"Indeed, sir?" said the taverner.
"I wish to examine her room. You can let me in with your passkey and stand by to make sure I respect her rights of property."
Bosyár looked doubtful. "I know not, sir ... Who is Mistress Dyckman's master? For whom doth she toil?"
"Oh, you want the approval of Master Stavrakos?" Reith led the way to the producer's room. He found Stavrakos lounging in a chair and Fodor sitting on the bed. The two had been arguing but fell silent when Reith strode in with the news.
Stavrakos shook his head. "That is bad. Still, I guess we can manage, so long as you and Strachan stick with us."
Fodor remained silent, but Reith thought he detected a glimmer of a smile. Fodor, he recalled, had opposed the hiring of Alicia in the first place. Now without opposition, the director would feel free to make as silly a Krishnan movie as he liked.
"Sure, go ahead and examine her baggage," said Stavrakos. "But what are you planning to do about it?"
"If I find a clue as to where she's gone—and I have my suspicions—I'll go after her."
"Hey! You can't do that! You have a contract with me, to stay with the crew until the movie's been shot. After that, if you want to go chasing after some dame—"
Reith contained his temper with difficulty. "Look here! I'm supposed to protect the whole lot of you. She's part of your crew, too, and she's the one in danger. The rest of you will do all right here in Mishé with Strachan to guide and interpret—"
"But your contract says you stay with us!" shouted Stavrakos. "If you want to hire a private eye—"
"Don't talk rubbish! They don't have private detectives—"
"Kostis!" boomed Fodor. "Listen to reason! You know I'd be just as happy to shoot my picture without Alicia's interference; but everybody knows—"
"Traitor!" yelled Stavrakos. "Your first loyalty belongs to me—"
"Shut up!" bellowed Fodor. "Everybody knows those two were once married and are still soft about each other. My barbarian honor says if a man wants to go hunting for his woman, he's entitled—"
As the voices of the quarreling executives merged into an unintelligible roar, Fairweather and Cassie Norris appeared in the doorway, asking: "What's this about Alicia being kidnapped?"
News of the abduction spread through the crew as if by telepathy. Other heads appeared in the hall behind the acting leads, until most of the shooting crew had either crowded into the bedroom or blocked the doorway. Stavrakos said: "If this son of a bitch goes off on a wild-goose chase, he's broken his contract, and I won't pay him—"
"Oh, won't you?" said Ordway. "You just try something like that, and I'll jolly well walk out on you, too. That gel's worth a hundred greasy dagoes like you! Well pull a strike!"
"You bet!" shrilled Cassie Norris.
"I'm with you, Cyril!" said Jacob White.
"Me, too!" called Ernesto Valdez.
When it became obvious that the entire crew was on Reith's side, Stavrakos grumbled, "Okay, okay. You're a bunch of lousy traitors and sentimental idiots; but I can't make a picture without a crew. So go on, Fergus; rescue your blond tornado, and try not to get yourself killed. If you do, I won't pay your estate one lefta!"
As Reith pushed out of the crowded room, Ordway said: "I say, Fergus! I want to go along with you and help out!"
"We'll discuss that later," said Reith, hastening back towards Alicia's room with the innkeeper in tow.
In her room, Reith found Alicia's clothes and toiletries scattered about; but she had always been untidy. Hanging from pegs on the wall, along with other clothing, were the topless lavender dress she had worn at Fodor's poker party and her crossbow-pistol, together with a leather case full of bolts. It looked as though Alicia had departed without taking a single possession other than the clothes she was wearing.
Reith appropriated the pistol and arranged with Bosyár to store Alicia's other effects until she could reclaim them.
"What the devil?" shouted Anthony Fallon in answer to Reith's knock. "Oh, it's you, Fergus. What brings you to my door at this time of night?" When Reith explained, Fallon said: "Oh! That's different. Come in, man. Do you need a drink?"
"No; I need information, and you're my best bet here in the outback."
They sat down in Fallon's living room, Fallon in an old green bathrobe and Reith in his dress Krishnan kilt and tunic. After discussion, Fallon asked: "What makes you so sure the note's a fake, and she didn't go voluntarily?"
"I'm not absolutely certain; but it's easier to believe she's been kidnapped than she'd leave without her favorite dress or even her toothbrushes." Reith paused. "Tony, when we were here last, you read us excerpts from the local newspaper. Wasn't there a feature called 'News of Royalty'?"
"Why, yes," said Fallon. "It's a gossip column about the ruling circles in the local kingdoms—though I daresay if the President of Suruskand ran off with the wife of the High Priest—"
"Have you a file of these papers?"
"My dear fellow, of course! Keeping up is my business. Sorry; I should have realized you were in a hurry." From a big filing cabinet, Fallon drew out a fistful of large folded sheets of the Mishé Defender. "Here! The one for the current ten-day is on top. You'll find the royalty column on the second page."
Reith unfolded the topmost sheet, found the column, and pored over it without result. In the preceding issue, he found an item, which in a free translation would read:
HOPEFUL MAMAS AGOG IN JAZMURIAN
We are informed that His bachelor Awesomeness. Dour Vizman of Qirib. hath the mothers of marriageable girls in a swivel because of his projected sojourn in their bustling city, whither he will shortly arrive from Ghulindé. Although royalty seldom gives out travel plans, a source close to the throne hath revealed that a stay of a moon or more is contemplated. The official report is that His Awesomeness wishes to familiarize himself with the state of manufacturing and trade in Qirib's leading commercial city, notwithstanding his oft-stated preference for life in the capital We wonder if Jazmurian hath not some attraction of a non-commercial sort...
Reith looked up. "Have you a map covering the country between here and Jazmurian?"
Fallon brought out a map from a drawer in his desk. Reith pored over it, saying: "She could have been carried off to any of half a dozen countries. Qirib looks the likeliest, since Vizman wrote inviting her to Ghulindé; she put him off with excuses. If you were in Jazmurian but had to travel to the borders of Mikardand to receive a kidnapee, what would you choose as a transfer point?"
Bending over the map, Fallon pointed to a spot on the shore of the Sadabao Sea. "Qa'la is on the border, here. The roads from Mishé to Qa'la are at least fair."
"But," objected Reith, "Qa'la is a good three hundred kilometers from Jazmurian. That would mean a trip of at least six days each way."
"Here's another possibility,'' suggested Fallon, "a little town on the Zigros called Qantesr. It's just over the border from Qiribo territory and only thirty-odd kilometers from Jazmurian. With a fast aya, one can make it in a day by the river road."
"I know Qantesr," said Reith. "I'm off while it's still dark, before the aqebats begin to croak."
"Shouldn't you wait for me to send out inquiries, before you leap on your fiery aya and gallop off in all directions?"
"I count on your making inquiries, old man, and getting Castanhoso to do likewise. Meanwhile I'm off to the countryside; if any mysterious party has passed through, I'll have a good chance of picking up the trail, with the help of my native friends, while it's still hot. tf I don't find any trace of my girl, I'll come back within a ten-day. Meanwhile you should have received answers to your questions."