"Had enough?" called Borel.
The robbers were arguing again, until finally one called out: "All right, don't shoot; we'll let you go." The oars resumed their regular rhythm, and the boat swung away towards the swamp. When it was safely out of range, some of the robbers yelled back threats and insults, which Borel could not understand at the distance.
The raftmen were slapping each other's backs, shouting: "We're good! Said I not we could lick a hundred robbers?" Yerevats babbled about his wonderful master.
Borel felt suddenly weak and shaky. If a mouse, or whatever they had on Krishna that corresponded to a mouse, were to climb aboard and squeak at him, he was sure he would leap into the muddy Pichide in sheer terror. However, it would not do to show that. With trembling hands, he inserted a cigarette into his long jewelled holder and lit it. Then he said:
"Yerevats, my damned boots seem to have gotten scuffed. Give them a shine, will you?"
II.
They tied up at Qou that evening to spend the night. Felix Borel paid off the raftmen, whom he overheard before he retired telling the innkeeper how they had (with some help from the Earthman) beaten off a hundred river pirates and slain scores. Next morning he bade them goodby, as they pushed off down the river for Majbur at the mouth of the Pichide, where they meant to sell their logs and catch a towboat back home.
Four long Krishnan days later, Borel was pacing the roof of his inn in Mishe. The capital of the Republic of Mikardand had proved a bigger city than he had expected. In the middle rose a sharp-edged, mesa-like hill surmounted by the great citadel of the Order of Qarar. The citadel frowned down upon Borel, who frowned right back as he cast and rejected one plan after another for penetrating not only the citadel but also the ruling caste whose stronghold it was.
He called: "Yerevats!"
"Yes, master?"
"The Garma Qararuma toil not, neither do they spin, do they?"
"Guardians work? No sir! Run country, protect common people from enemies and from each other. That enough, not?"
"Maybe, but that's not what I'm after. How are these Guardians supported?"
"Collect taxes from common people."
"I thought so. Who collects these taxes?"
"Squires of Order. Work for treasurer of Order."
"Who's he?" asked Borel.
"Is most noble garm Kubanan."
"Where could I find the most noble Sir Kubanan?"
"If he in citadel, no can see. If in treasury office, can."
"Where's the treasury office?"
Yerevats waved vaguely. "That way. Master want go?"
"Right. Get out the buggy, will you?"
Yerevats disappeared, and presently they were rattling over the cobblestone towards the treasury office in the light one-aya four-wheeled carriage Borel had bought in Qou. It had occurred to him at the time that one pictured a gallant knight as pricking o'er the plain on his foaming steed rather than sitting comfortably behind the steed in a buggy. However, since the latter procedure promised to be pleasanter, and Yerevats knew how to drive, Borel had taken a chance on the Mikardanders' prejudices.
The treasury office was in one of the big, graceless rough-stone buildings that the Quararuma used as their official architectural style. The doorway was flanked by a pair of rampant stone yekis: the dominant carnivores of this part of the planet, something like a six-legged mink blown up to tiger size. Borel had had the wits scared out of him by hearing the roar of one on his drive down from Qou.
Borel gathered up his sword, got down from the buggy, assumed his loftiest expression, and asked the doorman: "Where do I find the receiver of taxes, my good man?"
In accordance with the doorman's directions, he followed a hall in the building until he discovered a window in the side of the hall, behind which sat a man in the drab dress of the commoners of Mikar-dand.
Borel said: "I wish to see whether I owe the Republic any taxes. I don't wish to discuss it with you, though; fetch your superior."
The clerk scuttled off with a look compounded of fright and resentment. Presently another face and torso appeared at the window. The torso was clad in the gay coat of a member of the Order of Qarar, but judging from the smallness of the dragonlike emblem on the chest, the man was only a squire or whatever you'd call the grade below the true garma.
"Oh, not you," said Borel. "The head of the department."
The squire frowned so that the antennae sprouting from between his brows crossed. "Who are you, anyhow?" he said. "The receiver of taxes am I. If you have anything to pay—"
"My dear fellow," said Borel, "I'm not criticizing you, but as a past Grand Master of an earthly order and a member of several others, I'm not accustomed to dealing with underlings. You will kindly tell the head of your department that the garm Felix Borel is here."
The man went off shaking his head in a baffled manner. Presently another man with a knight's insignia stepped through a door into the corridor and advanced with hand outstretched.
"My dear sir!" he said. "Will you step into my chamber? Tis a pleasure extraordinary to meet a true knight from Earth. I knew not that such lived there; the Ertsuma who have come to Mikardand speak strange subversive doctrines of liberty and equality for the commonality—even those who claim the rank, like that Sir Erik Koskelainen. One can tell you're a man of true quality."
"Thank you," said Borel. "I knew that one of the Garma Qararuma would know me as spiritually one of themselves, even though I belong to another race."
The knight bowed. "And now what's this about your wishing to pay taxes? When I first heard it I believed it not; in all the history of the Republic, no man has ever offered to pay taxes of his own will."
Borel smiled. "I didn't say I actually wanted to pay them. But I'm new here and wanted to know my rights and obligations. That's all. Better to get them straightened out at the start, don't you think?"
"Yes—but—are you he who came hither from Quo but now?"
"Yes."
"He who slew Ushyarian the river pirate and his lieutenant in battle on the Pichide?"
Borel waved a deprecating hand. "That was nothing. One can't let such rogues run loose, you know. I'd have wiped out the lot, but one can't chase malefactors with a timber raft."
The Qararu jumped up. "Then the reward is due you!"
"Reward?"
"Why, knew you not? A reward of ten thousand karda has lain on the head of Ushyarian for years! I must see about the verification of your claim…"
Borel, thinking quickly, said: "Don't bother. I don't really want it."
"You don't wish it?" The man stared blankly.
"No. I only did a gentleman's duty, and I don't need it."
"But—the money's here—it's been appropriated—"
"Well, give it to some worthy cause. Don't you have charities in Mishe?"
The knight finally pulled himself together. "Extraordinary. You must meet the treasurer himself. As for taxes—let me see—there is a residence tax on metics, while on the other hand we have treaties with Gozashtand and some of the other states to exempt each other's gentlefolk. I know not how that would affect you—but concern yourself not, in view of your action in the matter of the reward. I'll put it up to the treasurer. Can you wait?"
"Sure. Mind if I smoke?"
"Not at all. Have one of these." The knight dug a bunch of Krishnan cigars out of a desk drawer.
After a few minutes, the official returned and asked Borel to come to the treasurer's office, where he introduced the Earthman to the treasurer of the Order. Sir Kubanan was that rarity among Krishnans, a stout man, looking a little like a beardless Santa Claus.