The previous conversation more or less repeated itself, except that the treasurer proved a garrulous old party with a tendency to ramble. He seemed fascinated by Borel's medals.
"This?" said Borel, indicating the basketball medal. "Oh, that's the second degree of the Secret Order of Spooks. Very secret and very powerful; only admits men who've been acquitted of a murder charge…"
"Wonderful, wonderful," said Kubanan at last. "My dear sir, we will find a way around this tax matter, fear not. Perish the thought that one so chivalrous as yourself should be taxed like a vulgar commoner, even though the Order be sore pressed for funds."
This was the opening Borel had been waiting for. He pounced. "The Order would like additional sources of revenue?"
"Why, yes. Of course we're all sworn to poverty and obedience," (he contemplated his glittering assortment of rings) "and hold all in common, even our women and children. Nevertheless, the defense of the Republic puts a heavy burden upon us."
"Have you thought of a state lottery?"
"What might that be?"
Borel explained, rattling through the details as fast as his fair command of the language allowed.
"Wonderful," said Kubanan. "I fear I could not follow your description at all times, though; you do speak with an accent. Could you put it in writing for us?"
"Sure. In fact I can do better than that."
"How mean you?"
"Well, to give you an example, it's much easier to tell how to ride an aya than to do it, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Just so, it's easy to tell you how a lottery works—but it takes practical experience to run one."
"How can we surmount that difficulty?"
"I could organize and run your first lottery."
"Sir Felix, you quite take my breath away. Could you write down the amounts involved in this scheme?"
Borel wrote down a rough estimate of the sums he might expect to take in and pay out in a city of this size. Kubanan, frowning, said: "What's this ten percent for the director?"
"That's the incentive. If you're going to run this thing in a businesslike manner after I've left, we'd better set it up right. And one must have an incentive. The first time I'd be the director, naturally."
"I see. That's not unreasonable. But since members of the Order aren't allowed private funds beyond mere pocket money, how would the commission act as incentive?"
Borel shrugged. "You'd have to figure that one out. Maybe you'd better hire a commoner to run the show. I suppose there are merchants and bankers among them, aren't there?"
"True. Amazing. We must discuss this further. Won't you come to my chambers this evening to sup? I'll pass you into the citadel."
Borel tried to hid his grin of triumph as he said: "It's my turn to be overwhelmed, Your Excellency!" The Borel luck!
At the appointed hour, Borel, having presented his pass at the gate of the citadel, was taken in tow by a uniformed guide. Inside Mishe's Kremlin stood a lot of huge plain stone buildings wherein the Guardians led their antlike existence. Borel walked past playgrounds and exercise grounds, and identified other buildings as apartment houses, armories, office buildings, and an auditorium. It was just as well to memorize such details in case a slip-up should require a hasty retreat. Borel had once spent six months as a guest of the French Republic in consequence of failing to observe this precaution. He passed hundreds of gorgeously arrayed garma of both sexes. Some looked at him sharply, but none offered interference.
For the quarters of one sworn to poverty, the treasurer's apartment was certainly sumptuous. Kuba-nan cordially introduced Borel to a young female Mikardandu who quite took his breath away. If one didn't mind green hair, feathery antennae, and a somewhat flat-featured Oriental look, she was easily the most beautiful thing he'd seen since Earth, especially since the Mikardando evening dress began at the midriff.
"Sir Felix, my confidential secretary, the Lady Zerdai." Kubanan lowered his voice in mock-confidence. "I think she's my own daughter, though naturally one can never know for sure."
"Then family feeling does exist among the Guardians?" said Borel.
"Yes, I fear me it does. A shameful weakness, but natheless a most pleasant one. Heigh-ho, at times I envy the commoners. Why, Zerdai herself has somehow bribed the women in charge of the incubator to show her which is her own authentic egg."
Zerdai sparkled at them. "I was down there but today, and the maids tell me it's due to hatch in another fifteen days!"
"Ahem," said Borel. "Would it be good manners to ask who's papa? Excuse me if I pull a boner occasionally; I'm not entirely oriented yet."
Kubanan said: "No offense, sir. He was Sir Sardu, the predecessor of Sir Shurgez, was he not, Zerdai?"
"Yes," she agreed. "But our pretty affairs must seem dull to a galaxy-traveller like you, Sir Felix. Tell us of the Earth! I've long dreamed of going thither; I can fancy nought more glamorous than seeing the New Moscow Art Theater, or the Shanghai night clubs with my own eyes. It must be wonderful to ride in a power vehicle! To talk to somebody miles distant! And all those marvelous inventions and factories…"
Kubanan said dryly: "I sometimes think Lady Zerdai shows an unbecoming lack of pride in her Order, young though she be. Now about this lottery: will you see to having the certificates printed?"
"Certainly," said Borel. "So you do have a printing press here?"
"Yes; from the Earthmen we got it. We'd have preferred a few Earthly weapons to smite our enemies; but no, all they'll let us have is this device, which bodes ill for our social order. Should the commoners learn reading, who knows what mad ideas this ill-starred machine may spread among them?"
Borel turned on the charm, thankful that supper consisted of some of the more palatable Krishnan dishes. On this planet you were liable to have something like a giant cockroach set before you as a treat. Afterwards all three lit cigars and talked while sipping a liqueur.
Kubanan continued: "Sir Felix, you're old enough in the ways of the world to know that a man's pretext is often other than his true reason. Your Earth-men tell me they hide their sciences from us because our culture is yet too immature—by which they mean our gladiatorial shows, our trials by combat, our warring national sovereignties, our social inequalities, and the like. Now, I say not that they're altogether wrong—I for one should be glad had they never introduced this accursed printing press. But the question I'd ask you is: What's their real reason?"
Borel wrinkled his forehead in the effort of composing a suitable reply. Being an adventurer and no intellectual, he had never troubled his head much about such abstract questions. At last, he said:
"Perhaps they're afraid the Krishnans, with their warlike traditions, would learn to make space ships and attack their neighboring planets."
"A fantastic idea," said Kubanan. " Tis not so long since there was a tremendous uproar over the question of whether the planets were inhabited. The churches had been assuring us that the planets were the very gods and crucifying heretics who said otherwise. No wonder we hailed as gods the first beings from Earth and the other planets of your sun!"
Borel murmured a polite assent, privately thinking that the first expedition to this system ought, if they had any sense, to have been satisfied with being gods and not go disillusioning the Krishnans. That's what came of letting a bunch of sappy do-gooders…
Kubanan was going on: "Our problem is much more immediate. We're hemmed and beset by enemies. Across the Pichide lies Gozashtand, whose ruler has been taking an unfriendly line of late; and Majbur City is a veritable hotbed of plots and stratagems. If a way could be found to get us—let's say—one gun, which our clever smiths could copy, there's nothing the Order would not do…"