"Having an epileptic fit, I rather fancy. Go on, old man," Cyril said
to Skkiru. "You're doing splendidly. Splendidly!"
"I see the sky!" Skkiru howled, anxious to get his prophecies over with
before he sank any deeper in the mud. "It is great magic. I see many
ships in the sky. They are all coming to Snaddra...."
"Bearing anthropologists and chocolate bars, I suppose," murmured
Cyril.
"Shhh," Raoul said indignantly. "You must not interrupt. He is having
personal contact with the supernatural, a very important element of the
primitive ethos."
"Thank you," Cyril said. "I'll try to remember that."
_So will I_, thought Skkiru. "They carry learned men and food for the
spiritually and physically hungry people of Snaddra," he interrupted
impatiently. "They carry warm clothing for the poor and miserable
people of Snaddra. They carry yams for the larcenous and frustrated
people of Snaddra."
"Yams!" Raoul echoed. "_Yams!_"
"Shhh, this is fascinating. Go on, beggar."
But the mud sogging over Skkiru's body was too much. The fit could be
continued at a later date--and in a drier location.
"Where am I?" he asked, struggling to a sitting position.
"You are on Snaddra, fifth planet of the sun Weebl," Raoul began, "in--"
"Weeeeebl," Skkiru corrected, getting to his feet with the older
ethnologist's assistance. "What happened?" He beat futilely at the mud
caught in the meshes of his metal rags. "I feel faint."
"Come in and have some coffee with us," Cyril invited. This also was
part of Skkiru's plan, for he had no intention of going back across
that mud, if he could possibly help it. He had nothing further
to say that the recorders should not hear. Bbulas might object to
his associating with the Earthmen, but he couldn't do much if the
association seemed entirely innocent. At the moment, Snaddra might be a
theocracy, but the democratic hangover was still strong.
"I would rather have some hot chocolate," Skkiru said. "That is, if you
have no objection to drinking with a beggar."
"My dear fellow--" Cyril put an arm around Skkiru's muddy
shoulders--"we ethnologists do not hold with caste distinctions. Come
in and have chocolate--with a spot of rum, eh? That'll make you right
as a trivet in a matter of seconds."
* * * * *
It wasn't until much later, after several cups of the finest chocolate
he had ever tasted, that Skkiru announced himself to feel quite
recovered.
"Please do not bother to accompany me to the door," he said. "I can
find my own way. You do me too much honor. I would feel shamefaced."
"But--" Cyril began.
"No," Skkiru said. "It is--it is bad form here. I insist. I must go my
way alone."
"All right," Cyril agreed.
Raoul looked at him in some surprise.
"All right," Cyril repeated in a louder tone. "Go by yourself, if an
escort would bother you. But please give the door a good bang, so the
lock will catch."
Skkiru slammed the door lustily to simulate the effect of departure
and then he descended via the secret passage inside the hut itself,
scrabbling a little because the hot chocolate seemed strangely to have
affected his sense of balance.
The rest of the Snaddrath were in the council chamber gloating over the
loot from the potlatch. It was, as a matter of fact, a good take.
"Where were you, Skkiru?" Bbulas asked, examining a jar of preserved
kumquats suspiciously. "Up to no good, I'll be bound."
"Oh, my poor Skkiru!" Larhgan exclaimed, before Skkiru could say
anything. "How muddy and wretched-looking you are! I don't like this
whole thing," she told Bbulas. "It's cruel. Being high priestess isn't
nearly as much fun as I thought it would be."
"This is not supposed to be fun," the Dilettante informed her coldly.
"It is in dead earnest. Since the question has been brought up,
however, what did happen to you, Skkiru?"
"I--er--fell down and, being a beggar, I had no other garments to
change into."
"You'll survive," Bbulas said unfeelingly. "On Earth, I understand,
people fall into mud all the time. Supposed to have a beneficial
effect--and any effect on you, Skkiru, would have to be beneficial."
Larhgan was opening her mouth to say something--probably, Skkiru
thought fondly, in his defense--when there came a thud and a yell from
the passage outside. Two yells, in fact. And two thuds.
