"You surely do not mean that we may use violence?"

"No, not to people. But nonviolence and passive resistance apply only to persons. Hermann, if necessary, we will sink that boat! But we will only do it as a last and regrettable measure. And we will do it only if we can be sure that no one will be harmed."

"I.. .I don't know," Hermann said. "It seems to me that, if we do that, we lack faith in the Ethicals. They should be able to handle anything that mere men can bring against them."

"You have fallen into the trap the Church continually warns against, the trap of which you have warned many yourself. The Ethicals are not gods. There is only one God."

Hermann stood up. "Very well. I will leave immediately."

"You are pale, Fenikso. Don't be so frightened. It may not be necessary to destroy that boat. In any event, we will do it only if we are one hundred percent sure that no one will be injured or killed."

"It is not that which frightens me," Hermann said. "What does is that a part of me is eager to get into the intrigue, thrilled with the idea of sinking that boat. It's the old Hermann Goring, still alive down there, though I thought I had put him away forever."

THE REX GRANDISSIMUS WAS INDEED A BEAUTIFUL AND AWING vessel. She plowed speedily in the middle of The River, towering whitely, her great black smokestacks lofty, her two giant paddlewheels churning. From atop the pole above the pilothouse, her flag whipped, showing wavily three golden lions on a scarlet field.

Hermann Goring, waiting on the deck of a three-masted schooner, raised his eyebrows. The banner was certainly not the scarlet phoenix on blue which Clemens had planned.

The sky was freckled with hang-gliders swooping above the great riverboat. The River itself was crowded with vessels of all kinds, officials, and sightseers.

Now the boat was slowing, its captain having interpreted correctly the meaning of the rockets fired from Goring's schooner. Besides, the other craft were forming an obstacle beyond which he could not go without smashing them.

Finally, it stopped, its wheels turning just enough to match the current.

As the schooner came alongside, its captain yelled through a riverdragon-fish horn at the Rex. A man on the lowest deck hurried to a phone on a bulkhead and talked to the pilothouse. In a moment, a man leaned out of the pilothouse, holding an instrument with a horn. His voice blared from it, startling Hermann. The device must amplify sounds electrically, he thought.

"Come aboard!" the man said in Esperanto.

Though the captain was at least fifty-five feet above the water, and a hundred feet away horizontally, Hermann recognized him. The tawny hair, broad shoulders, and oval face were those of John Lackland, ex-King of England, Lord of Ireland, etc., etc. In a few minutes Hermann had boarded the Rex and was accompanied by two heavily armed officers via a small elevator to the top deck of the pilothouse. On the way he said, "What happened to Sam Clemens?"

The men looked surprised. One said, "How did you know about him?"

"Gossip travels faster than your boat," Hermann said. This was true, and if he had not exactly told the truth, he also had not lied.

They entered the control room. John was standing by the pilot's chair and looking outward. He turned at the sound of the elevator closing. He was five feet five inches tall, a good-looking virile-seeming man with wide-set blue eyes. He wore a black uniform which he probably never put on except to impress locals. The black jacket, trousers, and boots were of riverdragon-leather. Gold buttons adorned the jacket, and a golden lion's head roared soundlessly from above the visor of the cap. Hermann wondered where he had gotten the gold, an extremely rare item. Probably, he'd taken it from some poor wretch.

His chest was bare. Tawny hair, a shade or two darker than that on his head, curled thickly over the V of the jacket top.

One of the officers who'd escorted him snapped a salute. "The emissary of Virolando, Sire!"

So, Hermann thought, it was sire, not sir.

It was evident that John did not recognize his visitor. He surprised Hermann by walking to him, smiling, and holding out his hand. Hermann took it. Why not? He was not here to revenge himself. He had a duty to perform.

"Welcome aboard," John said. "I am the captain, John Lackland. Though, as you see, I have no land I do have something even more valuable, this vessel."

He laughed and added, "I was once the King of England and Ireland, if that means anything to you."

"I am Brother Fenikso, a sub-bishop in the Church of the Second Chance and a secretary to La Viro. In his name I welcome you to Virolando. And, yes, Your Majesty, I have read about you. I was born in the twentieth century in Bavaria."

John's thick tawny eyebrows went up. "I've heard much of La Viro, of course, and we were told that he lived not too far up-River."

John introduced the others, none of whom Hermann knew except the first mate, Augustus Strubewell. He was an American, very large, blond, and handsome. He crushed Hermann's hand and said, "Welcome, Bishop." He didn't seem to recognize him either. Goring shrugged mental shoulders. After all, he hadn't been in Parolando long, and that was over thirty-three years ago. ^

"Would you like a drink?" John said.

Hermann said, "No, thank you. I hope you will let me stay aboard, Captain. I am here to escort you to our capital. We welcome you in peace and love and hope that you come in the same spirit. La Viro wishes to meet you and to extend his blessing. Perhaps you would like to stay awhile and stretch your legs on shore. In fact, you may stay here as long as you wish."

"I am not, as you see, a member of your congregation," John said, accepting a cup of bourbon from an orderly. "But I have a high regard for the Church. It's had a highly civilizing influence along The River. Which is more than I can say for the church to which I once belonged. It has made our voyage much easier, since it has reduced militancy. However, not many people would care to attack us anyway."

"I'm glad to hear that," Hermann said. He decided it would be best not to mention what John had done in Parolando. Perhaps the man had changed. He would give him the benefit of the doubt.

The captain made arrangements for Goring's quarters. His cabin would be in the texas, a long structure which was an extension of the room just below the pilothouse and which was on the extreme forward starboard side of the landing deck. The top officers were cabined in this.

John asked about his Terrestrial life. Goring replied that the past wasn't worth talking about. What mattered was the present.

John said, "Well, perhaps, but the present is the sum of the past. If you won't talk about yourself, would you tell me of Virolando?"

It was a legitimate question, though Goring wondered if John wished to find out the state's military potential. He wouldn't tell him that it did not have any. Let him find out for himself. He did make it clear, however, that no one of the Rex would be allowed to bring arms ashore.

"If this were any other place, I wouldn't abide by that rule," John said, smiling. "But I'm sure we'll be safe in the heart of the Church."

"This land is, as far as I know, unique," Hermann said. "It's topography and its citizens are remarkable. The first you can see for yourself," and he waved at the rock spires.

"It's a columnar country indeed," John said. "But what makes the citizens so different?"

"The great majority of them are Rivertads. When the first resurrection occurred, this area was filled with children who had died between the ages of five and seven. There were about twenty to every adult. Nowhere else that I've heard of has had that proportion. The children seemed to be from many places and times, of many nations and races. They had one thing in common, though. They were frightened. But, fortunately, the adults were mostly from peaceful and progressive countries, Scandinavia, Iceland, and Switzerland of the twentieth century. The area wasn't subjected to the vicious struggles for power that occurred elsewhere. The strait to the west cuts off the titanthrops who lived there. The peoples immediately westward down-River were of the same kind as those here. Thus, the adults could give full time to taking care of the children.