From the left foot...

"How's that?" asked the marshal, "what kind of society is this?"

"We are in the Dragon Capital. There is only one way in, an original mask. It cannot be faked and wearing it gives you the right to live here and enjoy all the benefits, including free food, medicine, education, security, etc."

"What about the rest of the population?" The general asked.

"Oh, it's sad there," Ronu replied, "they're barely making ends meet, taxed from head to toe."

"Does that have to do with Zhu-Er, too?" Liam grimaced painfully, but no one saw it.

"Alas, it just happened to be self-inflicted. The urge to please the dragon has spawned an entire caste of people who serve it. The capital was formed of them, and all the means, all the valuables, all the food, and all the goods began to flow to them. But, someone had to mine precious stones, catch a game, sew clothes, and make money to pay taxes. The world is divided into two camps, and society is saturated with hatred. There are occasional rebellions, but it ends in the utter destruction of the village or town that dares to rebel."

"You know this world well," Liam wondered, "how long have you been here?"

"Oh, well, I lived here periodically, and then I went away and came back again. That's how I learned their simple language and writing. I managed to see Zhu-Er from afar, and that's how I became sure it was him.

"I see, I hope he doesn't hate me," Liam muttered, looking under his feet.

Hardly anyone heard him; he said it more to himself.

"Come, my friends, let's go to the inn," called an enthusiastic Ronu to them.

Following him, the men came to a two"story building. The courtyard in front of the inn was planted with beautiful flowers. Everything was fragrant and captivating with bright colors.

Above the plants, motley insects flew enthusiastically. On elegant benches in the form of a sea wave, smartly dressed girls sat and, covering themselves with fans, talked nicely.

It might as well have been men, though, since the whole company wore long robes and masks, so it was hard to tell who was who. Liam and the others walked down the cobblestone path into the central archway.

The little bells rang in the wind. A song spilled from somewhere inside, and instruments could be heard.

There was no hurry, and everyone was respectful and friendly. The people regarded the guests with undisguised curiosity. Their unusual attire struck them as interesting. A few people came up timidly and asked Liam something, and he turned to Ronu and asked for help.

"They thought your outfit was very extravagant, they asked what family you were from and why it is customary for you to walk around in lower garments."

Hearing this, Pittsu and Tishow laughed in a low voice.

"You have to say something believable," said Liam.

Ronu turned to the strangers and gesticulated and said something. It was impossible to see the expressions on their faces, but by the tone and sighs, everyone understood that the men were showing understanding and sympathy. After they checked into the large two"room suite, Liam asked Ronu what he had told them.

"I said you had gone traveling and outside the capital, you had been attacked by locals who had mugged your beautiful capital city clothes. You had to wear what you had and return to the capital in disgrace, so you took a vow of silence.

"You are the master of improvisation!" The marshal patted him on the shoulder and looked out of the window. "You can see the palace from here!"

"Where?" - exclaimed Liam, his gaze going into the distance over the beautiful gardens that almost hid the palace, "I can't see anything."

"Don't worry, in three days we can get inside the palace."

"That long?" The Head grumbled in frustration.

"Is there a problem?" The General, who had been silent all the way, chimed in.

"No, no," he waved his hands at Ronu, "you just aren't ready to play your part. It will take some time to learn the proper steps, or the archers will kill us before we can say a word. There are very strict ceremonies and traditions here. The servant caste starts learning these things at age three, can you imagine?"

Liam rounded his eyes and covered his mouth with the palm of his hand, some foul language bursting out.

"That's a hell of a way to mess with people's heads!"

After a brief respite, Ronu took everyone to the servant school. It was the most respected school in town. It was held that servants of the dragon need not know how to read and write, since serving the dragon was already a blessing.

The lesson was held on a platform under the roof, which was well visible from all sides.

About twenty children on the roof terrace obediently followed the teacher in a sequence of steps, bows, and turns. It was like a whimsical dance without music.

The teacher tapped something like a broken rhythm with a thin cane, perhaps to keep the students moving rhythmically and instep.

Around the classroom on beautiful benches and armchairs sat the students' relatives and occasional spectators. They waved fans and often applauded the young students. Here the servants served refreshments and drinks. This went on throughout the day.

The men seated themselves in the empty seats and listened attentively to Ronu's comments. They, too, received refreshments and light sandwiches. After taking everything, the men placed the food on the table and began their studies.

"When servants enter the first gate of the palace, they must take three steps with their left foot...

"Which foot?" The marshal could not hear.

"The left foot," Liam repeated.

"Then they make two bows to the palace and may proceed to the second gate. Is that understood?

"Three and two, I see," said Tishow.

"Then the same, after passing the gate, three steps with the left foot and two bows, never turn your back to the palace, it is considered extreme disrespect and punishable by deprivation of feet.

"Oh, gods! It's not all rosy out here," Pittsu muttered as he stretched his stiff leg.

"Yes, that's why there's no hurry."

"Isn't there some other way into the palace?"

"If you can become invisible, fine, but our powers don't work as well as they used to, and you could get in trouble."

"What about the golden net?" Liam remembered.

