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"You are the great Gustav Vasa?" the man said.
Vasa stood staring across the round cavern office at the smuggler seated behind a metal desk. The man wore Szgany robes and had the half-tint blue eyes that told of off-planet foods in his diet. The office duplicated a space battleship's master control center---communications and viewscreens along a thirty-degree arc of wall, remote arming and firing banks adjoining, and the desk formed a wall projection----part of the remaining curve.
"I am Ud-Buhl, son of Ud-Hi," the smuggler said.
"Then you're the one I owe thanks for the help we've received," Vasa said.
"Ah--h-h-h-h, gratitude," the smuggler said. "Take a seat."
A ship-type bucket seat emerged from the wall beside the screens and Vasa sank onto it with a sigh, feeling his weariness. He could see his own reflection now in a dark surface beside the smuggler and scowled at the lines of fatigue in his lumpy face. The inkvine scar along his jaw writhed with the scowl.
Vasa turned from his reflection, stared at Ud. He saw the family resemblance to the smuggler now---the father's heavy, overhanging eyebrows and rock planes of cheeks and nose.
"Your men tell me your father is dead, murdered by the Seppanens," Vasa said.
"Either by the Seppanens or by a traitor in your midst," Ud-Buhl said.
Anger overcame part of Vasa's fatigue. He straightened up, said: "Can you identify the traitor?"
"We cannot."
Eugene Botkin suspected the Lady Alexandra."
"Ah-h-h-h-h, the Bala Garrasaid sorceress---maybe. But Botkin is now in Seppanen hands."
"I heard." Vasa took a deep breath. "It seems we have a deal more bloodshed ahead of us."
"We will do nothing to attract attention to us," Ud-Buhl said.
Vasa stiffened. "But...."
"You and those of your men we've saved are welcome to sanctuary among us," Ud-Buhl said. "You talk of gratitude. Very well, work off your debt to us. We can always use good men. We'll destroy you out of hand, though, if you make the slightest move against the Seppanens."
"But they killed your father, man!"
"Maybe. If so, I'll give you my father's answer to those who act without thinking: 'A stone is heavy, and the sand is weighty; but a fool's wrath is heavier than the two combined..'"
"You mean to do nothing about it?" Vasa sneered.
"I did not say that. I only said that I would guard our contract with the Guild. They require that we play a circumspect game. There are other ways of destroying a foe."
"Ah-h-h-h-h."
"Ah-h-h-h, indeed. If you've got a mind to seek out the enchantress, have a go at it. But I warn you that you're probably too late----and we doubt she's the one you want, anyway."
"Botkin made few mistakes."
"He allowed himself to fall into Seppanen hands."
"You think he's the traitor?"
Ud-Buhl shrugged. "This is academic. We think the enchantress is dead. At least the Seppanens believe it."
"You seem to know a great deal about the Seppanens."
"Hints and suggestions---rumors and hunches."
"We're but seventy-four men," Vasa said. "If you seriously wish us to enlist in your ranks, you must believe our Duke is dead."
"His body has been seen."
"And the boy, too---young Master Alexei?" Vasa tried to swallow, found a lump in his throat.
"According to the last word we had, he was lost with his other in a desert storm. Likely not even their bones will ever be found."
"The enchantress is dead, then----all dead."
Ud-Buhl nodded. "And Beast German, so they say, will sit once more in the seat of power here on Dyuna."
"The Count German of Psufik IV?"
"Yes."
It took Vasa a moment to put down the upsurge of rage that threatened to overwhelm him. He spoke with panting breath. "I've a score of my own against German. I owe him for the lives of my family...." He rubbed at the scar along his jaw. "....and for this...."
"One does not risk all to settle a score prematurely," Ud-Buhl said. He frowned, watching the play of muscles along Vasa's jaw, the sudden withdrawal in the man's shed-lidded eyes.
"I know....I know." Vasa took a deep breath.
"You and your men can work out your passage off Dyuna by serving with us. There are many places to..."
"I release my men from bondage to me; they can choose for themselves. With German here....I stay."
"In your mood, I'm not sure we want you to stay."
Vasa stared at the smuggler. "You dare doubt my word?"
"Oh, no---o-o."
"You've saved me from the Seppanens. I gave loyalty to the Duke Nicholas for no greater reason. I'll stay on Dyuna---with you---or with the Szganys."
