The clown made his way raggedly down the beach. He brushed past many, hesitated often, stopped nowhere. The original crowd had dispersed. The guard had departed.
"He's a queer fellow," said Bayta, with amusement, and Toran agreed indifferently. The clown was close enough now to be seen clearly. His thin face drew together in front into a nose of generous planes and fleshy tip that seemed all but prehensile. His long, lean limbs and spidery body, accentuated by his costume, moved easily and with grace, but with just a suggestion of having been thrown together at random.
To look was to smile.
The clown seemed suddenly aware of their regard, for he stopped after he had passed, and, with a sharp turn, approached. His large, brown eyes fastened upon Bayta.
She found herself disconcerted.
The clown smiled, but it only saddened his beaked face, and when he spoke it was with the soft, elaborate phrasing of the Central Sectors.
"Were I to use the wits the good Spirits gave me," he said, "then I would say this lady can not exist - for what sane man would hold a dream to be reality. Yet rather would I not be sane and lend belief to charmed, enchanted eyes."
Bayta's own eyes opened wide. She said, "Wow!"
Toran laughed, "Oh, you enchantress. Go ahead, Bay, that deserves a five-credit piece. Let him have it."
But the clown was forward with a jump. "No, my lady, mistake me not. I spoke for money not at all, but for bright eyes and sweet face."
"Well, thanks," then, to Toran, "Golly, you think the sun's in his eyes?"
"Yet not alone for eyes and face," babbled the clown, as his words hurled past each other in heightened frenzy, "but also for a mind, clear and sturdy - and kind as well."
Toran rose to his feet, reached for the white robe he had crooked his arm about for four days, and slipped into it.
"Now, bud," he said, "suppose you tell me what you want, and stop annoying the lady."
The clown fell back a frightened step, his meager body cringing. "Now, sure I meant no harm. I am a stranger here, and it's been said I am of addled wits; yet there is something in a face that I can read. Behind this lady's fairness, there is a heart that's kind, and that would help me in my trouble for all I speak so boldly."
"Will five credits cure your trouble?" said Toran, dryly, and held out the coin.
But the clown did not move to take it, and Bayta said, "Let me talk to him, Torie," She added swiftly, and in an undertone, "There's no use being annoyed at his silly way of talking. That's just his dialect; and our speech is probably as strange to him."
She said, "What is your trouble? You're not worried about the guard, are you? He won't bother you."
"Oh, no, not he. He's but a windlet that blows the dust about my ankles. There is another that I flee, and he is a storm that sweeps the worlds aside and throws them plunging at each other. A week ago, I ran away, have slept in city streets, and hid in city crowds. I've looked in many faces for help in need. I find it here." He repeated the last phrase in softer, anxious tones, and his large eyes were troubled, "I find it here."
"Now," said Bayta, reasonably, "I would like to help, but really, friend, I'm no protection against a world-sweeping storm. To be truthful about it, I could use-"
There was an uplifted, powerful voice that bore down upon them.
"Now, then, you mud-spawned rascal-"
It was the beach guard, with a fire-red face, and snarling mouth, that approached at a run. He pointed with his low-power stun pistol.
"Hold him, you two. Don't let him get away." His heavy hand fell upon the clown's thin shoulder, so that a whimper was squeezed out of him.
Toran said, "What's he done?"
"What's he done? What's he done? Well, now, that's good!" The guard reached inside the dangling pocket attached to his belt, and removed a purple handkerchief, with which he mopped his bare neck. He said with relish. "I'll tell you what he's done. He's run away. The word's all over Kalgan and I would have recognized him before this if he had been on his feet instead of on his hawkface top." And he rattled his prey in a fierce good humor.
Bayta said with a smile, "Now where did he escape from, sir?"
The guard raised his voice. A crowd was gathering, popeyed and jabbering, and with the increase of audience, the guard's sense of importance increased in direct ratio.
"Where did he escape from?" he declaimed in high sarcasm. "Why, I suppose you've heard of the Mule, now."
All jabbering stopped, and Bayta felt a sudden iciness trickle down into her stomach. The clown had eyes only for her-he still quivered in the guard's brawny grasp.
"And who," continued the guard heavily, "would this infernal ragged piece be, but his lordship's own court fool who's run away." He jarred his captive with a massive shake, "Do you admit it, fool?"
There was only white fear for answer, and the soundless sibilance of Bayta's voice close to Toran's ear.
Toran stepped forward to the guard in friendly fashion, "Now, my man, suppose you take your hand away for just a while. This entertainer you hold has been dancing for us and has not yet danced out his fee."
"Here!" The guard's voice rose in sudden concern. "There's a reward-"
"You'll have it, if you can prove he's the man you want. Suppose you withdraw till then. You know that you're interfering with a guest, which could be serious for you."
"But you're interfering with his lordship and that will be serious for you." He shook the clown once again. "Return the man's fee, carrion."