beginning to suspect something of the solution. Whether I were right or not, I might never know; or I might learn it tomorrow. That depended largely upon whether or not I delivered the message to Spehon. I was almost minded to try to get out of the city and back to my ship; then fly to Sanara and lay the whole matter before Taman , whom I trusted. But my sometimes foolish sense of duty to a trust imposed in me soon put that idea out of my head. No, I would go on and carry out my orders—that was my duty as a soldier.
As I proceeded along the avenue the shops took on a more prosperous appearance, the trappings and jewels of the people on the street became richer. Gorgeously trapped gantors carried their loads of passengers to and fro or stopped before some shop while master or mistress entered to make a purchase. Before one brilliantly lighted building twenty or thirty huge gantors waited. When I came opposite the building, I looked in. It was a restaurant. The sight of the bright lights, the laughing people, the good food attracted me. The meager meal that Horjan had brought me had only served to whet my appetite. I entered the building, and as I did so I saw that it was apparently filled to capacity. I stood for a moment looking about for a vacant table, and was about to turn and walk out when an attendant came up to me and asked me if I wished to dine. I told him I did, and he led me to a small table for two where a woman was already seated.
'Sit here,' he said. It was a trifle embarrassing.
'But this table is occupied,' I said.
'That is all right,' said the woman. 'You are welcome to sit here.'
There was really nothing else for me to do but thank her and take the vacant chair. 'This is very generous of you,' I said.
'Not at all,' she assured me.
'I had no idea, of course, that the attendant was bringing me to someone else's table. It was very presumptuous of him.'
She smiled. She had a very lovely smile. In fact she was a very good-looking woman; and, like all the civilized women of Amtor that I had seen, apparently quite young. She might have been seventeen or seven hundred years old. That is what the serum of longevity does for them.
'It was not so presumptuous as it might seem,' she said; 'at least not on the part of the attendant. I told him to fetch you.'
I must have looked my surprise. 'Well, of course, that was very nice of you,' was the only banality I could think of at the moment.
'You see,' she continued, 'I saw you looking for a table, there was a vacant chair here, I was alone and lonely. You don't mind, do you?'
'I'm delighted. You were not the only lonely person in Amlot. Have you ordered?'
'No; the service here is execrable. They never have enough attendants, but the food is the best in town. But of course you have eaten here often—everyone eats here.'
I didn't know just what position to take. Perhaps it would be better to admit that I was a stranger rather than pretend I was not and then reveal the fact by some egregious error that I would be certain to make in conversation with any person familiar with Amlot and the manners and customs of its people. I saw that she was appraising me closely. Perhaps it would be more correct to say inventorying me—my harness, my other apparel, my eyes. I caught her quizzical gaze upon my eyes several times. I determined to admit that I was a stranger when our attention was attracted to a slight commotion across the room. A squad of Zani Guards was questioning people at one of the tables. Their manner was officious and threatening. They acted like a bunch of gangsters.
'What's all that about?' I asked my companion.
'You don't know?'
'It is one of the many things I don't know,' I admitted.
'About Amlot,' she concluded for me. 'They are looking for traitors and for Atorians. It goes on constantly in Amlot nowadays. It is strange you have never noticed it. Here they come now.'
Sure enough, they were heading straight across the room for our table, and their leader seemed to have his eyes on me. I thought then that he was looking for me in particular. Later I learned that it is their custom to skip around a place, examining a few people in each. It is more for the moral effect on the citizens than for anything else. Of course they do make arrests, but that is largely a matter of the caprice of the leader unless a culprit has been pointed out by an informer.
The leader barged right up to me and stuck his face almost into mine. 'Who are you?' he demanded. 'Give an account of yourself.'
'He is a friend of mine,' said the woman across the table. 'He is all right, kordogan.'
The man looked at her, and then he wilted. 'Of course, Toganja,' he cried apologetically; then he marched his men away and out of the restaurant.
'Perhaps it was very well for me, in addition to having your company, that this was the only vacant chair in the restaurant; although I really had nothing to fear. It is just disconcerting for a stranger.'
'Then I guessed correctly? You are a stranger?'
'Yes, Toganja; I was about to explain when the kordogan pounced on me.'
'You have credentials though?'
'Credentials? Why, no.'
'Then it is very well for you that I was here. You would certainly have been on your way to prison now and probably shot tomorrow—unless you have friends here.'
'Only one,' I said.
'And may I ask who that one is?'
'You.' We both smiled.
'Tell me something about yourself,' she said. 'It doesn't seem possible that there is such an innocent abroad in Amlot today.'
'I just reached the city this afternoon,' I explained. 'You see, I am a soldier of fortune. I heard there was fighting here, and I came looking for a commission.'
'On which side?' she asked.
I shrugged. 'I know nothing about either side,' I said.
'How did you get into the city without being arrested?' she demanded.
'A company of soldiers, some workers, and a few farmers were coming through the gate. I just walked through with them. Nobody stopped me; nobody asked me any questions. Did I do wrong?'
She shook her head. 'Not if you could get away with it. Nothing is wrong that you can get away with. The crime is in getting caught. Tell me where you are from, if you don't mind.'
'Why should I mind? I have nothing to conceal. I am from Vodaro.' I remembered having seen a land mass called Vodaro on one of Danus's maps. It extended from the southern edge of the south temperate zone into the terra incognita of the antarctic. Danus said that little was known of it. I hoped that nothing was known of it. Nothing less than I knew of it could be known.
She nodded. 'I was sure you were from some far country,' she said. 'You are very different from the men of Korva. Do all your people have blue eyes?'
'Oh, yes, indeed,' I assured her. 'All Vodaroans have blue eyes, or nearly all.' It occurred to me that she might meet a Vodaroan some day who had black eyes. If she got to inquiring around right in this restaurant she might find one. I didn't know, and I wasn't taking any chances. She seemed to be quite an alert person who liked to seek after knowledge.
An attendant finally condescended to come and take our order, and after the dinner arrived I found that it was well worth waiting for. During the meal she explained many things about conditions in Amlot under the rule of the Zanis, but so adroit was she that I couldn't tell whether she was a phile or a phobe. While we were in the midst of dinner another detachment of the Zani Guard entered. They went directly to a table next to us where a citizen who accompanied them pointed out one of the diners.
'That is he,' he cried accusingly. 'His great-grandmother was nursed by an Atorian woman.'
The accused rose and paled. 'Mistal!' cried the kordogan in charge of the detachment, and struck the accused man heavily in the face, knocking him down; then the others jumped on him and kicked and beat him. Finally they dragged him away, more dead than alive. (A mistal is a rodent about the size of a cat. The word is often used as term of approbrium, as one might say 'Pig!').
'Now what was all that about?' I asked my companion. 'Why should a man be beaten to death because his
