"I know." He nodded. "I used to get quite furious with you about that."
"And you're not furious now?" She moved closer to him, in a way he remembered. "Perhaps you have met outworld girls more attractive?"
"One," he said. "On a world called Arkuu."
Graal burst into laughter, and then put her arms around him and kissed him. It was something like being kissed by a tigress.
"That's my little Earthman, always trying to make me feel jealous."
Chane grinned. "It's true."
"Then you shall tell me about her."
They walked beneath the trees, in dappled pink-silver moonlight and shadow. Graal seemed already to have forgotten her worry for him. She was a fine, generous, merry-hearted girl, but she was a daughter of Vamans, and a Varnan's business was fighting.
The sea boomed, and the wind had hints of metallic-tasting spray in it. The moons glided on and their shifting radiance poured down, and it was good to be again on the world of his youth and with Graal's arms around him.
'Tm sorry if Fm interrupting," said a man's voice.
Graal only laughed, but Chane turned angrily. Then his anger left him as he saw the young Starwolf who stood with an amused look on his handsome, reckless face.
Chane went to him and gripped his arm warmly. "Chrofl!" They had been comrades on many a raid, and both remembered.
"Would you mind if I take him with me, Graal?" asked Chroll. 'Tm trying to get his neck out of the noose into which he has run it."
"Then take him," said Graal. "I don't want my little Earthman hurt, if it can be prevented."
She gave Chane her mocking smite as she said that, but he only smiled back at her, and then went with Chroll.
As the car started down the hillside, Chroll talked fast. "I heard about your claiming the Council right, Chane. But that won't protect you for long. Old Irrun, the head of the Ranroi, is one of the Council and will see that you get a hearing fast. And after the hearing, you'll have no Council right to protect you."
Chane said, Tve got an idea that might still restrain the Ranroi after the hearing."
He told Chroll his idea, and Chroll said that he did not think much of it.
"Irrun will try his best to quash any such proposal as that," he told Chane. "And if he succeeds, then what? You'll have to face one after another of the Ranroi until one of them kills you."
He swung the car from the base of the hill, toward the lights ofKrak.
"I can get you off Varna, Chane, but it win have to be tonight. If we can get unnoticed into my ship ..."
"No," said Chane. "I bring no other man into my private feud. That's the way I was taught here, and that's the way it will be."
"Damn Ssander!" muttered Chroll. "I never did like him, though I know you did."
"Besides," said Chane, "just escaping from Varna is not what I want. I came here to do something, and just to go away without even trying to do it would be a stupid waste of time."
"Berkt told me of your plans," Chroll said, after a moment. "I can't say that I blame a man for loyalty to his comrades." He added, after a moment, "By the way, Chane, don't say anything to Berkt of my offer to get you away, will you? He wouldn't consider it quite honorable."
"You're still as much in awe of Berkt as when we were boys, then?" said Chane, laughing.
"Yes, I am. And so are you."
Chane did not deny it. Chroll asked, "Do you want to go back now to Berkt's?"
"What would you want to do if it were your first night on Varna for a long time?"
"I'd want to raise a little hell," Chroll said.
They did. They went to the huge tavern by the marketplace that was the favorite drinking place of the Starwolves.
The place roared and blazed. The red-colored lights did very little in the way of illumination, but they were sufficient to enable a man to find his glass. None of the great Starwolf lords were here; they were far too proud and dignified for that. But the junior officers, the fighting men, the men Chane had known, were here in great numbers.
They hailed him in good friendship. Obviously the word had got around that he had returned to Varna. Three of them, who were of the clan of the Ranroi, got up and somewhat ostentatiously left. But nobody paid much heed to them. These young blades didn't give a curse for feuds, but they had raided with Chane, they knew him as the poor little Earthman (none of them dared use that phrase to his face) who had had a hard time growing up on Varna but who had made it; they liked him, and they bought him wine.
