She read his thoughts, and the pattern of her appearance altered subtly. It was a warm and kind expression of herself; it was a smile. "You must learn, Mattern, that the concept of a ruler in this universe differs from the concept in yours. Here a ruler is the servant of her people, not their master. It is her obligation to take care of them, protect them, watch over them--in whatever way seems most fitting to her. She can have no pride in herself, only in them. They are more than her children." * * * * * It was funny, Mattern thought, that she should so easily plan to break the rules of her universe. A space rat like him--that was one thing; it was to be expected. But a queen? Now that he was coming back to life a little, he began to wonder about this again. Deftly, she picked the wonder out of his mind and answered it. "Our Federation, like yours, is an artificial creation. Its laws are no more than arbitrary regulations, devised by the various peoples of each universe with regard to the greatest good of the majority, and thrust upon majority and minority alike." Mattern began to understand, or thought he did. "A queen isn't likely to hold with democracy," he said--though perhaps not aloud. She was a little impatient. "It's not a question of absolute power or divine right--simply that my people come first, even before myself; my own world is part of me, and I am part of it by nature and instinct. Its needs are my needs. When my people are hungry, I feel the pangs." _Most rulers justify themselves like that_, he thought, keeping his lips pressed firmly together. _But they all do the same things._ But he couldn't keep her out of his mind. "No," she said, "you're wrong. I was not speaking metaphorically. My nervous system is attuned to my people's; it is a hereditary trait bred into my family. So being the ruler is not a pleasant station to occupy." It certainly wouldn't be, he thought, if she was telling the truth--to suffer every pang that was suffered on the planet, and, if the attuning were psychic also, every sorrow. He expected her to pick the disbelief out of his mind, but she smiled and went on to tell him about her planet. Ferr was not a large world. Moreover, it was essentially a barren one. It had been rich only because it had previously engaged in sub-rosa commerce with Mattern's universe. "And the last traffic was long, long ago," she told Mattern. "In a day much before mine, when my mother ruled." "What happened? What stopped the traffic?" "Our captain died of old age, and we have had trouble finding a successor to him." "Why is it so hard to get somebody else?" Mattern asked bluntly.