"What holiday, stupid? Which one?"
"I--I dunno."
"Lazzy-day!" Janie cried. "That's what it is. Then he's--he's--"
"Lazarus!" Freckle-Face told her, and, as if on one impulse, the three
of them bolted away from Eric, disappeared through another doorway.
He did not follow them. He stood there, waiting, and before long
he heard footsteps returning. A man entered the room, tall, thin,
middle-aged.
"You are Eric Taine," he said, smiling. "I'm sorry no one was around to
greet you, but the way we had it figured, you wouldn't come out till
later this afternoon. History says that's how it worked with the six
before you, about four P.M. It's just noon now. Will you follow me,
please?"
Then the man flushed faintly. "Excuse me, but it isn't often we
meet strangers. Everyone knows everyone else, of course. My name is
Lindquist, Mr. Taine. Roger Lindquist."
Eric shook hands with him, stiffly, and he thought for a moment the man
did not know the gesture. "Ah yes, handshaking," Lindquist laughed.
"We simply show empty palms now, you know. But then, you don't know. I
rather imagine you'll have a lot to learn."
Eric nodded, asked Lindquist if he might be shown about the ship.
There was a lot he had to see, to check, to change if change were
needed.
"Relax, my friend," Lindquist told him. "I'd--ah, like to suggest that
we postpone your tour until you've met with our Council this afternoon.
I'd very much like to suggest that."
Eric shrugged, said: "You know more about this than I do, Mr.
Lindquist. We'll wait for your Council meeting."
* * * * *
"Thus, Mr. Taine," said Captain Larkin, hours later, "tradition has it
that you become a king. King Lazarus Seven--with six Lazaruses before
you. The first one, the histories say, was a joke. But it's stuck
ever since. The people like this idea of a king who comes to them
every twenty five years--and they've dubbed him with the name Lazarus,
well, because if he didn't come back from the dead, he came back from
something a lot like it."