The strong wine went down and Chane's head rocked and rang, and he thought, This is not very well advised, but damn it, it's part of what I came back to Varna for, and he drank it down and went on from table to table.
Talk, talk, good talk, talk about the last raid to the Hyades, talk about Sarn and how he got himself into a lot of trouble off Deneb: he thought he had a fat lot of loot just sitting there waiting to be picked up, and did he get a nasty surprise! Talk about Aranso, and how he ran right through the triple crown, the three stars whose gravitic tides were murder, but he did it. And Chane bought a large cup of wine for Aranso and complimented him, and Aranso insisted on his sharing the cup. Aranso was rich with loot, and in a drunken, happy mood, and at this moment he loved Chane like a brother.
"And where have you been, Chane? What have you been doing with yourself?"
Chane was pretty exhilarated by now, and enjoying it greatly, and he poured himself more wine and stood on a table.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Of course we do!"
"I have been with the Mercs," he said. "Nearly all of them Earthmen."
"Back to your own, is that it, Chane?"
Chane drained the cup, and then looked at them and said gravely, "You are my own, you miserable, misbegotten sons of Varna."
Laughter and cheers. Most of them were getting a bit drunk by now, and they enjoyed the insult.
"What are Earthmen like, Chane?"
Chane considered. "They're stupid, for one thing.
They have all sorts of vague, cloudy ideas about morals and laws and doing good for people."
"Like when they first came to Varna and taught our people how to build starships?" shouted someone, and the whole great room rocked with laughter.
That was a famous and favorite story on Varna. How the Earthmen, who had discovered the principle of the stardrive— rediscovered, really, since it had been known ages ago by the race who had seeded the whole galaxy with humanity—had come and innocently offered to show the Varnans how to build starships, so that they might engage in honest trade in the galaxy.
And how the Varnans of that day had demurely said, yes, they would very much like to have starships so that they could engage in honest trade and be good men. And, having thus gulled the Earthmen, they had learned how to build starships, and had been the raiders and robbers of the galaxy ever since.
"Yes, they're stupid," said Chane. "They clog up their minds with nice ideas that somebody thought up. But, my brothers—"
"Yes?" said someone.
"They are a goddamn tough lot," said Chane. "They can't move in space the way we do; their bodies aren't up to it, for Earth isn't a heavy-grav world. But ... they are tough."
He thought, as he spoke, of Dilullo and Bollard and Sekinnen and the others, and of the things they had done together.
"I was on Earth," said Chane. "I went back to the place where my parents came from. And there was a young man there who taught me a song, and the song he taught me was an old Earth battle-song. That song might tell you what the men of Earth are like. Do you want to hear it?"
"Sing it!" they cried, and Aranso sent him up another cup of wine, and he drank it off and now his head was really ringing, but nevertheless he still remembered the song that tall young Hayden Jones had taught him in the little bar at Carnarvon.
He sang it, the old war-song of the men of Harlech, and the Starwolves listened fascinatedly, and then they began to sing it too, the great, tall cat-e
yed golden-furred men who scourged the stars, singing of Saxon bowmen and Saxon foemen as though they had just come out of the dark marshes of Wales with their swords and spears in their hands.
The idea made Chane stop singing to laugh. And as he stood laughing among the roaring chorus, a hand plucked his knee, and Chroll was there, offering him another cup of wine.
"Having a good time, Chane?"
"I am having a good time."
"That's good, Chane. That's very good. Make the most of it. For old Irrun worked fast, and the Council will hear you tomorrow, and it may be your last good time for a while."
XIV
They were the greatest of the Starwolf lords, and they sat like kings behind their wide table at the side of the dusky stone hall.
Chane, standing facing them, thought fleetingly, Dilullo would call them a royal bunch of robbers.
From one point of view that was true, for raiding and robbing were the life of Varna. These nine men represented the greatest Varnan clans, but also they were famous for the great Starwolf raids they had led in bygone years.
