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  If he had even Taynad here to back him, he would have departed with the attitude of one about some business and so make sure that the maned one did leave his meal to follow. But Taynad was not here and he wondered how long it would be before she did arrive. The Fragrance place was six shops farther along the avenue and it seemed to him that she had been there a very long time.

  The maned man finished his plate of wrigglers, patted his middle and gave a belch. No matter what race or species he might be his public manners left much to be desired.

  Jofre fished the last fruit out of his glass and presented it to Yan, leaving that drinking vessel placed so he still had a distorted glimpse of the other diner. But Yan suddenly gave a cry of pleasure, both of his ears swung forward and he wriggled off the chair to run to meet Taynad.

  Fragrance indeed! Jofre picked up a mingling of scents as she came along, moving with that languorous glide that he had not seen her use since they had left the great hall on Tssek. She had slipped well back into her Jewelbright armor again.

  “It was a pleasure?” he asked, rising to greet her as she arrived, the Jat holding to one of her hands.

  “It was spring—” she said, and sighed. “Truly there is much to be learned when one travels. So you missed me, little one?” She smiled down at Yan. “Did not this tall warrior treat you well?”

  “We should be getting back.” Jofre had taken a step or two closer to her, presenting his back to the maned one and making a quick signal to alert her.

  “Time flees when one is at ease,” she answered. “Yes, perhaps it is well to return. Zurzal may at last have news for us.”

  She had made no sign that she had understood his signal but Jofre was sure she had. Now, for quicker passage through the crowd that was thickening on the street as the afternoon advanced, he swung the Jat up to his shoulders and felt the paw hands take a good grip on his turban. Though he had not gone back to the full head covering of the Lairs he had once more assumed a style which made him feel more comfortable.

  Taynad let him get a stride or so ahead, stopped as if to adjust a boot buckle, then she light-footedly joined them.

  Her forefinger moved. The maned one was following. But for now they had no reason to try and evade him since they were only returning to their temporary quarters.

  “This place is stifling,” she broke out suddenly. “I find myself thinking with a strong desire of the slopes of Three Claws, or even the Grey Wastes. How can one live ever in such a turmoil?”

  Jofre was surprised. He himself had been suffering from the feeling of one entrapped in some lord’s vor stockyard with the herd turned in to share it with him. There was always something new to be seen, that he would agree, but one tires of constant change and variety. Also of this enforced idleness. Though issha discipline taught patience and he had thought that he had learned all the Lair lessons well. But perhaps what she had said gave him a chance to discover answers for a question or two which had been plaguing him.

  “If there comes word from Asborgan—you are not oathed—”

  “No.” Her answer was almost harshly abrupt. “But my mission was meant to be one of some length when I left Su-ven-ugen. They will not think of me as being free now and the message which the Patrol promised to deliver will take some time to reach the First Sister. Perhaps because I am without funds, since those of Tssek saw fit to confiscate what I had, I am in debt to the Learned One and it may well be that in the end the Elders will decide that I must work out what is owed. Anyway, oathed or not, I have promised the Zacathan that I will return service for service as long as he needs me.”

  “It will be a different kind of service than that you trained for—” Jofre was partly convinced that she meant exactly what she had just said.

  “It is well to have more than one kind of experience,” she remarked. “Do you think that the Learned One will succeed in what he wishes? I know that his scanner showed the past on Tssek, but what of Lochan? It seems to me to be as much of a gamble as when one tosses kust stones for wager.”

  The Zacathan was not in the suite when they entered and Jofre made his meticulous search through the rooms and across their section of the balcony terrace as he always did, the Jat trotting behind him as if it too could sniff out any hidden danger. Was the red-maned one lounging in the lobby below? And what did whoever set him on their trail want? Was it a ploy of the Guild? That was a point to be very well considered. From all he had ever heard Jofre rated the Guild very, very high as a potential enemy.

  When the Zacathan returned his frill was standing high, not flushed scarlet as from anger or frustration but the green-blue of satisfaction with the world.

  “Fortune favors us at last,” he began even before the door had closed behind him. “The trader who has made the Lochan run twice has planeted. Not only planeted, but the captain is ready for a return. It seems that he took one of those chances which the Free Traders often do and managed to barter directly with one of the desert tribes. What he picked up are a new type of gem—good enough value to have one of the auction houses take on sale.

  “One cannot keep such a find a secret; he well knows that there will be others heading in there now—since the trade rights for Lochan have never been auctioned. The Patrol may take a hand—but they cannot by law deny the captain a return trip to realize on his own discovery. He will want to harvest all he can before the rush begins. Which means he is already loading supplies—”

  “But will he take passengers also?” Jofre wanted to know. If the Free Trader had an outstanding discovery to exploit, its crew might well be jealously on guard against everyone.

  “I had already had contact with him before his last voyage. He knows well that what I would accomplish there will have nothing to do with his business. I have sent him a message and I expect a quick answer. If he wishes to lift soon, we must be able to move—perhaps at a moment’s notice. It would be best we think of packing now.”

