“You know,” said the white giant, “that I will not trick you with false messages or anything like that?”

One look at the strong, calm, relaxed face — face so purposeful that it had no fretful or immediate purpose — convinced Rod that there was nothing to fear.

“Turn it on, then,” said the E’telekeli. “If Eleanor wants to go home we will arrange with the Instrumentality for her passage. As for you, my son E’ikasus will change you back as he changed you over. There is only one detail. Do you want the face you originially had or do you want it to reject the wisdom and experience I have seen you gain?”

“I’m not posh,” said Rod. “The same old face will do. If I am any wiser, my people will find it out soon enough.”

“Good. He will get ready. Meanwhile, turn on the visiphone. It is already set to search for your fellow-citizen.”

Rod flicked it on. There was a bewildering series of flashes and a kaleidoscopic dazzlement of scenes before the machine seemed to race along the beach at Meeya Meefla and searched out Eleanor. This was a very strange screen indeed: it had no visiphone at the other end. He could see Eleanor, looking exactly like his Norstrilian self, but she could not observe that she was being seen.

The machine focused on Eleanor/Rod McBan’s face. She/he was talking to a very pretty woman, oddly mixed Norstrilian and Earthlike in appearance.

“Ruth Not-from-here,” murmured the E’telekeli, “the daughter of the Lord William Not-from-here, a Chief of the Instrumentality. He wanted his daughter to marry ‘you’ so that they could return to Norstrilia. Look at the daughter. She is annoyed at ‘you’ right now.”

Ruth was sitting on the bench, twisting away at her fingers in nervousness and worry, but her fingers and face showed more anger than despair. She was speaking to Eleanor, the ‘Rod McBan.’

“My father just told me!” Ruth cried out “Why, oh why did you give all your money for a Foundation of some kind? The Instrumentality just told him. I just don’t understand. There’s no point in us getting married now—”

“Suits me,” said Eleanor/Rod McBan.

“Suits you, does it!” shrieked Ruth. “After the advantages you’ve taken of me!”

The false Rod McBan merely smiled at her friendlily and knowledgeably. The real Rod, watching the picture ten kilometers below, thought that Eleanor seemed to have learned a great deal about how to be a young rich man on Earth.

Ruth’s face changed suddenly. She broke from anger to laughter. She snowed her bewilderment. “I must admit,” she said honestly, “that I didn’t really want to go back to the old family home in Old North Australia. The simple, honest life, a little on the stupid side. No oceans. No cities. Just sick, giant sheep and worlds full of money with nothing to spend it on. I like Earth and I suppose I’m decadent…”

Rod/Eleanor smiled right back at her. “Maybe I’m decadent too. I’m not poor. I can’t help liking you. I don’t want to marry anybody. But I have big credits here, and I enjoy being a young man—”

“I should say you do!” said Ruth. “What an odd thing for you to say!”

The false ‘Rod McBan’ gave no sign that he/she noted the interruption. “I’ve just about decided to stay here and enjoy things. Everybody’s rich in Norstrilia, but what good does it do? It had gotten pretty dull for me, I can tell you, or I wouldn’t have taken the risk of coming here. Yes. I think I’ll stay. I know that Rod—” He/she gasped. “Rod MacArthur, I mean, a sort of relative of mine. Rod can get the tax taken off my personal fortune so that I can stay right here.”

(“I will, too,” said the real Rod McBan, far below the surface of the Earth.)

“You’re welcome here, my dear,” said the Ruth Not-from-here to the false Rod McBan.

Down below, the E’telekeli gestured at the screen. “Seen enough?” he said to Rod.

“Enough,” said Rod, “but make sure that she knows I am all right and that I am trying to take care of her. Can you get in touch with the Lord Jestocost or somebody and arrange for Eleanor to stay here and keep her fortune? Tell her to use the name of Roderick Henry McBan the first. I can’t let her have the name of the Owners of the Station of Doom, but I don’t think Earthpeople will notice the difference anyhow. She’ll know it’s all right with me, and that’s all that matters. If she really likes it here in a copy of my body, may the great sheep sit on her!”

“An odd blessing,” said the E’telekeli, “but it can all be arranged.”

Rod made no move to leave. He had turned off the screen but he just stood there.

“Something else?” said the E’telekeli.

“C’mell,” said Rod.

“She’s all right,” said the lord of the underworld. “She expects nothing from you. She’s a good underperson.”

“I want to do something for her.”

“There is nothing she wants. She is happy. You do not need to meddle.”

“She won’t be a girlygirl forever,” Rod insisted. “You underpeople get old. I don’t know how you manage without stroon.”

“Neither do I,” said the E’telekeli. “I just happen to have long life. But you’re right about her. She will age soon enough, by your kind of time.”

“I’d like to buy the restaurant for her, the one the bear-man has, and let it become a sort of meeting place open to people and underpeople. She could give it the romantic and interesting touch so that it could be a success.”

“A wonderful idea. A perfect project for your Foundation,” smiled the E’telekeli. “It shall be done.”

“And the Catmaster?” asked Rod. “Is there anything I can do for him?”

“No, do not concern yourself with C’william,” said the E’telekeli. “He is under the protection of the Instrumentality and he knows the sign of the Fish.” The great underman paused to give Rod a chance to inquire what that sign might be, but Rod did not note the significance of the pause, so the birdlike giant went on. “C’william has already received his reward in the good change which he has made in your life. Now, if you are ready, we will put you to sleep, my son E’ikasus will change you out of your cat-body and you will wake in orbit around your home.”

“C’mell? Can you wake her up so I can say goodbye after that thousand years?”

The master of the underworld took Rod gently by the arm and walked him across the huge underground room, talking as they went. “Would you want to have another goodbye, after that thousand years she remembers with you, if you were she? Let her be. It is kinder this way. You are human. You can afford to be rich with kindness. It is one of the best traits which you human people have.”

Rod stopped. “Do you have a recorder of some kind, then? She welcomed me to Earth with a wonderful little song about ‘high birds crying’ and I want to leave one of our Norstrilian songs for her.”

“Sing anything,” said the E’telekeli, “and the chorus of my attendants will remember it as long as they live. The others would appreciate it too.”

Rod looked around at the underpeople who had followed them. For a moment he was embarrassed at singing to all of them, but when he saw their warm, adoring smiles, he was at ease with them. “Remember this, then, and be sure to sing it to C’mell for me, when she awakens.” He lifted his voice a little and sang.