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Updated: June 2, 2025
Murray, with a gallantry that sat ill on the scarecrow figure he was, cleared matters up a trifle. "Princess Sira? As I thought. Princess, or Your Highness, to be formal, I am your humble and disreputable servant, Lige Murray, of the Interplanetary Flying Police. Likewise this gentleman behind the brush Sime Hemingway. You know Tuman? You've missed something, Your Highness! And Tolto! Lucky man!"
The rheumy eyes rolled, settled on the water nymph. The old man showed no surprise, but pious disgust. His eyes rolled up, and in a cracked voice intoned: "Wicked, wicked! O great Pantheus, thy temptations are great thy visions tormenting. In my old age must I ever and ever live over " "Foolish old man!" Sira snapped. "I'm not a vision!"
Sira ran out of a narrow gate at the front of the house into the street, to be stopped by a tremendous human framework as solid and unyielding as a mountain. She stepped back, drew her sword "Softly! Softly!" a rumbling bass implored. "Doesn't the Princess Sira recognize her servant, Tolto?" "Tolto!"
That was after they had bought the assassination of the claimant, his wife and their son. Didn't dare take Princess Sira too, because she has always been a popular darling. It would have been too raw, wiping out the whole family. They left one claimant, see? And then put it up to us to discredit her! "Man! That fell down! The first attempt was very smooth, at that.
They are likely to upset our whole order of society. They need a set-back. And the military men are chafing at their inaction. The war will be ended before too much harm is done, by agreement of the interplanetary bankers. You see " "No!" Sira interrupted him coldly. "No! No! No! Oh, I'm sick of the whole thing! I'm sick of the men I know! I hate Scar Balta, and you too.
Sira now saw that the fisherman was old, gnarled and sunburned so dark that he was almost black, despite the dilapidated and dirty pith helmet he was wearing. His lumpish face was deeply seamed and wrinkled. His sunken mouth told of missing teeth, and his long, unkempt hair was bleached to a dirty gray. "Have you an old coat you can lend me?" Sira asked, swimming into view.
It represents the price of a snug little space cruiser for your family; a new home on the canal; maybe an island of your own. It would take you on a trip to the baths of Venus and leave you some money over. Of course you all want this reward! "Now, if you'll excuse me a moment " The man's picture faded, and the screen glowed with the life and beauty of Princess Sira Sira, smiling and alluring.
Despite his nausea, Wasil looked happy. "Wilcox tried for me, but I dodged back of those frames. So he tried for me with the neuro. The mob was getting wild outside; there was " He could not finish. There was an explosion that shook the building to its foundations. Tolto came running in. Sira close after him: "Joro is coming. Joro has detonated the warships. The hall guards have surrendered.
He'd hate to have the Princess Sira see him that way. Ever hear of her? Say, she's a raving beauty. This Balta'd like to be elected planetary president, see to succeed Wilcox, who has bigger plans. There's always been a strong sentiment for the old monarchy, anyway. The oligarchy never did go big. Follow me?" "Yeh; go on." "Well, this Princess Sira has ideas.
The oil smelled fishy, but it was soothing, and it was not long before the claimant to the throne of Mars was deep in restful slumber. Late that afternoon the deacon returned and hung his nets up to dry. He was dour, his fever having left him. But he had a strange story to impart. "I think that girl I picked up is the Princess Sira," he told the old woman.
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