Harvest of Stars Read Online Free PDF Page A

old maverick community, scatter its elders and take over entirely the schooling of its children. In theory that was possible, of course: an internal matter over which the Federation had no authority. In practice, traffic and communications wove Earth too closely together; too little could be covered up; too many High Worlders of all nationalities were in constant touchand shared too many opinions; they, or the general public itself, might well force other governments, at least those that were democratic, to apply pressures still more severe than Fireball had lately been doing—Her mind was adrift She hauled it back into real time.
    Twice Lee paused to exchange brief greetings with a man. Kyra grew aware of disapproving glances. She must seem luridly immodest. She told herself this wasn’t a sealed-off enclave. They’d get a lot of outsiders, some on business, some curiosity seekers. Doubtless a certain part of their economy depended on it. Still, she felt vastly relieved when Lee stopped at a door and it retracted for them.
    They entered a room of opulent carpeting, low furniture, gilt and silver tracery. The young man who admitted them signed the door to close. He bowed deeply as another, gray-bearded and strong-featured, attired in caftan and keffiyeh, came in through an arch at the rear. To that one Lee made respectful salutation, saying,
“Salaam aleyk
.” Kyra stood miserably self-conscious.
    “Aleykom es-salaam,”
replied the older man. His gravity surrendered to a smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked in English with slight accent. As he looked closer, the smile faded. “Do you have trouble, my friend?”
    “Ana nuzîlak
,” Lee said awkwardly.
    “A-a-ah. Come, then.” The man issued a sharp order. The servant hastened off. The host led the new arrivals onward. In a chamber behung with white perlux, suggestive of a pavilion, he gestured them to sit on the floor at a table of genuine wood. Joining them, he nodded at Kyra. “Remove your burden if you wish, señorita.”
    “Gracias, sir, but—” Catching a glance from Lee, Kyra said hurriedly, “Gracias,” and slipped the pack off.
    Lee spoke with full formality. “Sheikh Tahir, may I present Kyra Davis, a consorte of mine in Fireball Enterprises? Pilot Davis, por favor, meet Zeyd Abdullah Aziz Tahir, Sheikh of the Beny Muklib. He is among the leaders of … his nation.”
    Tahir regarded the woman narrowly, yet somehowcourteously. “Bienvenida, Pilot Davis,” he said. “A space pilot, I presume?”
    “Y-yes, sir,” she answered. “Uh, por favor, excuse how I’m dressed. There wasn’t time and I didn’t know—”
    He nodded. “Of course. Robert Lee would not appear this suddenly were it not an emergency situation. Nor would you, I am sure.”
    “I’m a, a total stranger … to your customs, sir.”
    Tahir smiled again, crinkling his craggy face.
“Wellah
, but it shall be forgiven you. I hope you will find time to tell me something of your work and yourself. If you fare among God’s stars, you are fortunate.”
    Lee shifted where he sat. “Neither of us is right now, I’m afraid,” he ventured. “In fact, we’re desperate.”
    “You made that plain.” A tap sounded on the door. At Tahir’s bidding, it opened. A boy brought in a tray with coffee service and a bowl of date cakes. He set the refreshments on the table, bowed, and left. When the door had shut behind him, Tahir invited: “Partake.
Kheyr Ullah.”
    Lee blinked. “Beg pardon?”
    “You do not know? Since you said you had alighted at my tent, thus claiming my protection, I thought you understood what follows. Bueno, this is the Lord’s bounty. Eat, drink, be my guests.”
    “You’re too kind.” Lee cleared his throat. “We’ll be honest with you. I’m not of your tribe or faith or anything. Not much more than an acquaintance, really, who’s picked up a few tag-ends of information about your people. I’ve no claim on you.”
    “You have shown