I had to tell Ronu about their adventures on the last planet and what a golden net was. He listened attentively, did not interrupt, and the net interested him.

"Ronu, I wonder why I cannot summon Zhu-Er in the first place," Liam asked after his story. It was a question that had plagued him from the beginning.

"You can't, that's all," the man gave a strange answer and sighed.

"How so?" The general joined in the polemic.

"The fact is that over three dozen people are keeping an eye on Zhu-Er all the time. Plus, armed guards are watching over those poor buggers to make sure they don't close their eyes. It's not like stealing a flower from a flowerbed. They would be looking for such a giant thing and there would be a great commotion, up to and including martial law."

They were all silent and listening, and gradually became aware that they were all boxed in.

"Of course, the first to be executed are the thirty or so unfortunates who have had a deity stolen from under their noses. Do you want to expose innocent people who have families?"

The atmosphere itself became dejected. The men were silently contemplating the strange situation in which they found themselves. But no one was discouraged, and when they saw the children dancing, they turned their heads and stared. Ronu kept commenting and explaining the purpose of all the movements.

They sat there in the heat for about two hours and their minds became foggy and Ronu's teachings began to sound dull, like the buzzing of a fly. When they got up, they went back to the inn and all went to bed as one. After sleeping until late afternoon, they awoke to a loud cheer in the street.

A festive procession was moving down the main street, led by an effigy of Zhu-Er. They went out onto the balcony and were dumbfounded because it seemed as if the entire capital was taking part in the procession.

"Go back to your room and turn out the lights," Ronu commanded, and he hurriedly closed the windows and stood with the men in complete silence. They looked at him questioningly.

"It's my fault," the man whispered, "I forgot that there is a solemn procession tonight in honor of the new moon. It is considered a bad form to miss the parade. If you were seen, you might be reported to the chief of guards, and he is very severe. So be very quiet for the next hour. Don't walk around the room, and don't give your presence away in any way."

Everyone quietly dispersed to their bunks. Their stomachs rumbled treacherously, and it was hard to restrain their laughter. At last, the doors next door slammed: the guests returned.

The light in the inn downstairs came on, and excited conversation and laughter could be heard on their floor. The men rolled off their beds and prepared to run to dinner at the first call.

"I'll order the room," Ronu disappointed them and left downstairs.

Half an hour later, the servants brought a large table and many treats up to the room. In principle, it wasn't too bad. The men talked quietly and retraced the steps they had memorized. Thus passed their evening and the next two days.

They acquired suitable clothing and regularly attended open classes for the servants. Gradually the men, like diligent students, began to recognize the sequences and could recite from memory what movement followed each step.

Ronu was pleased with their diligence and often took them to exotic new places for lunch. He praised the amazing civilization himself, but Liam didn't share his enthusiasm.

He scrolled through his mind that every time they got up from the table without paying for their food, somewhere a poor family with nothing but their bodies would part with their bright future for the rich in the capital.

As the former son of the head of the city and interim mayor, Liam understood well how people's lives were arranged and what they needed for a prosperous life.

Someone eat at three throats without spending a penny, while others only paid, getting nothing but blows. His heightened sense of justice forced him to think about the people outside the city wall.

If only he had more time, he would have gone there to find out how people lived and how to help them. But anticipating the displeasure of his companions, he refrained from such steps.

On the eve of the decisive day, the men repeated all the steps and bows, encouraged by Ron to be more diligent.

They went to bed well past midnight and forgot themselves in a night of quiet sleep. Early in the morning, as the sun was rising, Ronu woke his companions, and they left the inn without breakfast.

Ronu's plan was for them to intercept the palace servants on the road through the grove. He had long ago traced that this shift of servants preferred not to take the main street, but to cut across the small woods at an oblique angle. So, lurking about, they had no difficulty in wrangling the careless men.

Ronu's ability to put people into a deep sleep immobilized their company, and the men hid the servants in the bushes. They had to hurry, for it took about fifteen minutes of fiddling to intercept them.

The shift began at half past seven in the morning exactly, so the four men hurried to the first gate. The guard at the entrance leaned over and scrutinized their figures. The men tensed.

"Have you grown taller?" he asked and poked the marshal in the shoulder.

The man nodded.

"Well, go on, your shift's been waiting, carrying food to the Honourable all night."

The guard nudged them in the back and turned toward the gate, surveying the square in front of him.

As agreed, the men synchronously stepped off their left foot, made two bows, and walked on. They also passed the second and third gates. Ronu had taught them how to show others that they had taken a vow of silence. So, to any appeals from other servants or guards, they put their right hand to their lips on the mask and made a gesture as if they were sending an air kiss to the sky.

This did not arouse suspicion in anyone, and they quietly made their way to the kitchen. The first thing they had to do was to wash their hands. Then they were given a tray of food and one by one the men climbed the long, narrow stairs that led to the chambers of the "Honourable One," as the guard called Zhu-Er.

They were careful not to speak to one another, but to watch their feet carefully to avoid entangling themselves in the hem of their long robes or stepping on someone else's skirt.

Slowly the food procession reached the entrance to the palace and the guards standing there carefully inspected the food, some even tasted the guards and, after allowing them to enter, opened the massive door.