It crossed Thanakar’s mind again that his friend had changed somehow, acquiring a sense of purpose somewhere. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Abu’s old, foolish look came back, and he smiled uncertainly, because the commissar was looking very stern. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. We have you to thank for this, don’t we?”

“No,” said the commissar. “It’s not a question of privilege. It’s a question of duty,” and Thanakar thought he had never seen him angry before. “I admit it’s not much. Provisional only, and only if you behave yourself. Second-lieutenant, supply corps.”

“Thank you. I’m not going.”

“Good God, what do you expect? Lieutenant-colonel?”

“Thank you. It’s better than I deserve, I know. I’m grateful to you. But I’m not going.”

“Not going?” The commissar was furious. “You have to go.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I refuse to fight for such a cause.”

“Cause? What cause? There is no cause. You’ll go because you’re what God made you. A damn poor excuse for a soldier. You talk as if you had a choice.”

“But I do have a choice. I hate the bishop, and I won’t fight for her. Not for any of them. What I don’t understand is, you hate them too.”

“The bishop is one thing; God is something else. Aspe is an atheist. The bishop had him carried through the streets in a cage. He’s not complaining, is he?”

There was a pause. Thanakar hadn’t spoken. Then he squatted down in front of the prince. “Come on,”

he said gently. “It’s all nonsense. You have to go. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you. We’ll go together.”

Abu looked at him with loathing. “You,” he said. “You hypocrite! I thought you were like me. I thought you hated the world because it was unfair. Because it’s cruel and corrupt and runs on lies. I thought you wanted to change it. No—you only hate it for what you think it did to you. If you had been born with a straight leg, you would have been as proud and stupid and careless as any of them.”

“I was born with a straight leg,” said Thanakar between clenched teeth. “He dropped me.”

“Shut up!” shouted Abu. “I don’t care. If you’re not brave enough to throw it back at them now, then I never want to see you again.” The prince was crying. Tears ran down his face. He got to his feet and turned away from them, and walked over to a table across the room, where there was a bottle and some glasses. He poured himself a drink.

“I’ll tell you why you have to go,” said the commissar quietly. “It’s the bargain you made. A rich, pampered man; look at you. It’s the bargain you make every month when you cash the bishop’s check.

You made it. You can’t turn back on it now.”

Outside the window, it had gotten dark. The rain had stopped. Prince Abu swallowed some liquor, but his nose and throat were clogged with tears so that he coughed, and some of it slopped down his uniform. “Thank you,” he said when he had recovered breath. “That makes things very clear. It resolves something I’ve been thinking about. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone. You too, Charity.”