Khepher, who had led the great raid on the Pleiades that had brought home such loot as Varna had never seen before; Somtum and Yarr, who had hit the throne-world of Canopus, looting for the first time the royal treasury of a system so huge and powerful that it had never feared attack; Berkt, sitting there and looking as though he had never seen Chane before, who had struck halfway across the galaxy to lift the legendary Terbium Ten and fight his way home with them again; Vonn and Martabalane and Munn, who had taken the treasured jewels of Betelgeuse Four away from their spidery owners by a triple-play feint and attack that was a classic of Varnan history; Hof, who with only twelve ships had bagged the richest convoy in the galaxy's history; and Irrun, who had privateered all along the north-zenith edge of the galaxy and had come home with ships heavy with plunder long after he had been given up for lost.
They were all looking at Chane, and the regard of Irrun was a piercing one. The head of the Ranroi clan was a massive man well past middle age, who sat with his wide shoulders hunched forward as he stared at Chane. He had been Ssander's uncle, and he would be the main difficulty in the way of Chane's proposal.
Khepher, who had the seniority of the Council, spoke formally to Chane.
"Very well, Morgan Chane. The Council will hear you."
Chane braced himself. If he failed here, Dilullo and the other Mercs might never leave Rith.
"My appeal is for the right to present a plan that could bring vast riches to Varna," he said.
They looked surprised; Irrun's eyes narrowed and he looked as if he was going to interrupt. But Khepher said, "You have leave to speak."
Chane pointed to the compact projector-device he had brought with him. "Can I, before speaking, show a few tridims relative to what I will say?"
Khepher nodded.
Chane turned on the device, with its controls set to reproduce a three-dimensional image of life size.
The first Qajar treasure room sprang into vivid, almost solid-seeming glory in the shadowy hall: jewels heaped up in golden jars, jewels woven into tapestries, weird statuettes that were each cut from a single blazing gem ... all with such reality that the astonished Starwolf lords, except for Berkt, leaned forward as though they would grasp these things with their hands.
"What foolery is this?" snarled Irrun.
"I am showing you the treasures of the Qajars," said Chane. "There are more."
He changed the tridim and another of the incredible treasure rooms came into being. And as he showed room after room, the slant eyes of the Starwolves gleamed with lust for plunder.
When the last tridim had been turned off, Khepher leaned forward. "Where are these things?" he asked. "Where?"
"On the planet Chlann, of apeople called the Qajars," said Chane. "It lies not far outside the Spur."
"The whole galaxy would have rung with the news of such a treasure, if it existed!" said Irrun.
"The Qajars," said Chane, "are a clever people. Oh, very clever. They have gathered together the most beautiful and costly things in the galaxy, having paid thieves to steal them. They have kept all this secret and have kept their world secret, and very well defended. I know; I nearly died trying to get to their treasure."
He paused, and then added, "I can guide you there. I can lead a Varnan squadron through their defenses, although I cannot guarantee that there will be no losses. I will do this, if I may have my pick of any single item of the Qajar treasures."
"You are bold to come and make terms with the Council," snapped Khepher. "Is there anything else you want, perchance?"
"One thing more," said Chane coolly. "Council right to protect me, until the squadron returns to Varna."
Irrun leaped to his feet, his face raging. "A trick!" he roared. "This man killed my nephew and has incurred the feud of my clan. He asks the Council right so that he can escape our rightful revenge."
Chane stared at him, as though not in the least impressed by Irrun's position and fame.
"To escape your clan-feud," he said coldly, "I needed only to remain away from Varna."
Berkt laughed. "You will have to admit that young Chane has a point there."
Irrun said fiercely, "It is well known, Berkt, that you had a friendship with this outworlder's father!"
Khepher's voice rose sharply. "There will be no bickering between members of the Council! We are here to listen to the man Chane, and then later to decide."
He turned his attention to Chane. "Describe what you know of the defenses of the Qajars."
