavash. He is a backside of the world, a jerboa turned into a man, a filthy duck with seven tongues and no soul. His black shadow found its way into our counsel and his black shadow stretches over the construction. Think upon my words." Having said this, the old man stood and left without bowing. Ashinik rushed out with him. X X X Three more days passed and Ashinik said, "Mr. Bemish, if you wish to talk to the White Elder again, you should be in the capital, in the hotel Archan the day after tomorrow at the dew hour." Bemish couldn't fall asleep throughout the night. Archan was unquestionably the Empire's most luxurious hotel. It was located in the Emperor's palace territory, where the place where the Cloud Houses for visiting officials used to be. Archan retained all the crazy luxury of the dwellings built for visiting provincial governors and judges of the ninth rank; additionally it acquired all the newest comforts, including computerized climate control. Evil tongues added that Archan also retained hidden passages that executioners had used to visit the governors called to the capital to receive capital punishment. The medieval spy holes had been adapted for communication equipment and much more modern surveillance hardware had taken over. The fact that White Elder stayed at Archan and not at a five star Hilton demonstrated that the sect not only had considerably more money that Bemish had suspected before but it also had some patrons at the very top. Who were these patrons? Clearly, it was not Shavash. The old man spoke about Shavash with fresh disgust. Bemish was ready to swear that an informer of Shavash's had either been near Iniss or even attended the meeting itself and that crabs had already feasted on him. Bemish lay in his bed and thought that maybe he, the main demon of the Empire, who never sent spies, never bribed and never intrigued, managed to succeed where the cunning official Shavash failed. He managed to make the White Elder, the Earthmen's enemy, reconsider his policy. "You are absent-minded tonight," Inis said. "Has anything happened?" Terence smiled in the dark. "It's nothing. Sleep little one." The woman carefully caressed his chest. "Oh, Mr. Bemish, I can feel that you are troubled. I hope that it's not due to the accounting error I made yesterday. If it's something else, why don't you tell me about it?" Bemish smiled slightly imagining Inis advising him. She, however, was right - he, indeed, needed advice. Bemish climbed out of bed and, having walked to the bathroom, dialed a number. Surprisingly, he heard an answer immediately even though it was quite late. "Mrs. Idari? This is Bemish. I need to talk to you." "I am listening, Terence." "It's not a phone conversation. I will be in the capital in two hours. May I see you?" "Yes." X X X Idari met him in the large living room. Bemish didn't ask about Kissur's whereabouts - the majordomo had already whispered to him that Kissur was on a pub crawl accompanied by two barbarians and one bandit. Idari wore a solemn house mistress dress - long black pants and a black blouse. The blouse's sleeves were embroidered with entwined flowers and stems. She was girdled by a wide belt of silver segments. She walked by Bemish carefully stepping on the beasts and grasses weaved on the rugs and Bemish felt as if her feet were stepping on his heart. Bemish sat down in a soft chair in the small living room and Idari sat cross legged across him on the carpet. "I am meeting the White Elder tomorrow," Terence said. Alarm crossed the woman's face. "Be careful, Terence, it has to be a trap. They can kill or kidnap you. You have tamed a kitten Ashinik but don't think that you have learned a forest tiger's habits." "It's not a trap," Bemish said. "They can't set a trap for my body in that place. But... You see... The sect is ready to reconsider its policy towards Earthmen." Idari smiled with her blue eyes. "I... I was happy at first. I was able to do what Shavash couldn't. You know how dangerous they are. But now I am afraid. The White Elder is doing me a huge favor. He will ask something in return. An eye for an eye. I want to know what it will be." "It's very simple," Idari said. "They say you are the foreigner who is the closest to the sovereign. The White Elder will ask you to persuade the sovereign to dismiss Shavash." Bemish shuddered. The negotiations concerning the company that would obtain a half of Chakhar's ore deposits in exchange for taking responsibility of one of the state loans were proceeding at full speed. The company even had a name, BOAR project. Nobody knew about the project yet, but... "But... But... Oh my God, it's impossible! Shavash will bankrupt me!" The woman smiled imperceptibly. "You should have realized what could happen, Terence, when you offered Ashinik a job. Or do you think that Following the Way would have let Ashinik serve a demon if they hadn't thought that the demon had made himself a snare they could catch him with?" Bemish arrived at Archan at eight thirty. The hotel's malachite columns gleamed and the mirrors on the lobby's walls were inlaid with the thinnest silver layers on top. Above the mirrors, where the gods had been depicted in the past, elegant clocks were now set; they showed the local time, Melbourn time - Melbourn being the Federation of Nineteen capital during this decade - and time in London, New York, Khoine and in a dozen other largest Galaxy's business centers. A certain disturbance was taking place in the hotel's lobby, a palace guardsman in a green caftan (palace guardsmen were in charge of hotel security) was silently and forcefully pushing a journalist with a camera away. Bemish approached the registration desk and expressed a wish to talk to the resident of room number fifteen on the hotel phone. The girl behind the desk was quite surprised. A hand touched Bemish on the back and the hand's owner turned Bemish around to face him in a somewhat impolite manner. "My dear fellow," he started unceremoniously and then he choked, thought a bit and asked tightly, "Mr. Bemish?" "That's me." The man with palace guard captain insignia was clearly nervous. "Excuse me," he said, "do I understand correctly that you were inquiring about the resident of the room number fifteen?" "Yes," Bemish said exasperatedly, "I have a meeting with him at nine." "It's impossible." "Why?" "An hour and a half ago the man who stayed in the room number fifteen and two bodyguards of his were killed by a bomb that exploded in the room." Bemish put his elbows on the desk and squeezed his temples with his hands in anguish and, right at that moment, a journalist hiding behind a large flower pot happily clicked his camera. X X X In half an hour Bemish rushed up Shavash's city manor staircase. The vice-minister was drinking his morning tea in the blue living room. "What happened, Terence?" he stood up in astonishment, meeting Bemish. "Murderer!" Bemish shouted. "What's happened?" "Don't play games with me!" "Are you talking about the Archan accident? Terence, honestly, I have nothing to do with it..." Shavash's face demonstrated sincere surprise and affection. Bemish's fist collided with this affectionate face maybe not at a half of his full power but definitely at one third of it. Shavash flew to the floor. He squeaked, rolled on the carpet and jumped on h