"Yes, my son? Come in."
"Thank you, Father. Good morning, Captain, sir."
"Sit down, my son. Now, Captain, as I was saying: no segregation. It's
contrary to the spirit, if not the wording, of the _Jarcon_."
"But Father! A crewman! In the officers' corridor! Think!"
"Before the Prophet, we are all equal. I'm sorry, Captain. Now on
Koltah, we practiced it with very good results, and...."
"I say, really--"
"Father?" said the crewman who had just entered.
"Yes, my son. In one moment. Now, Captain. As I have been explaining:
The arena method has advantages. In Koltah we always used it. But
here--due to the--ah--exigencies of deep space--I feel convinced that
a departure from normal procedure is warranted. It is not without
precedent. Such things were fairly common, _in astoli tavoro_, up
until centralization, three hundred years before Allth. Indeed, in my
home city--Koltah--in the year of the seventh plague, a most unusual
expedient was adopted. It seems...."
"You're perfectly correct, of course," the captain said.
"That's just what I wanted to see you about, Father," the crewman said.
"Now, in my city state of Ni, for the Festivals, we...."
"Shut up," said the captain softly.
"Yes, sir."
"Now, as I was saying, Captain, when the methods used in...."
"If you'll excuse me, Father, I really should return to duty," said the
crewman.
"Quite all right, my son. Close the door after you."
"I must say, fellow, your sense of duty is commendable."
"Well, uh, thank you, sir. And thank you, Father, for your time."
"Quite all right, my son. That's what I'm here for. Come in as often as
you like."
The crewman closed the door after him.
* * * * *
He had been gone only a moment, scarcely time for Nestir to get
properly launched on his account, when Harry, the third mate, knocked
on the door and was admitted.
"Oh? Good morning, Captain. I didn't know you were here." Then, to the
priest: "I'll come back later, Father."
"Nonsense," said the captain. "Come in."
"Well, I had hoped to see the Father for a minute on ... private
business."
"I have to be toddling along," said the captain.
"But Captain! I haven't finished telling you about...."
"I'll just go down and get a cup of coffee," the captain said.
"I'll call you when I'm through," said Harry.
The captain left the room.
"It's about Wanda, Father," said the third mate.
The priest studied the table top. He rearranged some papers. "Ah, yes.
The young girl."
"Well, I mean, it's not only about Wanda," said Harry. "You see, my
wife, Jane, that is...."
"Yes?" said the priest. He took his pen out of the holder.
"I think, with the proper ... ah ... you know. What I mean is, I think
she might look with favor on you in the Changing of the Wives, if I
said a few well chosen words in your behalf."
"That is very flattering, my son." He returned the pen to the holder.
"Such bounty, as it says in the _Jarcon_, is _cull tensio_."
"And with your permission, Father...."
"Ah...."
"She's a very pretty woman."
"Ah.... Quite so."
"Well, about Wanda. I really shouldn't mention this. But Father, if we
_are_ short one woman...."
"Hummmm."
"I mean, the girls might think a man gets rusty."
"I see what you mean." Nestir blinked his eyes. "It wouldn't be fair,
all things considered."
He stood up.
"I may tell you, my son, that, in thinking this matter over last night,
I decided that Wanda--ah--Miller, yes, has had sufficient duty to merit
participation in the Festival."
"Justice is a priestly virtue," Harry said.
"And you really think your wife would...?"
"Oh, yes, Father."
"Well, ahem. But...."
"Yes, Father?"
"_Ad dulce verboten._"
"Uh?"
"That is to say, in order for a woman to join in the ritual of the
Changing of the Wives, she must, ahem, be married."
"I never thought of that," said the third mate disconsolately.
"I think that can be arranged, however," said Nestir. "If you go by the
mess hall on your way out, please tell the captain we can continue our
discussion at his pleasure."