another department. He could not live in barracks, but had to find an apartment, like a civilian. His half pay did not permit him indulgence in the expensive pleasures of the city. While waiting for appointments to see this or that official, he spent his days in the library net of the Officers' Academy. He knew his education had been incomplete and was out of date. If his country was going to join the Ekumen, in order to be useful he must know more about the Alien ways of thinking and the new technologies. Not sure what he needed
to know, he floundered about in the network, bewildered by the endless information available, increasingly aware that he was no intellectual and no scholar and would never understand Alien minds, but doggedly driving himself on out of his depth.
A man from the Embassy was offering an introductory course in Ekumenical history in the public
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net. Teyeo joined it, and sat through eight or ten tec-ture-and-discussion periods, straight-backed and still, only his hands moving slightly as he took full and methodical notes. The lecturer, a Hainishman who translated his extremely long Hainish name as Old Music, watched Teyeo, tried to draw him out in discussion, and at last asked him to stay in after session. 'I should like to meet you, Rega,' he said, when the others had dropped out.
They met at a cafe. They met again. Teyeo did not like the Alien's manners, which he found effusive; he did not trust his quick, clever mind; he felt Old Music was using him, studying him as a specimen of The Veot, The Soldier, probably The
Barbarian. The Alien, secure in his superiority, was indifferent to Teyeo's coldness, ignored his distrust, insisted on helping him with information and guidance, and shamelessly repeated questions Teyeo had avoided answering. One of these was, 'Why are you sitting around here on half pay?'
'It's not by my own choice, Mr Old Music,'
Teyeo finally answered, the third time it was asked. He was very angry at the man's impudence, and so spoke with particular mildness. He kept his eyes away from Old Music's eyes, bluish, with the whites showing like a scared horse. He could not get used to Aliens' eyes.
'They won't put you back on active service?'
Teyeo assented politely. Could the man, however alien, really be oblivious to the fact that his questions were grossly humiliating?
'Would you be willing to serve in the Embassy Guard?'
That question left Teyeo speechless for a moment;
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then he committed the extreme rudeness of answering a question with a question. 'Why do you ask?'
'I'd like very much to have a man of your capacity in that corps,' said Old Music, adding with his appalling candor, 'Most of them are spies or blockheads. It would be wonderful to have a man I knew was neither. It's not just sentry duty, you know. I imagine you'd be asked by your government to give information; that's to be expected. And we would use you, once you had experience and if you were willing, as a liaison officer. Here or in other countries. We would not, however, ask you to give information to us. Am I clear, Teyeo? I want no misunderstanding between us as to what I am and am not asking of you.'
'You would be able .. - ?' Teyeo asked cautiously.
Old Music laughed and said, 'Yes. I have a string to pull in your Command. A favor owed. Will you
think it over?'
Teyeo was silent a minute. He had been nearly a year now in the capital and his requests for posting had met only bureaucratic evasion and, recently, hints that they were considered insubordinate. 'I'll accept now, if I may,' he said, with a cold deference.
The Hainishman looked at him, his smile changing to a thoughtful, steady gaze. 'Thank you,' he said. 'You should hear from Command in a few days.'
So Teyeo put his uniform back on, moved back to the City Barracks, and served for another seven years on alien ground. The Ekumenical Embassy was, by diplomatic agreement, a part not of Werel but of the Ekumen — a piece of the planet that no longer belonged to it. The Guardsmen furnished by
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Voe Deo were protective and decorative, a highly visible presence on the Embassy grounds in their white- and-gold dress uniform. They were also visibly armed, since protest against the Alien presence still broke out erratically in violence.
Rega Teyeo, at first assigned to command a troop of these guards, soon was transferred to a different duty, that of accompanying members of the Embassy staff about the city and on journeys. He served as a bodyguard, in undress uniform. The Embassy much preferred not to use their own people and weapons, but to request and trust Voe Deo to protect them. Often he was also called upon to be a guide and interpreter, and sometimes a companion. He did not like it when visitors from somewhere in space wanted to be chummy and confiding, asked him about himself, invited him to come drinking with them. With perfectly concealed distaste, with perfect civility, he refused such offers. He did his job and kept his.distance. He knew that that was precisely what the Embassy valued him for. Their confidence in him gave him a cold satisfaction.
His own government had never approached him to give information, though he certainly learned things that would have interested them. Voe Dean intelligence did not recruit their agents among veots. He knew who the agents in the Embassy Guard were; some of them tried to get information from him, but he had no intention of spying for spies.
Old Music, whom he now surmised to be the head of the Embassy's intelligence system, called him in on his return from a winter leave at home.
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The Hainishman had learned not to make emotional demands on Teyeo, but could not hide a note of affection in his voice greeting him. 'Hullo, Rega! I hope your family's well? Good. I've got a particularly tricky job for you. Kingdom of Gatay. You were there with Kemehan two years ago, weren't you? Well, now they want us to send an Envoy. They say they want to join. Of course the old King's a puppet of your government; but there's a lot else going on there. A strong religious separatist movement. A Patriotic Cause, kick out all the foreigners, Voe Deans and Aliens alike. But the King and Council requested an Envoy, and all we've got to send them is a new arrival. She may give you some problems till she leams the ropes. I judge her a bit headstrong. Excellent material, but young, very young. And she's only been here a few weeks. I requested you, because she needs your experience. Be patient with her, Rega. I think you'll find her likable.'
He did not. In seven years he had got accustomed to the Aliens' eyes and their various smells and colors and manners. Protected by his flawless courtesy and his stoical code, he endured or ignored their strange or shocking or troubling behavior, their ignorance and their different knowledge. Serving and protecting the foreigners entrusted to him, he kept himself aloof from them, neither touched nor touching. His charges learned to count on him and not to presume on him. Women were often quicker to see and respond to his Keep Out signs than men; he had an easy, almost friendly relationship with an old Terran Observer whom he had accompanied on several
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long investigatory tours. 'You are as peaceful to be with as a cat, Rega,' she told him once, and he valued the compliment. But the Envoy to Gatay was another matter.
She was physically splendid, with clear red-brown skin like that of a baby, glossy swinging hair, a free walk — too free: she flaunted her ripe, slender body at men who had no access to it, thrusting it at him, at everyone, insistent, shameless. She expressed her opinion on everything with coarse self-confidence. She could not hear a hint and refused to take an order. She was an aggressive, spoiled child with the sexuality of an adult, given the responsibility of a diplomat in a dangerously unstable country. Teyeo knew as soon as he met her that this was an impossible assignment. He could not trust her or himself. Her sexual immodesty aroused him as it disgusted him; she was a whore whom he must treat as a princess. Forced to endure and unable to ignore her, he_nated her.
He was more familiar with anger than he had used to be, but not used to hating. It troubled him extremely. He had never in his life asked for a
reposting, but on the morning after she had taken the makil into her room, he sent a stiff little appeal to the Embassy. Old Music responded to him with a sealed voice-message through the diplomatic link:
'Love of god and country is like fire, a wonderful friend, a terrible enemy; only children play with fire.
