"Just look at the Shanni and smile, then smile _very_ benignly on the
Shannil."
While that was going on, Newhouse turned pleasantly to di Vino. "And
how are you and your wife, Your Eminence?"
"Quite well, thank you," said di Vino suavely. "We expect to have a
family before long, you know."
"Indeed? I hope your attempts will be successful."
"We all do," said the Shannil in a smooth voice. Looking at her,
Newhouse could see why, in spite of her alienness, she had been the
cause of di Vino's troubles.
There was a momentary silence around the room.
Then di Vino looked at Smith and said casually: "I don't know who you
are, Lieutenant, but if you can get me out of this mess, you can have
my right arm. To answer your question, my--uh--wife produces an egg
every sixty-five days or thereabouts. The fertilization has to take
place about twenty days before the cycle is completed. Since I've been
here, she's produced two. If the next one isn't fertile, I'll end up in
the family mausoleum, accompanied by much lamentation." He paused and
smiled at Captain Smith expectantly.
Smith smiled back. "I have a question, if you two don't mind. If that's
the case, it seems to me that these people could have a child every
sixty-five days. They'd have overrun the planet centuries ago."
"No," di Vino said. "Even the cycles have cycles--or epicycles, maybe.
The females produce three or four, stop for about four years before
another cycle comes on. I just happened to catch this girl at the wrong
time; otherwise, I wouldn't be married now."
"I see," said the captain. She smiled pleasantly.
Before di Vino could say anything in answer, the Shanni's voice cut
in--rather sharply, Newhouse thought. "Are you a relative of the
Kapteen, my dear?" she asked di Vino.
"No, Your Splendor," said di Vino.
"Well, in Oassi, well-bred princes don't speak to visiting ladies to
whom they are not related. And remember, my dear, you're an Oassi now."
"I beg forgiveness, your Splendor," di Vino said humbly.
That put somewhat of a chill on the whole dinner party. Conversation
from that point on was utterly innocuous and utterly boring.
Newhouse only got one more small piece of information. The Shanni's
consort, the Shann, had made a remark about having "produced his three
eggs," and further conversation elicited the information that each
Shanni or Shannil was supposed to have three children by her consort.
Newhouse marked it down in his mental files for later use when he
formed a plan.
* * * * *
When the meal was finally finished, the visitors were taken to their
quarters in a wing of the citadel reserved for visitors, well away
from the wing reserved for the Shanni and Shann.
The citadel itself was built strongly, with the thick walls of a
fortress, and the heavy silverwood doors--white as limed oak and hard
as teak--were capable of being barred from either side. Although the
Earthmen were not locked in, there was an "honor" guard in the hall
outside, and Newhouse had no doubt that any idea he might have of
roaming about the citadel would be politely but firmly vetoed.
* * * * *
The apartment that had been assigned to them was hardly comfortable by
modern Terrestrial standards, though a medieval English baron would
probably have been cozy enough.
"Looks like a jail, sir," said Sergeant Pemberton as he surveyed the
room.
"It is," said Newhouse. "I'm afraid that freedom of the grounds isn't
on our agenda." He walked over to the door that connected his and the
sergeant's room with the one next to it.
"Come in, Lieutenant," said Virginia Smith.
Newhouse pushed open the heavy door. "I'm going to take a flit about
the citadel, Captain," he said. "Would you and the sergeant whip up
something to eat? I shouldn't be gone long."
"All right. But watch yourself. My Supremacy might be a little hard put
to explain what you were doing if you got caught."
"Don't worry; I'm supposed to get an Earthman out of a jam, not get
another one in. You want to give me that harness?"
"Sure. Close the door and give me two minutes."
Newhouse did as he'd been asked. Captain Smith had been wearing an
antigrav harness under her robes. Since none of the three was obviously
carrying a sword, axe, or spear, it had been assumed that they were
unarmed, except, perhaps, for a small dagger or the like, which
was perfectly permissible. But the Oassi had no idea what the term
"miniaturization" meant. Newhouse, Pemberton, and Smith were all armed
to the teeth.
Even so, an antigravity unit required extra clothing to cover it; the
uniforms of Pemberton and Newhouse were a little too close-fitting to
hide it completely.
