she wanted to lead–excitement, intrigue, adventure. And it seemed to agree with her.
Harry had been speaking to him. Joe suddenly became aware of his voice. «–You see, Joe, this is a wonderful thing we're doing out here, a wonderful world. It's busting open with high-grade ore, timber, organic produce, manpower. I've got a picture in my mind, Joe–Utopia.
«There's a good bunch of lads behind me, and we're working together. They're a little rough yet but they see this world the way I see it and they're willing to take a chance on me. To begin with, of course, I had to knock a few heads together but they know who's boss now and we're getting on fine.» Harry looked fondly over the crowd of Ballenkarts, any one of whom could have strangled him with one hand.
«In another twenty years,» said Harry, «you won't believe your eyes. What we're going to do to the planet! It's marvelous, I tell you, Joe. Excuse me now, for a few minutes. There's affairs of state.» He settled himself into his chair, looked from Mangs to Druids.
«We might as well talk it over now. I see it's all fresh and ripe in your minds. There's my old friend Hableyat.» He winked at Joe. «Foxy Grandpa. What's the occasion, Hableyat?»
Hableyat strutted forward. «Your Excellency, I find myself in a peculiar position. I have not communicated with my home government and I am not sure as to the extent of my authority.»
Harry said to a guard. «Find the Magnerru.» To Hableyat, «Magnerru Ippolito is fresh from Mangtse and he claims to speak with the voice of your Ampianu General.»
From an archway to the side a Mang approached–a sturdy square-faced Mang with the brightest of black eyes, a lemon-yellow skin, bright orange lips. He wore a scarlet robe embroidered with a border of purple and green squares, a cubical black hat.
Erru Kametin and the other Mangs of his party bowed deeply, saluting with outflung arms. Hableyat nodded respectfully, a fixed smile on his plump lips.
«Magnerru,» said Prince Harry, «Hableyat wants to know the extent of his freedom to make policy.»
«None,» rasped the Magnerru. «None whatever. Hableyat and the Bluewaters have been discredited in the Ampianu, the Lathbon sits with the Redbranch. Hableyat speaks with no voice but his own and it will soon be stilled.»
Harry nodded. «Then it will be wise to hear, before his demise, what his views are.»
«My Lord,» said Hableyat, his face still frozen in its jovial mask, «my words are trivial. I prefer to hear the enunciations of the Magnerru and of the two Arch-Thearchs we have with us. My Lord, I may state that the highest of Kyril face you–Arch-Thearchs Oporeto Implan and Gameanza. They will ably present their views.»
«My modest residence is thick with celebrities,» said Harry.
Gameanza stepped forward with a glittering glance for the Magnerru. «Prince Harry, I consider the present atmosphere unsuited to discussion of policy. Whenever the Prince desires–the sooner the better–I will communicate to him the trend of Druid policy together with my views in regard to the political and ethical situation.»
The Magnerru said, «Talk to the dry-mouthed slug. Listen to his efforts to fix the slave system on Ballenkarch. Then send him back to his fetid gray world in the hold of a cattle ship.»
Gameanza stiffened. His skin seemed to become brittle. He said to Harry in a sharp brassy voice, «I am at your pleasure.»
Harry rose to his feet. «Very well, we'll retire for half an hour and discuss your proposals.» He raised a hand to the Magnerru. «You'll have the same privilege, so be patient. Talk over old times with Hableyat. I understand he formerly occupied your position.»
Arch-Thearch Gameanza followed him as he jumped from the dais and left the hall and after moved the Arch-Thearch Oporeto Implan. Margaret waved a casual hand to Joe. «See you later.» She slipped away through another door.
Joe found a bench to the side of the room, wearily seated himself. Before him like a posed tableau stood the rigid Mangs, the exquisite wisp of flesh that was Elfane, Hableyat–suddenly gone vague and helpless– the Ballenkarts in their gorgeous costumes, troubled, confused, unused to the bickering of sharp wits, glancing uneasily at each other over heavy shoulders, muttering.
Elfane turned her head, gazed around the room. She saw Joe, hesitated, then crossed the floor, seated herself beside him. After a moment she said haughtily, «You're laughing at me–mocking me.»
«I wasn't aware of it.»
«You've found the man you were seeking,» she said with eyebrows arched. «Why don't you do something?»
Joe shrugged. «I've changed my mind.»
«Because that yellow-haired woman–Margaret–is here?»
«Partly.»
«You never mentioned her to me.» «I had no idea you'd be interested.»
Elfane looked stonily across the audience hall. Joe said, «Do you know why I changed my mind?»
She shook her head. «No. I don't.»
«It's because of you.»
Elfane turned back with glowing eyes. «So it
Joe sighed. «Every man can be a damn fool once in his life. At
She was not appeased. «Now, I suppose, if I sent you to look for someone you wouldn't go? That she meant more to you than I do?»
Joe groaned. «Oh Lord! In the first place you've never given me any reason to think that you–oh, hell!»
«I offered to let you be my lover.»
Joe eyed her with exasperation. «I'd like to...» He recalled that Kyril was not Earth, that Elfane was a Priestess, not a college girl.
Elfane laughed. «I understand you very well, Joe. On Earth men are accustomed to having their own way and the women are auxiliary inhabitants. And don't forget, Joe, you've never told
Joe growled, «I've been afraid to.»
«Try me.»
Joe tried and the happy knowledge came to him that, in spite of a thousand light-years and two extremes of culture, girls were girls.
Priestesses or co-eds.
Harry and the Arch-Druid Gameanza returned to the room and a set expression hung like a frame on the Druid's white face. Harry said to the Magnerru, «Perhaps you will be good enough to exchange a few words with me?»
The Magnerru clapped his hands in repressed anger against his robe, followed Harry into the inner chambers. Evidently the informal approach found no responsive chord in him.
Hableyat settled beside Joe. Elfane looked stonily to one side. Hableyat wore a worried expression. His yellow jowls hung flaccid, the eyelids drooped over his eyes.
Joe said, «Cheer up, Hableyat, you're not dead yet.»
Hableyat shook his head. «The schemes of my entire life are toppling into fragments.»
Joe looked at him sharply. Was the gloom exaggerated, the sighs over-doleful? He said guardedly, «I have yet to learn your positive program.»
Hableyat shrugged. «I am a patriot. I wish to see my planet prosperous, waxing in wealth. I am a man imbued with the culture of my world; I can conceive of no better way of life, and I wish to see this culture expand,
