II

Eight miles into the rolling granite hills west of the capital, a

black-painted official air-car flying the twin flags of Chief of State

and Terrestrial Minister skimmed along a foot above a pot-holed road.

Slumped in the padded seat, the Boyar Chef d'Regime waved his cigar

glumly at the surrounding hills.

"Fifty years ago this was bare rock," he said. "We've bred special

strains of bacteria here to break down the formations into soil, and we

followed up with a program of broad-spectrum fertilization. We planned

to put the whole area into crops by next year. Now it looks like the

goats will get it."

"Will that scrubland support a crop?" Retief said, eyeing the

lichen-covered knolls.

"Sure. We start with legumes and follow up with cereals. Wait until you

see this next section. It's an old flood plain, came into production

thirty years ago. One of our finest--"

The air-car topped a rise. The Chef dropped his cigar and half rose,

with a hoarse yell. A herd of scraggly goats tossed their heads among a

stand of ripe grain. The car pulled to a stop. Retief held the Boyar's

arm.

"Keep calm, Georges," he said. "Remember, we're on a diplomatic

mission. It wouldn't do to come to the conference table smelling of

goats."

"Let me at 'em!" Georges roared. "I'll throttle 'em with my bare hands!"

A bearded goat eyed the Boyar Chef sardonically, jaw working. "Look at

that long-nosed son!" The goat gave a derisive bleat and took another

mouthful of ripe grain.

"Did you see that?" Georges yelled. "They've trained the son of a--"

"Chin up, Georges," Retief said. "We'll take up the goat problem along

with the rest."

"I'll murder 'em!"

"Hold it, Georges. Look over there."

A hundred yards away, a trio of brown-cloaked horsemen topped a rise,

paused dramatically against the cloudless pale sky, then galloped

down the slope toward the car, rifles bobbing at their backs, cloaks

billowing out behind. Side by side they rode, through the brown-golden

grain, cutting three narrow swaths that ran in a straight sweep from

the ridge to the air-car where Retief and the Chef d'Regime hovered,

waiting.

Georges scrambled for the side of the car. "Just wait 'til I get my

hands on him!"

Retief pulled him back. "Sit tight and look pleased, Georges. Never

give the opposition a hint of your true feelings. Pretend you're a goat

lover--and hand me one of your cigars."

The three horsemen pulled up in a churn of chaff and a clatter of

pebbles. Georges coughed, batting a hand at the settling dust. Retief

peeled the cigar unhurriedly, sniffed, at it and thumbed it alight. He

drew at it, puffed out a cloud of smoke and glanced casually at the

trio of Aga Kagan cavaliers.

"Peace be with you," he intoned in accent-free Kagan. "May your shadows

never grow less."

* * * * *

The leader of the three, a hawk-faced man with a heavy beard,

unlimbered his rifle. He fingered it, frowning ferociously.

"Have no fear," Retief said, smiling graciously. "He who comes as a

guest enjoys perfect safety."

A smooth-faced member of the threesome barked an oath and leveled his

rifle at Retief.

"Youth is the steed of folly," Retief said. "Take care that the

beardless one does not disgrace his house."

The leader whirled on the youth and snarled an order. He lowered the

rifle, muttering. Blackbeard turned back to Retief.

"Begone, interlopers," he said. "You disturb the goats."

"Provision is not taken to the houses of the generous," Retief said.

"May the creatures dine well ere they move on."

"Hah! The goats of the Aga Kaga graze on the lands of the Aga Kaga."

The leader edged his horse close, eyed Retief fiercely. "We welcome no

intruders on our lands."

"To praise a man for what he does not possess is to make him appear

foolish," Retief said. "These are the lands of the Boyars. But enough

of these pleasantries. We seek audience with your ruler."

"You may address me as 'Exalted One'," the leader said. "Now dismount

from that steed of Shaitan."

"It is written, if you need anything from a dog, call him 'sir',"

Retief said. "I must decline to impute canine ancestry to a guest. Now

you may conduct us to your headquarters."

"Enough of your insolence!" The bearded man cocked his rifle. "I could

blow your heads off!"

"The hen has feathers, but it does not fly," Retief said. "We have

asked for escort. A slave must be beaten with a stick; for a free man,

a hint is enough."

"You mock me, pale one. I warn you--"

"Only love makes me weep," Retief said. "I laugh at hatred."

