"Taking footage. Do you know where I can find some picturesque rites? Mystical dances, human sacrifice? I've got to work up some glamor and exotic lore." "There's this sjambak in the cage. That's about as close to the medieval as you'll find anywhere in Earth Commonwealth." "Speaking of sjambaks ..." "No time," said Trimmer. "Got to get back. Drop in at my office--right down the square from the palace." * * * * * Murphy returned to his suite. The shadowy figure of his room servant said, "His Highness the Sultan desires the Tuan's attendance in the Cascade Garden." "Thank you," said Murphy. "As soon as I load my camera." The Cascade Room was an open patio in front of an artificial waterfall. The Sultan was pacing back and forth, wearing dusty khaki puttees, brown plastic boots, a yellow polo shirt. He carried a twig which he used as a riding crop, slapping his boots as he walked. He turned his head as Murphy appeared, pointed his twig at a wicker bench. "I pray you sit down, Mr. Murphy." He paced once up and back. "How is your suite? You find it to your liking?" "Very much so." "Excellent," said the Sultan. "You do me honor with your presence." Murphy waited patiently. "I understand that you had a visitor this morning," said the Sultan. "Yes. Mr. Trimmer." "May I inquire the nature of the conversation?" "It was of a personal nature," said Murphy, rather more shortly than he meant. The Sultan nodded wistfully. "A Singhalûsi would have wasted an hour telling me half-truths--distorted enough to confuse, but not sufficiently inaccurate to anger me if I had a spy-cell on him all the time." Murphy grinned. "A Singhalûsi has to live here the rest of his life." A servant wheeled a frosted cabinet before them, placed goblets under two spigots, withdrew. The Sultan cleared his throat. "Trimmer is an excellent fellow, but unbelievably loquacious." Murphy drew himself two inches of chilled rosy-pale liquor. The Sultan slapped his boots with the twig. "Undoubtedly he confided all my private business to you, or at least as much as I have allowed him to learn." "Well--he spoke of your hope to increase the compass of Singhalût." "That, my friend, is no hope; it's absolute necessity. Our population density is fifteen hundred to the square mile. We must expand or smother. There'll be too little food to eat, too little oxygen to breathe." Murphy suddenly came to life. "I could make that idea the theme of my feature! Singhalût Dilemma: Expand or Perish!" "No, that would be inadvisable, inapplicable." Murphy was not convinced. "It sounds like a natural." The Sultan smiled. "I'll impart an item of confidential information--although Trimmer no doubt has preceded me with it." He gave his boots an irritated whack. "To expand I need funds. Funds are best secured in an atmosphere of calm and confidence. The implication of emergency would be disastrous to my aims." "Well," said Murphy, "I see your position."