"My faith," exclaimed a Terrestrial voice, "but how did the beggar
descend! I am sure every bone in my body is broken."
"I think you'll find him possessed of means of locomotion not known to
us. But you're not hurt, old chap--only bruised."
And Cyril came into the council chamber, followed by a limping Raoul.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I trust this is not an intrusion,
although I'm quite sure you'll tell us we've broken a whole slue of
tabus."
"You!" Bbulas screamed at Skkiru. "You must have used the passage in
the hut! You let them follow you!"
Losing control of his own reflexes, he began to whirl madly.
* * * * *
"But regard this!" Raoul exclaimed, staring around him. "To build a
place like this beneath the mud--name of a name, these people must
have hydraulic engineering far superior to anything on Earth!"
"You are too kind," the former hydraulic engineer said deprecatingly.
"Actually, it's quite simple--"
"This is not a primitive civilization at all, Raoul," Cyril explained.
"They've been faking it from tapes. Probably have a culture very much
like ours, with allowances for climatic differences, of course. Oh,
undoubtedly it would be provincial, but--"
"We are not provincial," Larhgan said coldly. "Primitive, yes.
Provincial, no! We are--"
"But why should they do a thing like this to us?" Raoul wailed.
"I imagine they did it to get on the trade routes, as Nemeth did.
They've been trying not to talk about Nemeth all the while. Must have
been rather a strain. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Cyril
told the assembled Snaddrath. "Very bad form!"
Bbulas was turning paler and paler as he whirled. "All your fault," he
gasped hoarsely to Skkiru. "All your fault!"
And that was true, Skkiru realized. His antennae quivered, but he
didn't even try to restrain them. He had meant well, yet he had messed
up the planet's affairs far more seriously than Bbulas had. He had
ruined their hopes, killed all their chances by his carelessness.
He, Skkiru, instead of being his planet's savior, was its spoiler. He
psonked violently.
But Larhgan moved nearer to him. "It's all over, anyhow," she whispered,
"and you know what? I'm glad. I'm glad we failed. I'd rather starve as
myself than succeed as a sham."
Skkiru controlled himself. Silently, he took the grimpatch out of his
carrier and, as silently, she took it back.
"My faith, they must have had plumbing all the time!" Raoul complained.
"Very likely," said Cyril sternly. "Looks as if we've suffered for
nothing."
"Such people!" Raoul said. "True primitives, I am sure, would never
have behaved so unfeelingly!"
Cyril smiled, but his face was hard as he turned back to the Snaddrath.
"We'll radio Gambrell in the morning to have a ship dispatched to pick
us up. I'm not sure but that we have a good case for fraud against you."
"We're destroyed!" Bbulas shrieked as the full emotional impact of
the situation hit him. "An interplanetary lawsuit would ruin Snaddra
entirely."
His cries were echoed in the howls of the other Snaddrath, their
antennae psonking, their eyes bulging.
* * * * *
Agonized by his sorrow, Bbulas lost all emotional restraint, forgot
about his Terrestrial training, and turned upside down in a spasm of
grief. Since there was no longer any reason to repress their natural
manifestation of feeling, all the Snaddrath followed suit, their
antennae twisting in frenzy as they ululated.
And then, to Skkiru's surprise and the surprise of all the rest, Cyril
stopped and took out his notebook. "Wait a minute," he said as Raoul
did likewise. All four Earthly eyes were shining with a glow that was
recognizable to any even remotely humanoid species as the glow of
intellectual fervor. "Wait just a minute! Our plans are altered. We may
stay, after all!"
One by one, the Snaddrath reversed to upright positions, but did not
retract their eyes, for they were still staring at the Earthmen. Skkiru
knew now what had been bothering him about the Terrestrials all along.
They were crazy--that was what it was. Who but maniacs would want to
leave their warm, dry planets and go searching the stars for strange
cultures, when they could stay quietly at home in peace and comfort
with their families?
Skkiru's hand reached out for Larhgan's and found it.