The Hostage of Zir Read Free Page A

But he picked the wrong sucker. Trofimov caught on and might have had Borel jailed, or perhaps quietly murdered, if Borel hadn’t skedaddled.
    “Mr. Reith, just imagine you’re Thomas Cook, but living in, say, the eighteenth century. You’re taking a party of Europeans on a tour of North America, visiting the most warlike tribes, like the Iroquois and the Blackfeet. That gives you an idea.”
    “You sure fill me with confidence,” said Reith.
    “Oh, don’t let it worry you. If you get into trouble in Majbur, go see Gorbovast, the Gozashtando commissioner. He does some chores for us, and he can fix anything.”

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    Later, on one of the paths of the compound, Reith fell into talk with Magistrate Keshavachandra. The judge was a slight, brown-skinned man, shorter than Reith, with bushy gray eyebrows and a fringe of gray hair around his bald head.
    “Judge,” said Reith, “I’m discouraged. I must have done something pretty awful in a previous incarnation to be put in this fix.”
    “How so?”
    “I’m not an experienced tourist guide; yet, circumstances have dumped me into a situation where I need to be Hercules, d’Artagnan, and Talleyrand, all at once. But I’m not. Heggstad has been training me physically, but it would take years to make me into the kind of muscle man he is. I’ve been practicing Durou and Gozashtandou with some help from Sivird, but all I can say is a few simple things like, ‘Pour me a drink,’ and ‘Where is the toilet?’ It’s one thing to say ‘two fried eggs, please,’ in a foreign language, but quite another to carry on an intelligent conversation. I have just the merest smattering of all the things I’m supposed to know, and no time to master any of them.
    “I feel doomed; but we’ve taken these yucks’ money, so ifs up to me to give them their tour if it kills me.”
    Keshavachandra asked: “Are you familiar with the Bhagavad Gítá, Mr. Reith?”
    Reith looked puzzled “No. That’s some Hindu legend, isn’t it?”
    “It’s much more than that. Let me explain. The Bhagavad Gítá is a section of the Mahâbhârata, the old Indian epic, sometimes called the world’s longest poem. As a scientific materialist, I don’t believe the legends; but like your Bible it has some useful philosophy.
    The Bhagavad Gítá tells how Prince Arjuna is about to fight in a great battle between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. Arjuna’s charioteer is Krishna, an incarnation of God. Arjuna gets qualms about fighting against some of his own kinsmen. But Krishna tells him that since God has made him a warrior, his job is to be the best warrior he can and not to worry about who gets killed.
    “So, young man, let me be your Krishna. You find yourself in a fix for which you are not prepared. Well, make yourself prepared. What you don’t know, learn. Practice your exercises and your languages every spare minute, and you may find that you do better than you think possible.”

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    Reith went to the gym to find Heggstad practicing tumbling. “Ivar,” he said, “I’d like to borrow some of that fencing stuff to take on the tour. A couple of those jackets and masks—”
    “Hey!” said Heggstad. “Not my good fencing sabersh! I couldn’t replace them. Here, you can have these.”
    The gymnast produced a pair of singlesticks, the thickness of broom handles, with bowl-shaped wicker guards. “Have you got a real sword for yourself?”
    “No. Was I supposed to?”
    “How much good you think one of those sticks would do you against a real blade? Sivird can sell you one at a fair price. Not so pretty as you get in the Hamda’, but good steel.”
    “I can charge it to the tourist agency. How do I keep it from getting tangled up in my legs?”
    “Vear it high and hold the scabbard when you come to stairsh and suchlike. Don’t vear it around native taverns, or some drunken tough guy may pick a fight; but you get more respectable treatment from ordinary Krishnans when you vear vun. Who