"You are as watchful as usual, Ronald," Bemish said. "He is not a peasant, he is one of the best known Weian criminals."
"Oh, my God! Does he want to fleece some foreign sheep?"
"To the contrary, doing a favor to some influential people, he is protecting these sheep from some lice."
"What are you whispering about?"
Bemish turned around. Kissur stood in front of him, dressed in Earthern clothing and not even a bit drunk. During the whole evening, Kissur hadn't caused any disturbance yet — he hadn't broken a single investor's jaw and hadn't washed anybody in a pool. The reason was very simple — Kissur was with his wife, Idari.
"Let me introduce you," Bemish said, "Ronald Trevis, the head of LSV bank. Kissur, an ex-owner of the same villa."
"Also an ex-minister of the Empire," Kissur finished with a grin. And he added right away, talking to Bemish. "I didn't know that the sovereign bestowed you with immunity."
"You see, Kissur, after you gave me the villa, the local official herded the peasants to fix the road for free, to curry my favor. I don't want the local officials to curry my favor this way. And I promise you to fleece the peasants three times less and to hang five times less criminals."
"That's exactly wrong," Kissur stated. "In order to be respected, you have to hang twice more, otherwise why do you need this immunity? What do you think, Trevis?"
It was ten in the evening, when the temple abbot noiselessly approached Bemish, standing on a lawn and encircled by the guests, and whispered in his ear that Shavash wanted to talk to him in private. Bemish finished the cocktail and left the guests unnoticed.
He found Shavash on the temple tower second floor — the small official stood with a wine glass in his hand and he seemed to clink the glass with a goddess dancing in the alcove. Having heard the Bemish's steps, he turned around. Bemish brandished his hand welcomingly and sat in an oak-backed armchair standing to the right of the window.
"Trevis says that you will raise twice more money than you need. People really stand in lines to buy a piece of Weia if Bemish himself handles their finances. What are you going to do with the extra money?"
"I could create a couple of funds," Bemish said.
Shavash, half turned to the window, gestured with the glass. Outside of the window in the sunset light, the dense gardens' greenery and the even squares of rice patties gleaned. Ivory imps danced above the window and smiled mockingly at the official. Bemish noticed that Shavash was drunk — not as much as he was at Weian feasts when everybody walked on their hands and knees by a night's end, but much more that it was customary on Earthmen's business meetings.
"This planet," Shavash said, "is a planet of mad opportunities. It has the least developed natural resources in the Galaxy. It has human resources. It doesn't have money."
Shavash turned around abruptly.
"You will bring this money in, Terence. How much can you raise for your funds?"
Bemish contemplated.
"I could raise five hundred million in the first year. Then it depends on the fund's profitability."
"You will sell what I say and buy what I say. First year your profit will be seven hundred million. Your real profit will be one billion. But you will give three hundred million to me. Do you understand it?"
Bemish paused.
"They jail you for such things."
Shavash leaned over the Earthman.
"You are mistaken, Terence. They jail you for such things on Earth. On Weia, they cut your head off."
"Why are you risking your head for money?" The pale vice-minister's face with mad golden eyes and raised eyebrows' tips moved right to the Earthman.
"You understand nothing here, Terence. I don't need money. I need to turn this country in something decent. It is possible only if I become the richest official in this country. For that — I need money. I need huge money, money that this country doesn't have. But, the Galaxy has this money and you, Terence, will deliver this money from the Galaxy to here."
To conclude, the reception worked out great if not for an accident at its very end. It was already midnight, the time when men liked to have fun was getting closer and the wives of several higher Weian officials hurried to take leave and disappear and women's laughter started to come out of the temple gazebos. Bemish and Trevis walked down a garden path under falling cherry petals by the gods cramped in the darkness. They had discussed everything already and they simply enjoyed in silence the dark and tart night, dusted by the fragrance of night flowers and the faraway singing of expensive whores.
The road led them to a small pond, where a marble god in a brocade caftan stood on the bank.
"Here is Shavash," Trevis said, "but it looks like the timing is wrong."
Shavash half sat under the god's statue and fondled a midnight cowgirl. Something made Bemish hearken and he stopped.
"Let's get out of here," Trevis restrained him.
Suddenly something gleaned in the woman's hand.
"Terence!"
Bemish didn't remember how he dashed across the lawn. He remembered only Idari's voice and the dagger in her hands. The next second, Bemish pulled the official to the side. A fish scale flash of the dagger tore air right where Shavash had just sat. Idari leaped to her feet, lithe and agile like a sand lizard.
Shavash stank with cognac and palm tree wine — a killer combination. He was boozed up to the hilt — much more than he had been an hour ago in the tower.
"What are you doing?" the official rasped.
Bemish silently pulled a short jab at Shavash's jaw. The official closed his eyes and went down to the ground. Trevis rushed to Bemish, pale as death.
"Bye-bye your fund," Trevis muttered.
"He will remember nothing," Bemish objected.
"I hope that you will also remember nothing," Idari said.
Bemish's heart was hopping like a mouse in a jar.
"Should I walk you?" he asked Idari.
But the woman only shook her head slightly and, in a moment, she disappeared in the bushes. The dagger had vanished even earlier in her blowsy sleeve folds. Shavash mumbled something, turned over on his back and started snoring.
"Why did you have to beat him?" Trevis got angry. "Is she your lover or what?"
Furious Bemish turned around. Trevis pulled back.
"Just forget it," Bemish muttered finally, "otherwise we will all get a lot of problems."
They were almost at the house, when Bemish, having kept glum silence all the way, suddenly said, "If a civil war starts in this Empire, it will start on this woman's account."
The morning after the reception, some guests signed a treaty of intent — about creating together with Shavash and Bemish several joint companies specializing mostly in export-import operations. Weian tariffs were quite high, but Shavash hinted to the people present that they probably wouldn't have to pay them.
The official was pale after the yesterday's binge and a huge bruise blossomed under his cheekbone, artistically masked by various powders. Bemish didn't have to torture himself long about whether or not the official remembered who socked him. Having returned to his room, Bemish discovered there a gift basket full of soft turquoise figs and Shavash's note. "As you see, I can be grateful," Shavash wrote in calligraphy. "You had given me one fig and I gave you hundred." A bruise was called a fig in Weian.