The Virgin of Zesh & the Tower of Zanid Read Free Page B

darling, pull yourself together and tell us what it’s all about.”
    “If you—if you two—if you two theophobes will stop insulting me for a minute . . .”
    Althea burst into tears. Kirwan got up, picked a handkerchief off a pile of his personalia on the bureau, and offered it to Althea, who wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
    “You might have given her a clean one,” said Bahr.
    “I don’t believe in germs,” said Kirwan. “Go on, Althea.”
    Althea pulled herself together. These two might be even less trustworthy than most men, but they were the nearest thing to friends that she had. She told the story of her alleged marriage to Afanasi Gorchakov, concluding, “So, since you’re leaving tomorrow, I thought maybe—perhaps you could arrange to get me away from Novorecife.”
    “You mean you want to dance on the beaches with grapes in your hair after all?” said Kirwan. “I see. You’re getting in a bit of early practice.”
    Althea shot a look of scorn at the fleshy poet. “Not exactly, but I don’t dare stay around here until Bishop Raman gets back, since Gorchakov’s so powerful . . .”
    “What she means, my friend,” said Bahr, “is that she wishes with us to go, and when she gets to Zesh she will decide between your cult and my science. Is that it, Althea?”
    Althea gave Bahr a grateful look. At least he could talk sense. “Well, I have to live, and I can’t live here. If you could give me some work . . .”
    Bahr pulled his lip. “Mmm. That is not easy. I am not authorized to pay a full-time assistant in World Federation dollars.”
    Kirwan said, “Oh, hell, man, you could pay her expenses and swindle the cost out of your expense account.”
    “Ye-es; but I am not sure that she is qualified a real assistant to be. Besides, it would cause trouble for me here if it were found out that I had Gorchakov’s bride abducted.”
    “Where’s your gallantry, you damned poltroon?” shouted Kirwan. “Are you a man or a microscope on two legs?”
    “Oh, I will do it, I will do it,” said Bahr unhappily. “But how are we to get her out of Novorecife?” The scientist turned to Althea. “Are your papers signed for exit?”
    “No. I didn’t intend to leave until I’d received my assignment.”
    “That complicates matters,” said Bahr with hope in his voice, “as you cannot get out unless your exit permit is signed by the security officer.”
    “I know!” said Kirwan. “We’ll call up that little twerp Castanhoso—”
    He reached for the telephone, but Bahr gave a squeak of alarm. “Auf! Wait a minute, my friend; what are you doing? He is assistant to Gorchakov!”
    “I know, I know, but he hates the big Russky’s guts.”
    “Why?” said Bahr.
    Kirwan explained. “Castanhoso was assistant security officer under Gorchakov’s predecessor, Cristȏv&aTilde;o Abreu, when Gorchakov—may the teeth rot in the head of him—was head customs inspector. When Kennedy and Abreu retired as Comandante and security officer respectively, Castanhoso expected to step into Abreu’s shoes. But Boris Glumelin arrived here as Comandante and, being full of mystical notions about the noble Slavic soul, jumped Gorchakov over Castanhoso’s head. Ever since, Castanhoso’s been grinding his teeth behind Gorchakov’s back and looking for a chance to get even. You know these Dagoes.”
    “Why does Glumelin let Gorchakov get away with things like this? Hasn’t anybody complained?” Althea asked.
    “Glumelin’s just a big bowl of mush where his fellow Russian is concerned,” said Kirwan.
    “I have met him,” said Bahr. “He is personally pleasant but has with his drinking a problem. He shuts himself up and is not seen by the others here for a ten-day at a time. Appointments with him have to go through Gorchakov, so you see why Glumelin is unlikely to be of assistance to us.”
    “Herculeu Castanhoso seems a nice fellow,” said Althea.
    “Nice fellow or not, he’s the lad who can get you out of