and gleaming with oil, crossed their ceremonial
pikes in front of him as he approached the entrance.

"And just what business do you have here, stranger?" asked the senior of
the guards, his speaking orifice framing with difficulty the sibilances
of Universal Galactic.

"What business _would_ I have at the Viceroy's Palace?" asked Crownwall.
"I want to see Ffallk."

"Mind your tongue," growled the guard. "If you mean His Effulgence,
Right Hand of the Glorious Emperor, Hereditary Ruler of the Seventy
Suns, Viceroy of the Twelfth Sector of the Universal Holy
Empire"--Universal Galactic had a full measure of ceremonial words--"he
sees only those whom he summons. If you know what's good for you, you'll
get out of here while you can still walk. And if you run fast enough,
maybe you can even get away from that crowd out there, but I doubt it."

"Just tell him that a man has arrived from Earth to talk to him. He'll
summon me fast enough. Meanwhile, my highly polished friends, I'll just
wait here, so why don't you put those heavy pikes down?"

Crownwall sat on the steps, puffed alight a cigarette, and blew expert
smoke rings toward the guards.

An elegant courtier, with elaborately jeweled harness, bustled from
inside the palace, obviously trying to present an air of strolling
nonchalance. He gestured fluidly with a graceful tentacle. "You!" he
said to Crownwall. "Follow me. His Effulgence commands you to appear
before him at once." The two guards withdrew their pikes and froze into
immobility at the sides of the entrance.

Crownwall stamped out his smoke and ambled after the hurrying courtier
along tremendous corridors, through elaborate waiting rooms, under
guarded doorways, until he was finally bowed through a small curtained
arch.

At the far side of the comfortable, unimpressive room, a plump thing,
hide faded to a dull violet, reclined on a couch. Behind him stood a
heavy and pompous appearing Vegan in lordly trappings. They examined
Crownwall with great interest for a few moments.

"It's customary to genuflect when you enter the Viceroy's presence,"
said the standing one at last. "But then I'm told you're an Earthling. I
suppose we can expect you to be ignorant of those niceties customary
among civilized peoples."

"It's all right, Ggaran," said the Viceroy languidly. He twitched a
tentacle in a beckoning gesture. "Come closer, Earthling. I bid you
welcome to my capital. I have been looking forward to your a