This is how Khanadar never received his Nobel Prize, but it's an old story and we should come back to Terence Bemish.
The next day, Khanadar, Kissur, Bemish, and two servants loaded themselves in a helicopter and flew to the Blue Mountains. They harpooned large white fishes and had many fistfights. Sun and merriness were abundant. The helicopter rotated its winglets next to a raspberry colored tent with silver stakes; the slaves brought horses for the evening. Four days went by.
Khanadar asked Bemish what brought him to the Country of the Great Light and Bemish told him what he had already told Kissur. Khanadar the Dried Date said the foreigner would drown in the paperwork, and Kissur said that they should help him.
On Friday afternoon they flew to the Kissur's palace — the first guests were already crowding there. Kissur introduced Bemish to the Shavash's direct boss — minister of finance — and to the minister of police and to many other respectable people. Shavash was also there. The minister of finance told Bemish that his — minister of finance's — friend had seen Bemish's friend, Welsey, and he was the fairest and the most honest man. The minister of police told Mr. Bemish that, from this moment on, the goal of his life would be to do what Mr. Bemish tells him to. The foreign trade minister invited Mr. Bemish to his mansion and told him that he would roll his Iniss carpet out under the wheels of the Mr. Bemish's car.
Bemish didn't remember how exactly it all got to the signatures. By that time the heads of the Empire were drunk and Bemish was drunk even more. The minister of police called his secretary and commanded to find a man named Welsey immediately, take the papers from him and bring them here. The secretary was probably drunk too and he, moreover, had with him a girl that was licking his ear. In an hour, the papers were delivered to Bemish.
Bemish didn't really remember the rest. He remembered how roses poured down from the ceiling, how some drunk girl jumped across a golden ring entwined with burning paper, how they waded in a large pond with the girls, how he couldn't share a girl with somebody, in the God's name, how was it possible not to share a girl if there were two of them per man? Wasn't he pissed off at Welsey? He remembered perfectly well how he got pissed off at Welsey. Puritan! Pig! He just handed the papers rudely over to the secretary but he refused to come himself.
Bemish decided that he would drive to the hotel and get Welsey. They were probably trying to stop him. But Bemish outfoxed them — he tore through the grapevines, got in the car and went for the banker. Yes, he had the papers with him and he knew for sure that they were signed.
But who collected the signatures? For God's sake, he couldn't remember. Kissur was likely to get them — he was more sober than others and though he drank he wasn't getting drunk. Or… No, it was not Kissur, it was Shavash — Shavash, smiling gently, was handing a form over to the minister of finance while Kissur, yowling horribly, was cutting some rag with a sword on a bet.
X X X
Bemish was splashing in the shower, when somebody knocked in the door. Welsey opened it — a large basket stood by the door and an errand boy looked from behind.
'The gifts from Mr. Ireda for Mr. Bemish, ' he declared, unloaded the basket and he was off.
Welsey carried the basket in the room but, before he arranged it on the table, somebody knocked in the door again. Welsey opened the door — the messenger had a blue caftan on instead of a yellow one and had a casket entwined with bands instead of a basket.
'Let Mr. Bemish accept these trifles from Mr. Ranik and a portal to the heaven open in his soul, ' the messenger said.
Welsey put the casket on the bed and noticed something leaking from the basket. He hurried to the basket. Right then, wet and sad from the hangover Bemish looked out of the shower. The phone rang and somebody knocked in the door the same moment.
'Come in,' Bemish said and picked up the receiver.
'Yes.'
'Mr. Bemish,' a soft caressing voice said in the receiver, 'it's Shavash speaking, vice-minister of finance. I would be happy if you could visit me at 2pm.'
'Of course, ' Bemish said and put the receiver down. The door slid open.
'Let me introduce you, Welsey, ' Bemish said, 'to Kissur. Kissur, this is Welsey. As I have told you before, he is represents LSV bank here.'
Kissur and Welsey looked at each other. Kissur saw a skinny young Earthman with a face white and round like a headache pill. Welsey saw a blue-eyed rascal, a bit above thirty, with a real golden chain on his neck descending all the way down to the belt on the narrow washed down jeans. In the open shirt neck there was a tattoo — a bird of prey crossed by a pink scar. Welsey learned later that this was a falcon and this way of tattooing was an old custom of the barbarian aloms. If they cut a war chief head off in a battle and undressed him, how else would it be possible to recognize the body?
Kissur looked at Welsey and said,
'Listen, Terence, you want to buy the spaceport but what is this whey-faced fish doing here?'
'I explained it to you,' Bemish replied, 'I don't have money. LSV gets money for me.'
'Will they loan it to you?'
'They will underwrite the bonds.'
Kissur pondered it and asked then,
'What interest do these usurers charge you?'
'The interest on the bonds will be sixteen percent.'
'Why is it so expensive?' Kissur was aggravated.
'Because there is no collateral,' Welsey gave voice, 'if the company goes bankrupt, it won't have any property it could sell off to cover the debts.'
'Shut up, leech,' Kissur recoiled, 'nobody is asking you. By the sovereign Irshakhchan laws, usurers were boiled in oil and the Golden Sovereign forbade interest rates higher than 3 %'
'What was the inflation rate at the Golden Sovereign?' Welsey inquired.
'I don't know what the heck the inflation is,' Kissur declared, 'but I do know that the Golden Sovereign would hang the first official, who tried to arrange it, so high that nobody would even dream of it afterwards.'
Welsey kept a shocked silence.
'Well, let's go? Kissur told Bemish.
'Stephen?'
'I would rather take a nap,' Welsey uttered nervously — he didn't want to get himself deeper in a capital market discussion with Kissur.
In a moment, Kissur and Bemish were downstairs, missing another basket of gifts on the way.
They got in a car and Kissur dished out a wad of money to Bemish. Bemish was dumbfounded,
'What the heck?!'
'We, ' Kissur said, 'are going to Mr. Ireda. The man was nice to you — you should express your gratitude.'
'But…' Bemish started.
They arrived to Ireda's palace in half an hour and gave him money. Ireda's palace was located right next to the sovereign's palace wall.
The wall was huge and thick; wooden silvered geese stood on the top lowering their heads and looked down with disapproval. Coolness flowed from the yawning gate in the middle of the wall oozed like from a well and all the space in front of the gates was crammed with multi-hued cars.
'The Gate of the Barbarians,' Kissur said.
'Eh?'
'In the ancient times, there were four gates facing four sides of the world.the Gate of the Emperor's Paramount Appearance, the Gate of the Officials, the Gate of the Commoners, and the Gate of the Barbarians. Dumb illiterate chiefs in loincloths entered the palace through the Gate of the Barbarians. I was ten year old when they brought me to the palace via the Barbarians Gate and all my friends teased me and laughed at me.'
Kissur was silent for a moment.
'Now, only Earthmen enter the palace through the Barbarian Gate.'