"Whether a thought is spoken or not is a true thing and it has power," Ud-Buhl said. "You might find the line between life and death among the Szganys to be too sharp and quick."]
Vasa closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weariness surge up in him. "Where is the Lord who led us through the land of deserts and pits?" he murmured.
"Move slowly and the day of your revenge will come," Ud-Buhl said. "Speed is a tool of Satana. Cool your sorrow---we've the diversions for it; three things there that ease the heart---water, green grass, and the beauty of women."
Vasa opened his eyes. "I would prefer the blood of German Seppanen flowing around my feet." He stared at Ud-Buhl. "Will that day indeed come?"
"I have nothing to do with how you'll meet tomorrow, Gustav Vasa. I can only help you meet today."
"Then I'll accept that help and stay until the day you tell me to revenge your father and all the others who...."
"Hear me, fighting man, Ud-Buhl said. He leaned forward over his desk, his shoulders level with his ears, eyes intent. The smuggler's face was suddenly like weathered stone. "My father's water----I'll buy that back myself with my own blade."
Vasa started back at Ud-Buhl. In that moment, the smuggler reminded him of Duke Nicholas: a leader of men, courageous, secure in his own position and his own course. He was like the Duke---before Dyuna.
"Do you wish my blade beside yours?" Vasa asked.
Ud-Buhl sat back, relaxed, studying Vasa silently.
"Do you think of me as fighting man?" Vasa pressesd.
"You're the only one of the Duke's lieutenants to escape," Ud-Buhl said. "Your enemy is overwhelming, yet you rolled with him. You defeated him the way we defeat Dyuna."
"Eh?"
"We thrive on sufferance down here, Gustav Vasa," Ud-Buhl said. "Dyuna is our mortal enemy."
"One enemy at a time, is that it?"
"That's it."
"Is that the way the Szganys make out?"
"Maybe."
"You said I might find life with the Szganys too hard. They live in the desert, in the open, is that why?"
"Who knows where the Szganys live? For us, the Plateau Telknar is a no-man's land. But I wish to talk more about...."
"I'm told that the Guild seldom routes spice lighters in over the desert," Vasa said. "But there are rumors that you can see bits of greenery here and there if you know where to look."
"Rumors!" Ud-Buhl sneered. "Do you wish to choose now between me and the Szganys? We have a measure of security, our own s'yetche carved out of the rock, our own hidden basins. We live the lives of civilized men. The Szganys are a few ragged bands that we use as spice-hunters."
"But they can kill Seppanens."
"Do you wish to know the result? Even now they're being hunted down like animals---with phasguns, because they have no barriers. They are being exterminated. Why? Because they dared to kill Seppanens."
"Was it Sepannens they killed?" Vasa asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Haven't you heard that there may've been Sordoi with the Seppanens."
"More rumors!"
"A pogrom is not like the Seppanens. Pogroms are wasteful."
"I believe what I see with my own eyes," Ud-Buhl said. "Make your choice, fighting man. Me or the Szganys. I'll promise you sanctuary and a chance to draw the blood we both want. Be sure of that. The Szganys will offer you only the life of the fugitive."
Vasa hesitated, sensing wisdom and sympathy in Ud-Buhl's words, but troubled for no reason he could explain.
"Trust your own abilities," Ud-Buhl said. "Whose decisions brought your force through the battle? Yours. Decide."
"It must be," Vasa said. "The Duke and his son are dead!"
"The Seppanens believe so. Where such things are concerned, I incline to trust the Seppanens." A grim smile touched Ud-Buhl's mouth. "But it's about the only trust I give them."
"Then it must be," Vasa repeated. He held out his right hand, palm and thumb folded flat against it in the traditional gesture. "I give you my sword."
"Accepted."
"Do you wish me to persuade my men?"
"You'd let them make their own decision?"
"They've followed me this far, but most are Eser-born. Dyuna isn't what they thought it'd be. Here, they've lost all except their lives. I'd rather they decided for themselves now."
"Now is no time for you to falter," Ud-Buhl said. "They've followed you this far."
"You need them, is that it?"
"We can always use experienced fighting men---in these times more than ever."
"You've accepted my sword. Do you wish me to persuade them?"
"I think they'll follow you, Gustav Vasa."
"It is to be hoped."
"Indeed."
