for a moment, as he woke, kirk could not remember where he was. drowsiness mingled with a sense of eeriness at the sound of long bird-calls unlike any on terra and the unfamiliar rustling of leaves; the rays from the late afternoon sun seemed too crimson.

then, as sleep fell from his eyes, he remembered. he glanced at the window above his bed from which the orange light filtered into the room and saw it was completely open to the outside air. something would have to done about that, he thought grimly, or he'd never be able to sleep with an easy mind. there were always people, sooner or later, who hated you if you had power; or if they didn't hate you, they at least wanted you out of commission for one reason or another.

he sat up to take a better look at the room he had been too tired to investigate before. there were mats of woven reeds, and low carved chests, and flowers; the walls were clean and glimmering, and bare except for a single picture of two young native children. he got up and walked over to look at it more closely. a boy of about seven was holding his arm out to a girl, slightly younger, to help her on to the low, swaying branch on which he was sitting. the picture was full of sunshine and green leaves and happiness, and you could feel the trusting softness of her arms reaching up to him. an odd picture, kirk thought. the children looked childlike enough, but the emotions looked adult.

as he looked at it, he heard a soft, swishing sound in the next room, and stiffened. there was no lock on the door, he noticed. well, it was time to get up, anyway. he dressed hurriedly, trying to remember the layout of his rooms. except for the bathroom, he recalled only one other room, a sort of arbored porch, one side completely open to the air, with a low table and some cooking equipment at one end.

as he opened the door, a faint whisk of something made of reeds went out of sight. a primitive broom, he thought, with a faint sense of relief. some servant was tidying the house. he opened the door further—and stared.

a native girl was standing before him. she was extraordinarily lovely. the gold-green hair of her race rippled and flowed in waves over her bare back and shoulders down to the circlet of vermilion cloth girdling her thighs. the band of small shells that circled her throat was netted with wide orange and red flowers that half-hid, half-disclosed the firm naked breasts. the light brown, gold-flecked eyes beneath the gold-green eyebrows were soft; so was the tender mouth, rose-colored against the flawless skin, with its undertones of faint green. her body, too, looked soft and yielding, but was borne with imperious grace that somehow dignified even the broom held loosely now in one delicate hand.

kirk stared at this vision of beauty, taken by surprise, and found himself caught up in sudden desire. she was like something out of a dream. he tried to get hold of himself.

you're just not used to half-nude women, he told himself. you're used to girls in uniforms, crisp, businesslike uniforms. a wild suspicion caught at the edge of his mind. he didn't know anything about this planet, really—except that there was something he didn't know. maybe they made a practice of diverting their rulers with beautiful women. she certainly didn't look like a servant. he smiled at the thought that came to him: this servant was the first indication of the luxury befitting a planetary administrator. the thought enabled him to gain control of himself again. he regained a semblance of his customary reserved look.

"good afternoon," he said, in the native language.

she smiled and held out her hand.

he hesitated, then held out his own awkwardly. did one shake hands with one's servants here? he wished he'd asked jerwyn for more advice about protocol.

she took his hand and pressed it lightly for a moment. "i am nanae." her voice was low and musical. "i am going to clean and take care of your house."

she turned and with exquisite precision gestured toward the low table and cooking equipment at the end of the room. "i thought you would be waking soon. i have prepared some jen for you."

jen? he thought. oh, yes, a very light stimulant—the local variety of tea. he walked over to the low table and sat down, fighting the impulse to enter into conversation with her. he watched her as she poured the hot liquid into wide cups of polished gourd, her hair radiant about her shoulders. a stab of longing shot through him. the long years of training in the institute paraded through his mind, the years of strict routine, hard work, ascetic, bare rooms, with women considered playthings that took too much time from needed study; the only beauty was the dream of power among the glittering stars.

well, he wasn't going to give up and forget the dream, he told himself—and he wasn't going to be led astray by any pretty girls, particularly a maid. hell, he thought suddenly, maybe ross is testing me. maybe he picked the worst planet in the whole damn galaxy to find out if i could do something with it. it's obvious if i can get this place on the trademaps, i can handle anything.

he looked speculatively at the girl as she pushed the cup toward him. he wondered how she came by her job. did they hold beauty contests here for the honor of being cleaning woman in the pa's household? he realized he was feeling more cheerful. the jen and the soothing quietness of the girl's presence were doing him good. he felt a resurgence of his old energy and ambition that the interview with ross had quelled for so long.

"did you work for jerwyn, too?" he asked. yes, his voice was just right, courteous, but not too friendly, he thought.

"no, but i knew him." she looked at him with an odd smile. "he became one of our best dancers."

"dancers!" kirk stared at her in amazement. he started to open his mouth, then stopped. he'd better not ask any more questions till he'd had a chance to talk to some terrans. apparently, jerwyn had gone native. maybe it was his way of rebelling against being sent here in the first place—and he'd let himself go so far that he'd skipped his chance of reassignment at the end of the first five years, afraid of the problems of a new post after being a beachcomber for so long. that would account for the curious lack of deference he'd found in all these people. they were friendly enough, but they lacked proper respect for his position. you weren't supposed to be friendly to a pa; you were supposed to be humbly polite. he recalled the respect and awe he'd received on the ship.

as he finished his cup, he realized he was very hungry. he looked around instinctively for food. he had enough synthetics in his bags to do him for awhile, but he might as well make the plunge and start eating the native foods right away. no use coddling himself.

the girl noticed the look. "i didn't prepare food for you because dinner will be served in just a little while. we eat all together, down by the river. you will hear drums to announce when the meal is ready, and you get there by walking to the end of that path." she pointed a delicate finger at a small foot-path winding by a few yards from where he sat.