"Get out of the car!"

Retief puffed at his cigar, eyeing the Aga Kagan cheerfully. The youth

in the rear moved forward, teeth bared.

"Never give in to the fool, lest he say, 'He fears me,'" Retief said.

"I cannot restrain my men in the face of your insults," the bearded Aga

Kagan roared. "These hens of mine have feathers--and talons as well!"

"When God would destroy an ant, he gives him wings," Retief said.

"Distress in misfortune is another misfortune."

The bearded man's face grew purple.

Retief dribbled the ash from his cigar over the side of the car.

"Now I think we'd better be getting on," he said briskly. "I've enjoyed

our chat, but we do have business to attend to."

The bearded leader laughed shortly. "Does the condemned man beg for the

axe?" he enquired rhetorically. "You shall visit the Aga Kaga, then.

Move on! And make no attempt to escape, else my gun will speak you a

brief farewell."

The horsemen glowered, then, at a word from the leader, took positions

around the car. Georges started the vehicle forward, following the

leading rider. Retief leaned back and let out a long sigh.

"That was close," he said. "I was about out of proverbs."

"You sound as though you'd brought off a coup," Georges said. "From the

expression on the whiskery one's face, we're in for trouble. What was

he saying?"

"Just a routine exchange of bluffs," Retief said. "Now when we get

there, remember to make your flattery sound like insults and your

insults sound like flattery, and you'll be all right."

"These birds are armed. And they don't like strangers," Georges said.

"Maybe I should have boned up on their habits before I joined this

expedition."

"Just stick to the plan," Retief said. "And remember: a handful of luck

is better than a camel-load of learning."

* * * * *

The air car followed the escort down a long slope to a dry river bed

and across it, through a barren stretch of shifting sand to a green

oasis set with canopies.

The armed escort motioned the car to a halt before an immense tent of

glistening black. Before the tent armed men lounged under a pennant

bearing a lion _couchant_ in crimson on a field verte.

"Get out," Blackbeard ordered. The guards eyed the visitors, their

drawn sabers catching sunlight. Retief and Georges stepped from the

car onto rich rugs spread on the grass. They followed the ferocious

gesture of the bearded man through the opening into a perfumed interior

of luminous shadows. A heavy odor of incense hung in the air, and the

strumming of stringed instruments laid a muted pattern of sound behind

the decorations of gold and blue, silver and green. At the far end of

the room, among a bevy of female slaves, a large and resplendently clad

man with blue-black hair and a clean-shaven chin popped a grape into

his mouth. He wiped his fingers negligently on a wisp of silk offered

by a handmaiden, belched loudly and looked the callers over.

Blackbeard cleared his throat. "Down on your faces in the presence of

the Exalted One, the Aga Kaga, ruler of East and West."

"Sorry," Retief said firmly. "My hay-fever, you know."

The reclining giant waved a hand languidly.

"Never mind the formalities," he said. "Approach."

Retief and Georges crossed the thick rugs. A cold draft blew toward

them. The reclining man sneezed violently, wiped his nose on another

silken scarf and held up a hand.

"Night and the horses and the desert know me," he said in resonant

tones. "Also the sword and the guest and paper and pen--" He

paused, wrinkled his nose and sneezed again. "Turn off that damned

air-conditioner," he snapped.

He settled himself and motioned the bearded man to him. The two

exchanged muted remarks. Then the bearded man stepped back, ducked his

head and withdrew to the rear.

"Excellency," Retief said, "I have the honor to present M. Georges

Duror, Chef d'Regime of the Planetary government."

"Planetary government?" The Aga Kaga spat grape seeds on the rug. "My

men have observed a few squatters along the shore. If they're in

distress, I'll see about a distribution of goat-meat."

"It is the punishment of the envious to grieve at anothers' plenty,"

Retief said. "No goat-meat will be required."

"Ralph told me you talk like a page out of Mustapha ben Abdallah Katib

Jelebi," the Aga Kaga said. "I know a few old sayings myself. For

example, 'A Bedouin is only cheated once.'"

"We have no such intentions, Excellency," Retief said. "Is it not

written, 'Have no faith in the Prince whose minister cheats you'?"

"I've had some unhappy experiences with strangers," the Aga Kaga said.

"It is written in the sands that all strangers are kin. Still, he who

visits rarely is a welcome guest. Be seated."