"It is not because you guessed—or even because of the manner in which you guessed—but because you mocked me, that I curse you."

"Mocked you?" said Sam. "I do not understand. I intended no disrespect. I was always on good terms with you in the old days. If you will but think back over them, you will recall that this is true. Why should I jeopardize my position by mocking you now?"

"Because you said what you thought too quickly, without thinking a second time."

"Nay, my Lord. I did but jest with you as any one man might with another when discussing these matters. I am sorry if you took it amiss. I'll warrant you've a harem I'd envy, and which I'll doubtless try to sneak into some night. If you'd curse me for being surprised, then curse away." He drew upon his pipe and wreathed his grin in smoke.

Finally, Brahma chuckled. "I'm a bit quick-tempered, 'tis true," he explained, "and perhaps too touchy about my past. Of course, I've often jested so with other men. You are forgiven. I withdraw my beginning curse.

"And your decision, I take it, is to accept my offer?" he inquired.

"That is correct," said Sam.

"Good. I've always felt a brotherly affection for you. Go now and summon my priest, that I may instruct him concerning your incarnation. I'll see you soon."

"Sure thing. Lord Brahma." Sam nodded and raised his pipe. Then he pushed back the row of shelves and sought the priest in the hall without. Various thoughts passed through his mind, but this time he let them remain unspoken.

That evening, the prince held council with those of his retainers who had visited kinsmen and friends within Mahartha, and with those who had gone about through the town obtaining news and gossip. From these he learned that there were only ten Masters of Karma in Mahartha and that they kept their lodgings in a palace on the southeastern slopes above the city. They made scheduled visits to the clinics, or reading rooms, of the Temples, where the citizens presented themselves for judgment when they applied for renewal. The Hall of Karma itself was a massive black structure within the courtyard of their palace, where a person applied shortly after judgment to have his transfer made into his new body. Strake, along with two of his advisers, departed while daylight yet remained to make sketches of the palace fortifications. Two of the prince's courtiers were dispatched across town to deliver an invitation to late dining and revelry to the Shan of Irabek, an old man and distant neighbor of Siddhartha's with whom he had fought three bloody border skirmishes and occasionally hunted tiger. The Shan was visiting with relatives while waiting his appointment with the Masters of Karma. Another man was sent to the Street of the Smiths, where he requested of the metal workers that they double the prince's order and have it ready by early morning. He took along additional money to ensure their cooperation.

Later, the Shan of Irabek arrived at the Hostel of Hawkana, accompanied by six of his relatives, who were of the merchant caste but came armed as if they were warriors. Seeing that the hostel was a peaceable abode, however, and that none of the other guests or visitors bore arms, they put aside their weapons and seated themselves near the head of the table, beside the prince.

The Shan was a tall man, but his posture was considerably hunched. He wore maroon robes and a dark turban reaching down almost to his great, caterpillar-like eyebrows, which were the color of milk. His beard was a snowy bush, his teeth shown as dark stumps when he laughed and his lower eyelids jutted redly, as though sore and weary after so many years of holding back his bloodshot orbs in their obvious attempt to push themselves forward out of their sockets. He laughed a phlegmy laugh and pounded the table, repeating, "Elephants are too expensive these days, and no damn good at all in mud!" for the sixth time; this being in reference to their conversation as to the best time of year to fight a war. Only one very new in the business would be so boorish as to insult a neighbor's ambassador during the rainy season, it was decided, and that one would thereafter be marked as a nouveau roi.

As the evening wore on, the prince's physician excused himself so as to superintend the preparation of the dessert and introduce a narcotic into the sweetcakes being served up to the Shan. As the evening wore further on, subsequent to the dessert, the Shan grew more and more inclined to close his eyes and let his head slump forward for longer and longer periods of time. "Good party," he muttered, between snores, and finally, "Elephants are no damn good at all. . ." and so passed to sleep and could not be awakened. His kinsmen did not see fit to escort him home at this time, because of the fact that the prince's physician had added chloral hydrate to their wine, and they were at that moment sprawled upon the floor, snoring. The prince's chief courtier arranged with Hawkana for their accommodation, and the Shan himself was taken to Siddhartha's suite, where he was shortly visited by the physician, who loosened his garments and spoke to him in a soft, persuasive voice:

"Tomorrow afternoon," he was saying, "you will be Prince Siddhartha and these will be your retainers. You will report to the Hall of Karma in their company, to claim there the body which Brahma has promised you without the necessity of prior judgment You will remain Siddhartha throughout the transfer, and you will return here in the company of your retainers, to be examined by me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," whispered the Shan.

"Then repeat what I have told you."

'Tomorrow afternoon," said the Shan, "I will be Siddhartha, commanding these retainers. . ."

Bright bloomed the morning, and debts were settled beneath it. Half of the prince's men rode out of the city, heading north. When they were out of sight of Mahartha they began circling to the southeast, working their way through the hills, stopping only to don their battle gear.

Half a dozen men were dispatched to the Street of the Smiths, whence they returned bearing heavy canvas bags, the contents of which were divided into the pouches of three dozen men who departed after breakfast into the city.

The prince took counsel with his physician, Narada, saying, "If I have misjudged the clemency of Heaven, then am I cursed indeed."

But the doctor smiled and replied, "I doubt you misjudged."

And so they passed from morning into the still center of day, the Ridge of the Gods golden above them.

When their charges awakened, they ministered to their hangovers. The Shan was given a posthypnotic and sent with six of Siddhartha's retainers to the Palace of the Masters. His kinsmen were assured that he remained sleeping in the prince's quarters.

"Our major risk at this point," said the physician, "is the Shan. Will he be recognized? The factors in our favor are that he is a minor potentate from a distant kingdom, he has only been in town for a short period of time, has spent most of that time with his kinsmen and he has not yet presented himself for judgment. The Masters should still be unaware of your own physical appearance —"

"Unless I have been described to them by Brahma or his priest," said the prince. "For all I know, my communication may have been taped and the tape relayed to them for identification purposes."

"Why, though, should this have been done?" inquired Narada. "They should hardly expect stealth and elaborate precautions of one for whom they are doing a favor. No, I think we should be able to pull it off. The Shan would not be able to pass a probe, of course, but he should pass surface scrutiny, accompanied as he is by your retainers. At the moment, he does believe he is Siddhartha, and he could pass any simple lie-detection test in that regard—which I feel is the most serious obstacle he might encounter."