Chapter 7

In the morning, although still fuming about Auldin’s escape, Hanlon had to put it out of his mind as he prepared for the try-out of his act before Yandor.

The new and gaudy uniforms had been delivered and the roches had grown used to wearing them. Now Hanlon dressed himself and the animals and left the house. They marched down the street toward the downtown section where Yandor’s office was located.

Naturally, the procession attracted considerable attention, for Hanlon made the roches follow him sometimes in single file, then close up to double file. They always kept evenly spaced, all in perfectly cadenced step. He, himself, strutted in a sort of drum-major’s fashion, for he considered all this excellent advertising.

“Wish I had a brass band,” he grinned to himself. “Then these folks would really wake up.”

By the time he reached the more densely-peopled business section, a large crowd was watching him and his unusually-trained and dressed dogs, and comments were lively and pleasantly surprised. As on Terra--or any other planet, for that matter--this parade attracted an ever-growing crowd of excited children, who tagged along with laughter and shouts of joy.

Into Yandor’s office Hanlon and his roches marched, and at his brisk command they lined up before the startled entrepreneur’s table-desk in a double rank of four. “Salute,” Hanlon said, and the dogs stood on their hind legs simultaneously, and raised their right forepaws in salute.

“Well now,” Yandor gasped, “what have we here?”

But Hanlon, without answering, turned to his roches. “Attention.” The roches dropped to all fours, and aligned themselves. In rapid order Hanlon made them do columns right and left, right and left turns, left and right by twos and fours, right and left obliques, and finally right into company front. Then, “Company, halt. Parade, rest.”

The roches, who had obeyed every order with precision and unanimity, sank to their haunches and crossed their front feet.

The impresario had stood watching with open mouth and bugging eyes during this miracle of training. Now he rushed up and seized both Hanlon’s hands.

“Well now, that’s wonderful. Perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it. Marvelous. Can they do anything else, too?”

“Certainly,” and Hanlon explained rapidly the various other things he had trained his roches, individually and as a group, to do.

“Well now, we certainly can use this. The people have never seen anything like it. They’ll be enraptured. Let’s talk terms.”

Hanlon faced the roches, who had not moved. “At rest.” They relaxed and lay down, although still keeping their places. Most of them hung out their tongues and panted in the manner of dog-like animals everywhere. Nor did they move from their places during the half hour or so Hanlon and Yandor were talking business.

All during that discussion Hanlon carefully watched the mind of the man before him, paying more attention to any stray and extraneous thoughts than he did to their talk about bookings--which actually did not especially interest him. For he had begun to find that in those side thoughts of the natives during a conversation usually lay his greatest mine of information.

Hanlon was becoming more and more certain that this man Yandor had much on his mind besides the entertainment business that was his front. He was not able--yet--to get any direct clues as to who Yandor’s superior or superiors might be, but he did glean enough to make him certain there were such higher-ups.

Just as they were closing their interview Hanlon said, “I understand, nyer, that you have quite a collection of rare animals.”

“Well now, that’s right. I do have quite a number, and am always looking for new and unusual ones.”

“Do you happen to have a Terran cat among them?”

“A cat? What is that? I never heard of such an animal.”

“Oh, but you must have one of those. They are not only the finest pets anyone could possibly have, but they have long, furry tails.”

A gleam of interested desire came into Yandor’s eyes. “I’ve heard of animals with tails, on other planets, but I’ve never even seen one. Well now, such a thing would be most wonderful--a magnificent addition to my collection. But how can I get one?”

“If you’ll permit me the pleasure, nyer, I can get one for you. I know a certain man on the Eastern Continent who obtained a pair when he was on that trip to the Terran planets. Lately they have had a litter of kittens, as the young are called. I am sure I can buy one or ... or ... well, I’ll get you one,” he grinned.

“Oh, I would so like to have one--though I hesitate to let you take such risks. But from you, my friend, I’ll accept it. Well, yes, I’ll gladly accept it from you. When can I have it?”

“It may take some days, but have it you shall. I’ll bring it as soon as I can. Meanwhile, where and when do you want me to perform first?”

“Well now, let me think. The National Theatre would be best, I think. Yes, it is the finest and largest here in the capital, and I’ll make a special presentation of your opening. I’ll invite all the finest people, including our glorious Ruler and his staff. Yes, three days should be sufficient to arrange it all, if the Ruler is free that evening. Where do you live? I’ll send you word.”

