“Take it easy, Abdullah,” Firebrass said. He was smiling and Sam wondered if Abdullah’s speech was the second part of a well-prepared program. Probably, Firebrass was similarly wondering if John’s explosions had been rehearsed. Actors didn’t have to be politicians, but politicians had to be actors.
Sam groaned and said, “Did you read Huckleberry Finn, Sinjoro X?” Abdullah, sneering, said, “I don’t read trash.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?” Abdullah’s face darkened. Firebrass grinned.
“I don’t have to read that racist crap, man!” Abdullah shouted. “Hacking told me all about it and what he says is good enough for me!”
“You read it and then come back and we’ll discuss it,” Sam said.
“You crazy?” Abdullah said. “You know there aren’t any books on this world.”
“Then you lost out, didn’t you?” Sam said. He was trembling a little; he wasn’t used to being talked to like this by a black man. “Anyway,” Sam said, “this isn’t a literary tea-and-discussion group. Let’s stick to the issue.”
But Abdullah would not stop shouting about the books that Sam had written. And John, losing his temper, leaped up and screamed, “Silentu, negraco!”
John had taken the Esperanto word for “black” or “negro” and infixed the disparaging “-ac-” particle. He had gotten his point over quite well.
There was a moment of shock and silence. Abdullah X’s mouth was open, then it closed, and he looked triumphant, almost happy. Firebrass bit his lip. John leaned on the table on his fists and scowled. Sam puffed on his cigar. He knew that John’s contempt for all humanity had made him invent the term. John had no racial prejudice; he had never seen more than a half dozen blacks during his lifetime on Earth. But he certainly knew how to insult a person; the knowledge was second nature to him. “I’m walking out!” Abdullah X said. “I may be going
ome—and if I do you can bet your whiteass that you’ll pay hell getting any more aluminum or platinum, Mister Charlie.”
Sam rose to his feet and said, “Just a minute. If you want an apology, I extend it on behalf of all Parolando.”
Abdullah looked at Firebrass, who looked away. Abdullah said, “I want an apology from him, now!” He pointed at King John.
Sam leaned close to John and said softly, “There’s too much at stake to play the proud monarch, Your Majesty! And you may be playing into their hands with your little fit. They are up to something, you can bet on that. Apologize.”
John straightened up and said, “I apologize to no man, especially not to a commoner who is also an infidel dog!”
Sam snorted and gestured with his cigar. “Can’t you get it through your thick Plantagenet head that there isn’t any such thing as royal blood or divine right of kings anymore, that we’re all commoners? Or all kings?”
John did not reply. He walked out. Abdullah looked at Firebrass, who nodded. Abdullah walked out.
Sam said. “Well, Sinjoro Firebrass, what next? Do you people go home?”
Firebrass shook his head, “No, I don’t believe in hasty decisions. But the conference is suspended as far as the Soul City delegation is concerned. Until John Lackland apologizes, I’ll give you until noon tomorrow to decide what to do.”
Firebrass turned to leave. Sam said, “I’ll talk to John, but he’s as hardheaded as a Missouri mule.”
“I’d hate to see our negotiations fold because one man can’t keep his insults to himself,” Firebrass said. “And I’d also hate to see our trade stop, because that would mean no Riverboat for you.”
Sam said, “Don’t get me wrong, Sinjoro Firebrass. I’m making no threats. But I won’t be stopped. I’ll get the aluminum if I have to kick John out of the country myself. Or, alternatively, if I have to go down to Soul City and get the aluminum myself.”
“I understand you,” Firebrass said. “But what you don’t understand is that Hacking isn’t out for power. He only wants to have a well-protected state so that his citizens can enjoy life. And they will enjoy their life because they’ll all have similar tastes and similar goals. In other words, they’ll all be black.”