"I may make my own decision in this, then?"
"You may."
Vasa pushed himself up from the bucket seat, feeling how much of this reserve strength even that small effort required. "For now, I'll see to their quarters and well-being," he said.
"Consult my quartermaster," Ud-Buhl said. "Baht-Ed is his name. Tell him it's my wish that you receive every courtesy. I'll join you myself presently. I've some off-shipments of spice to see to first."
"Fortune passes everywhere," Vasa said.
"Everywhere," Ud-Buhl said. "A time of upset is a rare chance for our business."
Vasa nodded, heard the faint susurration and felt the air shift as a lockport swung open beside him. He turned, ducked through it and out of the office.
He found himself in the assembly hall through which he and his men had been led by Ud-Buhl's aides. It was a long, fairly narrow area chewed out of the native rock, its smooth surface betraying the use of cutteray burners for the job. The ceiling stretched away high enough to continue the natural supporting curve of the rock and to permit internal air-convection currents. Weapons racks and lockers lined the walls.
Vasa noted with a touch of pride that those of his men still able to stand were standing---no relaxation in weariness and defeat for them. Smuggler medics were moving among them tending the wounded. Litter cases were assembled in one area down to the left, each wounded man with a Romanov companion.
The Romanovs' training---"We care for our own!"----it held like a core of native rock in them, Vasa noted.
One of his lieutenants stepped forth carrying Vasa's ten-string ostriolkusk out of its case. The man snapped a salute, said: "Sire, the medics here say there's no hope for Darko. They have no bone or organ banks here----only frontier medicine. Darko can't last, they say, and he has a request of you.."
"What?"
The lieutenant threw the ostriolkusk forward. "Darko wants a song to ease his passing, sir. He says you'll know the one---he's asked it of you often enough." The lieutenant swallowed. "It's the one called 'My Woman,' sir. If you...."
"I know." Vasa took the ostriolkusk, flicked the multipack out of its catch on the fingerboard. He plucked a soft chord from the instrument, found that someone had already tuned it up. There was a burning in his eyes, but he drove that out of his thoughts as he strolled forward, strumming the tune, forcing himself to smile casually.
Several of his men and a smuggler medic were bent over one of the litters. One of the men began singing softly as Vasa approached, catching the counter-beat with the ease of long familiarity:153Please respect copyright.PENANAGKIqsflvc7
153Please respect copyright.PENANAm2e5qgT5q5
"My woman stands at her window,153Please respect copyright.PENANARXfTzh4MG7
Curved lines 'gainst square glass.153Please respect copyright.PENANA5arj7kLijk
Uprais'd arms bent downfolded153Please respect copyright.PENANAYYpua2SWAE
'Gainst sunset red an' golded....153Please respect copyright.PENANAaTc053F3N2
Come to me....153Please respect copyright.PENANAnvJ5EAUJjE
Come to me, warm arms of my lass.153Please respect copyright.PENANAEEM1seuSUS
For me...153Please respect copyright.PENANAbaXQhVnWhM
For me, the warm arms of my lass."153Please respect copyright.PENANApTHGZ5JG8v
153Please respect copyright.PENANAktps8Kkn5a
The singer stopped, reached out a bandaged arm and closed the eyelids of the man on the litter.
153Please respect copyright.PENANAm2e5qgT5q5
"My woman stands at her window,153Please respect copyright.PENANARXfTzh4MG7
Curved lines 'gainst square glass.153Please respect copyright.PENANA5arj7kLijk
Uprais'd arms bent downfolded153Please respect copyright.PENANAYYpua2SWAE
'Gainst sunset red an' golded....153Please respect copyright.PENANAaTc053F3N2
Come to me....153Please respect copyright.PENANAnvJ5EAUJjE
Come to me, warm arms of my lass.153Please respect copyright.PENANAEEM1seuSUS
For me...153Please respect copyright.PENANAbaXQhVnWhM
For me, the warm arms of my lass."153Please respect copyright.PENANApTHGZ5JG8v
153Please respect copyright.PENANAktps8Kkn5a
The singer stopped, reached out a bandaged arm and closed the eyelids of the man on the litter.
Vasa drew a final soft chord from the ostriolkusk, thinking: Now we are seventy-three.
153Please respect copyright.PENANAykhauT34Mc
ns 172.70.127.136da2