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natural thing in Krishna.

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    “My friends,” said Gorbovast after supper, “let us consider ze plans for your stay. What do you propose to do tomorrow, Mr. Reese?”
    “I thought I’d take them on a general sightseeing tour of the city,” said Reith.
    “If I may make a suggestion, you might do better to put zat off for one day.”
    “Why?”
    “Because ze city will be at its most crowded tomorrow, which is a general holiday. Ze shops will be mostly closed, and you will not be able to see much because of ze press of people. Ze day after would be better.”
    “Then what do you think we should do tomorrow?”
    “I have ze idea. I suppose you allow your people a day for shopping?”
    “Oh, yes. We had figured on doing that the day before the Sárbez sails, three days from now.”
    “Ze shopping in Majbur during ze festival is bad at best, especially if you do not speak ze language. Ze crowds, ze noise! Sometime a fight begins among ze religious ensusiasts, and zen it is not good for earsmen to be zere. We have some ignorants, full of barbarous racial prejudices.”
    “Then, how—”
    “I can get word to ze merchants, to bring zeir goods here to zis house. You tell me what sort of sings you want to buy, and you shall make your choices in peace and safety.”
    When most of the tourists approved this plan, Reith assented. Next morning witnessed a procession of merchants from Majbur, spreading out their wares in Gorbovast’s courtyard. When he saw that the shopping was under control, with Gorbovast as interpreter, Reith went back to Majbur with Khorsh and Khorsh’s servants, in Gorbovast’s private coach. Saying he had business in one of the temples, the priest left Reith but promised to rejoin the group the following day. Reith hunted up the berth of the Sárbez to confirm his reservations and the sailing date.

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    Reith returned to Gorbovast’s mansion in the afternoon, as a couple of the merchants were loading their carts to return to the city. Nearby stood Maurice Considine, examining a new sword and trying to communicate by sign language with a merchant.
    “Fearless!” said Considine. “Maybe you can make this gook understand. I’ll buy his sword, since I’ve got to have one, but I still think he’s a robber. He wants three times as much as that Krishnan at Novorecife.”
    In halting Gozashtandou, Reith passed the message on to the merchant, who spread his hands.
    “What expects this Ertsu?” said the swordseller. “All prices are up because of the Festival. Moreover, with the vast commission of twenty-five percentum, which Master Gorbovast charges us poor merchants, I needs must elevate my prices thus to show any profit whatsoever. Thinks this wight from far and barbarous worlds that I’ll arm him with a blade of fine Mikardando steel for nought? True, Dashmok enjoins upon his followers the virtue of charity; but as says Nehavend, charity begins at home—”
    Reith held up a hand to check the flow of oratory in rolling, rhythmic, guttural Gozashtandou. “He said prices are up because of the Festival and because Gorbovast nicks him one-quarter of it as commission. Sounds like our native earth; our charming host isn’t going to be out-of-pocket on our account.”
    “What?” yelled Considine. “Why, the lousy crook! Bringing us out here, saying it’s all free, and turning these vultures loose on his captive market! They’re all crooks!”
    “What are you crabbing about? They do it back home.”
    The remark only further infuriated Considine. “And here it’s a whole day since one of ’em stole my little blue case, and you haven’t done a thing about it. What sort of police have they got? I’ll find somebody to translate and go to ’em myself to make a stink. I’ll tell ’em we earthmen could wipe this crummy city off the map with one bomb! I’ll get some action out of this bunch of lying thieves if you can’t. I’ll . . .”
    A weather-beaten Krishnan of vaguely familiar