The head of a zitab! The wide-open, gaping fangs of the most venomous reptile on Voltar! A murder plot!

The lid flopped open!

I went backwards from that box as though catapulted!

I literally sailed through the air. I hit into the shower compartment! My scrambling hands pulled the curtain down! The perched lotion and soap bottles fell and hit my head in a cannonade! I was still trying to go backwards through the wall!

The zitab rose, in the air, all five lethal feet of him! I felt that in the next second it was going to strike straight through the air and clear across the room. How was it suddenly stationary in midair?

And then, oh, my Gods, even worse, the Countess Krak, dressed in flaming red, stood up out of that box!

They all went into shrieks of laughter! The guards, Heller and the Countess Krak, that is!

She was holding that zitab just behind its head with one hand. She had held it under the lid and lifted it up as though to strike. But right now, with her other hand, she was holding her stomach she was laughing so hard!

And they went right on laughing. They doubled up. A guard collapsed on the floor, absolutely dying with guffaws! Heller was laughing so hard he had to support himself on the back of a chair and tears were rolling out of his eyes.

It felt like it went on for ten minutes at least!

I wasn't taking it very well. Oh, my Gods! A fortress prisoner up here in the upper works, totally out of bounds: somebody could be shot! It was a terribly dangerous game they were playing. And they were laughing!

After a bit, I looked at the zitab she was holding. For a moment I had supposed it must be stuffed. And then I got another shock: it was writhing about! It didn't even have its fangs drawn! One bite and you're dead. And there she was reeling around in laughter!

Gradually the din died down. The Countess Krak stepped out. She turned the zitab's head to face her and pointed a finger at its nose. It closed its mouth. She put it down in the bottom of the box and wagged a finger at it with a "you be good now" gesture. She closed the lid.

They had stopped laughing now and Heller went over and they held hands, just standing, looking at each other.

The guards got their breath back and with a cheery wave at Heller, wheeled the big box out into the passage and closed the door.

I was still lying in the wreckage of the shower and I made a noise trying to get up. It somehow attracted Heller's attention and he reluctantly disengaged his hands and came over to me.

"That was sort of rough on you, Soltan. But you'll have to admit, it was an awfully good joke." He helped me to my feet and then straightened the shower disarray.

I didn't admit it was a good joke. These stupid idiots were playing with bombs to bring her up here.

"So this is where you live?" said the Countess Krak. "I often wondered what else was in the top of the castle." She went around touching some things. "Except for Hisst's parades, I haven't been out of those dungeons in three years! But no window." She seemed puzzled for a moment, then, "This is Soltan's room, isn't it?" I wondered how she knew: Heller had cleaned it up.

Heller went over and got some soft music on the Homeview. Then he bustled back, the good host, and sat her down at the table. He opened the cupboard and I saw with amazement that it was stuffed with nice drinkables and edibles. He put a canister of pink sparklewater before her like she was Royalty and then, as an afterthought, tossed down two more at the other table places. He got out four varieties of sweetcake and heaped up a plate for her. He sat down beside her. Then as a distinct afterthought he waved at the chair on the other side of the table. "Draw up, Soltan. Don't be bashful." But he had turned back to her before he finished speaking.

They just sat and looked at each other, pleased so hard they glowed!

I sat on my chair and sipped cautiously at the pink sparklewater. It is pretty expensive; it has a lot of minerals and protein in it and its bubbles jump up about six inches above the canister top and make tiny, glowing explosions. Because it instantly assimilates, one can get a trifle high on it.

Without looking at me, Heller pushed some sweet-cake my way. They were just gazing at each other, eyes happy, smiling. The soft music played. They didn't eat or drink. They just sat there, so pleased to be sitting there, so fed with each other's company that they didn't even touch their food or drink.

After a long time, Heller reached over and put a piece of sweetcake in her mouth and then lifted his canister to her lips. She gave him a drink from hers.

I sure was extra, unnecessary company here!

Finally they got around to eating their supper but I knew that, under the table, their feet were tangled up.

When they had finished the meal, Heller finally sat back. At length, he said, "Oh, yes. There was something I wanted to show you." He reached over to a side table and picked up a pack of race-recognition practice cards he had evidently brought from the library. They have faces on the front and the correct names are on the back.

He showed her a card. "Who does this look like?" he asked.

I could see the back. It said, Girl, English Blito-P3 (Earth, Europe).

She looked very interested. But I felt she would have been interested in anything he showed her, even had it been a blank sheet of paper.

She said, "That looks like a farm girl from the highlands of Atalanta province, Manco. My people come from that area, you know. They had some estates there a few hundred years ago – until they lost them, that is."

"That's wonderful," said Heller. "I was born in Atalanta province. In the capital, you know: Tapour." And they got into one of these "Did you know Jem Vis?" and "Do you remember the old lady Blice?" and "Is the courthouse still there?" interspersed with "You do?" and "What do you knows?" and "It's a small universe" that went on and on. They were fellow denizens of Manco, all right! Old Manco Reunion Week! It went on and on.

Finally they ran out of that, at least for the moment, and Heller got back to his picture cards. He held up one that said on the back, Old Man, Polynesian Blito-P3 (Earth, Oceania).

"One of the boat people from the harbor of Dar?" she said.

"Now this one," said Heller. The back said, Film Star, Female American, Blito-P3 (Earth, Americas).

"That isn't your sister," said the Countess. Heller showed her another. The back said, Male, Caucasian Blito-P3 (Earth).

"Is this some member of your family? It looks dimly like an uncle I had." She pretended, only pretended, to be severe. "What is this, Jettero Heller? Are you trying to tell me you've just been to Manco? But those pictures are not three-dimensional and their color is poor. Oh, I place them now. They're anthropology recognition cards. Give them to me!" She playfully snatched them out of his hand and looked at their backs.

She examined them a bit, turning them back and forth. "Blito-P3?"

"You remember an old fable?" said Heller. And with no prompting, he rattled off Folk Legend 894M, word for word in its entirety.

"Wait," said the Countess. She was thinking hard. Then she picked up her canister and began to swing it back and forth to get a rhythm time. Then she started singing in a rather throaty but pleasant voice. But she did manage to give it a childish pronunciation: If ever from life you need fly, Or a king has said loved ones must die, Take a trip In a ship That will bob, dive and dip, And find a new home in the sky.

Heller joined in: Bold Prince Caucalsia, There you are on high.

We see you wink, And we see you blink, Far, far, far above the Mo-o-o-o-n!

They both laughed, pleased with their duet of the nursery song. They must have learned it as children.