Read In the Beginning for Free Online Page B

thought-converter under one arm, the rescue-beam radiator under the other.
    He followed the stream several hundred meters up into the hills. Looking ahead, he noted what seemed to be a thin trail of smoke curling into the sky. Natives?
    He stopped and watched the smoke. The first thought that came to him was to hang back cautiously, but then he shook his head and kept moving. This was his world, and he was going to keep the upper hand.
    They saw him first, though, and before he was aware of anything, ten blue-skinned men had stepped out of the woods and were kneeling at his feet.
    “Kejwa!” they shouted. “Kejwa, Kejwa!”
    Crayden was too startled to react. He stood there frozen, staring down. They were all burly humanoids, perfectly manlike as far as he could tell, except for the bright blue skin. They were clad in loincloths and beads, and were obviously friendly. Crayden relaxed; King Stephen had found his subjects.
    Gingerly he touched the nearest native with the tip of his toe. The alien sprang up instantly and faced him. The man was well over six feet tall, and powerfully built.
    “Kejwa endrak jennisij Kejwa,” the native jabbered, pointing to the smoke that indicated the village.
    “Kejwa! Kejwa!” came the chorus from the ground.
    “I wish I could understand you chaps,” Crayden said. “Kejwa, eh? That’s the best compliment I had since the warden said I looked like an honest man.”
    They were dancing around him, stamping on the ground and slapping their hands, and emitting cries of “Kejwa! Kejwa!” until the trees began to tremble from the noise. Other blue-skins began to appear from further upstream, naked children and women in loincloths. They gathered around Crayden, chanting that one word over and over, now softly, now at the top of their lungs.
    Crayden grinned at them. This was working out better than he’d dare dream. Slowly, with all the dignity his new rank afforded, Crayden began to move upstream toward the village, clutching the useless thought-converter like a scepter in his outstretched right hand.
    When they reached the village, a tall, wrinkled native wearing a great many beads and a flowing white beard stood in front of the community fire, watching Crayden’s approach. The beard looked strange against the blueness of the old man’s chest.
    As Crayden drew near, the old one sank down on both knees. “Kejwa,” he said slowly, in a very deep, solemn voice.
    Crayden took the cue. He stepped forward and touched the old man on the left shoulder with the tip of his thought-converter. The oldster rose as if transfigured.
    The villagers clustered around, keeping a respectful distance, and chattered away. He pointed to the thought-converter. “I’ll have this fixed soon,” he promised. “Then I’ll be able to talk to you.”
    They continued to chatter. Every third word seemed to be “Kejwa.” Crayden happily wondered whether it meant “king” or “god.”
    ***
    They installed him in a large hut, the best in the village. The old man took him there personally—Crayden decided he was either the chief or the high priest, or, most likely, both—and indicated a bed of thick grass in one corner. It was the only furniture.
    “Thanks, pop,” he said lightly. “Usually I expect better accommodations in my hotels, but I won’t kick. See that the bellhop comes when I ring, will you? I hate having to wait.”
    The old man looked at him without a trace of comprehension or anything else but worship in his eyes.
    “Kejwa emeredis calowa Kejwa,” he said.
    Crayden watched him depart, and sat for a while on the big stone at the entrance to his hut. From time to time little groups of children would approach timidly and stare at him and back away, and occasionally one of the blue-skinned women would come by. There hadn’t been any women on Kandoris. Crayden rubbed his chin. Even a blue-skinned one would do right now, he thought. Yes, even she would be welcome.
    He stared at the bare hut,