The noble was not to be moved. “We will do what is necessary. If we agree to make use of your advice, what reward would you expect?”

Manco glanced at his brother, looked back at the expectant nobles. “Well, it’s always been a dream of my brother and me to develop entertainment facilities to promote the culture of our people. If you granted us control of that kind of business we’d be quite content.”

“Everyone would have to go to our parks, ride our rides, eat our fast food,” Blanco said.

“Watch our television and our movies. Listen to our radio. Drink Inca Cola. Even,” Manco concluded in the hushed tones one usually reserved for speaking in church, “Disney!” He retreated from his dreams long enough to ask an awkward question. “Of course, if there’s going to be a long war in which millions of potential customers are killed …”

“There will be no long war,” Apu Tupa assured him. “Do you still think us as uncivilized as our ancestors? Everything will be done quickly, before the Europeans realize what has happened to them. In addition to employing our own weapons, we can render theirs inoperative. They will have no choice but to submit.”

“This proposal is still under debate,” another noble reminded everyone. “We must decide.”

“Yes,” said another sharply. “In the traditional manner.”

Apu Tupa looked thoughtful. “It has been a while since that was required.”

Manco Fernández was suddenly uneasy. “How do you decide things ‘in the traditional manner’?”

“It is a formality,” Apu Tupa told him. “Nothing of any great concern. We merely reenact our ancestors’ decision-making procedures. That involves discussion among learned nobles, ongoing debate, and human sacrifice.” He smiled paternally. “As self-proclaimed defenders of the ancient culture I should think you would be aware of this.”

Manco swallowed. “Actually it wasn’t something we were thinking of including in the project we’ve been working on. Can’t you substitute something else? Loud argument, maybe?”

“No. Tradition must be upheld. Sacrifices were usually taken from among prisoners of war. Now, who among your party would you propose as a good candidate? Much honor accrues to the chosen one.”

“I’m afraid my brother and I can’t help you in this,” said Manco hastily. “I don’t think we’re properly equipped to make this kind of decision.”

Apu Tupa nodded sagely. “Then I will choose. It shall be the tall female viracocha. Not only is she a descendant of the conquerors, she is by far the most attractive member of your group. Tradition instructs us that where possible, sacrifices should be female and attractive, though it would be nice if she were a bit younger.”

“This sacrifice,” Manco mumbled. “What exactly does it involve?”

“It is all very clearly explained in the traditions which have come down to us,” Apu Tupa explained affably. “In order to divine which course of action to pursue, our ancestors would open the belly of a prisoner and read his or her entrails.”

“Somehow I don’t think our companion is going to feel honored,” Manco replied dismally.

“Nonsense! It will make her very popular among the people of Contisuyu.”

“I still don’t believe she’ll be impressed. Look, you people have come a long way, you’ve achieved a high level of civilization. You really don’t do this sort of thing anymore, do you?”

“It is necessary,” Apu Tupa insisted. “You will see.”

The Fernández brothers continued to protest on behalf of their former partner, all to no avail.

When the situation was explained to the other travelers, they were appropriately appalled.

“Hey, I don’t like the pushy bitch,” Ashwood was saying, “but you don’t go around slicing folks open to gape at their guts in this day and age.”

“You misinterpret our intent,” said Apu Tupa soothingly. “We merely wish to examine her entrails.” He turned to the stunned Da Rimini. “You will be famous across Contisuyu. Your face will be known to everyone.”

“I’m not interested in my face becoming known to anyone! I want it and the rest of me kept private.” Looking around wildly she backed away from him until stopped by the exhibit wall. The trio of armed guards who had accompanied Apu Tupa began to advance.

“Keep away from me!” she screamed. “I’m warning you, my hands are lethal weapons!” She extended her fingers threateningly.

The nearest guard aimed an all-too-familiar silvery tube and nudged something on its side. Da Rimini’s eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled like a crepe paper construction. Ashwood sucked in her breath and Carter winced.

“She is only tranquilized,” Apu Tupa reassured them.

“What difference does it make if you’re gonna sacrifice her anyway?” Ashwood growled.

“The subject should be in perfect physical condition. We would not wish her to damage herself beforehand.” The three soldiers were carrying Da Rimini’s limp form off the platform. “Don’t worry. The events will be widely televised and a viewer provided to you so that you will not miss anything.” He grew contemplative.

“It should be most popular. We have not performed a sacrifice with an outsider in two hundred years, much less a Spaniard.”

“She’s not a Spaniard,” Blanco insisted. “She’s a Peruvian.”

“Whatever that is,” said Apu Tupa. “It does not matter. She will be promoted as a Spaniard, a viracocha.”

“Promoted?” said Carter.

“Naturally, since the idea is to get as much of the population to watch as possible.”

“Right!” said Trang Ho suddenly. “This is great! Human sacrifice stories sell more papers than anything except Elvis sightings and UFOs. I can see the banner now: ‘Aliens Kidnap Earth Women for Human Sacrifices on Other World!’” She peered intently at Apu Tupa. “You sure you haven’t got Elvis around here somewhere?”

The Inca master looked puzzled. “What is an Elvis?”

“That’s it, you’ve gone too far.” Carter glared at Trang Ho. “How can you talk like this? They’re going to sacrifice her, read her insides.”

“Am I from Hollywood or what?” Ho protested. “You expect me to express outrage? One lousy human sacrifice wouldn’t make the front section of the L.A. Times on a slow news day. What are you so exercised about anyway? She was ready enough to kill you.”

Ashwood looked thoughtful as she tapped a finger against her lips. “Interesting point.”

Carter shot her a look, turned back to Trang Ho. “Suppose the ‘reading’ doesn’t come off well? Suppose they decide they need to have a look at a second subject? Their choice of reading material seems to run to young women. Guess who they’ll come for next?”

Trang Ho was not impressed. “Hey, life’s a bitch, you know? I just want everyone to be aware that I retain posthumous copyright to all my stories and if you want to use any of my tapes or photos you’re morally obligated to pay royalties to my heirs.”

“What a coincidence,” Fewick observed dryly. “That is precisely what was uppermost in my mind when they came to take one of us away.”

A disgusted Carter turned his back on Ho. “You are crazy. You ought to do an article on yourself. ‘Insane Reporter Divorces Self from Reality—Takes Pictures of Same.’”

“If I thought it’d sell, I would,” Trang Ho replied cheerfully. “Anyway, I have confidence that our hosts will find la Da Rimini’s intestines as satisfactorily attractive as the rest of her. She should be pleased. Back on Earth she was a Peruvian nobody. When we get home I’m gonna make her famous there too.”

“If we get home,” Igor murmured softly.

“Her corpse’ll appear in tabloids all over the world,” the reporter continued grandly.

“Somehow I do not see that mitigating her displeasure at her present circumstances.” Fewick sat on the floor, stroking Moe.

“I thought these people were civilized,” Carter muttered.

“Tradition is important in any culture,” Fewick declared knowingly.