Motilal said: "Perhaps you have not yet realized, Mr. Reith, not being of our profession, that we are not making a documentary. A number of cinematographers have already done this. What we are doing is pure entertainment. Do you understand the distinction?"
"Of course, but—"
"Then kindly leave to us the matters on which we are expert, and we shall likewise depend on you for information we lack. You understand?"
"I'm not a half-wit, Mr. Motilal. I understand, all right." Nasty little man, thought Reith; why the hell should I give free advice to people who don't want it? Hereafter they can ask for it and pay extra.
Reith's dislike of Motilal was somewhat softened when the assistant director, a stickler for authentic detail, took Reith's side in arguments over the film's veracity. One dispute concerned the color of the simulated blood to be shed in scenes of violence. Stavrakos insisted that the blood be red, since to a Terran audience blood was red by definition. The fact that Krishnan blood was blue-green, having a base of hemocyanin instead of hemoglobin, meant nothing to him. But Fodor, Motilal, Alicia, and Reith all objected so vehemently that Stavrakos gave in.
Four days after the arrival of the Sáo Paolo, a train of vehicles appeared on the road from Qou: three of Mishé's omnibuses and four wagons, each drawn by a pair of ayas. Each omnibus bore, rising from the body, a wooden framework over which a canopy could be stretched in times of rain or excessive heat.
The whole Cosmic crew went out to examine the vehicles as they rattled into the compound. Reith heard grumbling, and Fodor said: "Is this the best you could do, Fergus? The people, they complain about the hard seats. These things will give a hell of a rough ride." (Actually he said: "Is dis de best ... De people, dey complain about de hard seats. Dese tings ..." Fodor had never mastered the dental fricatives of English.)
"That's what we've got," said Reith. "Tell your people that Sivird in the Outfitting shop will sell them seat cushions. If need be, he'll have some made."
Later, Reith ran into a grinning Kenneth Strachan, who said, "I'm working for Cosmic, too."
"Really? What as?"
"Set designer. The production designer thocht he wanted an engineer familiar with the local materials— strength in tension and compression and so forth—so he hired me. Says I could double as interpreter. You'll have to watch me and haul me awa' if I cast adulterous eyes on aucht female."
Reith sighed. As if, he thought, his list of problems were not long enough already!
The final conference broke up in late afternoon. It was agreed that all should leave Novorecife early the following morning, as soon as the vehicles could be loaded. Reith would drive his gig north to Rosid, to tell the Dasht of Ruz to assemble his five hundred warriors and to give him the authorization, signed by the Grand Master of the Knights of Qarar, to admit this armed band of foreigners to the Republic of Mikardand. This errand completed, Reith was to retrace his steps and join the shooting crew at Mishé.
Meanwhile the Cosmic crew would set out for Mishé with Alicia and Strachan as guides and interpreters. In Mishé they would shoot the urban scenes and buy the equipment needed for camping out at Zinjaban.
Reith balked at the plan to send him to Rosid. Not wishing to say that he hated the thought of being separated from Alicia, especially with handsome lechers like Fairweather dancing attendance on her, he invented reasons for staying with the shooting crew. He feared, he said, that Dasht Gilan might suspect him of complicity in the disappearance of Princess Vázni and imprison him, or even shorten him by a head.
Stavrakos, however, waved the contract like a flag and threatened to withhold Reith's pay. Since nobody else was available to handle the task assigned to Reith, and since he prided himself on punctilious fulfillment of his obligations, Reith gave in.
As he rose to leave the conference room, Reith heard Fodor's bellow. "Hey, Fergus! Come here a minute!"
Although the blustering Fodor was not to Reith's taste, the tour guide came. The director boomed: "Now that the business is over, I am hosting a party in my rooms this evening. Come, and bring your money!"
"What sort of party?"
"Oh, some liquor, and a few hands of poker. We begin at half past twenty, Earth time, whatever the hell that would be here. Come! It will be a very select little party. I invite only my good friends."
Reith thought, With Attila Fodor for a friend, who needs an enemy? While he hesitated, Fodor slyly added: "Besides, your little yellow-haired Alicia, she is coming."
Reith was surprised; he had expected an all-male gathering. He was also concerned; although Alicia took pride in being able to take care of herself, she just might need her former husband's protection. After a moment he answered: "All right, thanks. I'll be there."
At the appointed hour, Reith found Cyril Ordway and two handsome young women, both dark and petite, in Fodor's suite in the Visitors' Building. The air was heavy with the smoke of huge Krishnan cigars, as Fodor rose with a cheerful roar.
"Come in Fergus! Have a drink. You've met my wife, Michelle." He nodded at one of the girls. "And my mistress, Nancy Boyce." He nodded at the other. "The rest will be here soon. Jack White is coming. Poor Jack always loses, but he can't keep away. I invited your friend Strachan, but he said he couldn't afford it. I guess he is like those Scotchmen in the stories, squeezing every pengö." He thrust a box of cigars at Reith, who declined.
Ordway remained seated, glass in hand, staring at Reith from bloodshot eyes as Fodor continued.
"You got no prejudice against playing with Krishnans, have you?"
"Of course not," said Reith. "I live among them."
"Good; we got one coming. Cyril here is a little touchy about those things; but I told him he could either be a good boy or get the hell out. Here's the guy, now!"
Tall and slender, Sivird, master of the Outfitting Shop, ducked under the door lintel, saying: "I am glad to see you, Mr. Reece."
"The reason I have invited him," said Fodor, "is he did such a good job getting those pillows made. He had all the whores in the place—what do you call it?—the Hamda', that's it. He had them all sewing and stuffing. Ah, here come the others. Hello, Jack; hello, Alicia! Come in, sit, have drinks. I pour."
White and Alicia, she in her topless dress, each accepted a glass of kvad and sipped cautiously as Fodor and Ordway stared at her with lustful fixation. White kept his eyes on his goblet, in patent embarrassment; but, as Reith noted with amusement, he rhythmically caressed the rounded curve of his drinking vessel.
"I was saying," continued their host, "that the reason people will flock to this movie is, they are sick and tired of too much civilization. They want a breath of clean, virile barbarism, which is after all the natural state of man. Now they got the Earth so damned civilized that you can't take a piss without filling out a form. So for a barbarian milieu, you got to come to Krishna."
Sivird gave the Krishnan version of a frown. "Mr. Fodor, I hope you will not take offense; but we Gozashtanduma do not consider ourselves barbarians. In fact, we are highly civilized."
"I suppose, compared to the Krishnans with tails, you are," said Fodor. "Compared to us decadent Earthmen, however, you are the noble savages—and all the better for it. Barbarism is the natural state of reasoning beings, and men always return to it the minute the restraints are off. Then we become real men!" Fodor thumped his chest with his fist. "Those who can't, die."