  Zurzal’s enthusiasm was such he was sweeping them along with him. Though Jofre took time out to make a very careful inspection of the arms he had acquired, together with the stunner which Zurzal had managed to secure for him with a permit near twisted out of the Patrol, the same for himself, and Taynad.

  The Jat squatted on a wide pillow watching the girl do her packing in her own quarters. A fast move—her hand went to the braid wreathing her head to touch the ends of the twigs there. Perhaps this was best—if she could stall a little until this ship swept them away—She shook her head at her own thoughts. Why did she resent and shrink from this order which had been delivered?

  Because it was not an oathing such as she had always been taught was right? Because it had been so delivered to her by one she knew was Guild? That the Shagga would turn to the Guild for aid went against her deepest beliefs. She was a trained killer, a weapon in the hands of those whom she was sworn to serve. But the Guild was not the Lairs with their old tradition of a certain rigid honor. Also—Zarn said that this Jofre was an outlaw, a traitor—the story he had told her was one she had come fully to believe, having had time to observe this man over days and through sharp demands made on him and his skills.

  There was nothing about him to make her think that he was in any way enemy to the Lairs. Rather, it seemed to her, it was the spite of some priest which lay behind it. Then—why had they not killed him out of hand? Taynad stood very still, a half-folded undergarment in her hands. The basic oath of them all—Brother—Sister—do not delight in the blood of their kind. Perhaps that priest had been afraid to kill Jofre openly lest he be called to account for that—perhaps he had hoped that the harsh season in the mountains would do it for him. As for the reason for such a strong hatred—it lay encoiled in what she had sensed—that in this issha there were surely the seeds of Assha. Yes, the Shagga would never allow a leader of off-world blood among them; they were too fixed in the ancient ways. So they wanted him—but they wanted him returned so that he could die now under their hands and only so would they feel s
afe.

  Now she could understand those orders. She dropped the garment and freed the twigs from their hiding place in her hair, running them once more to be touch read. Betray him to the Guild, see him safely taken.

  An order—but not an oath! Her head went up as if she faced the First Sister in her own Lair. She was not oathed by the mere words of Zarn’s sending—there must be the ritual and blood must flow—she would be one who betrayed.

  They would say she was not oathed to the Zacathan, but she was indebted to him. And those of the Shadows paid debts, blood signed or not. No, she was not going to make any attempt to contact that woman from the Guild—perhaps time would favor them all and see them aboard this trader before she could be met again with any more demands.

  For a moment Taynad stretched the twigs between her fingers. Almost she applied enough pressure to snap them. But she did not follow through—there was enough of custom to hold her from doing that. She tucked them back into hiding and determined to let the future arrange itself into its own patterns.

  CHAPTER 24

  “PASSAGE, yes, that you may buy. Once on planet you shall be on your own, and Lochan is not friendly.” The voice was a deep-chested growl, sounding oddly from this undersized man who eyed them upward from beneath heavy bushy brows as if he was highly suspicious. In contrast to those unduly thick brows his skull was bare of even a fringe of hair, the space-browned flesh of it sprinkled over with darker patches of skin here and there. Captain Gosal was far from being attractive personally any more than his rusted and worn, space-battered ship.

  Jofre, his shoulders planted against the wall of the small cabin, was not only unimpressed but wary. If it were his choice, he would be off the Haren Hound and as far from its battered length as he could get. But it would seem that Zurzal had discovered they had no choice. It was either this ship or perhaps no chance at all, and since the debacle on Tssek the Zacathan was apparently ridden more and more by the need to get to the goal he had tried so long to reach.

  “You have a flitter—” His frill was fluttering. Jofre could actually feel the effort Zurzal was making to keep his emotions under strict control.

  “That will be in use. You have heard my terms.” This captain was favoring the Zacathan with none of the honorifics which bare courtesy would have suggested he use. Instead he was deliberately trying, Jofre was certain, to make any contract with him as unpleasant as possible.

  “It will be necessary for us to strike inland—near the Shattered Land—” Zurzal’s hissing was more apparent but he still spoke on a level note as if he did not really understand the captain’s hostility.

  “Go where you will after we planet. I am not an arranger for travelers—I do not offer tours—There are plenty here who are eager for such as you to come to them.”

  “For approved planets only.” Zurzal still held tightly to his emotions but the flush of color was rising in his frill. “This is a matter of exploration, or discovery. I understand you yourself have recently made a lucky discovery on this same world. Well, such as you are about to exploit I have no interest in. I seek old places—those of the Forerunners.”

  “You are confederation backed—why then do you come to me? Where is your First-In ship? I am a trader, not a searcher—”

  “Perhaps not a searcher for the same things,” Zurzal returned. “But, yes, I have cleared this voyage with the authorities—on the Haren Hound—”

  The captain’s head snapped up. Under that brush of brows his eyes showed a reddish glint.

  “You cannot make any Free Trader rise to your will unless it is under charter, and I am not—for all your official clearance!”

  “There is the matter of time,” Zurzal pointed out. “When is your rumored auction—tonight! You have forced that into a rush, which means you need to get planet free very soon. There will be those ready to sniff along your trail and see what they can pick up for themselves.”