The next three days were extremely busy ones for Hanlon--and he had little time for spying on the mind of Yandor, save when he saw him briefly. Feeling in a way that he was being derelict in his duty, Hanlon nevertheless decided that to gain the best results later he would have to concentrate for the time being on getting ready for his debut. So much depended on that being a success.

He had attended the so-called theatrical performances--more like variety acts or what he had read that the old-time vaudeville shows were like--since he had decided to make his bid for contact with Yandor by this means. Now he went to the “place of performances” to study the layout more carefully and minutely.

It was nothing like the various types of theatres he had known so well on Terra. For one thing, it was not in a building at all, but merely a specially-prepared plot of ground, surrounded by a high stone wall. Naturally, being Estrellan, it was five-sided.

Inside the wall the hard-packed and smoothed ground sloped gently downward from all sides toward a level, tile-floored, foot-high place in the center that was the stage. The customers stood during the performance, although Hanlon had never been able to understand why.

“Sure seems as though it would be easy, and not too expensive, to at least give them benches of some sort to sit on,” he thought.

Near one corner of the stage was the entrance to a flight of stone steps that led downward into the dressing rooms and property-storage for the theatre. When it was their turn, the actors had to come up these steps and so onto the stage to begin their turn, without benefit of curtain. Also, because of the peculiar construction it was impossible to use “backdrops” or “sets” as Hanlon knew them.

The morning Hanlon went to investigate the place there was no one around, so he was not stopped nor disturbed while he made a complete tour of the underground rooms, and stepped off the measurements of the stage. One great lack amused him.

“What?” he chuckled, “no popcorn or soft drink dispenser robots?”

He had noticed when attending previous performances, that they used no type of footlights or other illumination whatever, and that it was hard for those in the back of the enclosure to see what was going on down in the center. By judicious inquiry he found that on the nights when it stormed or was cloudy, or when Estrella’s two moons were not in the sky, there was no performance.

Following his inspection of the theatre, Hanlon went to the market place again. He hunted out a stall where lamps were sold, and after the usual considerable haggling and dickering, bought twenty of the most powerful of the peculiar carbide lamps at a fairly reasonable price. Then he hunted up a metal-worker, and had reflectors made to his order and specifications, and fitted to one side of the lamps.

“I’ll introduce ‘em to something new,” he grinned, then was suddenly worried. “Or are such new customs and innovations taboo on this screwy world?”

Another thought occurred to him the second day, and he hunted around for some time until he found a place where masks were made. The customer, who specialized in things for actors, did not have what Hanlon wanted, but after it had been described, the merchant said it would not be hard to make, and that it could be delivered the next afternoon. So Hanlon ordered a face-mask for himself, that would look like the head of a roch.

Meantime, he continued working with the animals whenever he had time. He was now well satisfied with his ability to control them under all circumstances. He felt sure he would have no trouble in “putting on a good act”, and his only worry was whether or not he could please these strange people. For so much depended upon his making good--if he did, he would be more solidly in the good graces of the impresario, Yandor. And that was the main thing he was after right now.

The night of Hanlon’s first performance finally arrived--and so did a nice large attack of stage-fright. There were “butterflies in his stomach”, and he was by turns wet with sweat and almost petrified. Peeking out from the top of the stairs leading to the dressing rooms, the sight gave Hanlon a prime case of the jitters. For it seemed all the high officials, business and professional men, and the “social group” of Stearra, with their wives and families, were there. Even the Ruler was seated at stage-side in a large, ornate throne-chair, having been persuaded by Yandor that he would see something most exceptional.

Hanlon went slowly down into the cubicle assigned him and the roches, and there fought for calmness. And it was a measure of his innate strength of character that he succeeded. The jitters passed, the butterflies went into hibernation, and his nerves calmed down.

The first acts were the usual type seen on Estrellan stages--singers, posturers (they did not seem to have any dancers in the sense that Terran theatres do), and acrobats. Hanlon had always been interested in these, for almost none of the things they did were like what he was used to seeing or hearing.

The music, however, he could not get used to. Estrellan music was based on a five-toned scale, of course, and was--to his ears--more of a cacophony than Chinese music. Yet the Estrellan singers had clear, beautiful, flutelike voices.