Dilullo sat in the big, shadowy stone hall high in the city-mountain, and felt his frustration and anger increase.
He had been sitting here for hours, and the oligarchs who ruled Kharal had not yet come. There was nobody across the table except Odenjaa, the Kharali who had contacted him at Achernar weeks ago, and who had this night brought them from the ship up into the city by secret ways.
"Soon," said Odenjaa. "Very soon the lords of Kharal will be here."
"You said that two hours ago," said Dilullo.
He was getting tired of this. The chair he sat in was damnably uncomfortable, for it had been made for taller men to sit in, and Dilullo's legs dangled like a child's.
He was pretty sure they were keeping him waiting purposely, but there was nothing he could do but compose his face and look unperturbed. Bollard, sitting nearby, looked quite unbothered, but then fat Bollard, the toughest of the Mercs, had a moon face that rarely showed anything.
The lights around the room threw a ruddy glow that hurt his eyes, but the black rock walls remained dark and brooding. Through the open window came chill night air, and with it came the whispered flutes and voices of all the levels in the vast warren beneath.
Suddenly, Dilullo felt sick of strange worlds. He had seen too many of them in a career that had gone on too long. A Merc was old at forty. What the devil was he doing out here in Corvus Cluster, anyway?
He thought sourly, "Quit being sorry for yourself. You're here because you like to make a lot of money and this is the only way you can do it."
Finally, the lords of Kharal came. There were six of them, tall in their rich robes, all but one of them middle-aged or elderly. They seated themselves with ceremony at the table, and only then did they look superciliously across at Dilullo and Bollard.
Dilullo had dealt with men of a good many star-worlds, though with none quite so insular as these, and he was determined not to be put into any position of inferiority in making this deal.
He said clearly and loudly in galacto, "You sent for me."
Then he was silent, staring at the lords of Kharal and waiting for them to answer.
Finally, the youngest Kharali, whose face had darkened with resentment, said harshly, "I did not send for you, Earthman."
"Then why am I here?" demanded Dilullo. His hand waving toward Odenjaa, he said, "This man came to me at Achernar, many weeks ago. He told me that Kharal had an enemy, the planet Vhol, the outermost world of this system. He said that your enemies of Vhol have a great new weapon which you wish destroyed. He assured me you would pay me well if I brought men and helped you."
His deliberately patronizing statement brought scowls to the faces of all the others, except for the very oldest Kharali, whose eyes studied him coldly from a face that was a spider-web of wrinkles.
It was this oldest man who answered. "Collectively, we did send for you, though one of us dissented. It may well be that we can use you, Earthman."
Insult for insult, Dilullo thought. He hoped that now that they had shown proper contempt for each other, they could get down to business.
"Why are those of Vhol your enemies?" he asked.
The old man answered. "It is simple. They covet our world's mineral wealth. They are more numerous than we, and they have a somewhat more advanced technology"—he spoke the last as though it was a dirty word—"and so they tried to land a force and conquer us. We repelled their landing."
Dilullo nodded. This was an old story. A star-system got space-travel, and then one of its worlds tried to take over the others and start an empire.
"But the new weapon? How did you learn of this?"
"There have been rumors," said the old Kharali. "Then a few months ago, a reconnoitering Vhollan cruiser was disabled by our own cruisers. There was one living officer in it, whom we captured and questioned. He told us all he knows."
"All?"
Odenjaa, smiling, explained. "There are certain drugs we have that can make a man unconscious, and in his unconsciousness he will answer every question, and not even remember it afterwards."
"What did he say?"
"He said that soon Vhol would destroy us utterly, that out of Corvus Nebula they would bring a weapon which would annihilate us."
"Out of the Nebula?" Dilullo was startled. "But that place is a maze of drift, uncharted, dangerous . . . ." He broke off and then said, with a sour smile, "I can see why you wanted to hire Mercs to do this job."
The youngest of the lords of Kharal said something harsh and rapid in his own language, looking furiously at Dilullo.
Odenjaa translated. "You are to know that Kharalis have died trying to enter the nebula, but that our ships lack the subtle instruments that the Vhollans and you Earthmen use."
Dilullo thought that that was probably true. The Kharalis had not had space-travel for too long, and they were the kind of insular, tradition-ridden people who were not very good at it. They had no star-shipping at all; the ships of other stars brought them goods to exchange for the rare and valuable gems and metals of Kharal. When he came to think of it, he wouldn't want to try bucking that nebula in a planet-cruiser as they had.
He said gravely, "If I seem to reflect on the courage of the men of Kharal, I apologize."
The Kharali lords looked only a little less angry. "But," added Dilullo, "I must know more of this. Did your captured Vhollan know anything of the nature of the weapon?"
The old Kharali spread his hands. "No. We have questioned him many times under the drug, the last time only a few days ago, but he knows nothing more."
"Can I talk to this Vhollan captive?" asked Dilullo.
Instantly, they became suspicious. "Why would you want to confer with one of our enemies, if you are to work for us? No."
For the first time, Bollard spoke, in the soft lisp that seemed so incongruous from his moon-fat face.
"It's too damn vague, John."
"It's vague," Dilullo admitted. "But it might just be done." He thought for a minute, and then he looked across the table at the Kharalis and said, "Thirty lightstones."
They stared at him puzzledly, and he repeated patiently, "Thirty lightstones. That is what you will pay us if we succeed in doing this thing for you."
They looked first incredulous, then furious. "Thirty lightstones?" said the young Kharali lord. "Do you think we would give little Earthmen the ransom of an emperor?"
"How much is the ransom of a world?" said Dilullo. "Of Kharal? How many of your lightstones will your enemies take if they conquer you?"
Their faces changed, only a little. But, watching them, Bollard murmured, "They'll pay it."
Dilullo gave them no time to reflect on the magnitude of his demand. "That will be the payment if we find and destroy the weapon of your enemies. But first we must learn if we can do that, and the learning will be very risky for us. Three of the lightstones will be paid to us in advance."
They found their voices this time, snarling their anger. "And what if you Earthmen take the three jewels and go your way, laughing at us?"
Dilullo looked at Odenjaa. "You were the one who looked for Mercs to hire. Tell me, did you hear of Mercs ever cheating those who hired them?"
"Yes," said Odenjaa. "Twice it happened."
"And what happened to the Mercs who did that?" pursued Dilullo. "You must have heard that, too. Tell it."
A little reluctantly, Odenjaa replied. "It is said that other Mercs took them, as prisoners, and delivered them over to the worlds which they had swindled."
"It is true," said Dilullo, to those across the table. "We are a guild, we Mercs. Nowhere in the galaxy could we operate if we did not keep faith. Three lightstones in advance."
They still glared at him, all except the oldest man. He said coldly, "Get the jewels for them."
One of the men went away, and after a little time he came back and with an angry gesture sent three tiny gleaming moons rolling across the table toward the Earthmen. Tiny, thought Dilullo, but beautiful, beautiful, seeming to fill a part of the room with dancing, dazzling swirls of light. He heard Bollard suck in his breath, and it made him feel like a god to reach a hand and grasp three moons and put them in his pocket.
There was a sound at a door and Odenjaa went there, and when he came back from the door his eyes glittered at Dilullo.
"There is something that concerns you," he said hissingly. "One of your men has intruded, has tried to kill . . ."
Two tall Kharali men came in, supporting between them a drunkenly staggering figure.
"Surprised?" said Chane, and then fell down on his face.