Chane did so. He stressed that he was the only one who could lead a Varnan squadron with any safety whatever into that cluster of dead suns and worlds.
"These so-called Lethal Worlds that you describe," said Khepher; "you went safely between them and back again. Could you lead an attack squadron that same way?"
Chane shook his head. "Not possibly. The Qajars just did not think it worth while to use such huge weapons against my small scout. But against a squadron, they would use them. My suggestion is that we sacrifice a number of old ships, unmanned and on automatic pilot, sending them in ahead of us to blow enough of the Lethal Worlds to make a passage."
He went on rapidly: "The Qajars have powerful radiation defenses; I felt them. Anti-radiation helmets should help us there. And they have a fairly powerful squadron of battle cruisers, though none of them heavies. But I feel we could handle those, if we could get through the Lethal Worlds."
"The strategy would have to be debated later, by those fit to do so," said Khepher in cold reproof. "But if we smothered the Qajar defenses, you could lead us to the treasure chambers?"
"I could," said Chane, and added in his mind, All except one, where I'll never lead you. I'll give you one of the biggest hauls Varna ever had, but not the Singing Suns.
The examination went on, others of the Council flinging sharp questions at Chane. These were men who had a lifetime of raiding behind them, and who knew about every danger interstellar space could hold, and they were not going to take anything for granted.
"It has not been explained," said Irrun sharply, "how these Qajars could have acquired sufficient of the highly rare radioactive substances that would be required to convert dead planets from their Lethal Worlds."
"My information from Eron," said Chane, "was that there are tremendous deposits of radite, one of the rare substances you mention, on the world Chlann. It is the source of the Qajars' wealth, with which they've bribed thieves to steal treasures for them."
Chane added, "Eron felt sure the Qajars are a bit mad. They've nested there behind their defenses, gloating over their treasures and avoiding direct contact with most of the galaxy. If anyone approaches them uninvited, they kill him by torture. I say that this thief-spider nest should be broken into, and their treasures taken by more suitable owners—namely, the Varnans."
Some of the Council lords smiled at that: it was exactly the kind of talk to be expected from a cocky young
Starwolf.
"The matter will not brook sudden decision," Khepher told Chane. "It must be further examined. The tridims must be gone over by experts to make sure they are not fakes. Our records concerning that cluster must be examined to see if they contain any contradiction to your statements."
Chane bowed. Khepher concluded, "You may go for now. You will in time be notified of our decision. Until then, you continue to have the Council right."
Chane would have liked to say more but this was an arbitrary dismissal, so he bowed again and left the Hall.
Two nights later he sat in the moonlit gardens behind Berkt's keep, drinking wine with Chroll and Graal and Nshurra. He knew very well that Nshurra had never liked Graal and her free-andeasy ways, but she had been smilingly hospitable to her.
For two days Chane had awaited the Council decision. In those days he had had a fine time reliving old days with Graal... and nearly getting drowned by her when she held him under water as they swam the great tides of the beaches beyond Krak.
"Relax, Chane," said Chroll. "It'll be decided soon, one way or the other."
"What do they think of Varnans on that old world of Earth, Chane?" asked Nshurra. "You said you were there."
"Savages," said Chane. "Wild, hellroaring savage robbers of the whole galaxy." He looked at Graal and added, "They say the Varnan women are even fiercer than the men."
Graal promptly threw her wineglass at him, and he ducked just fast enough to let it go past his ear.
From far away at the distant starport beyond Krak, there was a series of three twanging sounds and three bolts of light flashed up into the sky.
Chroll smiled. "A small party of very young Varnans, going out to try their luck. They'll probably come back empty-handed. But you remember, Chane?"
"I remember," said Chane. "Very well."
There came the jolting grind of one of the heavy Varnan cars ascending the hill, and Chane tensed. He tried not to show it.
None of them spoke until the grinding stopped, and presently Berkt came around into the garden.
"Well?" said Chane.
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