Captain Smith was better than her word. Less than two minutes later,
she opened the door and handed Newhouse the harness. The lieutenant
put it on and walked over to the narrow, slit-like window that looked
out on the courtyard.
Dynak was a moonless planet, and, at this time of year, the stars that
might have shone in the night sky were obscured by the black blanket of
a nearby dark nebula, a great dust-cloud that shrouded most of the sky.
Except for the flickering torches in the courtyard below and the glow
of candlelight from the windows of the citadel, the walls of the
citadel were in utter darkness. Certainly the guards forty feet below
couldn't see a man crawling along the walls, and they probably wouldn't
believe their eyes if they did.
Newhouse then adjusted the power unit to a point where he only weighed
a few ounces and lifted his feet off the floor, doubling his knees
up against his abdomen. Since his mass remained the same, he drifted
downwards very slowly under the slight pull of attenuated gravity.
"You're not completely neutralized," Captain Smith then pointed out.
"I don't want to be," Newhouse said. "I've got to have a little weight
so that I can get a fingertip purchase on that rough wall. Otherwise,
I'm likely to push myself away from it, and I don't want to use the
air jet unless I have to." He landed lightly on his heels and then
stood up slowly, so as not to push himself off the floor again. He
slid, rather than walked, back to the window. "Bye, kiddies," he said.
"Save me a sandwich." And he eased himself out the window.
* * * * *
He was gone longer than he had thought he would be. It took him nearly
an hour to find which of the windows in the royal wing opened into
Boccaccio di Vino's bedroom, moving himself carefully across the stone
wall of the citadel, avoiding windows, staying out of sight of the
patrols that walked the upper parapets, and keeping his ears open for
the distinctive sound of the Earthman's voice. He even found time to
curse the nomadic tribes that roamed the grass plains to the south
because their very existence kept the city of Oassi in a perpetual
state of preparedness against raids, which meant that there were
lookouts and guards all over the place and he had to be extra cautious.
At each window, he had to skirt around it, pause and listen, then
carefully ease a tiny spy-eye out to take a look inside, until he
found di Vino's quarters.
[Illustration: For the royal couple the future did not look bright.]
When he finally found them, he had to wait another ten minutes while di
Vino and the young Shannil concluded a rather strained conversation.
When the Shannil walked off toward her own room, Newhouse peeked his
head around the edge of the window and said: "Hssst! Di Vino!"
* * * * *
The young diplomat jerked his head around quickly. When he saw who it
was, he ran quickly to the window. "What is it?" he asked. "Are we
getting out of here?"
"Not just yet. I'm getting you out of here all nice and legal-like, if
I can. We won't use force except as the last resort." He didn't add
that such a "very last resort" might be too late for di Vino.
"But--how?"
"Never mind that now; I've got to get some information. It's vitally
necessary. I tried to get it at the banquet, but the Shanni shut you
up."
"Sure. Anything you want."
"Well, I know all about the cyclic pattern of Dynakian reproduction,
but I need _specific_ information. Times and dates, right down to the
minute, if possible."
"That's easy," di Vino said wryly. "The Shanni is keeping pretty
accurate records, and so is Oanella. She knows by now that I don't love
her, and she's going to be perfectly happy to get rid of me. She--"
"Never mind that now!" Newhouse snapped in irritation. "The _dates_
man! The _dates_!"
Hurriedly, di Vino told him. When he did, Newhouse breathed a sigh of
relief. "Good! We've got three days yet!" He fished into his jacket and
came out with a small, black cylinder a little larger than a cigarette,
with a small stud at one end. "You know how to use a sleep gun?"
Di Vino nodded.
"Good. Take it. Keep it on you at all times. Day after tomorrow when
Oanella goes to sleep for the night, use it on her. But, for heavens
sake, _wait till she gets to sleep_. Got that?"
"Right. Then what?"
"Then wait for me to show up. That sleep gun's got a signal built into
it. As soon as you shoot her, I'll know about it. All you'll have to
do is blow out your candles, so that there's no light coming from your
room. Got that?"
"I've got it. But--"
There were footsteps outside the door. "So long," Newhouse whispered.
