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"Have you thought of a state lottery?"
"What might that be?"
Borel explained, rattling through the details as fast as his fair command of the language
allowed.
"Wonderful," said Kubanan. "I fear I could not follow your description at all times,
though; you do speak with an accent. Could you put it in writing for us?"
"Sure. In fact I can do better than that." "How mean you?"
"Well, to give you an example, it's much easier to tell how to ride an aya than to do it,
isn't it?" "Yes."
"Just so, it's easy to tell you how a lottery works but it takes practical experience to
run one."
"How can we surmount that difficulty?"
"I could organize and run your first lottery."
"Sir Felix, you quite take my breath away. Could you write down the amounts involved
in this scheme?"
Borel wrote down a rough estimate of the sums he might expect to take in and pay out in
a city of this size. Kubanan, frowning, said: "What's this ten percent for the director?"
"That's the incentive. If you're going to run this thing in a businesslike manner after
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I've left, we'd better set it up right. And one must have an incentive. The first time I'd be
the director, naturally."
"I see. That's not unreasonable. But since members of the Order aren't allowed private
funds beyond mere pocket money, how would the commission act as incentive?"
Borel shrugged. "You'd have to figure that one out. Maybe you'd better hire a
commoner to run the show. I suppose there are merchants and bankers among them,
aren't there?"
"True. Amazing. We must discuss this further. Won't you come to my chambers this
evening to sup? I'll pass you into the citadel."
Borel tried to hid his grin of triumph as he said: "It's my turn to be overwhelmed, Your
Excellency!" The Borel luck!
At the appointed hour, Borel, having presented his pass at the gate of the citadel, was
taken in tow by a uniformed guide. Inside Mishe's Kremlin stood a lot of huge plain
stone buildings wherein the Guardians led their antlike existence. Borel walked past
playgrounds and exercise grounds, and identified other buildings as apartment houses,
armories, office buildings, and an auditorium. It was just as well to memorize such
details in case a slip-up should require a hasty retreat. Borel had once spent six months
as a guest of the French Republic in consequence of failing to observe this precaution.
He passed hundreds of gorgeously arrayed garma of both sexes. Some looked at him
sharply, but none offered interference.
For the quarters of one sworn to poverty, the treasurer's apartment was certainly
sumptuous. Kubanan cordially introduced Borel to a young female Mikardandu who
quite took his breath away. If one didn't mind green hair, feathery antennae, and a
somewhat flat-featured Oriental look, she was easily the most beautiful thing he'd seen
since Earth, especially since the Mikardando evening dress began at the midriff.
"Sir Felix, my confidential secretary, the Lady Zerdai." Kubanan lowered his voice in
mock-confidence. "I think she's my own daughter, though naturally one can never know
for sure."
"Then family feeling does exist among the Guardians?" said Borel.
"Yes, I fear me it does. A shameful weakness, but natheless a most pleasant one. Heigh-
ho, at times I envy the commoners. Why, Zerdai herself has somehow bribed the women
in charge of the incubator to show her which is her own authentic egg."
Zerdai sparkled at them. "I was down there but today, and the maids tell me it's due to
hatch in another fifteen days!"
"Ahem," said Borel. "Would it be good manners to ask who's papa? Excuse me if I pull
a boner occasionally; I'm not entirely oriented yet."
Kubanan said: "No offense, sir. He was Sir Sardu, the predecessor of Sir Shurgez, was
he not, Zerdai?"
"Yes," she agreed. "But our pretty affairs must seem dull to a galaxy-traveller like you,
Sir Felix. Tell us of the Earth! I've long dreamed of going thither; I can fancy nought
more glamorous than seeing the New Moscow Art Theater, or the Shanghai night clubs
with my own eyes. It must be wonderful to ride in a power vehicle! To talk to somebody
miles distant! And all those marvelous inventions and factories . . ."
Kubanan said dryly: "I sometimes think Lady Zer-dai shows an unbecoming lack of
pride in her Order, young though she be. Now about this lottery: will you see to having
the certificates printed?"
"Certainly," said Borel. "So you do have a printing press here?"
"Yes; from the Earthmen we got it. We'd have preferred a few Earthly weapons to
smite our enemies; but no, all they'll let us have is this device, which bodes ill for our
social order. Should the commoners learn reading, who knows what mad ideas this ill-
starred machine may spread among them?"
Borel turned on the charm, thankful that supper consisted of some of the more palatable
Krishnan dishes. On this planet you were liable to have something like a giant cockroach
set before you as a treat. Afterwards all three lit cigars and talked while sipping a
liqueur.
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Kubanan continued: "Sir Felix, you're old enough in the ways of the world to know that
a man's pretext is often other than his true reason. Your Earthmen tell me they hide
their sciences from us because our culture is yet too immature by which they mean our
gladiatorial shows, our trials by combat, our warring national sovereignties, our social
inequalities, and the like. Now, I say not that they're altogether wrong I for one should
be glad had they never introduced this accursed printing press. But the question I'd ask
you is: What's their real reason?"
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