Nils grinned like a wolf and began to strip. "In my homeland we take steam baths and then roll naked in the snow."

"Huh! I'm glad we're here instead of there then. What do you call it again? I'll be careful never to go there."

"It's called Svealann, and the real reason I was exiled is that they don't tolerate midgets. My growth was stunted from missing too many steam baths." Very carefully he moved down the steps into the water. "I've never confessed it to anyone since I left there," he added, "because it's embarrassing to a northman to be a midget, and I've been keeping it a secret. I hope you won't tell anyone."

Imre had scarcely settled on the sitting ledge in his bath when a dark girl entered the room. Without speaking she set a dish of soap on the low curb beside each bath and left.

"Well!" Imre stared after her indignantly. "They certainly have strange customs here, where women come into a man's bath-and a young, pretty one at that. Say, look, the soap is white! It is soap, isn't it? And smell it. Like a woman's scent. Can stuff like that possibly get us clean?"

Nils stood and began to lather his torso, the sinews in his arms, shoulders and chest flexing and bunching as he washed. Imre stared. "You know," he said, "I'd take steam baths, too, and roll in the snow, if I thought it would grow me muscles like yours."

Nils grinned again, squatted to the neck, lathered his pale hair, and submerged. When he came up, Imre was staring past him in distress. Two young women had entered and stood quietly, holding long fluffy towels. Nils emerged calmly and stood while one of them dried him. Then she left, again without a word. On each of two benches lay clean white clothing, neatly folded. Nils walked to one of them and dressed in loose white pantaloons and a white robe that came to his knees. There was no belt or other ready means for fastening on as much as a dagger.

Imre's expression was pure consternation. "Go!" he said to the remaining girl. "I will dry myself." She turned. "No. Wait." He looked grimly at Nils and climbed quickly from the bath to be dried. He did not speak until he had dressed himself.

"I've never heard of such shameless customs before," he said tightly. "And I'm going to demand that they keep those women out of here before we become degenerate and useless. I… "

The soft-faced steward had quietly entered the room and made his slight obeisance. "Your Lordship, the chief of your guard, who calls himself Sergeant Bela, awaits your pleasure."

"Awaits our pleasure!" Imre exploded. "That's more than you know enough to do. Haven't you ever heard of announcing yourself before entering? After this, knock or use a bell or something."

The steward bowed more deeply.

"Now you can tell Bela I'll be happy to see him, and then have some food and drink sent up."

With another bow the steward left, and a moment later they heard firmer footfalls. There was a sharp rapping, as of a dagger haft on the wall beside the door.

"Bela?"

"That's right, m'Lord."

"Come in then. I thought it was you. None of these people around here have the manners to knock."

Bela glanced around the apartment and his lips pursed in a silent whistle. "M'Lord, we're to leave at once, and I wanted to see you before we went. His Highness will ask me if you were properly received, and I wanted to see for myself."

"Why do you have to leave so soon?" Imre asked.

"They've fed us and have horses saddled and waiting-beautiful horses, too, they are. People who breed horseflesh like that can't be all bad. Anyway, they say there aren't enough of us to ride back safely after we leave their borders, because of bandits and other swine. But they have a small caravan bound for somewhere near home, and they've held it for us. They want it to leave right away."

"Well, I guess that's reason enough," Imre said reluctantly. "But I'll miss hearing my own language and seeing good, honest Magyar people. Compared to these people, Nils will seem like a native Magyar. And unless I talk to myself, his is likely to be the only Magyar speech I'll hear." He grinned. "If the next time you see me I speak our language with a sing-song, blame it on our little friend. Meanwhile, tell His Highness that we've been hospitably received and beautifully housed, and I expect that when they've adjusted to our differences in custom, we'll be quite happy."

They walked out together and Bela shook their hands and left.

When Imre and Nils had finished a light meal of sweetened fruit and cream, the steward returned, announcing himself this time with a small bell. Not only his black eyes and bland face were unreadable; the man covered his mind with a wash of no-thought. The household staff here might need to develop that for survival, Nils realized.

"If your Lordship is ready," the steward said, bowing again to Imre, "His Holiness will see you now."

The throne room was in the tower, and even its inner walls were obsidian, but it was well lighted by large windows. The ceiling was no more than four meters high, and its length and width about six meters, to enhance the size of its master. The throne was upholstered and the floor carpeted with rich furs. There were four men there. One was a chamberlain-a thin, pale, expressionless man wearing a toga. Two were tall muscular black men wearing loincloths and holding broad curved swords; one stood on each side of the throne room.

The fourth man was Kazi.

The steward dropped to his knees outside the door and crawled two meters inside, moving his forehead along the floor. Nils had never read such genuine unalloyed fear before. "They are here, Your Highness," he announced in his falsetto, and then crawled out backward, his eyes still directed at the floor.

Outside the door, Imre looked nervously at Nils, uncertain what to do next. Nils stepped forward, entered upright, and bowed, then stood aside as if ushering Imre in. Imre braced himself, set his face, and followed.

Kazi arose. He was easily the largest man either of them had ever seen, something more than two meters tall, and utterly naked. He was neatly jointed but hugely muscled, and grossly, almost unfeasibly, male. His skin was dark-not brown but almost gun-metal blue, like some of the natives of southern India. The lean, aquiline face was a caricature of evil, and a slight, mocking smile showed perfectly white teeth. He appeared to be about thirty years old.

The air was heavy with the power he exuded.

He gestured toward two low cushions on opposite sides of the chamber, each in front of a guard, and remained standing until his visitors were seated. Then he lowered himself to the throne and rested his eyes on Nils.

"I have awaited you with interest."

The Anglic words came from the lips of the chamberlain, but the chamberlain's mind was completely blank, and there was no doubt that the words were from the mind of Kazi.

Nils nodded.

"And you planned that I should have you brought here. Did it occur to you that that would be very dangerous?"

Not a muscle moved in Nils's relaxed face.

"Unless, of course, you came here to take service with me?" Ahmed was right, Kazi thought. He does not screen; his consciousness simply does not talk to itself. I have never seen this before, except in idiots.

"You wouldn't have me in your service," Nils answered calmly.

"Why not?"

"Because you can't read my mind."

Kazi's flash of anger staggered his chamberlain, and even Imre, sitting ignored and bewildered, felt it strongly, blanching. Now Kazi's own lips spoke. "I can read your mind to the finest detail if I wish, if you should survive long enough."

"You're not likely to do that," Nils replied matter-of-factly. "You brought me here because you're extremely curious about me, and there is little in the world that is interesting to you anymore. And you are very old and do not age; time is not important to you. You will wait and explore me with your wits and questions rather than destroy me."