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Two of the three wheeled out vehicles like an adult version of a Terran child’s scooter.
    Reith hurried up to the group, panting. When he could speak, he said: “Beg excuse, sirs, but could you tell me which is office of Commissioner Gorbovast?”
    The smallest of the three turned. In the fading light, this proved an elderly Krishnan with tiny wrinkles all over his face and hair faded to pale jade, now turning silvery in the fading light. Instead of answering the question, tins one asked: “Se fala português? Parlez-vous français? Do you speak English? Tum Hindi boltâ ho?”
    “English, if you please,” said Reith. “Are you Commissioner Gorbovast bad-Sár?”
    “I am he, sir. You are Mr. Reese, of whom I am hearing, wiz a party of travelers from your planet. What can I do for you?”
    Reith explained his predicament. Gorbovast said: “Oh, zat is easy. You and your travelers shall stay at my humble house.”
    “Oh?” said Reith warily. “There are twelve besides myself, and a Duro priest with two attendants.”
    “Zat is nossing. I have room. Where are zese children of misfortune?”
    “At Haftid’s. The bastitch wouldn’t let us in, even though the agency had sent him a deposit.”
    Gorbovast smiled and gave the Krishnan equivalent of a shrug. “Zat happen. I sink he is one of zose wiz a prejudice against earsmen, so he was glad of an excuse. Have you dismiss your transport?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, zen . . .” Gorbovast spoke in rapid Gozashtandou to the other two Krishnans, who departed on their scooters.
    “Wait, Mr. Gorbovast,” said Reith. “How much is all this going to cost us? I have a budget to meet . . .”
    Gorbovast looked pained. “My dear sir, it shall cost you nosing! You are my guests. After all, I am who I am. Now let us go to Haftid’s to reassure your people, who must be anxious.”
    Feeling relieved. Reith walked back to Haftid’s with Gorbovast. Roqir had set; but Karrim, the largest of the three moons, was high in the sky, so there was still plenty of light. As Reith approached, the tourists began to yammer. He silenced them with a gesture and introduced Gorbovast.
    “I still want my little blue case!” grumbled Maurice Considine.
    Privately, Reith was not sure that Gorbovast’s hospitality would cost them nothing. His own experience with tours had made him cynical. At the moment, however, there seemed nothing else to do.
    The two Krishnans whom Gorbovast had sent away appeared, each with several hackney coaches in tow. Gorbovast’s assistants and the drivers loaded the baggage aboard, and the string of carriages set out at a brisk trot through the crooked streets.

    ###

    In the gathering dusk, the carriages wound through the city and out a massive fortified gate. In the suburb, they turned into a graveled driveway and drew up outside a big square structure with blank outside stone walls.
    “My humble home,” said Gorbovast, waving the tourists in through a small, thick door.
    The house was built in the form of a hollow square, so it looked able to stand a minor siege. When he passed through the short tunnel beyond the door, Reith found himself in a spacious courtyard, where flowers bloomed and fountains tinkled. There were other Krishnans, whom Gorbovast introduced. First was his wife; then sons, daughters, and in-laws. The children of these raced about, yelling, in some Krishnan children’s game.
    “Wow!” said John Turner. “He can call it a hovel, but it looks more like a palace to me. We sure were lucky.”
    Professor Mulroy’s dry old academic voice spoke out: “Charles Darwin, writing of his Beagle voyage, said that a traveler should learn to be suspicious; but that he would also discover how many kind-hearted people there are, who would extend him disinterested assistance. This appears to be a case in point.”
    Gorbovast’s servitors took the baggage and led the earthlings to the rooms, as if the sudden descent of sixteen unexpected guests were the most