"Er--yes. Merely having My Bit of Fun, you know." He hastily inspected
the exterior of the alleged foods. "There appear to be legends
inscribed upon the containers. Perchance, were we to read them, they
might give a clue as to their contents."
"Oh, Omniscent One," the princess exclaimed, "truly You are Wise and
Sapient indeed, and it is I who was the fool to have doubted for so
much as an instant."
"Oh you doubted, did you?" Terrible Zen frowned terribly. "Well, see
that it doesn't happen again." He had no intention of losing his divine
authority at this stage of the game.
"Your Will is mine, All-Wise One. And I think You had best materialize
a few pair of arms as well as Your August and Awe-inspiring
Countenance, for there is much work to be done."
* * * * *
Since the partitions were thin, Zen and the princess could hear most of
the conversation in the main room. "... First thing to do," Kendrick's
voice remarked, "is find out whether we're permitted to attend one
of their religious ceremonies, where Zen is said to manifest himself
actually and not, it is contended, just symbolically...."
"The stove is here, Almighty," the princess suggested, "not against the
door where you are pressing Your Divine Ear."
"Shhh. What I hear is fraught with import for the future of the planet.
Moolai Uxen."
"Moolai Uxen," the princess replied automatically.
"... I wonder how hard it'll be to crash the services," Kendrick went
on. "Most primitives don't like outsiders present at their ritual
activities."
"Especially if there _are_ actual manifestations of their god,"
Hammond contributed. "That would mean the priests are up to some sort
of trickery, and they wouldn't care to run the risk of having us see
through--"
He was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen.
"Are you all right, Iximi!" he yelled. "Need any help?"
"All is well!" she called back. "But, I pray you, do not enter,
masters. The reverberation was part of a rite designed to deflect evil
spirits from the food. Were a heretic to be present or interrupt the
ceremonies, the spell would be voided and the food contaminated."
"Okay!" Peter returned and, in a lower tone, which he probably thought
she could not overhear, "Seems you were right."
"Naturally." There was complacency in the professor's voice. "And now
let us consider the validating features of the social structure as
related to the mythos--and, of course, the ethos, where the two are not
coincident--of the Uxenians...."
"Imagine," Zen complained in the kitchen, "accusing _Me_ of being a
mere trick of the priesthood--Supreme Me!"
"Supreme Butterfingers!" the princess snapped, irritation driving her
to the point of sacrilege. "You spilled that red stuff, the ..." she
bent over to read the legend on the container "... the ketchup all over
the floor!"
"The floor is relatively clean," Zen murmured abstractedly. "We can
scoop up the substance and incorporate it in whatever dainty dish we
prepare for the Earthlings' repast. Now they'll think that I, Zen the
Accessible, am difficult to have audience with," he mourned, "whereas I
was particularly anxious to hold converse with them and discover what
quest brings them to Uxen. That is," he added hastily, remembering he
was omniscient, "just how they would justify its rationale."
"Shall we get on with our culinary activities, Almighty One?" Iximi
asked coldly.
If the Most Fair and Exalted had a flaw, Zen thought, it was a
one-track mind.
* * * * *
"What in hell did you put in this, Iximi?" Kendrick demanded, after
one taste of the steaming casserole of food which she had set proudly
before the two Earthmen.
"Ketchup, that's for sure...." Peter murmured, rolling a mouthful
around his tongue as he sought to separate its component flavors. "And
rhubarb, I should say."
"Dried fish and garlic...." Kendrick made further identifications.
"And a comestible called marshmallow," Iximi beamed. "You like it? I am
_so_ glad!"
"I do _not_--" Kendrick began, but Peter intervened.
"It's very nice, Iximi," he said tactfully, "but I guess we're just
used to old run-of-the-mill Earth cooking. It's all our fault; we
should have given you a recipe."
"I had a recipe," Iximi returned. "It came to me by Divine Inspiration."
Kendrick compressed his lips.
"Useful sort of divinity they have around here," Peter said.
"Everything that goes wrong seems to take place in the name of
religion. Are you sure you didn't happen to overhear us talking before,
Iximi?"
"Don't be silly, Hammond!" Kendrick snapped. "These simple primitives
do not have the sophistication to use their religious beliefs
consciously as rationalization for their incompetence."
"Even had I wished to eavesdrop," Iximi said haughtily, "I would hardly
have had the opportunity; I was too busy trying to prepare a palatable
repast for you and--" her voice broke--"you didn't like it."
"Oh, I did like it, Iximi!" Peter protested. "It's just that I'm
allergic to rhubarb."
"Wait!" she exclaimed, smiling again. "For dessert I have an especial
surprise for you." She brought in a dish triumphantly. "Is this not
just how you have it on Earth?"
"Stewed cigarettes with whipped cream," Kendrick muttered. "Stewed
cigarettes! Where on Ear--on Uxen did you find them?"
"In a large box with the other puddings," she beamed. "Is it not highly
succulent and flavorful?"
The two scientists sprang from their chairs and dashed into the
kitchen. Iximi stared after them. When they returned, they looked much
more cheerful. They seated themselves, and soon fragrant clouds of
smoke began to curl toward the ceiling.
_They are calling me at last_, Zen thought happily, _and with such
delightful incense! Who wants chants anyway?_
"But what are you _doing_!" the princess shrieked.
* * * * *
Zen hastened to manifest himself, complete with fourteen nostrils,
before she could spoil everything. "The procedure is most unorthodox,"
he murmured aloud, "but truly this new incense has a most delicious
aroma, extremely pleasing to My Ego. What is your will, oh, strangers?"
"All-Merciful Zen," the princess pleaded, "forgive them, for they knew
not what they did. They did not mean to summon You."
"Then who," asked Zen in a terrible voice, "is this wonderful smoke
for? Some foreign god whom they worship on My Territory?" And he
wouldn't put it past them either.
Peter looked at the anthropologist, but Kendrick was obviously
too paralyzed with fright to speak. "As a matter of fact,
Your--er--Omnipotence," the physicist said haltingly, "this is not part
of our religious ritual. We burn this particular type of incense which
we call tobacco, for our own pleasure."
"In other words," Zen said coldly, "you worship yourselves. I work and
slave My Godhood to the bone only to have egotists running all over My
Planet."
"No, it's nothing like that at all," Kendrick quavered. "We smoke the
tobacco to--well--gratify our appetites. Like--like eating, you know."
"Well, you will have to forego that pleasure," Zen said, frowning
terribly. Even the tall one cowered, he noted with appreciation. It had
been a long time since people had really cringed before his frown. The
Uxenach had come to take him too much for granted; they would learn
their mistake. "From now on," he said portentously, "the tobacco must
be reserved for My Use alone. Smoke it only for purposes of worship.
Once a day will be sufficient," he added graciously, "and perhaps
twice on holy days."
"But we do not worship alien gods," Kendrick persisted in a shaky
voice. "Even if you _were_ a god...."