The Continent Makers and Other Tales of the Viagens by L. Sprague de Camp

men of evil designs, and the Algerian was perhaps the tallest man ever to set foot on this outpost of the Viagens Interplanetarias. Akelawi still wore his Krishnan makeup: antennae, green hair, and artificial points to his ears. He gazed down at Abreu from large dark eyes with an expression of melancholy reserve.
    Abreu brusquely asked: “What’s this all about, Senhor Ahmad?”
    Akelawi sighed. “First I explain to the customs inspector, then to the head customs inspector, now to you, and I suppose after you to Comandante Kennedy—”
    “Never mind that, my good sir. Just answer the question.”
    “Very well. As I’ve already said twice, I bought this mummy from Prince Ferrian of Sotaspé. Here’s my bill of sale, with the prince’s own signature.”
    “Why did you buy it?”
    “To take to Earth as a museum piece. Even with the present freight rates it’ll pay the cost of my trip.”
    “Whose mummy is it?” asked Abreu, bending over the object. “Mãe do Deus, it’s ugly!”
    Akelawi said: “It’s supposed to be the remains of Manzariyé, the first and only king of Sotaspé.”
    “How so? Have they a republic, or what?”
    “Not exactly. They have a legal fiction whereby King Manzariyé is still the legal ruler, and the reigning prince has only the status of a regent. The reasons are very complicated and legalistic—”
    “Never mind them, then. Have you X-rayed it, amigo?”
    “Not yet,” said Gorchakov. “I thought you’d want to be present . . .”
    Half an hour later Abreu completed his examination. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t let you take it through,” he told Akelawi. “But tell me: why should Prince Ferrian sell the sacred relic of his ancestor?”
    Akelawi shrugged his bony shoulders. “He didn’t say. Perhaps he plans to make himself king in name as well as in fact.”
    “I see. What’s that medal you’re wearing?”
    “The open glider championship of Mikardand. If you’ll let me start signing that mountain of papers, maybe I’ll be through in time to catch the ship.”
    He signed out and departed with his mummy.

    ###

    Three days later, after Akelawi had taken off on the Lorêto, a slim burning-eyed young Krishnan stormed into Novorecife. His clothing was that of a rich islander from the Sadabao Sea, and his Brazilo-Portuguese was, if not broken, at least badly bent.
    “I am Prince Ferrian of Sotaspé!” he shouted at the amazed Abreu. “What have you filthy animals done with our sublime king?”
    “You mean that mummy Akelawi took with him?” asked Abreu.
    “To you mummy, perhaps, but to us, sacred symbol of our eternal kingdom! Where is?”
    Abreu explained.
    “You mean,” cried the prince, “that symbol of glory of our ancestors has gone millions miles away? That this thief, may Dupulán rot his intestines, has—”
    “Wait a minute, my good sir,” said Abreu. “Are you claiming that Akelawi stole this mummy and didn’t buy it from you as he said?”
    “Of course he stole! Think you we are such poor things as sell our very king?”
    Abreu told his secretary: “Get the photostat of Akelawi’s bill of sale out of the files. If there’s been a mistake, Dom Ferrian, we’ll set it right . . . Here you are. Isn’t that your signature?”
    “Looks like, but I never signed no such paper. He must have got it by trick. When does next spaceship leave for Earth?”
    “In nine or ten days. But, my friend, you know there are difficulties to getting permission for Krishnans to travel on Viagens vehicles—”
    “As if we were not oldest and proudest line in universe!” said Ferrian hotly. “Let me tell you, Senhor, someday will be end to this discrimination—”
    “Now, now, it’s not a matter of thinking ourselves superior to the Krishnans. It’s a question of your cultural fitness to absorb scientific knowledge. When you’ve adopted modern ideas on government and legal codes—”
    Ferrian told Abreu, in guttural Gozashtandou, what to do with his legal