Chapter 22

He succeeded, the next morning, in convincing everybody that he wanted to be alone for a while, and was sitting in a garden, watching the rainbows in the midst of a big waterfall across the valley. Elaine would have liked that, but she wasn’t with him, now.

Then he realized that somebody was speaking to him, in a small, bashful voice. He turned, and saw a little girl in shorts and a sleeveless jacket, holding in her arms a long-haired blond puppy with big ears and appealing eyes.

“Hello, both of you,” he said.

The puppy wriggled and tried to lick the girl’s face.

“Don’t, Mopsy. We want to talk to this gentleman,” she said. “Are you really and truly the Space Viking?”

“Really and truly. And who are you two?”

“I’m Myrna. And this is Mopsy.”

“Hello, Myrna. Hello, Mopsy.”

Hearing his name, the puppy wriggled again and dropped from the child’s arms; after a brief hesitation, he came over and jumped onto Trask’s lap, licking his face. While he petted the dog, the girl came over and sat on the bench beside him.

“Mopsy likes you,” she said. After a moment, she added: “I like you, too.”

“And I like you,” he said. “Would you want to be my girl? You know, a Space Viking has to have a girl on every planet. How would you like to be my girl on Marduk?”

Myrna thought that over carefully. “I’d like to, but I couldn’t. You see, I’m going to have to be Queen, some day.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Grandpa is King now, and when he’s through being King, Pappa will have to be King, and then when he’s through being King, I can’t be King because I’m a girl, so I’ll have to be Queen. And I can’t be anybody’s girl, because I’m going to have to marry somebody I don’t know, for reasons of state.” She thought some more, and lowered her voice. “I’ll tell you a secret. I am a Queen now.”

“Oh, you are?”

She nodded. “We are Queen, in our own right, of our Royal Bedroom, our Royal Playroom, and our Royal Bathroom. And Mopsy is our faithful subject.”

“Is Your Majesty absolute ruler of these domains?”

“No,” she said disgustedly. “We must at all times defer to our Royal Ministers, just like Grandpa has to. That means, I have to do just what they tell me to. That’s Lady Valerie, and Margot, and Dame Eunice, and Sir Thomas. But Grandpa says they are good and wise ministers. Are you really a Prince? I didn’t know Space Vikings were Princes.”

“Well, my King says I am. And I am ruler of my planet, and I’ll tell you a secret. I don’t have to do what anybody tells me.”

“Gee! Are you a tyrant? You’re awfully big and strong. I’ll bet you’ve slain just hundreds of cruel and wicked enemies.”

“Thousands, Your Majesty.”

He wished that weren’t literally true; he didn’t know how many of them had been little girls like Myrna and little dogs like Mopsy. He found that he was holding both of them tightly. The girl was saying: “But you feel bad about it.” These children must be telepaths!

“A Space Viking who is also a Prince must do many things he doesn’t want to do.”

“I know. So does a Queen. I hope Grandpa and Pappa don’t get through being King for just years and years.” She looked over his shoulder. “Oh! And now I suppose I’ve got to do something else I don’t want to. Lessons, I bet.”

He followed her eyes. The girl who had been his dinner companion was approaching; she wore a wide sunshade hat, and a gown that trailed filmy gauze like sunset-colored mist. There was another woman, in the garb of an upper servant, with her.

“Lady Valerie and who else?” he whispered.

“Margot. She’s my nurse. She’s awful strict, but she’s nice.”

“Prince Trask, has Her Highness been bothering you?” Lady Valerie asked.

“Oh, far from it.” He rose, still holding the funny little dog. “But you should say, Her Majesty. She has informed me that she is sovereign of three princely domains. And of one dear loving subject.” He gave the subject back to the sovereign.

“You should not have told Prince Trask that,” Lady Valerie chided. “When Your Majesty is outside her domains, Your Majesty must remain incognito. Now, Your Majesty must go with the Minister of the Bedchamber; the Minister of Education awaits an audience.”

“Arithmetic, I bet. Well, good-by, Prince Trask. I hope I can see you again. Say good-by, Mopsy.”

She went away with her nurse, the little dog looking back over her shoulder.

“I came out to enjoy the gardens alone,” he said, “and now I find I’d rather enjoy them in company. If your Ministerial duties do not forbid, could you be the company?”

“But gladly, Prince Trask. Her Majesty will be occupied with serious affairs of state. Square root. Have you seen the grottoes? They’re down this way.”

That afternoon, one of the gentlemen-attendants caught up with him; Baron Cragdale would be gratified if Prince Trask could find time to talk with him privately. Before they had talked more than a few minutes, however, Baron Cragdale abruptly became Crown Prince Edvard.

“Prince Trask, Admiral Shefter tells me that you and he are having informal discussions about co-operation against this mutual enemy of ours, Dunnan. This is fine; it has my approval, and the approval of Prince Vandarvant, the Prime Minister, and, I might add, that of Goodman Mikhyl. I think it ought to go further, though. A formal treaty between Tanith and Marduk would be greatly to the advantage of both.”

“I’d be inclined to think so, Prince Edvard. But aren’t you proposing marriage on rather short acquaintance? It’s only been fifty hours since the Nemesis orbited in here.”

“Well, we know a bit about you and your planet beforehand. There’s a large Gilgamesher colony here. You have a few on Tanith, haven’t you? Well, anything one Gilgamesher knows, they all find out, and ours are co-operative with Naval intelligence.”

That would be why Andray Dunnan was having no dealings with Gilgameshers. It would also be what Zaspar Makann meant when he ranted about the Gilgamesh Interstellar Conspiracy.

“I can see where an arrangement like that would be mutually advantageous. I’d be quite in favor of it. Co-operation against Dunnan, of course, and reciprocal trade-rights on each other’s trade-planets, and direct trade between Marduk and Tanith. And Beowulf and Amaterasu would come into it, too. Does this also have the approval of the Prime Minister and the King?”

“Goodman Mikhyl’s in favor of it; there’s a distinction between him and the King, as you’ll have noticed. The King can’t be in favor of anything till the Assembly or the Chancellor express an opinion. Prince Vandarvant favors it personally; as Prime Minister, he is reserving his opinion. We’ll have to get the support of the Crown Loyalist Party before he can take an unequivocal position.”

“Well, Baron Cragdale; speaking as Baron Trask of Traskon, suppose we just work out a rough outline of what this treaty ought to be, and then consult, unofficially, with a few people whom you can trust, and see what can be done about presenting it to the proper government officials...”

The Prime Minister came to Cragdale that evening, heavily incognito and accompanied by several leaders of the Crown Loyalist Party. In principle, they all favored a treaty with Tanith. Politically, they had doubts. Not before the election; too controversial a subject. “Controversial,” it appeared, was the dirtiest dirty-name anything could be called on Marduk. It would alienate the labor vote; they’d think increased imports would threaten employment in Mardukan industries. Some of the interstellar trading companies would like a chance at the Tanith planets; others would resent Tanith ships being given access to theirs. And Zaspar Makann’s party were already shrieking protests about the Nemesis being repaired by the Royal Navy.

And a couple of professors who inclined toward Makann had introduced a resolution calling for the court-martial of Prince Bentrik and an investigation of the loyalty of Admiral Shefter. And somebody else, probably a stooge of Makann’s, was claiming that Bentrik had sold the Victrix to the Space Vikings and that the films of the battle of Audhumla were fakes, photographed in miniature at the Navy Moon Base.