"I am very sorry," she said, "that such a thing should have happened. I know you are full of grief for your comrades, and I wish that I could have postponed our interview. However, I must press you, for the longer you stay on this world, the greater the risk is for my people."
Somewhere before, it seemed to him, he had heard her voice—sensed her mind pattern, anyway. If he had not known that she was the mbretersha, he would have fancied that hers had been one of the minds that had spoken to him, the most persuasive of the cajoling creatures that had sung him their siren songs as he flashed transitorily through their universe. But, he thought dully, that was impossible. She was the mbretersha, the queen.
She read his thoughts, and the pattern of her appearance altered subtly. It was a warm and kind expression of herself; it was a smile. "You must learn, Mattern, that the concept of a ruler in this universe differs from the concept in yours. Here a ruler is the servant of her people, not their master. It is her obligation to take care of them, protect them, watch over them—in whatever way seems most fitting to her. She can have no pride in herself, only in them. They are more than her children."
It was funny, Mattern thought, that she should so easily plan to break the rules of her universe. A space rat like him—that was one thing; it was to be expected. But a queen? Now that he was coming back to life a little, he began to wonder about this again.
Deftly, she picked the wonder out of his mind and answered it. "Our Federation, like yours, is an artificial creation. Its laws are no more than arbitrary regulations, devised by the various peoples of each universe with regard to the greatest good of the majority, and thrust upon majority and minority alike."
Mattern began to understand, or thought he did. "A queen isn't likely to hold with democracy," he said—though perhaps not aloud.
She was a little impatient. "It's not a question of absolute power or divine right—simply that my people come first, even before myself; my own world is part of me, and I am part of it by nature and instinct. Its needs are my needs. When my people are hungry, I feel the pangs."
Most rulers justify themselves like that, he thought, keeping his lips pressed firmly together. But they all do the same things.
But he couldn't keep her out of his mind. "No," she said, "you're wrong. I was not speaking metaphorically. My nervous system is attuned to my people's; it is a hereditary trait bred into my family. So being the ruler is not a pleasant station to occupy."
It certainly wouldn't be, he thought, if she was telling the truth—to suffer every pang that was suffered on the planet, and, if the attuning were psychic also, every sorrow. He expected her to pick the disbelief out of his mind, but she smiled and went on to tell him about her planet.
Ferr was not a large world. Moreover, it was essentially a barren one. It had been rich only because it had previously engaged in sub-rosa commerce with Mattern's universe. "And the last traffic was long, long ago," she told Mattern. "In a day much before mine, when my mother ruled."
"What happened? What stopped the traffic?"
"Our captain died of old age, and we have had trouble finding a successor to him."
"Why is it so hard to get somebody else?" Mattern asked bluntly.
She paused. When she spoke again, it was so obliquely that he did not realize immediately that it was an answer. "Time was when we had more contact with your people. There were many who knew of the xhindi, although few had actually encountered us. It was not difficult for us to get humans to work with us then. But the barbarians took over your world and your people lost the knowledge of how to get through to us. And when they regained it, we were not why they wished to get through. Much of the problem is in making people believe that we exist."
He nodded. "The flluska call you demons."
"There are still some on Earth who call us demons, Mattern. Your rulers and administrators do not call us demons—no, they are too learned for that—but your Space Service, by means of divers spells and conditionings, prevents most of those who pass through hyperspace from seeing and hearing us. And, of those who do, most are too frightened for negotiation."
She asked with sorrowful archness, "Are we so terrible in your eyes, Mattern?"
"I don't know," he said slowly, bewilderedly. "Sometimes you are, and I know you will be again. But right now, to me you look—almost beautiful."
There was silence, and, for a moment, he thought that he had offended her.
Then, "Thank you," she said softly. "It is a great compliment."
He was anxious to know why they had chosen him as their human representative. "Weren't there any men who did try to get through?" he asked.
"A few—a very few—reached this space." She added reluctantly, "Some of them proved to lack stability of substance—"
He was angry, at her, and at himself, for not realizing that he had not been chosen. It had merely been a question of survival. "Then you knew what could happen to Schiemann!"
"It could have happened to anyone, Mattern. You knew there were risks to be taken. We did not conceal that from you."
And that was true. It had not occurred to him that the risks would not be equally shared by all three members of the ship's company.
The mbretersha continued: "And others of those who come through go mad. We feared that might happen to you, Mattern."
"Others go sane also," he said.
"This is the first time that has happened in my experience. But truly, Mattern, a madman would not seek to reach us."
"I wonder," Mattern said. "I wonder if anybody but a madman would."
This time he had displeased her. There was chill silence, and then: "Time is short. It is best that we return to discussing our business together. Now we will pay you for the merchandise you have brought us with a substance which is stable on Earth—at least it was in times gone by—and which used to become a stuff of considerable value. On your next trip—"
"What makes you think there's going to be a next trip? What makes you think I'm going to come back here again?" He would really have to be a madman to go through that all over again.
The mbretersha smiled. "You will come, Mattern," she said. "You will come when you see how rewarding it is to deal with us. And you will come because—"
"Because of what?" he demanded, more sharply than one should address a queen.
"Because your kqyres will make sure that you do." The tall, splendidly illuminated being who stood close to her throne bowed as she introduced him: "This is Lord Njeri, who served as kqyres with the previous captain. He will serve with you."
"Kqyres? What's that?" Apprehension quickened inside Mattern. "And what right have you to—"
"Your partner is dead," the mbretersha told him. "Lord Njeri is your new partner."
Mattern stood staring at her. No point protesting further, he knew; he was on her world, in her power. For the time being, he would have to obey her.
"Come, Captain Mattern," said the kqyres. "It is fitting that we superintend the loading of the ship."
So they went back to the port and Mattern watched the xhindi fill the Valkyrie's hold with some queer, spongy-looking substance that couldn't possibly be of value anywhere. And beside him stood the kqyres, as he was to be beside him for the next fifteen years.
"If you are disturbed about my effect upon your people when they catch sight of me," the kqyres assured the young man, "you may ease your mind. I shall make myself so that I am barely visible in your universe. Only those who look for me can see me. You need have no fear," he added with a sigh. "I have been through all this before."
"Yeah, that's what she told me," said Mattern grimly.
"It is disloyal of me, I know," the xhind murmured, "but I had hoped the mbretersha would not find a human representative before I died. I am aware of my obligation to my world—but it is not a pleasant prospect to spend one's last years in exile, however honorable."
"Don't worry, as soon as we get to normspace, I'll send you back. I'm not going on with this."
The kqyres seemed to shrug sadly. "You cannot send me back, for I am permanently attached to you. Wherever you go, I go—until the mbretersha chooses to free us, one from the other."
Mattern couldn't believe that. Once he got out of this alien universe, none of its laws could apply to him.
"Secondly," the kqyres informed him, "you will want to come back here. When you look at the cargo and see what it is, you will want to come back." He sighed again. "I know your species so well. And I do not fancy they have changed."
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