  The captain did not answer at once. His full-lipped mouth was closed as a trap might spring upon a victim and there was a dusky flush spreading up from the unlatched collar of his tunic to color even that bare dome of skull.

  “So—by the thrice-damned rules you force yourselves on board—knowing that I must be accountable for your arrival on Lochan. Very well, you have set up the stars in this game, but perhaps the comets lie in other hands. You will pay—”

  “I fully intend to,” the Zacathan returned. “Full voyage accounts for four.”

  “Four?” The captain glanced from Zurzal to Jofre and back again as if trying to separate each of those fronting him into a second.

  “A party of four. You will find it listed with the port authorities. It has been so listed for a ten days—”

  “You were very sure, lizard lord.”

  “I have had news of your voyaging for some two planet years, Captain Gosal. Lochan has long been my destination as it has also attracted you.”

  The captain spread his hands palm flat on the small table already untidy with a drift of tapes and a speaker.

  “Very well. But you will take us as you find us, without complaint. We are no wallowing passenger liner. Your quarters will be tight and you will give vouchers for your own supplies to our steward. Also—the license runs only while you are on board. On Lochan you make your own way, for there the law favors me. I need not detach from this ship any personnel nor equipment which I need for my own use. And all of what we have is so needed. So think about that, lizard lord, before you move in.”

  “What if it is as he says?” Jofre asked as they boarded the port flitter to return to the inner city. “He could dump us in some wilderness and not have any questions asked? Does it work that way?”

  “It can. However,” Zurzal did not seem in the least upset by such a dubious glimpse into the future, “there are other factors. I have made a study of Lochan as far as is possible. Unfortunately, as you know, the discoveries of the single expedition whose path we would follow were lost in the fate which overtook them. But the First-In Scout’s report was on record in our own archives and with it similar data gathered by traders such as Gosal, but not having this luck that he has apparently had with the new find of his.

  “He may not be willing to provide us with transportation once on planet, but the landing he heads for is known—and there is a port there. It is not manned by off-worlders but there seems to have grown up something of a trading settlement about it. And where there are traders there are those to visit and supply the trade. We have the Jat—”

  “Yan? But what has it to do with—?”

  “Communication, Jofre. All we must do must be begun by communication. And there have been some hints that certain of the rulers of the rovers in the lands we would visit have been intrigued by the sparse off-world contact which has been. Oh, I believe it truly”—he turned his head to face Jofre squarely and his frill was up, flaring blue-green—“I was meant to do this—and I shall!” There was an aura about him which Jofre recognized. Just so had it been with an issha-trained when he was oathed for a mission. He could only trust blindly for now that the Zacathan could carry this through and follow his lead—but in reality he had no other choice—he was oathed.

  Oddly enough when they had picked up Taynad, Yan, and their baggage and returned to the ship they found a different reception waiting them. Gosal, who was apparently hurried, paused to actually welcome them aboard with a thin veneer of courtesy. They were shown to the two cramped cabins far down in the ship, Taynad and the Jat bunking down in one, Jofre and the Zacathan in the other. The stowing of their baggage took some time and some of it had to be given room in the cargo hold. Jofre expected trouble over that but the crewman who aided him in stowing it away so was ready enough, if not talkative.

  Jofre was surprised when the captain, with special invitation, made them free of the other small cabin which served as a gathering place for off-duty members of the crew. He felt it necessary to accompany the Zacathan whenever Zurzal took advantage of that hospitality
but he found it almost as claustrophobic as their own quarters.

  Gosal seemed to have, now he was in space and as it might be master, changed his opinion of the Zacathan.

  He not only willingly answered the other’s questions concerning Lochan to the best of his ability, but twice summoned his cargo master and his steward to supply various items which they were the more conversant with, having dealt with the natives for supplies and met with the local traders.

  Once free of Wayright the captain was in a good humor, even talking freely about his own good fortune in discovering the new gems which would make his fortune and that of the Haren Hound. He had kept back from the port auction a couple which he displayed. Even in the rough, without any cutting or polishing, Jofre, as unused to such wealth as he was, could detect their unusual flash of color.

  “Koris stones now,” Gosal had said at that display. “They bring a high price—’course that is mainly because they give off scent when one wears them against the skin. The Solar Queen—they made such a killing with them as brought one of the Companies after them—a nasty scrape that was. So far we’re in luck. We’re registered and the auction credit—most of that—goes to the planet bid. We’ve got us nearly two planet years and we’re going to make the most of ’em!”

  “Where were these found?” Zurzal asked.

  Gosal laughed. “Now that would be tellin’, wouldn’t it? Not that I think the likes of you, lizard lord, would be any threat to this deal. But a trader keeps his secrets—they’re as good as credit units on the register.”

  He and the steward both had stories of the trading parties who came in from the outlands to the port. Though they both said frankly that they found the aliens difficult to deal with—that there were rigid customs and certain patterns to be followed in any attempt at communication.

  While Jofre and the Zacathan listened to traveler’s advice in the leisure cabin, Taynad kept closely to her own appointed cubby. She felt some of the same claustrophobia as plagued Jofre. The mountain-born of the Lair were not at home in situations which seemed too much either prisons or traps.