"Don't slip up." He moved away from the window just as the door opened,
and he heard the Shannil say: "What's so interesting at the window,
dear? Getting homesick?" There was more than a trace of sarcasm in her
voice.
Newhouse made his way back to his own quarters as fast as he could.
"Hope I didn't worry anyone," he said as he popped into the window.
"Nope," said Pemberton. "We figured if you'd been caught there would
have been an uproar and we'd have heard about it. Come in and have a
sandwich. And some coffee."
"In a minute," said Newhouse. "I've got some radioing to do."
"The call box is on the table," said Captain Virginia Smith.
* * * * *
The next day was largely devoted to discussion between Her Supremacy,
the Captain, and Her Splendor, the Shanni, on the increased production
of _gakgak_ milk. The Shanni, after much careful negotiation, promised
that more would be forthcoming.
Newhouse, personally, had a hunch that the Shanni was trying to
negotiate a treaty with the southern nomads for _gakgak_ milk, with the
intent of selling it to the Earthmen at a profit--which was all right
with everyone, if she could swing it.
The third day was much like the second, but this time, Newhouse began
to inject something new into the discussions--presumably suggestions
from Captain Smith.
"Would it be possible, Your Splendor, to have the young Shannil's
consort return home for a space of--say, ten days?"
A wary look came into the old woman's eyes, but the smile never left
her face. "The Shannexa's home is Oassi," she said smoothly.
"True, true. We apologize for the error in terminology. Let us say,
rather, that we would like to have him visit his previous home."
The Shanni looked almost apologetic. "It would be my pleasure to allow
the dear child to revisit his old home," she said, "but, alas, it
cannot be."
"Indeed?"
"I fear not. The ancient laws of Oassi are very strict on that
point, and I would not dare to violate them. Even the Shanni is not
all-powerful. My people would disown me if I violated so powerful a
taboo."
"Just what is this--ah--law, Your Splendor?"
"A very ancient one, Your Supremacy. No royal consort may leave his
wife until he produces his three eggs. Three off-spring, in other
words, of which at least one must be a girl."
"Ah, well, of course, we would hesitate to ask you to violate so
powerful a law. We will be content to wait. But you will permit the
visit at that time?"
The Shanni smiled thinly. "I give you my solemn vow that he will be
permitted to leave when--and _if_--that time arrives."
_Well, well, well_, Newhouse thought to himself, _the old dame suspects
already that her daughter can never have children by di Vino. She's out
after his hide. And it's getting more obvious by the minute._
"And how long do you estimate that to be, Your Splendor?"
The Shanni's eyes became veiled. "You know our law. But, even if the
first egg is produced within the period, I'm afraid it would be another
four years before the next is produced. It would be four years at the
minimum before he could leave."
"Very well. So be it." The subject was dismissed as though it were a
light thing, but Newhouse already had what he wanted. Every Oassi
noble in the room had heard the Shanni make a solemn vow.
* * * * *
That night, Newhouse sat by his detector, waiting for it to give the
telltale blink that would come when di Vino fired the sleep gun. When
it did come, Newhouse already had his harness on, and he was out the
window before the glow had died in the telltale. He scuttled crabwise
across the great stone wall of the citadel, but this time he knew
exactly where he was going, and he made it in less than ten minutes.
Di Vino was waiting in the darkened window. "Thank heaven!" he
whispered. "I thought you'd never get here. Now what."
"Where is she?" Newhouse asked.
"Over on the bed."
"Good. Now put a blanket or something over that window so that the
guard can't see a light."
When the window was blacked out and a candle had been lit, Newhouse
bent over the unconscious female. The sleep gun had done its work well.
"All right, di Vino, help me get this harness on her. We're kidnapping
the Shannil."
"Kidnap the--" Di Vino choked and blinked. "But _I'm_ the one who's
supposed to get out of here."
"I'll explain the whole thing when she's gone. Come on! We haven't much
time!"
When the Shannil was securely fixed in the harness, Newhouse turned up
the power until her weight was a minus twenty pounds. Then he fastened
a length of strong plaston cording to the harness. Then he calmly
tossed her out the window. She fell upwards fairly rapidly.
When the cord was taut, Newhouse tied the end of it around the arm of a
heavy silverwood chair. "That's that," he said. "Now all we have to do
is wait."