They parted by midnight and Kissur returned to his palace. He sat in a hall for a long while and, then, he called a servant to arrange a sacrificial basket and walked to a small room, adjoining his bedroom, where an Arfarra memorial altar stood. In front of the altar, a candle burned fixed atop a tortoise shield and a fresh pine branch floated in a silver water bowl. Kissur kneeled in front of the altar and sipped a bit from the bowl.
"Arfarra," he said quietly, "what should I do? My gods are silent. They have been silent for seven years. You had been next to me before that. You made decisions for me everywhere except war and I was free at war because there is nobody between a warrior and god. Can't I do anything for my country or can I only muck things up? Send me somebody! I have nobody. What are these Earthmen? The best of their best have credit cards, where their hearts should be, and the others are god knows what! Khanadar is like a goldfinch, who can only sing silly songs, and this man, Nan, that I could ask for an advice, would advise me to break my neck because it will be most useful for the country and most pleasing for Nan."
Kissur prayed like this for a while and called Arfarra. Suddenly he felt a draught coming from the door. Kissur froze. The door slowly opened and somebody's shadow stretched at the doorstep
"Great Wei!" Kissur cried out jumping on his feet and turning around. "Oh, it's you."
The Earthman stood in the door frame — Terence Bemish.
"Have you been waiting for somebody?" Bemish was concerned. Kissur looked at the altar with his head bowed.
"No," Kissur responded, "he will hardly come."
Bemish sat in the armchair.
"You were right, Kissur," he said. "IC did give Shavash six million dollars for this contract. But it was not IC money. This money belonged to Federation Intelligence. IC is just a front. They wanted to cram the spaceport with surveillance hardware and then with military equipment. They want to watch Gera first, and then…"
"But then Weia," Kissur said, "will become an Earth's military ally."
"It will become a military ally for those who don't want to fight. And when it all comes out, Weia will become a target for Gera and the Federation, the first point to attack in the case of war!"
"A military ally," Kissur repeated. His eyes lit, he looked over Bemish to the altar.
"Don't sprout crap!" Bemish cried out. "If Gera is not going to fight, why would the Federation need military allies? And if it is — imagine what your planet will be turned into. You will be the grass that elephants trample as they fight! Your planet's destruction will be, of course, a great rallying cry for the Earth's people indignation — Earth will wake up at your expense."
"Military ally," Kissur repeated for the third time. And he laughed. "And did Shavash charge your government six million for such a gift?"
"And so they wanted to cover me in mud with this tape — you understand, Kissur, it was our Intelligence that made the tape for Shavash — and after that they have the gall to come to me and offer me a dance at their tune!"
"I hope you said, yes."
"I refused. I make money out of air but not out of shit."
At this moment, the door squeaked again and Shavash entered the room. "Just as I thought," he declared, taking a look at disheveled enraged
Bemish and Kissur, coldly baring his teeth at the altar.
Kissur approached Shavash, embraced and kissed him.
"I am sorry," he said.
Shavash gently freed himself from his embrace and turned to the Earthman.
"So? Has Kissur persuaded you yet?"
"No," Bemish shouted, "you are both blockheads! You, Shavash, are ready to sell you motherland for a fried chicken and, when this guy hears the word "war" he's jumping out of his pants with joy."
"I…," Shavash started with dignity.
Bemish threw the folder at him.
You can have it! The contract is here. I am leaving for Earth.
Shavash picked up scattered papers and suddenly he gawked at them fixedly. His eyes gaped wide in astonishment and his face assumed such an astounded look that Bemish couldn't help but ask.
"What are you reading there?"
"Tomorrow newspapers," Shavash said sweetly, "it's written here that the zealots from the Marked by the Sky sect killed Terence P. Bemish who had been appointed by the sovereign to the Assalah construction director position. Or… no, not Marked by The Sky but Following the Way. Yes, of course! This sect has a branch next to Assalah and they also learned of the dishonest ways that Bemish used to obtain the shares… These ways will of course be published, too…"
"How dare you?"
"Mr. Bemish! I dared much more than that. And I saved you from a certain death twice when Giles was ready to pay for your head! If the zealots kill you, it will cause wide spread abhorrence. If you suddenly decline the sovereign's appointment, it will cause a lot of false rumors and your silence is not guaranteed."
"He doesn't look like a man who will keep silent," Kissur said.
Bemish came to the table where a phone was, picked up the receiver and dialed a number.
"Is it Ravadan? When is the next Earth passenger flight? Is it in twenty hours? No I don't want a stopover. Yes, I would like to buy two tickets, please. Terence Bemish… hmm… Inis Bemish. Yes, damn it, your Weian name — Inis. No, just one way, I don't need round trip tickets.
During the conversation, Shavash was whispering something at Kissur's ear. Bemish finished the phone call, pulled a table drawer out and took out Kissur's small laser that he knew Kissur tended to keep there. He stuck the gun under his belt and left.
Kissur rose to follow him but Shavash grabbed him by his hand.
"Don't do it — let everybody see that he left this house alive and unhurt."
At the night's wane Bemish appeared at the finance vice-minister's mansion. The small official sat in the office sleepily checking some numbers.
"Why didn't you take off?" Shavash asked.
"Why didn't you kill me?" Bemish snapped back.
He sat in an armchair on bird legs and said.
"I agree on one condition."
The official raised his eyebrows.
Bemish silently handed him a paper sheet. Shavash looked the text over — it was an act abolishing ishevik bills of credit."
"Do you understand," Shavash said, "that without ishevik bills we would spend three times more in subsidies?"
"Why don't you abolish subsidies together with ishevik bills."
Shavash grinned.
"Do you know how much money you, Terence Bemish, could make on it?"